#cecelia crouch varney | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carewyncromwell · 2 years

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3 for erik/roxy and 5 & 31 for bat/grim? (sorry i couldn't choose😂💖)

Original Eroxy art by @mira-shard, just cropped and color-modified a bit by me...and also tagging @cursebreakerfarrier because Batticus! 💙

3. A Tired Kiss // Eroxy

It had been a very, very late night at the Auror office. So late, in fact, that Erik didn't make it home to his new wife until almost four in the morning. And once he did, he ended up on the couch, his half-awake brain deciding it was better to stay out in the living room and simply wait up for Roxy, rather than wake her up by to trying and failing to sneak into bed.

But you know what they say about best-laid plans. Erik didn't even realize he'd dozed off on the couch until he sleepily blinked open his eyes a few hours later, to find Roxy resting on the couch beside him.

"Mm...Roxy...?"

Her dark eyes were half-lidded and sleepy, around their softness.

"Shh," she whispered. "It's okay..."

Roxy curled up beside him. Her pregnant tummy rested beside his stomach -- a sensation that always made Erik's heart flutter despite himself. She was getting so big -- his child growing inside of her, their child...was getting so big...

'They'll be here soon,' the thought returned to his mind for the third time that week. 'I have to get up...'

He moaned lowly and sleepily made as if to rise from the couch. "...Mmm'I've got work soon..."

"Not until noon," said Roxy calmly. Erik wrote his schedule down meticulously on the calendar in his home office, so she always knew when to expect him home.

"I've got to be up in five hours..."

"Then sleep until then. You can always Floo into the office...I can pack you a proper breakfast for you to eat, when you get there..."

Roxy's eyes softened somewhat.

"...You're running yourself ragged, Erik," she said quietly. "You need to rest."

"No rest for the wicked," Erik mumbled sleepily.

"Then it's a good thing you're the farthest thing from that," Roxy shot back patiently. "Now get some sleep."

Erik wanted to protest the matter, but his brain was just not awake enough to make any further snappy remarks. All he could summon up was,

"Can't sleep...I've got...stuff to take care of..."

"You can take care of all of it after you've gotten some sleep," Roxy said very firmly.

She slid the elastic band out of his long ponytail, smoothing the freed blond curls out around his face.

"You can take care of both of us after you've taken care of yourself," she whispered a bit more affectionately beside Erik's cheek, before giving it a soft peck.

Erik exhaled quietly, and Roxy knew at last that he had given in. He tilted his head enough to messily capture Roxy's lips with his, his tongue sleepily wandering between both of their mouths before he broke the kiss. He mumbled something indiscernible, before he drifted off, collapsing back onto the couch and falling still.

Roxy smiled down at her sleeping husband, her lips both twinged with fondness and slight sadness, before placing another gentle kiss to his jawline, resting her head over his heart, and closing her eyes.

"Love you too."

5. A Reunion Kiss // Batticus (Reincarnation AU)

At the end of their sixth year, it all came together for Atticus. Reading the Daily Prophet’s old editorials of Professor Atticus Grimsley -- of himself, in his previous life, chronicling the life of the vampire so many had called “Bat Varney” -- had suddenly made everything come together and make sense.

His visions hadn’t been of the future -- they’d been of the past. Barty hadn’t been having dire predictions of Bat dying horribly and him being powerless to stop it -- he’d been remembering when Bat and he had died two hundred years ago. Ceci hadn’t been terrified of Barty becoming a vampire -- she’d felt remorse and fear, remembering when Bat had become one, with his soul trapped in Barty’s corpse. Bat’s intense irrational fear and nausea about blood -- his horrible, sleep-destroying nightmares that featured war, death, and destruction -- Atticus’s own strong feelings about Barty’s face looking “wrong” and Bat’s of Atticus not smiling enough --

It fit. It all fit!

Feeling a kind of exhilaration he’d never known before, Atticus rushed out to Hogsmeade. There was a statue of Bat Varney somewhere there, wasn’t there? That’s what Dumbledore had said...

And sure enough, that was where he found Bat. Not just the statue -- but Robert Bellamy, as well. For at the same moment Atticus had been reading all those books and researching on his own, Robert had followed Atticus’s lead in another direction, which brought him to the Flumes, the family who now owned Honeydukes Sweetshop, and -- in turn -- led him right to the plaque and statue the Honeydukes family had helped fundraise so long ago.

When Atticus caught sight of Robert standing before the statue of his past life, he for a moment found himself unable to breathe.

It was him. It was him.

Robert was so much smaller than when he was the vampire Bat Varney. But of course he was, Atticus thought, of course he was -- Barty was always taller than him...in both of their lives, he was always taller...

And yet his posture was just the same. The modest, yet confident straightness of his shoulders -- the agility of his step even when he stumbled trying to move closer to the statue...the way his hand lingered in mid-air, unable to touch the statue itself...

He was here.

Atticus wasn’t sure why this thought affected him so much. Yes, perhaps he hadn’t been expecting to find Robert in Hogsmeade after all this -- hadn’t expected to see him immediately after everything coming together, but...it did. His heart was swelling up in his chest to a size he couldn’t contain.

“Bat!”

Atticus’s voice came out oddly strained for a reason he could hardly put into words. The sound made Robert stiffen, his shoulders almost slacking at his sides. Then, as if in slow motion, he turned. His handsome face was very pale and stained with tear tracks, but it didn’t matter. His wide black eyes held the same sharp gleam they always did -- the same bright, resilient flame they’d always had, since the moment they’d first met...

And then through those tears, he smiled.

“Grim,” Bat murmured.

And all at once, Atticus felt the emotions of two lifetimes come crashing down on top of him. The sight of Bat was too much for him to take.

He was here. He was here -- he was alive -- !

Atticus’s own eyes flooded with tears. He choked, cupping his hand over his mouth and bowing his head as he struggled in vain to compose himself.

“Bat -- ”

Robert’s smile faded at once, his expression instead being overtaken by concern.

“Grim...”

When he stepped forward as if wanting to comfort him, though, he found himself faltering. ...As if he were once again that vampire who had to constantly fear getting too close to the ones he let into his heart...

But he wasn’t that vampire. He was alive. Really alive, fully alive -- he was here, and real, and human, and --

The nightmare he’d had most recently of the red-eyed man who so resembled Barty with a stake through his chest and his head ripped off panged through Atticus’s mind and heart again, making him choke in strangled grief.

Because that red-eyed man, Atticus now knew, was Robert. The boy he’d grown to care for so much, the first real friend he’d ever made in his life...being killed horribly, torn away from him, by one of the most dangerous Dark wizards in history.

But he wasn’t dead. He was here. He was alive.

The word “alive” had never felt more relevant to Atticus than it did in that moment. It just kept echoing in his head, louder and louder, even as he crumpled in on himself with sobs.

Alive. He was alive.

He hadn’t even realized how slowly Robert had approached him, how tentatively he was reaching out to him, until Atticus blinked up through his tears and saw him suddenly standing there.

“Grim -- ” Robert started, his confident voice sounding oddly shaky.

But Atticus didn’t even give him a chance to fully respond. In an instant, he’d thrown his arms out and latched onto his friend, hugging him with all of his strength.

“Bat! Bat -- Bat...”

It was all he could say, at first. All he wanted to say, after what felt like years of not saying it. And it must’ve been, Atticus thought to himself -- he must’ve had no reason to say it, after Bat had died...and yet now, he did -- he had the best reason in the world to say it...because Bat was here. Really here!

And then, as if to make the moment better still, Robert grabbed Atticus. He clung to him, bringing a strong, shaking hand up on the back of Atticus’s head and almost cradling it. He was crying too -- Atticus could hear it in his voice as it ghosted his ear.

“Grim...”

Robert held Atticus in a grip that was somehow unbreakable as iron and as gentle as a lover’s, simultaneously. It was so true to him -- being strong enough that he could’ve likely destroyed anything, and yet only ever using that strength to be useful to others...being a fortress to protect, or beams to support, rather than a weapon or a monster. And right now, he supported Atticus, easily keeping the smaller man on his feet even as he felt like his legs might give way.

Bat was here -- he was here -- they were here. They were together again, and alive, and happy, and...and human. Bat was human. They could touch without Bat’s blood lust acting up. Bat could use magic. Bat could become a professor, like Atticus had in his past life -- they could both be professors someday...

Atticus’s heart was aching in the best possible way. Before he could stop himself or even question what he was doing, he brought his lips up to the side of Robert’s temple in a quick, emotional kiss.

“I...I know now, Bat -- I know what our visions mean. I know who I am, who you are -- what happened to us -- they weren’t predictions at all, Bat, it was our pasts -- when I was Atticus Grimsley -- when you were Bat Varney, and Robert Harker, and -- ”

“I know.”

Robert’s voice was just as choked as Atticus’s was.

“...I...remember, Grim. ...I remember...”

He buried his face into the crook of Atticus’s neck, his strong hands clutching at Atticus’s head and back.

“I’m sorry,” Robert murmured. “I’m so sorry...”

“Sorry?” choked Atticus, unable to hold back a laugh. “Bat, you came back. We came back, we’re here, we’re...”

Laughing a bit harder through his tears, he brought a hand up through Robert’s curls, as if thinking to comfort him.

“...We’re happy, Bat. I’m happy. Because you’re here.”

There was a pause. Atticus felt Robert steady his grip around him, placing his lips right beside Atticus’s neck.

“S’all I wanted, Grim,” he whispered against Atticus’s sensitive skin.

Atticus’s face was flushing, but he barely noticed.

“What was?” he asked gently.

Robert’s lips beside his neck spread into a smile.

“This.”

Atticus felt fresh tears spill down his cheeks as he closed his eyes.

“...Me too, Bat. ...Me too.”

The world had been becoming steadily darker this last year, and yet now, right now, it was brighter than it had ever been. These lives they were living, with all the meddlesome little obstacles they’d had to contend with -- Robert not being able to afford new robes or a new broom, Atticus’s father not approving of his friends -- suddenly seemed like Heaven.

31. Catching the other before they fall // Batticus (HPHL timeline)

Bat had been more than prepared to protect the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, when they chased down the vampire who’d been using his name to cause havoc outside Hogsmeade village. He’d been a soldier once, so he was more than used to protecting his comrades. It was merely that it had been a very long time since he’d had any “comrades.” And so when Bat managed to fight off the vampire by putting him in a headlock and wrenching him away from Atticus, only to get thrown off the roof of the building Bat and Atticus had chased the vampire up onto when he tried to flee, Bat was very startled when a hand appeared out of nowhere to grab onto his before he could fall to the ground.

Bat looked up, completely taken aback, at Atticus. His face and expression were full of concern and urgency.

“Hold on!” said Atticus. “I’ve got you!”

Atticus’s pulse through his skin was making Bat’s heart and lungs slam hungrily at the inside of his chest.

“L-let go!” Bat said in an unusually urgent voice. “I’m fine! Just -- he’s getting away -- ”

“Not if I can help it,” Atticus said firmly.

The professor could see Bat’s visible discomfort as his eyes flooded with red. Very quickly, he pulled Bat back up onto the roof and let go, taking several steps back so as to give his counterpart space.

“Drink as much as you need -- I’ll cut him off -- ”

“Stop!” Bat said before he could stop himself -- and, as it turned out, before he could stop Atticus either, since the professor immediately charged after the other vampire called Varney.

His heart was beating so hard, it hurt -- damn it, he needed blood -- but he also needed to calm down -- he wasn’t used to caring about people as individuals like this -- feeling scared for their individual safety, like this --

Scolding himself internally for not having better control of his emotions as well as his blood urges, Bat took several huge swigs of blood, wiping his mouth before charging back out into the fray, even as his eyes still shone completely, monstrously red.

Affectionate Moments Prompt!

#affectionate moments prompt #erik apollo #roxanni kim #bartholomew varney #atticus grimsley #albus dumbledore #cecelia crouch varney #reincarnation!au #my writing

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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“If you see him in the street, walking by himself, Talking to himself, have pity... ‘You would like it uptown -- it's quiet uptown -- ’ He is working through the unimaginable... His hair has gone gray; he passes everyday; They say he walks the length of the city... ‘You knock me out, I fall apart -- ’ Can you imagine...?”

~“It’s Quiet Uptown (cover)” by Kelly Clarkson

x~x~x~x

\\ actual mood music while drawing/editing this //

x~x~x~x

In 1781, the young wizard-turned-British-regular Robert Harker became the proud father of a beautiful little girl named Irene. Later that same year, in September, Robert Harker tragically lost his life at the Battle of Yorktown...only for his soul to be chained through a Dark magic ritual into the reanimated corpse of his best friend, Bartholomew Varney.

This horrible event resulted in Robert -- now called “Bat Varney” by just about everyone -- having to disappear from the lives of his Muggle wife and new-born daughter, knowing both that his wife wouldn’t be allowed to know about the Wizarding World for another eleven years and that even after she was, his blood lust was too strong for him to be around humans, let alone his loved ones. And so Bat only got to know his sweet Irene through overheard anecdotes and newspaper clippings -- through overhearing she’d become Hogwarts’ newest Head Girl from some students passing through Hogsmeade station -- through coming across her wedding advertisement to Xavier Abbott in the Daily Prophet, a vision in white with curls like her mother’s and eyes shaped just like his had been...

Bat had a lot of trouble, whenever he heard anything of Irene. Every time he did, he was reminded all the more of how much time didn’t affect him, while affecting everyone else around him. He was grief-stricken knowing that this precious child he’d wanted nothing more than to meet after the War -- to provide for -- to teach at Hogwarts someday, as her professor -- would die never having known him. For what possible good could come from him trying to stumble his way into her life now? It had taken fifty years for Bat to get enough control of himself to be safe around humans again. He knew Cecelia was long dead by now -- his dear Loretta was too. And Irene had grown up happily without him. She’d become Head Girl -- no doubt she’d been well-liked and successful at school -- and now she was married to someone who was by all accounts a very good man. What could Bat possibly provide his daughter if he entered her life, besides heartbreak and burden? He knew the general attitude toward vampires, especially among old wizarding families like the Abbotts. He would undoubtedly become nothing but a “dirty little secret” they’d actively try to distance themselves from and only treat cordially for formality’s sake -- like some pathetic old dog that no one quite has the heart to kick out of the house. And that...that thought almost hurt Bat more than Irene not knowing him at all.

Because of this, Bat didn’t learn until many years later the circumstances of Irene’s death. And it ironically came about when Bat needed to get away from Hogsmeade for some other reason.

It was fall, right after Bat learned that Adelia Selwyn-Ellison @thatravenpuffwitch -- an “ex-student” of his who he’d become rather fond of -- sent him word that she and her husband Teddy @cursebreakerfarrier were expecting a baby. Just as is always the case when Bat gets upset, he retreated far away from everyone else, to be by himself...and this time, his wanderings took him back toward Godric’s Hollow, where he knew the Abbott family had long made their home. He traveled solely by night, roosting in whatever isolated and dark place he could, until he’d finally made it to the tiny wizarding community in the West Country of England. When he finally arrived, he made it to the graveyard, where he found what he’d sought.

On the plot of land reserved for the Abbotts was a modest headstone, dictating the deaths of Xavier and Irene Abbott, as well as two others, who must have been their children. All of them had died the same year, 1846 -- a fact that the marker at the very bottom explained thusly:

“Together in sickness and in health -- Truly love was your greatest wealth.”

It didn’t take long for Bat to recall the multiple waves of cholera that had swept through Europe over the last century. The third one, which must’ve been right around the time marked on the headstone, had easily been the worst -- tens of thousands of people lost their lives to the disease in England alone.

The revelation was enough to make Bat crouch down beside the headstone, placing his forehead tenderly against the cold gray stone.

Bat had always known his daughter would die never knowing him. It was a fact he’d come to grips with long ago. It would be stupid to get emotional, knowing this, and knowing that he’d truly had no other choice...

But as much as Bat knew it was illogical, he still sat there in complete stillness and silence, his heart frozen with grief.

She was gone. His little girl -- his little Irene, his precious baby girl -- was dead. Dead, like her mother, like Barty...like Cecelia. Like all of his professors and his Quidditch teammates and the apothecary who’d hired him and Headmaster Everard. Everyone he’d ever known -- no, that Robert Harker had ever known...

And even him. He was dead now too, wasn’t he? And yet he was still here -- a hollow shadow of himself...who couldn’t be even a footnote in her life, thanks to the danger his presence would’ve meant for her and her family... who couldn’t even play at humanity enough to ever see his daughter any other way than in paintings...

Irene had been so beautiful, in that wedding dress...she’d looked so like her mother, in that picture, smiled so like him. If he only could’ve been there, as he’d been at Adelia’s wedding...seen her with her husband, if only from afar, if only after everyone else had left...

Bat never even got to see her children’s faces...he’d never even known that she’d been a mother to two children. Did either of them resemble her? Resemble him, even? And one of them...

Bat’s scarlet eyes grew very wide as they examined the names below his daughter’s.

Robert Winston Abbott.

Robert. She’d named one of her children Robert.

Bat’s eyes flooded with tears. His heart and lungs were throbbing with pain just trying to keep his heartrate and breathing under control. It forced him to drink from his flask for almost a whole minute, taking a couple of deep breaths, and then drinking for about a minute or so more, as he tried hopelessly to compose himself.

“Irene...”

He was startled by the sound of his own voice. It sounded younger than it normally did -- more openly emotional than his pointed ears were used to hearing, coming out of him. He swallowed, trying once again to get a grip -- but it was proving difficult.

