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lunar-serpentinite · 6 months

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AU where the Potters are actually South Asian and their earliest ancestor, Linfred of Stitchcombe, was actually an immigrant from what is now known as Tamil Nadu. He came from a family of potioneers and healers who were known for their relationship with snakes and their ability to understand the language of serpents (known within Europe as Parseltongue) but their variant of Parseltongue was believed to be a blessing from their patron deity Aravan.

The Descendants of Nandhini

The Descendants of Nandhini, more commonly known as the Descendants of Aditya by outsiders, refer to a family of Tamil wix who occupy a heavily warded and hidden territory within part of the Western Ghats in Tamil Nadu, India. They are traditionally healers and agriculturists who work closely with snakes of both Magical and mundane origins. Their affinity and bond with snakes lead them to develop the Magical ability to speak and understand the language of serpents.

They are named after the first member of the family who mastered the language of serpents, Nandhini. Nandhini was a Tamil witch who lived at the height of the Chola Empire, specifically during the mid-900s. Nandhini was her parents’ third child and only daughter. When Nandhini began to display perfect fluency in the language of serpents, it was viewed as a sign of favour from their patron Aravan and Nandhini was then announced as the family’s next head. However, she was to disguise herself as a man and go by the name Aditya as well as take on a wife for the rest of her life.

From Nandhini, new traditions were developed. One tradition was the secretive way of succession for the title of family head. While the family head remained a male in official records and to anyone who asked. But in reality, a woman held the actual title of family head. The hereditary Magic and Relics of the family was bestowed upon the eldest daughter of the main line, which she would then pass down to her eldest daughter when the daughter came of age. This is one of the family’s best kept secrets and is still kept close and hushed up to this day.

Another tradition was keeping long-living Magical serpents as familiars and protectors of the family and carriers of hereditary knowledge. These serpents were regarded around the same level as the family’s elders and the family often spoke with them for advice or knowledge.

The descendants of Nandhini, like the other Magical families of Tamil Nadu at the time, lived in harmony with their mundane neighbours. Mundanes were aware of and lived with Magic despite being unable to wield it themselves. This carried on until the start of British colonization in India. The Magical families of Tamil Nadu escaped colonization by a breath’s width by using Magic to completely hide themselves from the rest of the world. The descendants of Nandhini in particular worked with their snakes to “camouflage” their biggest family compound within the Western Ghats, with the snakes themselves acting as the living “boundaries” of their territory who also act as natural deterrents for anyone who comes too close.

The Magical families remained isolated from the outside world for the entirety of the British’s colonization of India and even lasted a couple of decades after. However, they have managed to reestablish connection with the other Magical families as the years passed by. During their time of isolation, the caste system was slowly dissolved and forgotten and many Magical Tamil families abandoned their castes and titles in favour of simply calling themselves the descendants of their oldest recorded ancestor. In the present time, Magical Tamil Nadu are large joint family groups scattered geographically but are well-connected by an intricate communication system set up by their ancestors. They are still mostly disconnected from the rest of the Magical World but not as much as it was during the colonial era.

The descendants of Nandhini in the present time mostly use the language of serpents, Tamil, and Sanskrit as their main languages. However, their members also show fluency in Middle Tamil and Classical Sanskrit. The latest generation of the descendants are currently learning present-day English.

BRITISH BRANCH — THE POTTERS

During the 1200s right as the Chola Empire began to decline, a group of the descendants of Nandhini led by someone now known as Linfred of Stitchcombe found their way to the British Isles. Though considered “eccentric” by his British neighbours, Linfred was nonetheless well-liked due to his helpfulness and affable nature. He and his family were known for their excellent healing remedies and strange plants, but they were warned by their ancestral snakes and the local snakes to hide their affinity for snakes and their knowledge of the language of serpents for their own safety.

This branch eventually adopted the surname of Potter by demand of the British Ministry of Magic, though there wasn’t any significant reason behind the choice of surnames. Though they are Potter on paper, they still proudly refer to themselves as descendants of Nandhini and would often use Nandhini as another surname in addition to Potter. They kept in contact with the main branch throughout the centuries until the main branch seceded during the British colonial period.

Despite their positive reputation in the British Magical community and their position of being essentially Purebloods, the Potters preferred to marry within their South Asian community. The other British Pureblood families attempted to marry into the Potter family for generations especially after the Potters rose to the top of their respective industries, but they remain unsuccessful to this day. It is because of this refusal to marry into the British Pureblood society that the Potters were exempted from the Sacred 28, not that they cared anyways.