“...Irene....I’m so...”

It was like every word was a gasp for air through a clogged pipe. Bat tried to slow his breathing and took another swig of blood to try to steady his heart rate as he closed his eyes, trying to will his heart into submission.

He’d failed her. He’d always known he would. How could he possibly be a good father to her, the kind of father he’d wanted to be, when he couldn’t even get near her? Hell, Bat hadn’t even felt safe enough to be around crowds of humans again until around 1840, and even then...Irene wasn’t like those crowds of faceless strangers. He could’ve gotten emotional around her. His heart rate and breathing could’ve spiked. He could’ve lost control...just like he could now, around Teddy and Adelia’s new child...

‘So that’s it, then,’ Bat said to himself coldly. ‘You’re just going to stand back again? Let Ms. Selwyn-Ellison just disappear into the void, the way Irene did?’

The thought was a knife in Bat’s heart. ‘No.’

‘Then you’ll watch her waste away?’ he challenged himself. ‘Go slowly mad, watching her and Mr. Ellison and their baby wither and age before your eyes, while you stay as you are? Stand on the sidelines, never able to live and yet never able to die -- trapped between the two, utterly useless?’

This thought hurt almost just as much. Could he withstand such pain? Could he even hope to stay sane, in the face of that pain?

And yet...Bat had opened himself up to that pain, by letting her into his heart. By letting Teddy in -- letting Danny @catohphm and Rex in...by letting Grim in. And he’d done it knowing how much it would hurt -- knowing how much of a mistake it would be...

Because he loved them. Because they didn’t see him as a burden. Because they valued his knowledge and his opinions and his company. Because even if he never could be like them, however much he tried...they made him feel more human than he had in a hundred years.

Bat looked upon the headstone under his pale, long-fingered hand with a bit more resolve in his moist red eyes.

‘I stayed away from you out of love, Irene,’ he thought grimly to himself. ‘I don’t know if you would’ve approved of my choice. I doubt I ever will...’

He brought a hand up to brush the moisture from his eyes.

‘...But...this pain I feel...the pain of not knowing what could’ve been...if I ever could’ve known you -- if I could’ve ever met the son you named after me...that is a pain I cannot know the likes of again.

His eyes narrowed with fresh resolve as he slowly rose to his feet.

‘I don’t know how I’ll manage it...but I’m staying this time. I will be useful to them, I will not be a burden to them. I will protect them. For them...I’m staying.’

Bringing his long fingers up to his lips, he brought them down to rest on top of the headstone. Then, taking another long swig from his flask, Bat stared at his daughter’s name chiseled into the stone a moment longer, before he closed his eyes, turned away, and slowly walked away into the darkness of night.

Hopefully, in whatever afterlife she could see him from...Irene wouldn’t look upon him too harshly.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #my art #animation #bartholomew varney #my writing #adelia selwyn #teddy ellison #danny gibson #atticus grimsley #irene abbott #loretta harker #cecelia crouch varney #rex brokenshire

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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Hi! Feel free to ignore this, but a random thought occured to me last night and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it. If PoA happens during their fifth year, does that mean reincarnated!Barty shares a dorm with Fred & George Weasley? (Poor guy)

ANOOOOON. I love this message so much that I drew you Barty with the freckled gremlins that he shares a dormroom with :D

"So Jojo -- plucked up the nerve to ask little Miss Ceci out on a date yet?"

"Oh, c'mon, George...don't tease. After all, we all know that girls are ten times more likely to bite than a manticore is..."

"Maybe...but old Joe's supposed to be talented at soothing savage beasts. Dunno what he's so afraid of, honestly -- reckon everyone in school's been saying they'd make a cute couple..."

"Aw, look now, Georgie, you've made the poor guy blush. Don't mind him, Joey-boy -- he means no harm. Though it would be pretty funny to see Ceci Crouch have to stand on a tall box just to snog you properly."

Why yes, Fred and George decided to play off of Barty's last name, Gilbert, which is pronounced the French way, "JOE-bear," by just shortening it to "Joe", "Joey," and "Jojo." Barty actually finds it funny, though he's too soft-spoken to say so. He's too shy to really do much besides laugh at the twins' jokes most of the time, though there have been a few times he's stood up to them, when he felt their pranks went too far. Fred and George honestly consider Barty a pretty good bloke, as even if they really don't have many interests in common and don't spend much time together, Barty is kind of a "blood traitor" in the same vein that the Weasleys are, and they admire how passionately this unusually quiet guy gets about looking after and protecting creatures or people that are less fortunate than him. (Such as when Barty has stood up for his BFF Robert against blood purists and such.) The twins also both think it's absolutely hysterical how clearly head-over-heels Barty is for his childhood friend Cecelia and how all of Barty's friends (except perhaps Atticus Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier) seem completely oblivious to it. As for Barty himself, although he certainly has been the target of plenty of practical jokes and been woken up out of a sound sleep multiple times thanks to the twins tinkering away at future Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products in their dormroom after dark, he truly admires Fred and George's confidence and determination, even if he's never been forward enough to articulate it.

#ask me #my art #reincarnation!au #bartholomew varney #fred weasley #george weasley #cecelia crouch varney #why yes george is making fun because he sincerely thinks barty's a good person and he should shoot his shot #meanwhile fred's just like yeah plus it'd be funny as hell and it'd be so much fun to mess with them when they are dating #hilariously the phelps twins actually *are* really tall even though in the books the twins are described as stocky #so I don't know what would be funnier A) the twins being tiny gremlins compared to 6'5 #barty #or B) the twins actually being about the only ones in their year who come close to barty in height at 6'3 #gryffindor giants!! hahaha #I actually kind of like the thought that barty would end up helping at potterwatch during the War too #so he the twins and Lee Jordan could work together then :D #since honestly at school just like in his past life barty is inseparable from robert and ceci #and atticus at least in this second life once they all realize they have those weird dreams in common #golden era

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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10 facts about Bartholomew “Bat” Varney / Robert Harker, please?

1) As the man called Robert Harker, Bat had a particular talent for Flying, History of Magic, and Potions. His unrealized dream was -- once his daughter Irene was old enough to start at Hogwarts -- become a professor for one of those three subjects at school. It would've required him, Irene, and Loretta to move to Scotland, but at least he would've earned enough to support them comfortably.

2) Bat's father, Jonny Harker, was a true Gryffindor type -- he always dreamed of his son accomplishing great things, although he didn't live long enough to see that come to pass. He was in the British Army when Bat was young, and it was his pension that helped support Bat and his mother when Nell first became a widow, which later inspired Bat to join the army and go off to war in America so as to support his new wife and unborn daughter.

3) Bat's mother, Nell, was a practical, no-nonsense, and resourceful, but incredibly affectionate and intellectual woman. She was a Methodist who raised her with a very Enlightened view of religion, teaching him to be content with very little and promoting the idea that questioning and learning was a great way to show respect for the world God made, rather than a sin. It's really thanks to Nell's influence that Bat was Sorted Ravenclaw.

4) As a vampire, Bat keeps two keepsakes on his person at all times, which represent the two most important people of his life -- a neck clasp that he crafted out of the old silver gorget that used to be part of his best friend Barty's military uniform, and a poinsettia broach, which was a gift from his companion Atticus Grimsley. @cursebreakerfarrier

5) Bat is very fond of Teddy and Adelia Selwyn-Ellison's three kids, Bertie, Violet, and Holly. @thatravenpuffwitch He has given all of them nicknames -- Bertie is pretty self-explanatory, but when they were little, Violet was called "little Blossom" and Holly was "Holly-Berry." "Uncle Bat" loves sharing Quidditch tricks with Bertie and gifting books on Healing and medicine to fellow Ravenclaw Violet, and if he ever needs to cheer Holly up, he always reminds her that "of all the trees in the wood, the holly wears the crown," and thus she must evoke royalty by facing down whatever challenge comes her way with her head held high.

6) Bat was a Star Chaser both in his original life as Robert Harker and in his reincarnated life as Robert "Bat" Bellamy. His talent on a broom was all the more remarkable, considering his poverty made it so he was always on the cheapest broom available.

7) One of Bat's biggest flaws is that he sometimes gets so locked on "fixing" a problem that he can sometimes overlook the emotions underscoring it. If someone has had their feelings hurt or doubts themselves, for instance, Bat will try to "fix" the problem by proving that those feelings are wrong, rather than simply giving simple reassurance and comfort. When he, Barty, and Cecelia were best friends, it was often Cecelia that ended up being the emotional counselor for both Barty and Bat, since she as the oldest of her siblings was very used to dealing with dramatic emotions. (She just sadly didn't have anyone who quite counseled her the same way, with her own!!)

8) Bat is an ISTP, or a "Virtuoso" personality type. To quote the official description, ISTPs "tend to have an individualistic mindset, pursuing goals without needing much external connection. They engage in life with inquisitiveness and personal skill, varying their approach as needed."

9) When Bat decided he wanted to put his efforts toward fighting against Grindelwald, he asked his unofficial nephew, former Auror and current DADA professor Danny Gibson @catohphm, about who best to get in contact with. Danny, of course, was very supportive of Bat's decision, though of course he -- like Adelia -- were distraught by the eventual outcome of Bat's war effort: namely, his assassination in Hogsmeade at Grindelwald's own hands.

10) In his second life as Robert Bellamy, Bat has a very "grunge"-like fashion sense, with a lot of T-shirts, varsity and leather jackets, and worn trainers and jeans.

10 Facts!

#10 facts #bartholomew varney #about bartholomew #danny gibson #adelia selwyn #teddy ellison #atticus grimsley #lawrence selwyn-ellison #violet selwyn-ellison #holly selwyn-ellison #gellert grindelwald #cecelia crouch varney #loretta harker

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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Carey, Orion, Ru, Bat, & my favorite Jacob - Jacob Cromwell

Carewyn Cromwell ~ "I Saved the World Today" by the Eurythmics

"There's a million mouths to feed, And I've got everything I need... I'm breathing... And there's a hurting thing inside, But I've got everything to hide... I'm grieving..."

Besides being by Carewyn's favorite band, this song is all about seeing all of the terrible pain of the world and feeling like all of your charitable efforts to try to mitigate them just don't quite measure up. And yeah, that's really Carewyn in a nutshell -- putting on a perfect face and trying to do good things for other people, but always feeling like she falls short. There's such a beautiful bittersweet, thoughtful melancholy to this that just suits my girl perfectly, in my mind.

Orion Amari ~ "Anticipation" by Carly Simon

And tomorrow we might not be together -- I'm no prophet and I don't know nature's ways, So I'll try and see into your eyes right now And stay right here...'cause these are the good old days!

In my headcanon version of Carewyn's story, this is the first song Orion ever hears Carewyn sing, and...yeah, honestly, what a perfect song choice, for the audience she had! It's all about making this wonderful spiritual connection with another person, but also knowing that it may be doomed to be fleeting, so deciding to simply enjoy it in the moment. Considering Orion is the sort of person to live in the moment and find peace despite the machinations of fate, those words really suit him and the beginnings of his (at the time platonic) relationship with Carewyn.

Ru Ollivander ~ "I'll Cover You" from RENT

"I've longed to discover Something as true as this is! So with a thousand sweet kisses, (If you're cold and you're lonely) I'll cover you! With a thousand sweet kisses, (You've got one nickel only) I'll cover you! With a thousand sweet kisses, (When you're worn out and tired) I'll cover you! With a thousand sweet kisses, (When your heart has expired) I'll cover you!"

This is one of Ru's relationship themes with Estrid @thatravenpuffwitch, and it just gives me SUCH feels, okay! 🥰 These two are very aware that their time together isn't going to last, since Ru as a kelpie has such a shortened lifespan, but they still have such a wonderful, fulfilling life together, each finding some bizarre completion in their partner. Even the more bittersweet lyrics (which are ring more sadly in the musical's heartbreaking reprise of this number) perfectly foreshadow Ru's death the same way it does Angel's in the original musical.

Robert Harker / Bat Varney / Robert "Bat" Bellamy ~ "I Know Those Eyes / This Man is Dead" from The Count of Monte Cristo (musical)

I started working on an animatic of this scenario and posted a small in-progress piece of it on my blog a while ago...but this song kind of perfectly captures the conflicted emotions that Bat and Cecelia felt, the last time they ever met, which was likewise only the second time they'd seen each other since Bat was first turned into a vampire. The longing, haunted, romantic aspect, juxtaposed with that colder resentment and bitter resignation, is a great fit for Cecelia trying one last time to reach out to Bat, even though both of them know that their relationship has fractured before repair. Only in another lifetime could these two possibly ever start over and try to make up for the mistakes made...

Jacob Cromwell ~ "Better Than I Know Myself" by Adam Lambert

"I know it gets hard sometimes, But I could never leave your side, No matter what I say... 'Cause if I wanted to go, I would've gone by now, But I really need you near me To keep my mind off the edge... If I wanted to leave, I would've left by now, But you're the only one that knows me -- Better than I know myself..."

This is actually one of several themes for Jacob's relationship with his little sister Carewyn, and...yeah, I just love it for my book-smart, people-dumb spaceman! Because as much as Jacob tries to push Carewyn away in a misguided attempt to protect her from R (something Carewyn honestly also does with her own friends, at the beginning of year 6) and as much as Carewyn gets frustrated with Jacob, the two of them truly do understand each other in a way that no one else does, not just because of their Legilimency potential that helped them connect mentally very early on, but also because Jacob arguably helped raise Carewyn. And even if Jacob was originally nine years older than Carewyn (an age gap shrunk down to two years thanks to Jacob's captivity), the two Cromwell siblings really do cherish each other like no one else in the world and feel incomplete without the other in their lives.

Give me a character, I’ll give you a song!

#song ask #carewyn cromwell #jacob cromwell #(seriously though you loving my jacob will never not make me feelsy!! I wub you!! ;~;)#orion amari #ru ollivander #bartholomew varney #cecelia crouch varney #estrid soelberg #music

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“Faded pictures on the wall... Disconnectin' all calls... I gotta get out, or figure this shit out -- It's too close for comfort! It's a thief in the night to come and grab you -- It can creep up inside you and consume you -- A disease of the mind, it can control you... I feel like a monster...!”

~“Disturbia (Eduardo Esquivel Halloween Remix)” by Rihanna

x~x~x~x

Atticus Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier had always been rather solitary, compared to his peers. He’d always had tunnel vision on his studies, putting traditional teenage fun on the back-burner in favor of trips to the library and Prefect patrols.

All this changed in Atticus’s fifth year, however, when he -- to everyone’s complete surprise -- somehow became friends with his housemate and Ravenclaw Star Chaser Robert Bellamy, and by extension Gryffindor Golden Boy Bartholomew Gilbert and Hufflepuff Sweetheart Cecelia Crouch.

The entire fifth-year class was perfectly baffled by the match-up. The two Ravenclaws, despite sharing a dorm, couldn’t have been any more different. Atticus was a by-the-book, rule-following, serious Prefect and star student who came from the intimidating Pureblood Lestrange family, while Robert was a laidback, rebellious, sassy Muggle-born athlete whose family was as poor as the Weasleys. Most students thought that someone like Atticus was way out of Robert’s league popularity-wise, and yet those from Pureblood families side-eyed Atticus for giving someone like Robert any sort of attention, just as they likewise did for Cecelia and Barty. Then the two actually started calling each other special nicknames (“Grim” and “Bat,” respectively), and soon the whole school was convinced that they were an item, or at least on the verge to becoming one.

Both Atticus and Robert were completely unaware of the school’s attitude at first. If nothing else, they had more important things to focus on -- namely, the strange dreams they and their friends Barty and Cecelia all shared, as well as their OWLs. After Ravenclaw suffered another devastating loss to Gryffindor, effectively knocking them out of the running of the Quidditch Cup, Robert had nothing else to focus on but his exams, and since Atticus always took his grades so seriously, the two ended up studying side by side rather frequently. Atticus didn’t think he’d ever seen Robert study so hard -- but, he supposed, when Robert was the sort to study outside the library and he’d always been the sort to study in it, he supposed that wasn’t surprising. The two boys would switch between studying for their upcoming Charms OWL and reading over books on Time Turners and their compositions, in the hopes that there might be something they missed regarding the ability to see the future.

“This just doesn’t make sense,” Atticus said tiredly, as he closed the book with a shake of his head. “Every book we’ve read posits that the future isn’t set in stone, so even just traveling forward in time by Time Turner is risky. And if that’s so, what spell could have been cast on us, or could we have cast, to make us see such vivid images?”

He shook his head. “I know that we all appear older, so it seems like it has to be stuff that hasn’t happened yet, but...do we even know everything we saw is going to happen? Or are they things that just might happen?”

“It’s possible,” said Robert. “But we’ve seen things multiple times. If they are only things that might happen, then we have to make sure they don’t.”

Atticus couldn’t fully agree with this. Yes, a lot of the feelings he felt were sad, but...they weren’t all sad. There was a kind of longing he felt -- a connection with something he didn’t fully understand. And yet he knew that Robert and Barty’s visions were worse than his -- Barty had seen Robert getting hurt, and Robert had seen a lot of destruction and pain. Those things certainly shouldn’t come about.

Maybe Cecelia would understand, thought Atticus. I don’t think she’s ever said anything about what she’s seen, in her dreams...

So Atticus met with Cecelia during their nightly Prefect rounds to broach the subject. When he arrived, he found Cecelia already involved in conversation with Trevor Urquart, a Hufflepuff in their year -- and it wasn’t a particularly friendly conversation either.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” said Cecelia.

Urquart frowned deeply. “Well, it’s just...with who your family is, and who his family is -- you really can’t think your uncle would approve.”

Atticus came to an abrupt stop a couple yards away, just out of sight around a corner.

Cecelia’s uncle? What wouldn’t he -- ?

“... I mean, he chucked 'Strange’s father’s cousins into Azkaban for being Death Eaters. I reckon you hanging out with a Lestrange wouldn’t be good for his reputation...especially after what happened with his son...”

Atticus’s lips came together very tightly.

Of course. Cecelia’s uncle was Barty Crouch, Sr. -- the head of the court who sentenced Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastian to Azkaban. The memory of his father’s resentful glare over his shoulder at Crouch when he passed through the Ministry once with Atticus rippled over the Ravenclaw Prefect’s mind, and it made him feel ill.

Father would be pretty upset if he learned who I’ve been spending time with too, he thought to himself.

Atticus dreaded even thinking of what his father would do, if he found out -- he’d probably forbid him from ever talking to his friends again...

“Who I choose to spend my time with has nothing to do with my uncle or his reputation,” said Cecelia sharply. “Especially since Atticus is nothing like his family. And I’ll kindly remind you not to call him by that awful nickname either -- it’s horribly shallow of you.”

Atticus felt the invisible hand that had been squeezing his heart in a vice grip loosen significantly, hearing Cecelia actually defend him. Urquart frowned deeper still.

“Oh c’mon, Ceci -- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just what everyone else calls him, that’s all. Well, except for Robert Bellamy, but I don’t reckon Lestrange wants everyone to call him by that pet name -- ”

“I think it’s high time you scurry on off to bed, Trevor,” Cecelia cut him off very coolly. “It’s well past curfew, and I have my Prefect rounds to finish. Go on now.”

Urquart opened his mouth as if to say something else, but Cecelia crossed her arms and gave him a very pointed look.

Sensing the conversation was over, Urquart gave a low, loud sigh and trudged off, right past Cecelia and then around the corner where Atticus had been standing. The Hufflepuff boy was startled to see the Ravenclaw Prefect. Atticus fixed him with a rather pointed look of his own, before walking past him and around the corner.

“Cecelia.”

Cecelia brightened at the sight of her fellow Prefect. “Hi, Atticus!”

Atticus attempted a smile, but it didn’t feel genuine.

Fortunately, although she clearly noticed the strain in his expression, Cecelia didn’t immediately address it. Instead, after shooting a quick look at the corner Urquart had departed around, she smiled up at Atticus and took his arm, leading him off.

“Come on -- let’s start on the east side of the castle and make our way back. It’ll be easier for you to get back up to your dorm when we’re done, if we finish on the west side of the castle.”

Atticus was glad for the increased distance between them and Urquart -- and for Cecelia’s talent for knowing exactly what to do to make people feel more comfortable.

It was only once they were a healthy ways away that Cecelia spoke again.

“How much of that did you hear?” she murmured, her hazel-green eyes looking concerned.

Atticus glanced away. “...Enough.”

Cecelia frowned deeply, bringing a hand onto Atticus’s shoulder.

“I meant what I said, you know,” she said firmly. “I don’t give a damn about your family. None of us do. Why would we? I mean, you don’t hate Rob for his -- and plenty of people looked at Barty and me funny when we first became friends with Rob too, at first...”

She offered Atticus a comforting smile.

“So don’t worry about what that clod Trevor said. People like him will get over themselves soon enough, and then they’ll find some other molehill to make a mountain out of...”

Atticus felt himself smiling slightly, feeling encouraged.

“Thank you,” he said lowly. “Not just for that, but for what you said before, too. It was good of you, to stand up for me like that...”

His smile faded.

“...But aren’t you at all worried, about what your family will think about you spending time with me? I mean, sure, maybe your uncle’s opinion doesn’t matter as much to you...but I am a Lestrange. Won’t your parents be upset?”

Cecelia rubbed behind her neck uncomfortably. “Oh sure, they...were a little unsure, when I first wrote home about you...but they’ve been okay about it, all things considered. And well...you’re my friend. I care about you. When I’m at home...well, I have to play ‘big sister’ all the time. What I want, what I need -- that always comes second or third, if at all...”

She offered her best smile.

“But when I’m with Rob...with you and Barty, here at school...I can put myself first! I can have fun and do what I want, and just be me. ...That means a lot to me.”

Atticus smiled a bit more fully too. He understood what she meant. Before Robert had reached out to him...well, his existence had been very lonely. Atticus wasn’t really sure how to do this “friendship” thing at all, but...well, upon getting a taste of the fun, the warmth -- the closeness that came with it...he found he really liked it. He liked feeling connected to someone else...like he wasn’t alone.

Cecelia was lucky her family was so understanding. Atticus wished he could be sure that his father would react the same way, if he ever told him about his new friends...

“...Me too.”

The two came upon a bench under a window. Cecelia strolled over to it and sat down -- she patted the spot next to her, and Atticus followed suit.

“I’m really glad we became friends, Atticus,” she said, beaming fully. “I remember when I first collided with Rob in first year, one of the very first things I heard him say about you is that you should be smiling -- that you didn’t look ‘right’ somehow, looking so serious. I just thought it was awfully sweet of Rob to say, at the time -- ”

Her eyes sparkled as her pretty white smile spread enough to encompass her whole face.

“ -- but now that I’ve seen you smile for real -- like when you and Rob were teaching together, back in Binns’s class -- I agree with him. You should smile like that all the time!”

Atticus felt his cheeks burning, but his heart was too -- like it had swollen up to three times its normal size. He bit back a happy laugh despite himself.

“Well, I daresay I will, if Bat has his way. Got to keep me from getting too ‘grim,’ doesn’t he?”

Cecelia giggled. “Definitely.”

Atticus’s smile loosened slightly as he looked down at his clasped hands in his lap.

“...Cecelia...may I ask you something?” he asked more seriously.

Cecelia tilted her head. “What?”

Atticus bit his lip.

“...Bat and I were in the library earlier today, and...well, we were talking about our theory, that our dreams are what’s going to happen, sometime in the future. We both agreed that even if that’s true, the future couldn’t possibly be set in stone...but Bat thinks that our dreams must be...warnings, somehow. Some sort of magical premonitions of things we have to prevent from happening...”

Atticus’s blue eyes became a little smaller, darker.

“...But...I just don’t know. Bat’s seen a lot of scary things...he’s said as much, anyway, though he hasn’t gone into much detail...”

“He never does,” Cecelia said solemnly.

Atticus straightened up slightly to look at her.

“Rob’s told us some of the stuff he’s seen in his dreams,” said Cecelia, and her eyes were very sad, “but he’s always holding back. I know he is. It’s just like when he disappears to be by himself, when he’s upset. He sees his dreams as a problem he has to fix -- something he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with, if he can help it. Even though he knows Barty and I have bad dreams too, and he knows they frighten us...I think our dreams aren’t half as bad as his, and I think he knows it. But rather than make us feel bad, hearing about all the terrible stuff he dreams about...I guess he sees it as more practical to come up with possible explanations for what our dreams mean, and solutions so that they don’t bother us any more, rather than talk about his feelings...”

Cecelia’s eyes softened, becoming rather strained.

“He’s so modest, even about his own pain,” she murmured. “He won’t even take the time to complain -- he just puts on this calm, cool air and soldiers through.”

Atticus considered her for a moment, his eyes squinting ever-so-slightly.

“It is admirable, in a way,” he acknowledged. “I just wish he didn’t have to soldier through...that he didn’t have to have such a hard time of it.”

He sighed.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps my dreams aren’t as bad as his. Sure, they’re a large part of the reason I’ve only had a few restful nights’ sleep in my entire life,” he added as a light scoff, “but...well, even though a lot of my dreams are sad, it’s not all bad. There are other feelings too, besides the sadness...”

He looked at Cecelia for approval.

“And well, you, Barty, and Bat -- you’ve all seen each other in your dreams before, right? Are they truly all terrible?”

Cecelia looked down at her lap.

“No,” she admitted softly. “No, they aren’t. In fact, some of them -- ” her lips curled up in a weak smile, “ -- some of the dreams I have are ones I always look forward to, when they start.”

Atticus blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Cecelia’s smile broadened.

“I don’t remember all the details,” she confessed, “but there’s a ball. A big, beautiful ballroom, with swirling gowns and festive music. I think it’s Christmas! I’m pretty sure there are fir trees. And I remember dancing...dancing in lively circles around this carefree man with a long ponytail of dark curls and bright black eyes...”

Her face was flushed with fondness. Atticus immediately guessed why.

“It’s Bat,” he said at once. “Isn’t it?”

Cecelia beamed and nodded. “Mm-hmm -- I’d know his face anywhere. I think I’ve seen Barty at the party too, though I’m not sure...it seems like him. Though I have trouble imagining him with such long hair -- Rob seems much more the type...”

She laughed, but after the first chuckle, it slowed and quieted in her throat, before slowly dying away to nothing.

Atticus tilted his head to look at her better. Upon noticing the concern in his face, Cecelia tried to smile again.

“I think I see your point, Atticus,” she said. “If there’s good along with the bad, in what we see...how can it be a warning, to stop some terrible future? ...But at the same time...I think I see Rob’s point, too. Even if there’s good along the way...if the end result is tragic for all parties...are those good times worth it? Do you follow the same path regardless of the ‘bad outcome,’ just to enjoy the good while you can? Do you throw away the short-term good, to protect yourself and the ones you care about? Can you even try to prevent the bad and keep the good, even if they’re so closely linked? Wouldn’t that bad outcome stain all the good that came before it...make it so that even that good ends up just as painful to remember as the bad is?”

Atticus crossed his arms, considering this.

It was certainly a thorny issue. Perhaps Atticus’s own dreams had been less traumatic than the others’, holding this mysterious figure he felt this bizarre connection to and felt this intense need to know the secrets of again -- but Robert had admitted that he’d seen destruction and death. Barty had had nightmares of being unable to save Robert from getting hurt. Was his desire to unravel the mystery of this man who so strangely resembled Barty truly worth that? Could he live with himself if other people got hurt because of it -- if anything happened to Robert because of -- ?

But if we don’t get to the bottom of things, Atticus thought stubbornly, how would we even know there’s no way to preserve the good and prevent the bad? How would we know for sure that the only way to stop those terrible things Bat and Gilbert have seen from happening is to make it so everything we’ve seen doesn’t happen?

His blue eyes flashed with fresh determination.

The future isn’t set in stone -- every book I’ve read says so. I can't believe there'd be no way to make the future we’ve seen better, without throwing it all away. If we could just understand it -- get to the bottom of the mystery of what our visions mean, surely we could use that knowledge to prevent anything terrible from happening...

Cecelia leaned back slightly, her hand propping her up as her gaze drifting up toward the ceiling.

“As far back as I can remember,” she said softly, “I’ve had this nightmare. In it, I open the door, and standing in front of me is this massive man -- taller than anyone else I’ve ever met, with scraggly hair, sharp, overgrown nails, and filthy, blood-stained clothes. And red eyes -- horrible, monstrous red eyes...”

Atticus straightened up noticeably.

“I’m completely eclipsed in his shadow, and all I can think of is to scream, but no sound comes out. I can’t even move. Suddenly he’s in the room with me, and...he’s just shouting. I don’t even know what he’s saying, but he’s just in a rage. Lashing out, blood dripping from his wide open mouth and down his fangs as he screams...his eyes completely red, with no white at all, and full of this...pure hatred...and worse...”

Cecelia’s eyes gloss over as her figure seemed to shrink.

“...Streaming with tears...like he’s some creature that’s gone so mad with pain and hunger...it’s capable of anything...”

Her eyes began to pulse with dread at the memory. Her voice had gone very quiet.

“And all of that mad, blind, directionless, violent wrath...is directed squarely at me. Even if I don’t know why, or what I could have possibly done to him...I feel this fear I’ve never known awake, every time I see him. Like I’m frozen in place and can’t even breathe.”

Atticus watched her out the side of his eye. He’d taken in everything she said, but when silence finally fell, all he could do was recur the piece of her story that had echoed in his head the loudest.

“...This man you see...has red eyes?”

Cecelia glanced at Atticus. The Ravenclaw��s eyes were narrowed, but not out of anger -- if anything, it seemed like he was troubled. The blue rippled with a vulnerable sort of emotion.

Cecelia tilted her head slightly to look at Atticus more closely, her eyes welling up with understanding and amazement.

“...You’ve seen him too,” she said in a very hushed voice.

The red eyes, full of a kind of bittersweet joy and agony that Atticus couldn’t fathom and streaming with tears, rippled over his mind. The memory was enough to make him swallow a lump in his throat.

“...Maybe...but...the man I’ve seen...he’s not frightening. He’s...”

Atticus could almost feel the man clutching his shoulders again.

“...Sad. Happy, in a strange way...but in so much pain. As if he’s known a Hell I can’t fathom, and yet...as if just connecting with another person, in the simplest of ways -- just reaching out and touching someone...is a joy he’s longed for his whole life...”

Atticus himself hadn’t realized just how wonderful it was to feel such a connection, until he’d become Robert’s friend...

Cecelia stared at Atticus, her eyes very small and almost confused.

“...You mean he never frightens you?” she asked softly.

Atticus shook his head. “When I’d describe him to my mother...she’d always say I had nothing to fear -- that the man in my dreams couldn’t hurt me. But she never needed to say that. Even if his eyes aren’t natural and I don’t think he truly is human...I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.”

He turned to look more directly at Cecelia.

“If who we’re seeing is the same person...he wouldn’t hurt you, either.”

Atticus was confident in this thought. This man who called him “Grim” in his dreams, as Robert had just started to -- who clutched his shoulders, with tears streaming from his eyes and painful, heartbroken laughter falling from his lips...he couldn’t be any sort of monster.

Cecelia looked almost awed, as she looked at Atticus. She was quiet for a very long moment. Then, at last, she got to her feet and faced Atticus with fresh determination in her eyes.

“Atticus...will you help me find a boggart?”

Atticus blinked. “Huh?”

Cecelia’s hands clenched at her side. “My whole life, I’ve been terrified of meeting that monstrous man someday. He’s been my worst fear for as long as I can remember. Even in Care of Magical Creatures, when we faced our boggarts...I couldn’t make him go away. I couldn’t come up with anything funny enough to beat him back, or even just happy enough to make him change form. I couldn’t do anything...”

She swallowed, her expression becoming fiercer still.

“But...if this man we’ve seen is as you say he is...then I want to face him again. Barty always says that the scariest magical creatures aren’t monsters that need to be locked up or killed -- just animals that can’t properly express pain, that need patience and kindness. Maybe knowing that this man that’s always frightened me is the same way will make it that much easier for me to overcome my fear.”

Atticus’s brow softened. “I see...”

He considered this for a moment.

“...Well, Professor Lupin had a boggart earlier this year, for his third year class,” he said slowly. “I remember hearing some of the younger students mentioning it.”

Cecelia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s right! Someone’s worst fear was Professor Snape, right?”

“And he ended up dressed in some awful robes and a hat that kid’s grandmother wore,” said Atticus with a nod.

He was trying not to smile, but it was proving difficult -- Severus Snape had always gone a bit easier on Atticus than a lot of other Ravenclaws due to his family name, but that didn’t mean Atticus particularly approved of his teaching methods.

Atticus got to his feet, his eyes also full of new resolve.

“Maybe if I ask Professor Lupin, he’ll be willing to let us use it. For all we know, boggarts could very well end up on our OWLs, after all.”

The following day after Defense Against the Dark Arts, Atticus dawdled behind after class until everyone was gone so he could discuss the matter with the professor. Lupin, for his part, was very supportive of the idea, and fortunately he’d actually kept the very boggart he’d used in that class with the intention of using it in the third years’ upcoming final exam. So that evening, right after dinner, Atticus and Cecelia bid goodnight to Barty and Robert and went on up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom together to meet the professor so as to borrow his boggart. They didn’t give the other two the full context of what they were doing -- Cecelia had told Atticus she didn’t feel comfortable having an audience, while facing her worst fear again. Besides Atticus thought to himself, there was really no need for Robert and Barty to actually see the man themselves: they could always describe him to them afterwards. At least that way Cecelia would feel more comfortable.

When the two arrived, Lupin was ready to supervise, holding the boggart in a trunk he’d rolled out into the center of the room.

“All right, Cecelia,” the professor said, his quiet voice very grave as he rested a hand on the lid, “are you ready?”

Cecelia swallowed. Her face was very white as she glanced at Atticus on the sidelines -- Atticus gave her an encouraging look.

“Mm-hmm,” Cecelia said after a moment, nodding.

“On the count of three,” said Lupin. “One -- two -- ”

Cecelia set her jaw, putting on the bravest face she could.

“ -- three!”

Lupin opened the trunk.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, abruptly, a filthy, claw-like hand with long nails lashed out of the trunk, seizing at the edge of it.

The creature attached to the hand used the grip to hoist itself up and out, little by little, until it towered over all three of the people in the room. His long, tangled auburn hair swished to the side as he turned toward Cecelia. His face was largely in shadow, even though the room was well-lit, but the light of the room bounced perfectly off his sharp, cat-like fangs, stained with blood, and were reflected in his inhuman, sclera-less red eyes.