The Potters amassed wealth, prestige, and influence through their revolutionary contributions and breakthroughs for British healing magic and potions. Eventually, they also started to build up a business in Magical pottery and ceramics. The potions they sell are often packaged in custom ceramic bottles made by their own company. Their business partners are exclusively businesses owned and run by South Asians and South Asian immigrants and have recently begun to open their connections to other BIPOC-owned businesses as well. As of the present day, the Potters are one of the leading names in both the potioneering and Magical pottery/ceramics industry.

The Potters usually send their children to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where they would usually be Sorted into either Slytherin or Gryffindor. However since they have reestablished their connection with their main branch in Tamil Nadu, the recent generations have been considering sending their children to their ancestral home for schooling instead.

During the mid-18th century, the Potters began to republicize their affinity and connection with snakes and their usage of the language of serpents as a way of preserving their connection to their family back in their motherland and as a silent protest against the growing negative perception of snakes and serpent-speakers in the United Kingdom. It was noted by Magical linguists that the language of serpents that the Potters knew were far different than what Europe had called “parseltongue”. This variant of “parseltongue” became known as Potters’ parseltongue amongst the European populace, though the family themselves have never used the term themselves.

Despite having lived away from their main branch for centuries, the Potters still maintain almost all of the family traditions. The family is patriarchal on paper but matriarchal in practice. Their family manor in Gloucestershire had an entire green space for the ancestral snakes that they have brought from Tamil Nadu and their other snakes that they have adopted and bred. They continue to revere their patron deity Aravan, whose image decorates sacred spaces within the Potter family estate.

In the latest generation, the Potter family is closely connected with the other Magical South Asian families within the United Kingdom and the rest of Europe. They also have close ties with the Black family who claims ancestry from ancient Egypt and Persia. The current heads of the Potter family, James and Lily, have both married Regulus Arcturus Black who is the second son of Orion and Walburga Black. James also considers Sirius Orion Black his best friend and the couple have appointed Sirius as the godfather of their eldest child Hariharan "Harry" James Potter.

#harry potter #desi harry potter #desi james potter #harry potter au #the black family #jegulily #your faves are now bipoc im not sorry #everything is approved by my south asian mom friend btw #theres more where this came from #my stuff : nandhini's legacy au

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padfootastic · 1 year

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summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc

a labor of love

(also on ao3!)

August, 1970

“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”

Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.

“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.

She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”

“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.

Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”

“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”

Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so.

August, 1976

Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.

It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.

It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—

“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.

James always had a way of doing that.

“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.

Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.

The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling.

“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.

“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”

With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.

Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape.

“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.

“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“

“I’ve never even tried them.”

“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.

He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.

He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.

“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And he didn’t.

As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family.

August, 1995

“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.

“…huh?”

“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.

“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?

“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“

“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.

“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.

Harry blinked. What—?

“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“

“Why?”

“—because they’re so versatile—“

“Right, of course, how silly of me.”

“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.

Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.

“There. What next?”

Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”

And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.

“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”

and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”

Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it.

“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”

Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”

Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.

“You’ve got to—“

August, 2017

“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”

Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.

“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.

“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”

Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”

Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”

She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.

“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame

“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.

“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”

Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.

“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.

Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.

Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything.

“And now, the absolute final step?”

“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.

#euphemia potter #james potter #sirius black #harry potter #lily luna potter #this is perhaps the most personal thing i’ve ever written.#no other piece of work has more of me and my life in it #and i don’t it will either. i’m not a huge fan of ~reality yeah?#but i was eating aloo paranthas my aunt made me today. feeling exceptionally content.#and remembering the time my grandma made the same for me #and how the way my aunt and mom make it is the literal same taste bc rhe learnt from their mom (grandma)#and how i’m learning to make it the exact same way (about. 75% there i’d say)#and i’m feeding my friends and enjoying seeing the joy on their face #so aloo paranthas are like. nostalgic. and a labor of love. and a symbol of family and affection and generational habits passed down #so u have a whole fic around it bc projection is what i do best #i’m still v apathetic to identity headcanons for the same reasons as before #but this had to be done so that issue is put to the side for a while #also like. why is posting on tumblr so fkn difficult my god #why does it not accept formatted stuff 😭#i’m sure there’s a way to do it but i’m either too stupid or too lazy #but that and the weird spaces it adds between paragraphs will be the death of me some day #anyway. enjoy! i have lots of thoughts about it so feel free to come talk to me about it #massively restraint in myself in the tags & authors notes #this was just supposed to be a lil tumblr drabble but it. just. Grew?#so yah.#pen’s writing

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