Atticus’s heart leapt into his throat.

The eyes were exactly the same. The exact shape, with that exact sharp glint, as those of the man in his dreams. The one who had called him “Grim.”

Cecelia tried to take a step back as the man approached her and ended up stumbling. Her hand on her wand was shaking visibly.

“Steady, Cecelia,” said Lupin bracingly. “It’s just taking on the shape of your fear -- remember the spell.”

“He won’t hurt you, Cecelia,” Atticus reminded her. “He won’t hurt you.”

Cecelia’s hand tightened on her wand in a vain attempt to try to make it stop shaking.

“R-Riddikulus,” she squeaked.

The spell materialized, hitting the shadowy, monstrous man right in the shoulder, but the boggart didn’t even break its stride. The man shrugged it off, climbing out of the trunk and making its way over toward her.

“Think of a way to make it funny, Cecelia,” Lupin encouraged her.

“Riddikulus!” Cecelia tried again.

This time the boggart flinched at the spell hitting it, but Cecelia must have been having trouble conjuring up a funny image in her head, as the cherry pie she’d materialized in her head dissolved before it could fully form.

“Remember what Gilbert said!” Atticus urged her. “It’s not a monster that needs destroying -- it’s a creature that needs understanding -- ”

“RIDDIKULUS!” screamed Cecelia, her voice very shaky.

CRACK.

Finally the spell made the boggart change shape -- but instead of changing it into something funny, it merely made the boggart’s face become a little clearer. His nose was crooked, and his jawline was strong -- even the pale, almost boyish complexion was easier to see --

And with a flare of terror, Atticus realized he had seen the man’s face before in his dreams too.

It was the man who had reminded him of Barty Gilbert.

He was older than Barty -- in his twenties, easily -- and yet somehow so much older than he looked. His eyes were hollowed-out, with terrible dark bags around them that made him look ill. The way he held himself was aloof, strong -- cold -- not at all like unassuming, modest, pleasantly smiling Barty. And his eyes...there was truly no light to be seen -- no white in the eye, no humanity at all...

Cecelia’s face had lost all of its color and her eyes had gone very wide.

“No...” she rasped weakly. “No, no...”

“The spell, Cecelia,” Lupin repeated, though his voice betrayed some concern now. “Remember, it’s not real -- ”

But Cecelia had lost her head completely. The monstrous man closed the space between them, opened his mouth, and began to scream wordlessly at her. Tiny flecks of blood came off his fangs and slapped her face as tears streamed in rivers down his face -- and Cecelia crumpled up in a ball, her wand in her shaking hand forgotten and unable to move.

Both Lupin and Atticus raised their wands, but someone else reacted faster.

“FLIPENDO!”

In a second, the monstrous man that resembled Barty had been blasted back away from Cecelia.

It was the real Barty. Just behind him was Robert, both of them with their wands out -- while Robert ran over to Cecelia, Barty turned his focus squarely on the boggart. His blue eyes were narrowed with a kind of protectiveness and righteous fury Atticus had never seen.

The boggart stumbled to its feet, facing Barty head-on. Upon making eye contact with him, the man reached out a hand toward him --

CRACK.

In the monstrous man’s place was Robert. He looked older, with a ponytail of long curls and wearing a bright red coat and high-collared shirt -- and in a second, and with a loud BANG, his chest was stained with blood and his arm was blasted clean off --

Barty’s response was so effortless that it didn’t even need volume. If anything, the humorless, venom-laced restraint in his incantation with which he spoke was almost disquieting.

“Riddikulus.”

CRACK.

The boggart became Robert, dressed in Atticus’s clothes and tugging against his way-too-tight collar with a roll of his eyes.

Atticus shot into action himself. Pointing his own wand at the boggart, he shouted, “Depulso!”

The boggart resembling Robert was knocked backward. With another wandless spell, Lupin yanked the creature back into the trunk and slammed it shut.

Atticus ran over to Cecelia. She’d collapsed onto the floor -- Robert had both of his arms around her and she was shaking from head to toe with sobs.

“Cecelia,” whispered Atticus.

Cecelia gave a loud choke and clutched at the front of Robert’s new black school robes. Robert tried to soothe her by running a hand along her back, but his face was very white too.

Lupin bent down in front of Cecelia and placed an open chocolate bar in her hands.

“Here now, Cecelia -- eat this,” he told her firmly. “It will help.”

The poor Hufflepuff was having trouble choking back her sobs enough to eat it, but she tried to gulp some down all the same.

Robert looked up at Atticus, his rippling black eyes searching his face.

“Grim,” he murmured, “was...was that thing...?”

“Yes.”

Atticus swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“It was...in our dreams,” he said very lowly. “Both of ours.”

Robert’s eyes widened.

“We were going to tell you, we just thought -- well, Cecelia wanted to face her boggart on her own,” Atticus said weakly. “I only stayed for moral support...”

Robert whirled on Cecelia, his face whiter than ever.

“That man -- Ceci, you never said he looked -- that he looked like -- ”

“I didn’t know!” choked Ceci. “I’ve never seen him that clearly before...”

Robert’s focus shot to Barty. The Gryffindor looked the whitest out of everyone as he stared down at his three friends, clumped in a heap on the floor with their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His expression was also deeply wounded. His blue eyes were full to bursting with emotion -- fear, horror, pain, and utter despair.

Cecelia’s worst fear is him, Atticus realized Barty must be thinking. This girl who means the world to him...is afraid of someone who looks like him.

“Barty,” Robert started, his voice unusually sharp, “it’s just a -- ”

But Barty turned on his heel and ran for the door.

“BARTY!” bellowed Robert. “BARTY!”

He’d stumbled to his feet and charged after him, but he halted in the doorframe -- Barty, with his much longer legs, had outpaced him and disappeared.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #golden era #reincarnation!au #bartholomew varney #cecelia crouch varney #atticus lestrange #remus lupin #;~;#the plot thickens baby...#oh barty my poor boy #my poor baby boy!!#also my poor bb ceci!!#now that y'all know who you've been seeing in your dreams all this time...what to do about it now...?

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“Death doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints -- It takes and it takes and it takes, And we keep living anyway... We rise and we fall and we break And we make our mistakes, And if there's a reason I'm still alive When everyone who loves me has died, I'm willing to wait for it... (Wait for it) I'm willing to wait for it.”

~“Wait for It,” from Hamilton

x~x~x~x

Hey, I said Hamilton inspired me to do something kind of angsty with my unofficial-professor vampire MC, Bat Varney! “Wait for It” is my favorite song in the entire show, and although the whole song doesn’t really fit Bat, this particular part...yeah, it TOTALLY does. So I just had to do a quasi-animation.

For those of you who don’t know Bat’s history, Bat was once a human named Robert Harker, a Muggle-born who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the 1770′s before marrying a Muggle named Loretta Gallagher and joining the British army so as to earn enough to support his wife and unborn child. One of Robert’s best friends -- Pureblood Gryffindor golden boy Bartholomew “Barty” Varney -- selflessly and bravely decided to enlist with Robert, leaving his wife and Robert’s other best friend, Cecelia Crouch-Varney, back in Britain. Cecelia, however, secretly harbored romantic feelings for Robert despite being married to Barty and, after having a Seer vision that predicted Robert wouldn’t return home from the War, took drastic measures to try to make sure Robert would survive. Unfortunately the Dark enchantment she used resulted in Robert coming back as a vampire, and not even in his own body, but Barty’s. Thus Robert -- or Bat, since people referred to him by the name belonging the body he now occupied -- was too dangerous to live among people and ended up being forced to stand back and watch as everyone he ever loved, including his Muggle wife and Muggle-born daughter, died without ever knowing he still existed. Over time Bat was able to get a handle on his blood lust, and after a hundred years, he finds a comfortable place for himself in Hogsmeade village, where he ends up offering his extensive knowledge to anyone brave enough to approach him in the Hog’s Head and interesting enough to perk his interest. It’s at the turn of the 20th century that Bat grows enough to regain some of his old humanity by opening his heart to love and attachment once more.

The first image contains Cecelia (yellow), Barty (red), and Loretta (violet), while the second is Robert transforming into Bat. He’s touching his neck clasp, which used to be the silver gorget that was part of Barty’s British redcoat uniform and is the last piece of Barty Bat still has. I’m still a total amateur when it comes to art and especially animation, so the result totally isn’t perfect, but it was a fun exercise anyway!

If you’d like to read more about Bat and his history, you can always consult the masterpost of fun stuff I put under the cut...and Bat-muse and I hope you guys have a lovely evening! 💙

The “About Bartholomew” Tag

Bat’s Moodboard

Bat’s Introduction

Bat’s Model Sheet

Inspiration Behind Bat

Bat’s Perspective on His Lengthened Life

If You Want Proof This Guy Was a Gryffinclaw Hat-Toss

Harker, Crouch, and Varney

Bat Confronts Cecelia (TW: Blood)

Bat and Grim Meet @cursebreakerfarrier

Bat “Adopts” Adelia @thatravenpuffwitch

Bat Goes to Grim for Help

Grim Learns Bat’s Secret

A Daydream with Batticus

The Best Guard Dog Ever (Next to Teddy Ellison)

Blood Pops

Bat and Grim in the 1930′s

Dying Like a Hero (TW: Death, Murder, Blood, Gore)

The Reincarnation!AU Tag

Bat Comments on Christmas!

Bat Disney AU Moodboard

Les Mis AU Batticus Moodboard

Robert/Loretta Moodboard

Barty’s Moodboard

Cecelia’s Moodboard

Robert, Barty, and Cecelia Friendship Moodboard

Dating Bat Would Include...

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #my art #animation #bartholomew varney #cecelia crouch varney #loretta harker #masterpost #about bartholomew #first time drawing loretta!! isn't she just beautiful??#I love her so much #I do actually wanna introduce her in the reincarnation AU at some point even if she's a muggle so she can't go to hogwarts #she's actually a total bad-ass okay #like she is SMAAAART #like even back in her original era she could've taught languages at the university level with ease #it's almost like bat likes his partners to be total eggheads #*eyes grim and snorts with laughter*#hey my boy's a ravenclaw what can I say?

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“We were dreamers not so long ago, But one by one, we all had to grow up. When it seems the magic’s slipped away, We find it all again on Christmas Day...”

~“Believe,” by Josh Groban

x~x~x~x

The Ravenclaw VS Hufflepuff match was one for the ages. With a final score of 320-10, it was one of the most decisive matches in Hogwarts history, let alone one of Ravenclaw house’s greatest triumphs -- and all of it was because of the combined efforts of Seeker Cho Chang and Ravenclaw’s Chasers, led by their Star Player Robert Bellamy. It put Ravenclaw well on its way to winning the Quidditch Cup for a second time, and it also made Robert once again the talk of Ravenclaw house. People latched onto the idea of him using echolocation to signal to his fellow Chasers where he was on the pitch and began to say he could fly faster than any bat, whether a real one or one from Ballycastle.

And yet, despite all of the praise and fawning he received, just as Cecelia said, Robert shrugged all of it off.

“All of us train more than just our eyes,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, signaling would’ve meant nothing if Roger and Randolph hadn’t been good enough Chasers to toss the Quaffle to me blindly -- and if Roger hadn’t been a good enough Captain to lead our team, to begin with. Not to mention Cho catching the Snitch in the middle of that fog -- that’s infinitely harder than anything we did...”

Atticus @cursebreakerfarrier couldn’t quite understand how Robert could be so determined not to accept praise for his abilities when it was so clearly warranted...but even so, he found himself smiling every time he heard him respond with such modesty. For as flippant, rebellious, and devil-may-care as Robert was, he wasn’t full of himself. It was a rather endearing quality.

When December arrived, the student body got into a predictable tizzy about the upcoming holidays. Atticus, as always, found himself grumpier than usual due to the noise. He’d never really liked Christmas even as a kid, and at Hogwarts the season only served to make him more surly. Atticus recalled, however, that Robert was one of those people who got obnoxious around Christmas -- it had always irritated him before, whenever Robert would sing Christmas carols loudly at the top of his lungs while helping decorate the Ravenclaw common room. And this year was no exception. The Star Chaser helped smuggle a tree up to Ravenclaw Tower, hung garlands and clusters of holly all over the Ravenclaw commonroom, and greeted and said goodbye to absolutely everybody with “Happy Christmas,” and on the morning of December 8th, the very day he no longer had to dress all neatly like Atticus, he pulled out his old red-felt Santa hat and wore it every single day for the rest of term.

Atticus was frankly done, and the holiday break hadn’t even started yet.

“Aw, come on, Lestrange!” said Robert one day after Potions, giving the other boy a light punch to the shoulder. “Lighten up -- it’s Christmas!”

“So you keep reminding me,” Atticus said dully. He tried to bury his nose in his copy of Moste Potente Potions, but Robert wouldn’t drop the line of conversation.

“Well, I wouldn’t keep reminding you if you cheered up a little,” he said with a grin. “Do you always have to be such a Scrooge around this time of year?”

“Do you always have to be so happy about it?” Atticus shot back. “...What’s a ‘Scrooge’ anyway?”

“A character from A Christmas Carol,” Ceci explained with a small, amused smile. “It’s a Muggle book -- it’s a lovely one too: you’d like it, Atticus...”

“Better have Rob read it aloud for you, though,” said Barty with a big grin. “No one reads it like Rob.”

“A Christmas Carol is a masterpiece of literature -- all I do is treat it accordingly,” Robert said offhandedly. He shot Atticus a wry smile over his shoulder. “Though I suppose if it’d help you actually get to sleep at a reasonable hour for once, I could always read it to you as a bedtime story, Lestrange -- ”

“No thank you,” Atticus cut him off crisply.

Her face appearing rather sympathetic, Ceci lightly bumped her arm against Atticus’s as they walked.

“Are you staying here for the holidays again, Atticus?”

Atticus nodded. “The library’s always nice and quiet, over break. It’s a good time to get some extra work done...”

Robert’s light-hearted expression faded -- something almost guilty passed over his face.

“...Mm...”

His black eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall. Barty offered both his best friend and Atticus a smile.

“Well, uh...maybe we can do some work over break together, then, Atticus,” Barty offered.

Atticus stiffened like a startled cat. “Huh?”

“My parents are taking a trip to visit my aunt and cousins in Normandy,” Barty explained sheepishly, “so I was thinking of staying at Hogwarts over break too! Don’t reckon much of anyone else in our year will be, so maybe we can hang out a bit over break, if you’d like...”

Atticus truly couldn’t think of anything he’d want to do less. Knowing it’d be incredibly rude to say so, however, he forced an uncomfortable smile. Ceci, however, jumped on it.

“That’s perfect!” she said. “Maybe you and Atticus can do some extra research, Barty.”

Atticus blinked in confusion. “Research?”

“About our dreams,” said Ceci eagerly.

Barty nodded. “One thing all of our visions have in common is that we all look older, right? You said that the guy in your dreams kind of looks like me, but older -- and Ceci, Rob, and I all see each other looking older too. But when we looked into Divination, all we really got was a lot of vague preaching -- ”

“You mean utter rubbish,” Robert inserted with a smirk.

“So Robert was thinking,” Barty pressed on, “if this is some kind of future sight we’re having, maybe we can find out what’s causing it by studying Time-centric magic.”

“And what better person to help us with researching something in the library than Atticus Lestrange?” Ceci said with satisfaction, taking both of Atticus’s shoulders from behind and giving them a light squeeze.

Atticus, however, didn’t look so sure. “Well, thank you, but...I’ve already read every book in the library about Time Turners -- and I don’t think there’s anything in there that might explain what’s going on...”

“Every book?” prompted Ceci, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” said Atticus. “Well, except for the Restricted Section, but...”

He trailed off, noticing the wicked look that Ceci and Robert exchanged before they both glanced at Barty.

“Except for the Restricted Section,” repeated Robert, his lips spread in a broad white smirk.

Barty grinned -- his expression was perfectly angelic compared to his cohorts, and yet it was determined.

“Atticus,” he said in a very soft, but perfectly fearless voice, “mind if I join you on your evening Prefect rounds, over break?”

And that was how Atticus Lestrange got roped into sneaking into the Restricted Section of the Library after dark on Christmas Eve with Barty Gilbert.

Atticus had been very wary when he lingered in the hall outside Ravenclaw Tower as planned, waiting for Barty. He knew his father most assuredly wouldn’t approve of this, and even despite that, he dreaded the thought of willingly spending time with his school rival. It didn’t matter how pleasantly the Gryffindor acted around him, or even how fond Atticus was becoming of his best friend -- Atticus didn’t like Barty, and that was that. And he absolutely hated the thought of getting into trouble just because he was roped into working with him.

Unfortunately Atticus was so uptight and stiff while waiting around that he nearly had a heart attack when Barty’s disembodied voice whispered in his ear.

“Sorry!” Barty whispered quickly. “I’m sorry -- I was really trying not to sneak up on you, but Filch is around that next corner...ack! Here he comes!”

He threw some sort of translucent cloth over Atticus’s head, prompting the other boy to crouch down so it covered both of them.

The crabby Hogwarts caretaker, Argus Filch, rounded the corner, raising his lantern and looking around. His beady eyes glided over where Atticus and Barty were standing, narrowing suspiciously, before he trudged away.

“Andskotans djöful,” Atticus swore under his breath.

He was clutching at his chest and breathing very heavily as he turned to gawk at Barty over his shoulder.

“You have an Invisibility Cloak?”

Barty grinned sheepishly. “My parents own several robe shops. I figured one of their stock going missing wouldn’t be the absolute end of the world...”

He adjusted somewhat so that the fabric wouldn’t drag on the floor.

“Come on -- let’s get to the library.”

Fortunately the two managed to get into the Restricted Section without incident. Once they were positive no one was in the Library to catch them, Barty stood watch under his Cloak by the door, his wand over his chest, while Atticus combed through the shelves of books, his own wand lit and held aloft so he could scan the titles. The two didn’t talk much -- the discomfort congealed between them as Atticus tried to keep his eyes on what he was doing.

“Anything promising?” asked Barty.

“Not yet,” said Atticus shortly.

Silence returned. After another moment, Barty spoke again.

“Atticus...may I ask you something?”

“What?”

“In your dreams...do you see bad things happening?”

Atticus paused. Then he slid another book from the shelf and opened it, flipping through the pages.

“Not really. I don’t see much of anything, I think -- at least, not that I can remember. It’s...feelings, mostly.”

“Feelings like you know something’s wrong? Like, even if you can’t see what happened, you feel so much pain and sorrow that you know it’s bad?”

“Sometimes.”

Barty nodded, turning his focus back out into the blackness of the Library.

“As far back as I can remember,” he said very softly, “I’ve had this dream where I was trying to reach someone. I couldn’t ever see their face clearly, but I just knew, somehow, that the person was in trouble, and that I had to help them. But no matter how fast I tried to run to try to get to that person...my vision would black out and I’d feel like I was frozen still, unable to move at all.”

He bowed his head, his eyes cast into shadow.

“...I would wake up screaming and crying at night, when I was little...all because I couldn’t reach that person in time. Because I knew that, because I didn’t move fast enough...that person was dead.”

Atticus’s hand had stilled on the book he was flipping through. His eyes were wide upon the page, but clearly weren’t taking in any of the words printed there. The memory of his own mother trying to comfort him after he woke up crying about a pair of red eyes and warm arms rippled over his mind.

“When I got to Hogwarts,” Barty said lowly, “my dreams became a little clearer. I still didn’t know where I was or what I was doing...but this person who I’d been running to try to save, my whole life, suddenly had a face. A man with black eyes and curly hair...just like my best friend.”

He looked up at Atticus, his face incredibly serious.

“I don’t know why you’ve seen someone like me in your dreams, Atticus,” said Barty, “and I know you don’t like me...but I could really use your help, in getting to the bottom of all this. Robert is my best friend in the whole world. He’s the first person who became my friend solely because of who I am, rather than who my family is. If I lost him...if anything bad happened to him...”

A dark, miserable shadow passed over his face.

“...I don’t know what I’d do,” he whispered.

Atticus looked up at last. His blue eyes were rather uncertain.

“What about Cecelia?” he asked. “Didn’t she become your friend for who you are?”

Barty’s eyes softened as his face flushed lightly.

“...Ceci means everything to me. We’ve known each other forever. But her family only engaged with mine because we had money...and my parents only let us play together because her parents would bring her over. Our parents encouraged her to play with me because my parents reckoned she’d be a ‘good influence’ on me...might help me come out of my shell some...”

“Well, I suppose they were right,” muttered Atticus. “Now you’re the hot-shot Dueling Champion and Dragon Tamer...Hogwarts’s Golden Boy...”

The last words came out before he could stop himself and he immediately looked away, his insides prickling with discomfort.

Barty, amazingly, only smiled weakly.

“It’s easy to be brave when you know you’re doing the right thing,” he said, “when you’re standing up for somebody or trying to calm an animal that doesn’t know any better. When you’re fighting, or protecting, there isn’t any thought -- you just do. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

He looked down again, his shoulders falling slightly.

“...But when you’re around people...trying to figure out just what to say, to tell people what you mean...or even just how much to say, when you know not everyone means you well...well, that’s not so easy. You feel like the whole world is watching you, and judging you, no matter what you say...even if you say nothing at all. But at least when you’re quiet...people can kind of just see what they want to see...”

Atticus frowned. Barty had always been rather soft-spoken compared to witty, sassy Robert and sociable, amiable Ceci, but he’d never really taken the time to conclude that Barty was actually shy.

“I’ve always envied Robert that way,” admitted Barty, offering Atticus a small smile. “He’s never at a loss of what to say. When you and he go at it, bantering like you do...I can tell you like each other, but there’s just such a charge there -- like the eclectic lamps Professor Burbage has in her Muggle Studies class!” He beamed a bit more broadly. “It’s so cool.”

Atticus stared at Barty for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then, after a moment, he looked back down at the book in his hands.

“...Thanks,” he said at last. He could feel his ears burning again.

Barty, however, only smiled, his blue eyes very understanding and patient as he returned his focus to the dark Library again.

Atticus glanced up at Barty without raising his head, considering him for a moment. Then, with a swallow, he spoke again.

“...I...used to wake up crying too. When I was little.”

Barty looked up, taken aback.

“I used to dream about this person with red eyes,” said Atticus. “He’d be squeezing my shoulders -- almost as if he was afraid to touch me at first, but then gently, purposefully. Then, as he held my shoulders, he would start to laugh...but even though he was laughing, I would hear the sobs. I could tell he was crying...crying in grief and joy and something else altogether...but so much pain. A kind of pain I don’t think I could ever know...”

Just remembering the heartbreaking sound made Atticus’s throat clench and his eyes well up with traces of tears. He wiped them quickly from his eyes with one hand.

“My mother used to comfort me, telling me that it was just a dream, that nothing in it could hurt me,” he said lowly. “But she never needed to say that -- I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He was the one hurting.”

He swallowed. The lump in his throat was painful.

“...I didn’t have the dream as much, as I got older -- just time to time, around some of the other weird ones. Maybe I just don’t sleep long enough stretches to dream as much anymore,” he added as an afterthought. “But when Bellamy and I got paired for Binns’s oral report...well, that feeling came back, out of nowhere...and again, when you, Ceci, and I were watching the match against Hufflepuff.”

Atticus forced himself to meet Barty’s eyes at last.

“I don’t understand this whole thing at all...but I want to know why I’m feeling these things, and I want to know why you, Ceci, and Bellamy see what you’re seeing, too. If that’s what you want too...well, then it’s only practical that we work together.”

He offered a weak smile of his own. Barty was definitely taken aback, but within seconds, his face had lit up with a warmer, more determined smile and he nodded.

“Mm-hmm.”

From that day on, Barty Gilbert and Atticus Lestrange had made peace.

Unfortunately their night in the Library proved fruitless, research-wise. Not even Dark or restricted magic could explain the kinds of bizarre, fragmented visions the four students were experiencing. And so Atticus returned to his dorm that night feeling very disheartened. He was less so, however, when he awoke out of a restless doze in the Ravenclaw armchair Christmas morning to the feeling of someone holding his shoulder and lightly shaking it.

“Atticus. Atticus.”

Atticus blinked sleepily up at who’d woken him, to see a familiar, shyly smiling face framed by auburn hair.

“Happy Christmas,” Barty greeted gently.

Atticus shook his head rapidly, trying to orient himself.

“W-what? Gilbert, what -- what are you doing in -- ?”

Just behind Barty, Atticus could see both Ceci and Robert grinning from ear to ear.

“Surprise!” said Ceci brightly.

“Happy Christmas, Lestrange,” said Robert, his black eyes dancing with mischief.

Atticus looked around at all three of them, perfectly bewildered. “But -- but you -- you two went home for Christmas -- how did -- ?”

“Rob and I took the Floo back!” Ceci explained.

“It was Rob’s idea,” said Barty. “I thought I’d keep the whole thing quiet, until they got here.”

“I couldn’t change my plans and stay for my whole break, since I have to be at home for Christmas Eve church service,” said Robert, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, “but well, the thought of you being stuck here all alone...”

His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

“‘The school is not quite deserted,’ said the Ghost,” he recited from memory, “‘A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.’”

He returned his gaze to Atticus seriously.

“A Christmas Carol,” he added as explanation. “It’s part of why Scrooge ends up hating Christmas so much -- he wasn’t allowed to go home for the holidays to see his family, so instead he stayed at school all alone, with nothing but his books for company. I know this whole season isn’t your thing and all, but...it just seemed rotten, to leave you and Barty alone.”

Barty beamed at Atticus. Atticus, on the other hand, was too overwhelmed to respond. He felt like his throat had gone very dry, all of the moisture instead moving up toward his eyes.

Robert and Ceci had put their holidays with their families on hold for him. Yes, Robert said it was for him and Barty, but he’d been thinking of Atticus and how lonely he’d be. No one had ever done anything quite so kind for him before, and it made Atticus feel like his heart was flooding.

“...You...” he murmured, “...but...why?”

Ceci laughed. “Why do you think? You’re our friend, Atticus! We wanted to spend Christmas with you!”

Atticus’s heart swelled.

Friend. He was their friend?

He looked from Ceci to Barty to Robert -- his black-haired dormmate smiled, his black eyes sparkling as he nodded in agreement.

The tears that had been prickling at the sides of Atticus’s eyes actually leaked through, escaping down his cheeks, as he smiled back. He quickly wiped them away, his smile gleaming as he looked up at the three of them.

“...Thank you,” he said at last breathily. “I...I don’t know what to say...”

Ceci brought her arms around Atticus in a sideways hug. “Then don’t say anything! We have presents to unwrap! Come on, come on -- Barty, Rob and I put ours under the tree before we woke you...”

Atticus felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t thought to buy any presents for Robert, Barty, and Cecelia, but he honestly hadn’t expected that they’d want to get him anything. But sure enough, all three of them gave marvelous presents -- Barty gave Atticus a book on Dark creatures; Ceci gave him his own leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol; and Robert gave him a beautiful bookmark carved out of wood into the shape of a Phoenix and painted brilliant shades of red and orange. The card enclosed said,

Ceci helped me paint this for you. Hope this little turkey can keep you company in the Library.

Happy Christmas!

Robert

Atticus was amazed when he learned that Robert had actually carved the bookmark himself by hand. Apparently Robert had used some of the leftover wood from the trunk of the tree he’d smuggled into Ravenclaw Tower to make Atticus’s bookmark -- he’d also used some of the branches he’d had to trim off to make Barty a carved picture frame and Ceci a pretty wooden heart pendant she could wear as a necklace. They were all a little rough around the edges, but the effort showed through, and it warmed Atticus’s heart to think of the amount of work Robert must’ve put in to make his presents.

The whole day put Atticus in such a good mood that he even encouraged Robert to read aloud from his new leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol, so he could hear it. The request made Robert’s dark eyes light up more brightly than Atticus had ever seen them before...and indeed, when Robert finished reading the beautifully written, emotional novel with such warm sincerity and articulated poetry that evening, Atticus had to admit -- it was a very, very good book.

#golden era #hphl #hogwarts legacy #reincarnation!au #my art #my writing #bartholomew varney #atticus grimsley #cecelia crouch varney #hahaha you've heard of christmas in july?? well now it's only may #but christmas is bat's favorite time of year hands-down #grim's canon relationship with christmas is harder because he initially thought it was 'eh'#then he met bat and he started really enjoying it #but then bat died right before christmas so toward the end of grim's life it only brought back bad memories #and admittedly atticus as his modern self didn't have much fun at home during christmas when he was a young'un #I'm so glad to see barty and grim finally finding some common ground!! :')#also yay for sneaking into the restricted section around christmas LOL

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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I found a song and now it’s making me want to do some really sad animation centered around my boy Bat and his friend who accidentally cursed him into vampire form, Cecelia.

Guess I know what the last page of this current sketchbook is going to be used for. 💔

#time to rip out my own heart I guess #the song is from the frank wildhorn musical adaptation of the count of monte cristo btw #it’s called ‘I know those eyes/this man is dead’#and yes I’ve been playing it on replay and it hurts me so well 😭#also watch out for the next reincarnation AU part in the next day or so #it’s almost done #bartholomew varney #cecelia crouch varney #personal

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“I howled at the moon with friends And then the sun came crashing in -- Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! But all the possibilities: no limits, just epiphanies -- Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! I'm never gonna look back -- never gonna give it up, no -- Just don't wake me now... This is gonna be the best day of my life... My li-i-i-i-i-ife!”

~“Best Day of My Life,” by American Authors

x~x~x~x

Hey guys! This is the first in hopefully a set of Singles Awareness Valentine’s Day posts I want to do that will feature each of my kids with someone that’s close to their heart. To start with, here’s something for my unofficial-teacher!HPHL!vampire, Bartholomew “Bat” Varney! This drawing is going to take some explaining...

A few years into Bat’s friendship with DADA professor Atticus Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier, Bat came up with a fun idea of something he and his mate could share together. By trading some information about dragon breeding to an interested wizard, the vampire got his hands on a Patented Daydream Charm, a type of commercial spell that didn’t exist when he was a Hogwarts student and didn’t currently have the magical ability to try out himself. Bat brought the Charm over to Atticus, suggesting that they use it together so that he could show the professor what Christmas was like at Hogwarts when he was at school. Atticus himself had never indulged in such a charm before, given his austere upbringing, so it didn’t take much to coax him. Sure enough, when Atticus cast the charm using the box’s instructions, he and Bat were soon enveloped in an amazingly realistic recreation of Hogwarts’s Great Hall, decorated in a 1770′s-worthy Christmas.

In Bat’s day, Christmas trees weren’t really the thing they became in Britain and America from the 19th century onward. Instead the Great Hall was decorated much more modestly. Instead of fairy lights, enchanted icicles, and baubles, it was decked with holly, ivy, evergreen branches, mistletoe, white candles, and handmade wreathes decorated with fruit, pinecones, and ribbons. The students dancing around the open floor also twirled around in large communal dancing, constantly switching and sharing partners rather than sticking to strict, formal pairs. It was, in short, a casual winter’s ball hosted and arranged almost entirely by the student body, rather than prepared or moderated by any members of the Hogwarts staff.

Because it was all a daydream composited from Bat’s memories, though, Bat didn’t appear as the tall, auburn-haired, red-eyed vampire Atticus knew. Instead, as he always appeared in his own dreams, Bat resembled his true self -- his curly-haired, dark-eyed past human self, Robert Harker. It was something so second-nature to Bat that Atticus’s hesitance at the sight of him immediately made him feel self-conscious, but before Bat could daydream himself to look more like his “real-world” self, Atticus stopped him, saying that he looked fine as he was. Atticus’s support reassured Bat more than he could properly express, and Atticus noticed afterwards how much happier and freer his usually laid-back friend seemed as he grabbed Atticus’s hand and pulled him out toward the dance floor so he could show him around the entire Hall.

At one point, a pretty girl with a strawberry blond updo and a pretty pearl-white dress encouraged Atticus to dance with the other people on the dance floor. Perhaps because it was a shared daydream, Atticus was able to pick up the steps relatively easily, and to Bat’s surprise, Atticus turned out to be a very talented dancer who soon danced circles around him. It was only after the dance was over that Atticus realized who the girl he’d been dancing next to must have been, when she dashed off to the side to greet a very tall, blue-eyed, auburn-haired boy who’d just arrived -- Cecelia Crouch-Varney, Robert’s ex-best friend and the real Bartholomew’s wife, who had cursed Robert into the form of the vampire he now knew as Bat. Cecelia and the real Barty had been such a fixture in Bat’s memories that they were there even without him consciously thinking about it. Atticus had a bit of trouble looking at the pretty young woman with anything other than disapproval, given how much she’d hurt Bat, and he frankly had no idea how his mate ever could’ve found it in his heart to forgive her, even after over a hundred years.

Bat then suggested that Atticus “take him to one of his parties” next, in their daydream. Atticus was hesitant, since he really hadn’t gone to any big social events at school. Eventually, however, he settled on a private ball held at the Grimsley family estate, circa the early 1880′s. This particular event was hosted by Atticus’s father to “present” Atticus as the heir to the Grimsley legacy before the family’s other well-regarded Pureblood associates. It was also the first time Bat ever laid eyes on or learned much of anything about Wulfric Charles Grimsley -- and from the moment he first laid eyes on the old man and took in how he hovered like a cold shadow over a much younger Atticus, whispering reproachful reminders in his ear as his claw-like hand sank into his son’s shoulder, Bat found an icy hatred settling into his chest toward Atticus’s late father. Because the man was dead and Bat could sense Atticus’s discomfort at how intensely Bat watched the image of his younger self and his father, the vampire didn’t overtly address his feelings, instead shifting the conversation. Since Atticus was both a professor and a talented dancer, it was only right that he show Bat how to dance something next, yes? And if his younger self wasn’t going to get much chance to dance at this party...well, they’d just have to rewrite the night properly, with Atticus dancing as much as and however the hell he wanted. And so Atticus, laughing despite himself, led the slightly taller Bat in a Viennese Waltz alongside the twirling couples of his past, the memory of his father and his lonely younger self slowly fading away until they were no longer there at all.

“You’re really quite good at this, Grim.”

“Always the tone of surprise.”

Although the daydream only lasted an hour and Atticus had to very quickly restrain Bat and help feed him a lot of blood after they returned to the real world, it remains one of both men’s happiest memories, as a time when they got to share a part of themselves they hadn’t with much of anyone else and (at least in their own heads) be in the kind of close proximity that normal friends could. It wouldn’t be until many years later with the invention of the Blood Pop that Bat could really touch anyone else, so until that day, this was the closest Bat had ever been able to get to interacting with his counterpart “Grim” as if he were an ordinary man.

#my art #bartholomew varney #atticus grimsley #other people's mcs #cecelia crouch varney #wulfric charles grimsley #I actually hope to draw some modern!au of these two in the future where they're reincarnated into the golden era #I am SO looking forward to some 1990s fashions y'all #plus these two can actually be friends at school and bat can help his pal grim break away from his awful father while that bugger is alive #and that way you guys can get to know both barty and cecelia better too!#poor cecelia made a lot of mistakes in her original timeline and she had her glaring flaws but she was hardly a villainous person #however much she became 'the villain in bat's history' :(#plus the real barty was a cinnamon roll too pure for this world and his friendship with bat makes me happy

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“When the cold of winter comes, Starless night will cover day... In the veiling of the sun, We will walk in bitter rain. But in dreams, (But in dreams) I can hear your name, And in dreams, (And in dreams) We will meet again...”

~“In Dreams (cover) by Peter Hollens

x~x~x~x

Atticus Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier and Robert Bellamy were confident the night before their presentation for History of Magic. The two had spent a good two hours at the Three Broomsticks organizing everything -- not only did they keep finding helpful information to add to their presentation in the books Madame Pince provided, but they also couldn’t help but keep taking light, amiable jabs at both the material and each other the entire time. Atticus honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun doing homework, aside from perhaps the essay he’d done earlier that year for Professor Lupin on banshees. Lupin had actually gone so far as to say Atticus would make a fine Defense Against the Dark Arts professor himself someday, which made Atticus feel very proud indeed.

The night before the fifth year class’s History of Magic presentations also happened to be Halloween, so Atticus allowed himself to indulge in a few more sweets than he might have otherwise. His father always tried to curtail his sweet tooth whenever possible, but it was a little harder for him to do that at school, and after how good of a weekend he’d had, Atticus couldn’t resist spoiling himself a little. He noticed Robert and Cecelia Crouch sitting with Barty Gilbert over at the neighboring Gryffindor table instead of their own tables -- Barty was gesturing animatedly as he spoke, but his voice was too soft for him to tell what the three were talking about. Atticus did, however, briefly meet Robert’s eye, and the curly-haired Chaser smirked and gave him a short, offhand wave. Atticus gave a weak wave in return: as soon as Cecelia and Barty turned around, though, Atticus found himself averting his eyes again, unable to look at Robert’s best friend. He felt a little guilty thinking about how Barty had apparently worried he might be lonely...but that, strangely, also made him feel rather sour. Barty Gilbert was the only son of a wealthy Pureblood family -- he would know full well what Atticus’s life was like, if he actually bothered to care about his family’s expectations of him...if his parents didn’t spoil him and let him do whatever he wanted...

As fate would have it, however, that Halloween night -- October 31, 1993 -- did not go the way any student or teacher at Hogwarts had thought...all because of the escaped convict, Sirius Black.

The boys of the Ravenclaw fifth-year dorm were abruptly woken up by their Head of House, Professor Flitwick, who informed them that everyone would be heading down to the Great Hall immediately. Atticus noticed Robert dawdle slightly behind the others -- the Chaser had had to pull on an old, slightly-too-small white undershirt with some holes around the neck, since he generally only wore pajama pants to bed.

When the Ravenclaws all arrived in the Great Hall, they found everyone else from the remaining dorms there too, and the news soon spread -- Sirius Black had actually made it inside the castle and had attacked the portrait guarding Gryffindor Tower trying to get inside. While the teachers searched the school and grounds, the students would remain in the Great Hall and sleep in comfy purple sleeping bags on the floor.

Atticus had never been a very good sleeper -- he’d had insomnia since before he arrived at Hogwarts, but the stressors at school only seemed to make it worse. This was why he noticed right away when -- after the teachers were out of earshot and view -- Barty and Cecelia crept past his sleeping bag, toward the open doors of the entrance hall.

“And where do you think you two are going?” said Atticus very coolly under his breath without getting up.

Part of Atticus cynically thought they might be sneaking out for some sort of late-night tryst...but Cecelia was Hufflepuff Prefect, so Atticus thought, she really should know better, especially with a wanted criminal loose somewhere in the school.

Both Barty and Cecelia gave a start. Upon realizing who had spoken, however, their faces suddenly became much more serious.

“Atticus,” said Barty, his soft voice oddly urgent, “have you seen Robert? Did he come down to the Hall, with you?”

Atticus blinked, taken aback. “Yes -- that is, he did come down with us...”

He looked around. Sure enough, he didn’t see Robert anywhere in the Great Hall.

Despite himself, Atticus felt concern prickling at the inside of his chest. It must’ve shown on his face, since Cecelia said anxiously,

“Will you help us look for him? I mean, you’re a Prefect too...if we get caught out of bed, you can help me vouch for Barty and Robert...”

In that moment Atticus couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than cover up for Barty Gilbert breaking the rules and putting himself and others in danger...but at the same time, he was only doing it because he was worried about his best friend. And Atticus had to admit, with Sirius Black on the loose, he was a bit worried about Robert being out there, too.

Barty wasn’t about to wait around for Atticus’s answer -- the taller boy had already darted across the rest of the Hall toward the double doors, determined to find Robert. Exchanging a look with Cecelia, Atticus exhaled heavily and nodded, shuffling quickly out of his sleeping bag and putting his muted blue slippers back on so that he could follow Cecelia after Barty.

Barty barrelled down the hallway, overtaking the other two with his much longer strides. It took Atticus at one point dashing forward and grabbing the back of Barty’s gray Weird Sisters T-shirt to pull him behind a column, just to keep a patrolling Professor Sinistra from seeing him.

“You’re going to get all three of us caught, if you do that,” hissed Atticus.

Barty shot a guilty look over his shoulder at Atticus. “Sorry...guess I’m just a little tense...”

Cecelia caught up with them, bringing a hand on the back of each of their shoulders.

“Any ideas of where he might have gone?” she whispered, her hazel eyes full of concern.

Atticus contemplated the matter. “...Maybe he went back up to our dorm. The shirt he threw on did look a bit too small...he could’ve wanted to go get his robe...”

“He wouldn’t have a robe that fits either,” said Cecelia with a shake of her head. “Rob outgrew a lot of his clothes over the summer -- he’s just too stubborn and proud to let either of us buy him larger robes and such. I reckon it’s only because the school pays for everyone’s Quidditch robes that Rob’s Chaser robes still fit...”

Atticus blinked in surprise. “...So that’s why he’s always wearing his Quidditch robes, instead of his usual school robes?”

Noticing Atticus’s expression, Barty actually fixed him with an unusually sharp look. “Rob isn’t the sort to want pity -- and I hope you’ll agree that he also doesn’t deserve any condescension.”

Atticus’s eyes narrowed. “I would never condescend to him for that! I merely...never considered that his family was that bad-off, is all...”

Robert’s rather disheveled appearance did make a lot more sense, though.

Barty’s expression softened visibly at Atticus’s reassurance, instantly becoming much more patient again. He peeked around the statue, watching as Sinistra talked to Professor Sprout.

“I wish I’d thought to bring my Cloak,” he muttered under his breath to Cecelia.

Atticus frowned deeply. “Your Cloak?”

Cecelia shook her head dismissively. “How do you get up to Ravenclaw Tower from here, Atticus? Maybe Rob still headed up that way, even if it wasn’t for a robe...”

Still frowning, Atticus nonetheless pointed. “Up the grand staircase, to the left. It’s not very far from Gryffindor Tower actually, if I’m not mistaken...it’s by the Prefect’s Bathroom.”

“That is close,” said Barty.

Cecelia peeked around the statue and gave the two boys a very pretty, broad smile. “Brilliant, they’ve moved on. Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long for the three to find Robert, fortunately. Ravenclaw’s Star Chaser hadn’t gone all the way back up to Ravenclaw Tower -- instead he’d merely snatched up his sleeping bag and stowed it underneath one of the smaller staircases on the second floor so he could sit on it by himself in the dark. He was very surprised to see that Cecelia, Barty, and Atticus had come after him, and not exactly happily so.

“I’m all right, Barty,” said Robert lowly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do!” said Barty. His quiet, charming voice was oddly hard as he towered over his best friend sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Rob, that madman Black ended up just outside my dormitory not too long ago -- sure, I never saw him myself, but he’s still out there somewhere! You think I could’ve lived with myself, if he hurt you?”

“I think I can more than take out a man without a wand,” Robert said coolly. “Reckon Black wouldn’t be expecting anyone to try punching him straight in the mug.”

“That’s not funny, Robert!” said Cecelia, looking very upset.

Barty looked almost more upset, to the point that it was bordering on anger.

“Rob, you know the dreams I’ve had!” he said lowly under his breath. “You know how scared they’ve always made me -- for you to disappear without a word, when you know that -- you have to know that hurts me!”

Atticus glanced at Barty out the side of his eye, confused. Dreams?

Robert suddenly looked very guilty. His dark eyes had fallen to the floor.

“...Barty, I...”

He swallowed.

“...I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I -- I wasn’t trying to disappear. I just...needed to be alone. That’s all.”

Atticus fixed Robert with a very reproachful look. “Under the circumstances, I’d say that’s the last thing you need.”

Robert looked at Atticus as his dormmate bent down to get down on his level.

"Black is dangerous,” said Atticus. “I realize rules have never been sacred to you, Bellamy, but you’re not invincible. I cannot believe you’re really dumb enough to think you could handle Black single-handed -- you’re no show-off Gryffindor -- ”

Barty raised his eyebrows.

“Excuse me,” Atticus muttered, before moving on. “I just mean that you better have a good reason, to want to hide away from everyone else.”

Robert’s dark eyes on Atticus’s were narrowed, but not angry. He looped his arms around one of his knees absently, interlacing the fingers.

“...I just didn’t want to disrupt anyone else sleeping,” he muttered uncomfortably.

Atticus raised his eyebrows. “Why would you think you’d do that?”

“I can’t cast Muffliato on fat air. It works on bed curtains and walls, but if I’m in a sleeping bag in a wide open room, I don’t have anything I can cast it on. I figured I could at least use it on the bottom of the stairs, sleeping under here.”

Cecelia suddenly looked shocked and dismayed as she bent down on her knees next to Robert. “Rob, have your nightmares come back? Is that what this is about?”

Robert avoided her gaze. Atticus looked from Robert to Cecelia, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Nightmares,” he murmured. “You mean like the kind you used to have in first year, when you claimed you were homesick?”

Robert kept his eyes locked on the floor. He clearly did not want to be having this conversation.

Barty, however, looked from Atticus to Robert and got down on his own knees, wrapping his arms around his friends’ shoulders.

“We’ve...always had weird dreams -- all three of us,” the tall Gryffindor admitted softly. "Sometimes they’re bad, but most of the time, they just don’t make sense. And sometimes, when we meet or interact with certain people...with each other...the dreams become clearer.”

Atticus felt a chill run down his spine. The description sounded scarily familiar. His own dreams where he woke up sobbing in the middle of the night -- that bizarre feeling of deja vu that he experienced around Barty and Robert -- sank their claws into his brain.

“Cecelia thinks that they might be some kind of premonition,” said Barty. “She’s got some Seer blood in her family. But my family doesn’t have any, and Rob’s family obviously doesn’t either. And...well, again, the dreams are weird. We’re often older in our dreams, but the scenarios we’re in don’t make any sense...and even if some people and places appear the same, something’s always off about them. And that’s not even counting the dreams where nothing’s clear at all and you don’t remember any details, except how it made you feel...”

Atticus's face had lost most of its color.

“You’ve...all had these dreams?” he whispered.

His blue eyes darted from Barty to Cecelia to Robert. Robert once again avoided Atticus’s eye.

“Do you...see anyone else in them, besides just each other?” Atticus couldn’t help but ask. His heart felt like it was stuck in his throat.

Barty glanced at Robert, whose shoulders had tensed visibly. He squeezed his best friend’s shoulder in an attempt to show support.

“...Sometimes,” said Barty lowly.

“Who?” Atticus asked, his voice a little more insistent than he’d intended.

Atticus didn’t even realize that his hands were shaking until Cecelia reached out to rest a comforting hand on top of them.

“Atticus,” said Cecelia, her eyebrows knitting together over her eyes in concern, “...have you...had strange dreams too?”

Robert looked up for the first time in minutes, his dark eyes flying up to Atticus’s face and searching his expression. Atticus felt himself swallowing back a lump in his throat -- he couldn’t hold eye contact with Robert too long, and soon his gaze fell down to Robert’s purple sleeping bag.

“...Yes,” he said at last, very softly. “They’re...not that clear, most of the time. I forget most of the details when I wake up...but I remember the feelings. And...when I’m awake, I remember pieces of them again, sometimes, in random situations. Sometimes people seem familiar, or something about them seems familiar...even when we don’t even know each other at all. Sometimes they’ll seem so familiar, and yet one little thing will just be...wrong, somehow...and I can hardly explain why.”

Both Barty and Cecelia looked at Robert. Robert squeezed his knee a bit closer to his chest, his dark eyes locked on Atticus’s face and rippling deeply. He was clearly thinking hard.

“...Have you seen us?” Robert murmured. “In your dreams?”

Atticus winced. He couldn’t look at Barty, so he kept his eyes downcast.

“...I’ve seen Gilbert,” he muttered. “At least, I think so -- it looks a lot like him.”

Barty looked taken aback. “You’ve seen me?”

He shot Robert another covert look.

“...That’s weird,” he murmured.

"I’d say this whole situation could be considered a touch weird, Barty,” said Cecelia a light, but crisp voice that seemed to put an end to the current line of conversation.

She too shot another quick look at Robert before looking around at all of them.

“It’s getting late. We should try to get some sleep...especially with our presentations for Binns due later today.”

Although his brain was still whirling so fast he doubted that he’d be able to sleep a wink, Atticus nonetheless nodded.

“...Yes...we should be at our best.” He tried to offer Robert a smile. “...We are supposed to be Professors Lestrange and Bellamy, in about nine hours.”

Robert despite himself couldn’t help but smile. “...Right.”

“‘Professor Bellamy?’” repeated Cecelia, and her hazel eyes sparkled in delight. “Oh, I’d love to see that -- you’d look awfully handsome in a pair of spectacles, Robert.”

“Maybe I’ll try to borrow Percy Weasley’s,” joked Robert.

Neither Barty nor Atticus could bite back a laugh.

“Rob, lay off,” said Barty in soft amusement. “Just because Percy’s Head Boy doesn’t mean you have to tease him...”

“No, but it does put a lovely target on his back,” said Robert rather cheekily. “Or rather, on his lapel.”

Atticus shook his head, even while grinning from ear to ear. “I take back everything I said before -- you’d make a horrible professor.”

Robert laughed loudly as Atticus used the Geminio charm to duplicate Robert’s sleeping bag three times, so that all four of them could settle themselves down under the staircase together. Once all of them got tucked in, Robert used the Muffliato Charm on the stairs so that any sounds they might made were deadened, and soon they all fell asleep. Even Atticus, tucked into the corner closest to Robert, found himself nodding off.

Amazingly, although Robert had suffered from nightmares constantly for almost five years, he ended up sleeping peacefully until after daybreak. Even more amazingly, Atticus -- who never slept well -- woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time...all thanks to a dream he only half-remembered upon waking up that included a soothing male singing voice and a pair of oddly gentle scarlet eyes watching over him.

#my art #my writing #hphl #hogwarts legacy #golden era #reincarnation!au #bartholomew varney #atticus grimsley #cecelia crouch varney #gahhhh I'm actually really happy with how this drawing turned out!#robert's hands actually turned out so much better than I'd hoped hahaha #but yeah now these four know they have this weirdness in common...#the mystery deepens...#cecelia's pajama pants are based on van gogh's starry night painting since she's an artist!#and barty's wearing an old concert tee and pajama pants with a dragon printed on them #because barty's a magical creatures kind of guy and honestly everybody needs a pair of dragon pajama pants #I'm sure charlie weasley has some #also yeah robert is *toned* hahaha #quidditch star baby

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“You never know when you're gonna meet someone, And your whole wide world in a moment comes undone -- You're just walking around and suddenly Everything that you thought that you knew about love is gone... You find out it's all been wrong...

And all my scars don't seem to matter anymore 'Cause they led me here to you...”

~“Start of Something Good” by Daughtry

x~x~x~x

Atticus Grimsley Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade village very much. The Ravenclaw Prefect had always been hyper-aware of how much his family legacy was placed squarely on his shoulders -- as the only son of the family not currently in Azkaban for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Atticus was the one who could bring his family the esteem his father so thought they were entitled to. Atticus being Sorted into Ravenclaw alone had broken a precedent, so Wulfric Lestrange was all the more strict in his expectations for his only child.

This time, however, Atticus told himself, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. He had to have the oral report ready for Binns, and his partner had set their meeting place as the Three Broomsticks. That didn’t mean Atticus would ever tell his father any details about the assignment -- he could just imagine how very displeased Wulfric would be, knowing his son had to engage with a Muggle-born like Robert Bellamy.

Atticus brought an entire heavy stack of books from the library with him, all of which were recommendations from Madame Pince. To his surprise, the school librarian actually seemed oddly pleased that Atticus was working with Robert.

“He seems to be a very bright boy, and yet he seems determined to not show it,” she said, sounding almost petulant. “Filius has said Mr. Bellamy likes reading -- that his marks are quite high, even despite his obsession with Quidditch and his penchant for trouble. And yet the faculty’s said he frequently holds back during class demonstrations, and in the last five years, I have never seen him study in the library. I see his friends in here plenty, but Mr. Bellamy? He’ll practically sneak in, pick up his books, and then leave as quickly as possible. I almost wonder if he’s actively trying to avoid being seen here...”

She smiled indulgently at Atticus. “Perhaps you might be able to get that boy to actually take pride in something other than chucking Quaffles around.”

Atticus wasn’t entirely sure how in the world he’d ever do that, even if he wanted to. After all, Robert was Barty Gilbert’s best friend -- Atticus didn’t want anything to do with Barty, and Robert was deathly loyal to him. But even with this, he had to admit, something about Robert intrigued him. Madame Pince thought that Robert was determined not to show he was smart, and yet when Atticus challenged him, he launched into a whole history lecture on the Witch Trials that could’ve put Binns himself to shame. Robert had even taken out a bunch of Muggle books on the subject over the summer and read them before coming to school, so that he’d understand the material in depth. Still, Pince’s assessment made Atticus feel a bit better for having seen Robert as a dumb jock -- he never really had stood out much to Atticus before, except as Barty Gilbert’s sidekick. Yet Atticus couldn’t help but wonder...why would someone who was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and therefore valued wisdom, knowledge, and learning, actively try to downplay how talented he was? Perhaps it was the thought of a mystery Atticus could unravel, but he wanted to know why.

When Atticus arrived at the Three Broomsticks, the stack of books under his arms, he found Robert sitting at a table, two butterbeers placed in front of him and the seat across from him. Standing beside the table were his best friends, pretty, ginger-haired Cecelia and tall, auburn-haired Barty -- Cecelia was pulling lightly at Robert’s arm despite him sitting down, chatting animatedly to him, and Robert was grinning broadly.

“...now, Ceci!” he said. “I doubt Atticus Lestrange would be much the sort to want to talk homework while trying on robes at Gladrag’s. You and Barty go on ahead -- you lot’ll have more money to buy something cool anyhow..”

At the sound of his own name, Atticus couldn’t help but hang back. Not only did he feel awkward about interrupting, but part of him really preferred the thought of not interacting with Barty more than he had to. He didn’t like the weird, irrational ball of dislike that would well up in his throat whenever he looked Barty in the eye.

Barty was blushing slightly, but the mention of his friend being low on money made him frown.

“If you want something, I could buy it for you,” he said in a very quiet, but earnest voice. “It could be an early birthday present...”

But Robert waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, mate, I don’t need anything. Now go on -- I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

Cecelia was frowning too. She exchanged a look with Barty, looking faintly hesitant, but finally released Robert’s arm.

“All right,” she sighed airily. “Be sure to invite Atticus along too after you’re done, all right?”

This startled Atticus. Robert looked uncomfortable.

“Invite him to Gladrag’s?” he sad, trying to play it off with humor. “Not exactly a party spot, Ceci.”

“Invite him to hang out with us,” Cecelia corrected him.

Robert frowned deeply. “What? Ceci...I get that you’re trying to be polite...but every time Lestrange gets within ten feet of Barty, he looks at him like he ran over his cat.”

Barty sighed and then gave a reluctant nod of agreement. “You know he doesn’t like me, Cecelia. I don’t even really know why, aside from his dad not liking my parents...”

Atticus felt like his stomach was being squeezed uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to just leave the pub all together -- but what Cecelia said next made him give pause.

“Barty, you’ve always said you feel like he must be lonely, sometimes. And Robert, you said the same thing, right after you first collided with Atticus, remember? ‘He should be smiling,’ you said. ‘His face doesn’t look right, somehow.’”

Atticus straightened up slightly. He understood that feeling. It was the same feeling he had when he first met Barty -- that his eyes weren’t right, that his smile and voice weren’t right. And yet the sentiment here...also came across as oddly sweet too, in a weird way.

“I was eleven years old, Ceci -- eleven-year-olds say dumb things,” said Robert in a voice that attempted to sound off-hand, but instead came out rather evasive.

“I don’t think it was dumb at all,” said Cecelia very firmly. “You felt sorry for him, and you didn’t even know him that well.”

“It was rather cool of you, Rob,” said Barty, smiling proudly at his best friend.

Robert, however, sidestepped the praise.

“It was a stated fact, not me trying to be nice,” he said in a very grounded, modest tone of voice. “I don’t get why a guy who’s as smart as he is can’t loosen up a little and have some fun once in a while. He can’t be happy, being so...”

He trailed off, his dark eyes drifting down to his mug of butterbeer.

‘Strange?’ Atticus finished in his own head dully, thinking of how everyone else in school tended to nastily play off of his name.

As soon as he thought it, though, another word echoed over his mind.

“You really are too grim for your own good…”

Atticus felt that weird, sad kind of deja vu ripple over him for a second time.

Cecelia sighed tiredly. “As always, you’re determined to play off the best parts of yourself.”

She turned to Barty. “...I guess we should go. Play nice with Atticus, Rob.”

“Yes, Mum,” Robert shot back with a playful smirk.

Barty grinned over his shoulder at Robert before leaving with Cecelia, his cheeks touched with a blush as he looped his arm around hers.

Atticus watched them leave -- then, swallowing back the lump in his throat, he finally approached the table where Robert was still sitting.

“...Hello,” he said stiffly.

Robert looked up, only mildly startled.

“Afternoon,” he greeted.

Noticing the books in Atticus’s arms, he held out his hands. “Here -- let me take those.”

He immediately took the stack, lifting it with significantly more ease than Atticus had and putting it down on the table.

Atticus glanced at the mug of butterbeer placed at the spot left aside for him. Noticing the glance, Robert frowned.

“Do you not like butterbeer?” he asked. “You struck me as the type of person who would...”

“I do,” said Atticus very quickly. “...It’s one of my favorites.”

He slowly lowered himself down into his seat, still feeling oddly hesitant. It had been so weird hearing Robert talk about him with his friends. Most of it wasn’t surprising -- after all, Atticus and Robert had rarely talked largely because of Robert being Barty’s best friend -- but the thought that Robert had actually expressed concern about him despite that...was kind of surreal.

“...You thought I’d be the type to like butterbeer?” he asked.

Robert shrugged as he took a sip, his dark eyes drifting up toward the ceiling. “Don’t most people like it?”

“I suppose they do,” granted Atticus.

He picked up his mug and took a long sip himself. It warmed him up from head to toe, and he couldn’t help but relax slightly.

Robert looked Atticus up and down briefly, cocking his eyebrows.

“You’re awfully overdressed,” he said lightly.

Atticus raised his eyebrows rather coolly in return. “I’m sorry -- I suppose I could’ve ripped the knees out of my trousers, before coming.”

Robert blinked. Then, to Atticus’s complete surprise, he actually burst out laughing.

“So you can joke!” he said. “Merlin...and here I wondered if I’d have to be serious the entire time...”

Atticus raised an eyebrow. “Is that something you can do? Be completely serious?”

Robert smirked slightly. “Of course. I just don’t fancy doing it that much.”

“Not like me, you mean.”

“Definitely not like you.” Realizing what he said could be considered offensive, Robert then added, “...You’re a smart guy, Lestrange, don’t get me wrong. I guess I just don’t get why someone as smart as you would be willing to settle.”

Atticus looked down at the books on the table and then back up at Robert, his eyebrows knitting over his blue eyes.

“And I don’t quite understand why someone as smart as you tries to hide it,” he said straightforwardly. “I mean, someone who can do lectures like the one you came up with on the fly the other day could easily become a professor someday...yet you don’t tutor, or participate in class...you don’t participate in any of our classes, by choice. And when you do...I reckon you’re holding back.”

Robert snorted. “I don’t hold back on the Dueling Field -- I don’t love getting my arse handed to me that much.”

Atticus couldn’t completely bite back a laugh. Robert was actually pretty funny, too.

Robert took another sip of butterbeer, his expression slowly becoming a bit more serious.

“I just don’t see the point in broadcasting my marks or how much I know, that’s all,” he said simply. “I learn so that I can be of use -- not to show off. Knowledge is power. With it, you can fix people’s problems and make the world better. I don’t need to win awards or accolades for my academics -- I just want to know as much as I can and use that knowledge for good.”

Atticus’s expression softened somewhat. “That’s...actually really admirable.”

Robert shrugged. “It’s how I feel is all. Just because I play Quidditch doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with getting attention.”

“You don’t seem uncomfortable about the attention,” said Atticus.

“Well, it’s not just me, is it? Even when I get attention, it’s attention for the team, not me. And any attention I do get, I get for helping out my mates. It feels good to be what they need, that’s all it is.”

Atticus’s blue eyes narrowed slightly as he brought his mug of butterbeer up to his lips again.

“...You really are determined to play off the best parts of yourself.”

Robert straightened up noticeably. Atticus couldn’t help but grin, seeing how effectively he’d startled him.

“Will you be all right with presenting what you’ve already researched?” he asked. “I reckon the class would probably find a lecture about both the wizarding and Muggle perspectives of the Witch Trials really interesting...and it would almost surely earn us an O.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to teach the rest of our class with you?”

“Well, since you’re so critical of Professor Binns’s teaching style, perhaps it’s right you show everyone how it should be done,” said Atticus smugly.

Robert’s lips curled into a broad smirk. “Is that a dare, Lestrange?”

Atticus’s own mouth also spread into a wry smile. “You could always refuse to accept it.”

“You know full well I won’t,” said Robert, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “All right, old boy -- we’ll be Professors Lestrange and Bellamy for a class, then. And if we don’t get an O, I’ll dress like you for an entire month.”

Atticus couldn’t hold back his own laughter. “Careful -- I might be tempted to get an E just to see that!”

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

“Traveling the back roads; sleeping in the wood; Taking what I needed; working when I could; Keeping up my courage, foolish as it seems, At night, all alone, in my dreams... In my dreams, shadows call -- There's a light at the end of a hall... Then my dreams fade away, But I know it all will come back One day... ”

~“In My Dreams (cover)” by OkRickchard

x~x~x~x

With the arrival of 1994 and the new term came Ravenclaw’s next Quidditch match, this time against Slytherin, which boasted the fastest team in the entire school. Thanks to their Seeker Draco Malfoy, the entire team rode Nimbus 2001s, the second-fastest broom on the market -- and yes, as one can expect, the Slytherin team held their heads up that little bit higher and looked down their noses just that little bit more because of it. From what Atticus @cursebreakerfarrier understood, the team had become that bit more insufferable since Marcus Flint took over as Captain. Slytherin’s previous Captain, Orion Amari, had been pretty well-regarded for promoting good sportsmanship among his teammates, even toward Ravenclaw, which had been its fiercest rival when he was at school -- but Flint, being a much more aggressive and arrogant person, had no qualms with playing dirty in order to get Slytherin to their goal.

Robert disappeared a lot around classes throughout January, just to train for the match against Slytherin. Most of the time, he was training with his team, but Atticus also noted Robert coming back to their dorm after dark very late at night, his old run-down Cleansweep Five at his side and his face marred by exhaustion. One of these nights Atticus invited Robert to sit with him on the couch in front of the fire in the Ravenclaw Common Room so he could warm his hands.

“Roger and Randolph are on Cleansweep Sevens, which aren’t too out of the league of a Nimbus, speed-wise,” muttered Robert tiredly, “but Flint, Montague, and Warrington can go twice as fast as me. If I’m not going to be the weak link of our team, I have to counteract my lack of speed with aim and precision.”

Sadly Robert’s bad luck reared its ugly head yet again. During the Ravenclaw VS Slytherin Quidditch match, Ravenclaw Captain Roger Davies got hit so hard in the back of the head by a Bludger that he fell off his broom. Robert rushed to try to help his Captain, catching him on his own broom so he could bring him down to the ground and check the extent of his injury, but the Star Chaser never got his head back in the game after that. It was as though his hand still stained with Roger’s blood had lost all of its strength and was too shaky to even hold his broom properly.

Slytherin won the match with a score of 200-100 -- Malfoy catching the Snitch ultimately invalidated all of Robert and the other Ravenclaw Chasers’ hard work just as much as their Nimbus 2001s cancelled out Robert’s Cleansweep.

The entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team was very disheartened by their loss. Although they knew they still had a good chance at winning the Quidditch Cup, so long as they beat Gryffindor, that was no guarantee. Malfoy had been able to trounce Cho with help from his Nimbus 2001, and there were unpleasant rumors swirling that Harry Potter -- Gryffindor’s Star Seeker -- had actually been gifted a top-of-the-line Firebolt broomstick over Christmas break. If that rumor was true, then it would put Gryffindor at an almost criminal advantage.

The weekend directly after the match, Robert disappeared even more than he had before it. Atticus didn’t even see him at mealtimes.

“This isn’t really out of character for Robert, I’m afraid,” Ceci said sadly when Atticus expressed his concern to them at breakfast. “I reckon it’s just because he’s upset about the match...”

Atticus frowned deeply. “After how hard he worked, I guess I don’t blame him. But he did everything he could’ve possibly done and then some -- it’s not his fault that the Slytherin team has Lucius Malfoy funding them.”

“No, it’s not,” agreed Ceci. “But Robert likes solving people’s problems. It makes him happy. And well, I suppose he just sees him being upset as causing more problems than it solves -- ”

“Rob disappearing is the problem, not his feelings,” Barty said in an oddly harsh voice before he could stop himself. “They’re not something he needs to cloister away and put up on a shelf -- we’re his friends, and he should know by now that he can lean on us.”

Ceci and Atticus both looked at Barty, surprised by the terseness in his words. The Gryffindor was looking away toward the wall, completely ignoring the eggs dangling off his fork.

“I hate it when he does this,” he muttered, his quiet, soft-spoken voice betraying a hurt edge. “I hate it.”

Eventually Atticus found Robert that Sunday afternoon near the Astronomy Tower. The Star Chaser was sitting sideways on his broom as if it were a swing, his legs dangling off effortlessly as he read a large book in his lap. The sight was a little nausea-inducing to Atticus -- he was never good with heights or flying, so the thought of himself ever being in Robert’s position was very unsettling.

Still, with a swallow and a determined look in his eyes, Atticus strode quickly up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, adjusting his Ravenclaw scarf as he went. He ended up on the same level as Robert once he reached the railing on the west-facing side of the Tower. Robert’s eyebrows were creased with concentration, but there was something else glinting in his black eyes -- something endless and searching, as his free hand brushed over the page.

“Bellamy!”

Robert looked up in only the slightest surprise at the sound of Atticus’s voice. His housemate was bundled up in full robes, gloves, and his scarf.

“There you are,” said Atticus. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Because of the match, I guess?” asked Robert lowly, as his eyes dropped back down to his book.

“Well, yes,” Atticus answered, frowning deeply. “I am awfully sorry about what happened -- your talent should’ve won out, and it’s rotten that it didn’t. But you know, you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. You worked harder than most anyone else would’ve in your position, I daresay. All of Ravenclaw house knows your worth.”

Robert didn’t look up -- he seemed to have some trouble doing so.

“Thanks, Lestrange...but that’s really neither here nor there. I’ll have another chance to prove myself, and hopefully I’ll be of more use to my team then...but until our team has a strategy to do that, I don’t really want to think about it.”

His voice was very detached and matter-of-fact. It startled Atticus, as he’d thoroughly expected Robert to be moody or depressed -- but on the contrary, it seemed that rather than wallowing in his feelings, Robert was instead trying to escape from them. It was like he saw getting emotional about his loss as so impractical and unhelpful that he truly had put all of his emotions up on a shelf...just like Barty said...

The distant, vaguely pleasant affect brushed up against something in the back of Atticus’s brain -- familiar, and yet unpleasantly so. He’d known someone like this, he thinks, if only in his dreams: someone who disengaged from people, who wouldn’t let people get too close, if only to shield his own heart...

It was familiar...but it wasn’t any way that someone like Robert should act. It wasn’t right.

“I hate it when he does this,” Barty’s voice returned to Atticus. “I hate it.”

Atticus decided in that moment he didn’t like it either.

“Yeah?” the Ravenclaw Prefect said, crossing his arms. “Well, you could just tell us that, if you feel that way. I’m quite sure all of us would be happy to distract you.”

Robert still didn’t look up from the book. “I don’t need distraction.”

“You also don’t need to do whatever you’re doing on your own,” said Atticus rather sternly. “I understand needing time to yourself -- really, I do -- but this...this isn’t like you. Or maybe it is, since Cecelia says this is something you do -- but it really shouldn’t be.”

Atticus took hold of the railing, since he couldn’t reach far enough to take Robert’s shoulder.

“Your feelings do you credit, Bellamy,” he said earnestly. “You shouldn’t have to run away from them along with running away from the people who want to help you through them.”

Without raising his head, Robert looked up at Atticus at last. He considered him out the top of his eyes for a moment, before his gaze once again fell back down to his book.

“...I just have something I need to deal with,” he said lowly. “That’s all.”

Atticus looked down at the book in Robert’s hands. On closer inspection, it didn’t take him long to recognize it as The Dream Oracle, a book Professor Trelawney assigned in her Divination classes. The Prefect couldn’t help but cringe.

“Well, if it’s something to do with Divination, I don’t know how much help I’d be -- considering the last time I tried to Scry, I nearly broke the crystal ball,” he joked.

Robert shook his head.

“It’s not Divination exactly. Well...perhaps it is...but this stuff is just as worthless as it was the last time I tried looking at it for an explanation...”

He exhaled through his nose.

Atticus’s eyes grew a little smaller in understanding.

“It’s your dreams, then,” he surmised. “During the match...something reminded you of something you saw in them. That’s why you weren’t able to get your head back in the game, after Roger fell, isn’t it?”

Robert trailed a hand through his curly hair absently as his eyes ran over the pages.

“Do you remember...when we studied boggarts in third year, with Professor Quirrell?”

Atticus raised his eyebrows. “Of course. He was so scared of his own shadow that he couldn’t even bring one into class himself.”

“So Professor Kettleburn ended up bringing one to our Care of Magical Creatures class instead,” Robert recalled with a nod. “We all got a turn to deal with our boggart in class -- Barty was the first to fight his back, of course...”

‘Of course,’ thought Atticus faintly bitterly.

The memory was coming more into focus, though. Atticus had only absently paid attention to the other kids’ boggarts at the time -- he’d been much more focused on dealing with his -- but he’d remembered Barty’s friends’ fears were unusual. While Atticus’s had been himself, wizened, frail and unable to cast a single spell, and Barty’s had been Robert and Cecelia dead, Cecelia’s had been what looked like a vampire -- a tall shadowy figure that towered over everyone, with mad scarlet eyes and blood-covered fangs. And Robert’s...the boggart had become incorporeal, becoming a wave of scarlet that lashed at him, staining his hands, face and clothes.

Just like how Roger’s blood from his head injury had stained Robert’s hand, during the match...

Atticus’s eyes lit up in realization.

“...Your boggart is blood.”

Robert bowed his head.

“I’m not afraid of bleeding myself,” he explained. “I just...can’t deal with it, when other people do. That’s all.”

Atticus considered him, his blue eyes softening slightly. “...You can’t abide other people being hurt.”

Robert shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

His black eyes drifted off up toward the sky as he exhaled through his nose.

“I know you have dreams like we do, Lestrange, but...well, I’ve never once heard you wake up screaming, from any you’ve had. Maybe it’s just because you don’t sleep much, period,” he muttered as an aside. “But me? There’s a reason I use Muffliato on my bed. My dreams are full of unpleasant stuff -- explosions, wrecked buildings...blood...I don’t need to get into it, but I’ve only had a few restful nights sleep ever since I first arrived at Hogwarts. The most recent one I can think of...was Halloween night, under the stairs with you, Barty, and Ceci.”

Atticus glanced away a bit self-consciously. He adjusted his blue and bronze scarf to try to warm his cold-bitten cheeks.

“...Mine too, actually.”

Robert looked at him in surprise.

“You’re right, I don’t sleep much. I haven’t slept well most of my life -- and since getting to Hogwarts, it’s only gotten worse.” Atticus gave a dry laugh. “Really...I think I slept longer and more peacefully Halloween night than I have in years.”

Robert’s black eyes bore into Atticus’s blue. There was something almost searching there -- it made Atticus’s insides wriggle a bit despite himself at their intensity.

“This man you’ve seen in your dreams,” said Robert at last. “The one who looks like Barty...does he speak to you?”

Atticus bit the inside of his lip. “...I think so. I mean...I never remember many details after I wake up. But I know I’ve heard his voice. I’ve...heard him laughing, before, I think, and calling out to me...”

His eyes darkened.

“...I’ve heard him crying. That I remember very clearly.”

Robert listened in silence, taking in Atticus’s words carefully. Then he looked back down at The Dream Oracle, even if his eyes weren’t taking in the words anymore.

“He doesn’t ‘sound right’ to you, though,” he recalled. “That’s what you said.”

Atticus’s lips twitched uncomfortably. “Yes...”

“How does he sound, in your dreams?”

“Well, not quite so...amiable, I suppose. Or at least, not the same way -- more confident and witty and...well, less soft. Fuller and deeper and...”

He struggled to put it into words. Eventually he just shook his head.

“...It’s hard to explain.”

“It is.”

Atticus looked up at Robert. He was actually smiling again -- it was a smaller smile than normal, but it was also softer, more empathetic. It made his black eyes sparkle in a way Atticus had never seen before.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?” he asked. “Seeing someone and just feeling that sense of ‘wrong’ coming off of them. Seeing how they walk and talk and even how they stand, and just feeling like they’re doing it all wrong. Like you want to go over and correct them -- make them loosen their shoulders, and laugh that bit louder, and act that bit braver -- remind them to smile every single day.”

Robert’s eyes were so warm -- Atticus didn’t even know anyone’s eyes could be that warm.

“‘He should be smiling,’ you said. ‘His face doesn’t look right, somehow.’”

The memory of Ceci’s voice echoed in Atticus’s ear again. It made Atticus’s heart skip a beat, combined with the sincerity in Robert’s eyes. Despite himself, he felt his face flushing slightly -- he was glad the cold gave him some cover on that account. He cleared his throat.

“...Well...it’s good to see you smiling again,” said Atticus, offering a small smile in return.

Robert’s sparkling eyes betrayed a flicker of mischief. “Reckon it’s the best way to keep you from getting too serious.”

Atticus raised an eyebrow. “From getting too ‘grim,’ you mean?”

The word once again made Atticus’s heart tremble. It affected Robert too -- there was a strange flicker in his eyes.

“...Yeah,” Robert said quietly.

Despite the strange sense of deja vu rippling through him, Atticus tried to put on a brave smile. “...Well, really, I prefer it to the alternative.”

Robert frowned. “Alternative?”

“Yeah -- ‘strange.’” The moniker his classmates used for him made Atticus scowl. “I’ll take being called ‘grim’ over that any day.”

Robert frowned, his eyes drifting down to his book thoughtfully. Then, after a moment, his black eyes lit up.

“All right, then!”

Chucking his book over the railing of the Astronomy Tower so that it landed on the floor, Robert leapt right off his broom. Atticus nearly had a heart attack, but Robert successfully caught the edge of the railing of the Astronomy Tower, dangling off of it with one hand.

“Bellamy!” yelped Atticus. “You’re going to get yourself killed -- ”

But Robert didn’t seem to hear him. His black eyes were alight with conviction and an odd kind of excitement as they bore into Atticus’s.

“I will call you that,” he said with a blazing grin.

Atticus faltered. “Call me...what?”

“Grim,” said Robert, his grin broadening further. “You said you’d take it over ‘strange’ -- so that’s what I’ll call you. From now on, you’re ‘Grim.’”

Atticus stared at Robert.

It was such a silly, stupid thing -- a joke that seemed like it would get old really fast -- and yet it gave Robert such sincere, almost irrational joy. It was like an adult finally receiving a gift they’d longed for since they were a child...a kind of cheer that could only come from something so small and yet more meaningful than anyone could understand.

And most strangely of all...Atticus found his entire frame suddenly feeling lighter as well -- warm and content, despite the chill in the air.

“Grim.”

The word had been strangely familiar before, but actually being called it -- it suddenly made the familiarity make perfect sense. The red eyes from his dreams returned to his mind -- the red eyes of the man calling his name --

“Grim!”

That was the name he’d used, when calling Atticus. Atticus himself...he’d been called Grim. That was his name, at least in his dreams...or was it that it would be, if it was a vision of the future, the way Barty, Ceci, and Robert suspected?

Atticus’s rapid thought process, however, made his expression very unreadable. Robert’s grin faltered, betraying some uncertainty.

“...Ah...that’s...that’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, if it’s not, I get it, I -- whoa!”

Atticus abruptly threw out both of his arms, wrapping them around Robert’s shoulders in a hug.

“It’s okay, Bat,” said Atticus quickly. His mouth spread into a bigger smile over Robert’s shoulder. “...It’s fine.”

Robert had stilled in Atticus’s arms. Admittedly he couldn’t have hugged him back, since he still had one hand holding the railing and the other holding his broom, but it was like he’d stopped breathing.

“‘Bat?’” he repeated.

Atticus didn’t even acknowledge how pink his cheeks had become as he pulled away with a wry smile. “People were comparing you to a bat after the match against Hufflepuff. Reckon if you’re going to give me a custom nickname, you’re going to need one too, aren’t you?”

Robert blinked slowly. Then his face broke out into a broader grin than ever.

“...Reckon so.”

He tossed his broom down onto the floor of the Astronomy Tower like he had his book and used both hands to hoist himself up over the railing. Once he was on the floor, he picked up his book and broom, tucked the first under his arm, and started to walk with Atticus toward the stairs.

“I’m a bit surprised you didn’t just go with ‘Rob,’ though, Grim, old boy.”

Atticus raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer it if I called you ‘Rob?’”

“No,” said Robert. “You can call me ‘Bat.’”

And based on the twinkling, star-like light that danced through his black eyes, he meant it. Atticus found his heart beating that bit faster. He felt like his spirit had been fleshed out, given more strength than before.

It felt...right.

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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[HPHL] Cecelia Crouch-Varney Moodboard

“I'm a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich:

My father has no son,

So I'm the one who has to social climb for one,

So I'm the oldest and the wittiest,

And the gossip in New York City is insidious,

And Alexander is penniless...

Ha! That doesn't mean I want him any less...”

~“Satisfied,” from Hamilton

x~x~x~x

Back in the 1770′s, in the days when the vampire Bat Varney was the human Robert Harker, there was one student who earned more esteem than any other -- a queen among the student body -- and that was the eldest daughter of the Crouch family, Cecelia. The Hufflepuff Prefect was not only graceful, poised, charming, and sophisticated, but her sharp eye that made her so attuned to beauty and fashion also made her an exceptional artist, a progressive thinker, and a rather talented forger of other people’s handwriting. Combine this with a love of socializing and parties, considerable wit, and a latent, untrained talent as a Seer, and you truly have a force to be reckoned with. It’s honestly little wonder that Cecelia Crouch won the hearts of so much of the student body. And yet, despite her popularity, her closest confidantes in the world were her childhood friend and intended, Bartholomew “Barty” Varney, and Barty’s “right hand man” and the true subject of her affection, Robert Harker. Perhaps in a world where she’d had another friend who could’ve counseled her through her conflicted feelings surrounding her unrequited love for Robert, Barty’s unrequited love for her, and her family’s expectations, Cecelia wouldn’t have made the terrible decisions that ended up destroying the two most important men in her life and, therefore, herself.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #cecelia crouch varney #aesthetic #moodboard #even if this girl kind of becomes 'the villain in Bat's history' she truly isn't a villain in my mind #she was responsible for bat becoming a vampire all out of the desperation to try to save robert from death #while not even bothering to fully think through what she was really doing or even whether or not she should try to do the same for barty #and that's indisputably terrible #but at the same time she had a lot on her shoulders #the crouch family was pureblood and well-respected but I see them as having secretly been in debt #and the varney family's 'new money' would be an ideal way for cecelia to rescue her family #and of all the people she could've been arranged to marry for money barty was the best choice for cecelia #since they were childhood friends and she truly did cherish him as a friend #even if she did feel brave enough to pursue robert who didn't love her back he was poor and a muggle-born #so her family would've never accepted him and probably would've disowned her out right #so yeah cecelia kind of had a rough time of it #I honestly think that bat after meeting grim and seeing how much the grimsley reputation kind of wrote out his life #came to a better understanding of the sort of burden that had been placed on cecelia's shoulders that he hadn't really understood before #bat had already let go of his resentment of her by then after a hundred years understandably #but that perspective he got through grim I think made it easier for bat to look back at cecelia with more fondness #I actually think in an AU where grim grew up with these guys that he and cecelia would've found a lot of common ground #she would've been pulling grim out onto the dance floor all the time just like she used to for barty and robert XDDD

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

[HPHL] Robert Harker/Loretta Gallagher-Harker Moodboard

“Do you remember, back in the spring, Every morning birds would sing? Do you remember those special times? They'll just go on and on in the back of my mind... Do you remember the time when we fell in love? Do you remember the time when we first met, girl?”

~“Remember the Time,” by Michael Jackson

x~x~x~x

In the late 18th century, before Bat Varney became a vampire known by the students of Hogwarts for his extensive knowledge on every subject, he was a poor Muggle-born wizard from Sheffield, South Yorkshire, named Robert Harker. When Robert was a boy, a wealthy Irish family moved into the estate down the road from his family’s rundown old cottage. Nine-year-old Robert didn’t think much of it until their daughter -- twelve-year-old Loretta Gallagher -- sat down under one of his favorite apple trees one day to read. As Bat told the story to Atticus Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier over a hundred years later:

"There was a very pretty girl who'd just come to town. She was a few years older than me and a lot of people didn't talk to her due to her ancestry...but one day I'd been picking apples when she came over to sit under my tree so she could read. She hadn't seen me. I hadn't wanted to startle her, but I just had to know what she was reading -- so I dangled upside down over her to ask. But I ended up just a bit too close, so when she looked up -- bam. Lips locked. We were so shocked that I fell right out of the tree and she bolted. It took me another three years to approach her again."

Robert met Loretta again at a summer ball, right before he headed back to Hogwarts for his second year. Now that he knew the truth behind his “oddities” (namely, his magical talent), had made friends for the first time in his life at school, and had a better sense of who he was, he felt a bit more confident in approaching the young lady, properly apologizing for their horrible first meeting, and inviting her to dance. Dancing in those days was a social ritual that facilitated casual conversation, so as Loretta and Robert danced, they bantered back-and-forth, the older girl lightly poking fun at Robert’s “professor-like” tendency to go on long tangents on different topics. Despite this, she was charmed by the younger boy’s intelligence and passion, and even more so by how Robert treated her more like a friend and equal than some romantic or sexual conquest. As Robert explained at the time, he would be away at school for nearly all of the year, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t socialize and visit at parties when he was in the area. And so they did. Every summer, both Robert and Loretta looked forward to reconnecting at the local summer balls, so they could take a few turns around the dance floor together and have spirited conversations about science, history, politics, and religion. Despite being the black daughter of a wealthy white Irishman, Loretta had received an extensive education with tutors at home and had also taught herself about five different languages, including Egyptian hieroglyphics, so there was never a shortage of things for the two to talk about.

When Robert graduated and returned home to Sheffield more permanently, he took an apprenticeship at the local apothecary, covertly using some of his Potions expertise from Hogwarts to help “spruce up” the store’s herbal remedies. Robert’s return gave Loretta and him more of a chance to spend time together, with Loretta visiting the apothecary to pick up medicine for her infirm father, Robert colliding with Loretta at more of the town’s local balls, and the two accompanying each other around town as they did their errands. Robert even -- despite being raised Protestant in a town that looked down their collective nose at Irish Catholics -- asked to accompany Loretta to some of her church masses around Christmas, Epiphany, and Easter, so that he could compare and experience the different traditions. It didn’t take long for Loretta to become very enamored with the poor young wizard, and only a little longer for Robert to realize how truly in love he was with the young Muggle lady too. They married at the Cathedral Church of St. Marie in spring 1780, with Robert wearing a handsome suit his best friends from school, the new Bartholomew and Cecelia Varney, paid for and Loretta holding a ribbon-decorated bouquet of purple irises, the flower Robert gave her most often while they were courting, which symbolizes both wisdom and admiration.

Given Loretta’s status as an illegitimate child, she wasn’t set to inherit a lot of money from her parents’ estate, at least in comparison to her older half-siblings, and Robert’s employment at the apothecary alone would not be enough to support them financially as a couple, let alone any family they wished to build together. So Robert, looking to his own father’s example, made the difficult and courageous decision to join the British army, which was currently attending to the “disorder” in the American colonies. When Robert told Bartholomew and Cecelia, Barty made a selfless choice of his own and enlisted too, so that he could stay by his friend’s side, both for his own sake and for his wife’s, since she -- as a woman -- wouldn’t be able to go herself.

Six months after Robert left for the colonies, Loretta gave birth to their first and only child: a little girl who the two decided through letters to name Irene. The name meant “peace” -- a symbol of what the two Harkers prayed for most, in their future. Unfortunately, as anyone who knows the rest of Bat Varney’s history knows, that was never to be. Robert never got to meet Irene in person, nor did he ever get to reunite with Loretta again before her death -- instead he was condemned to watch them live from afar without him and without even knowing that he still existed. Fortunately, despite the heartache Bat feels of never knowing what could’ve been, he takes comfort in the fact that Loretta was strong enough to live well and happily without him and that Irene was able to live a full and successful life and raise a happy family of her own in the Wizarding World he loves so much and yearned so dearly to share with his wife from the very beginning.

#bartholomew varney #loretta harker #aesthetic #moodboard #hphl #hogwarts legacy #my writing #cecelia crouch varney #atticus grimsley #had robert had his way he would've stayed with the army until irene was old enough to receive her letter #then he would've come home and found more stable work in the wizarding world preferably as a professor #he had greatly esteemed the idea of teaching his own daughter at hogwarts one day #most likely in potions history of magic or flying #but yeah cecelia you see what adorableness you broke up?!?#it's no wonder bat was so pissed at you!!#loretta's favorite subject in the whole world was languages #her passion was studying the evolution of written and spoken languages over time #hence her passion for egyptian hieroglyphics #she also was fluent in latin greek old english middle english and welsh #if she'd lived in the modern era she likely could've taught several languages at the college level herself #she was an absolute friggin' genius #it's no wonder ravenclaw!robert admired her so much #oh yeah and this song?#I used to bob up and down and sway to this as a wittle one I loved it so much XD

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