#snape here is what i had hoped snape was in hphm

[libellule-ao3]

After Kettleburn I wanted more and continued on Ao3. I wanted to just go at your tumblr pace at first, but now I needed more. Anyway I was typing a comment that got out of hand and thought it might be better for here 😂

But I had to stop and comment here (chapter 15) because omg Merula just let Jacob get away with torture. 😭 I hated him when he hit her and then she said she could never do it to him 💔

How dare he. She did not deserve it. And how dare she let him get away with it.

I was already miffed when he inmediately assumed the worst in Little Bird, but he was still simping hard as well at that point and I liked that. Go be a simp Jacob! Not a torturer.

Also I feel like I'm missing information. What was the betrayal? Why was he a prisoner? Why is she a deatheater if they are on the same side? What made him so mad? I looked through your other stories and couldn't find it. In English at least 😅

Sorry if these are a lot of questions. I have a lot of feelings. 😅 You have such a way of evoking emotions with your writing. I mean you had me laughing at Kettleburn, goosebumps for Tonks, crying for Badeea and Talbott. Ugh so many emotions.

I'll stop the comment here before I go on any further 😂

(If you get a notification about me following you. I followed too much. So I unfollowed many blogs and accidentally yours too.)

Hello, 🙂

No worries. Feel free to share your thoughts wherever you feel most comfortable. I'm flattered that what you've read here has made you want to know more and I'm happy to answer your questions. I'm sorry if everything wasn't clear when you read it (I guess it's the disadvantages of the limited POV and the fact that the chapters do not follow each other😅)

Jacob went undercover with the DE to spy on them, and then to kill Nagini on Snape's orders. Jacob and Merula, daughter of Death Eaters who does not denounce him because she is torn between her desire to reconnect with her parents and her own values, get closer during this period until they fall in love.

Alas! Jacob is discovered at the moment he was supposed to kill Nagini and the DEs want to question him about his motives - most of them are unaware that Nagini is a Horcrux - and about the presence of accomplices. In these circumstances, the Cruciatus Curse is usually used by the DEs on their prisoners. To avoid this and in the hope of having an opportunity to free him, Merula takes over the interrogation and inflicts various abuses on him, less terrible than the Cruciatus Curse but torture is still torture.

She plays her role of executioner so well that everyone believed her, even Jacob. And after hours, days, of mistreatment by the one he has grown to love, he feels betrayed and thinks only of revenge, hence his violent reaction when he is released. When Annie reveals that Merula could never have used the Cruciatus Curse on him because it is imperative to take pleasure in the suffering of one's victim in order to cast it, Jacob realises his mistake.

And if there's anyone in my HPHM universe who knows what it's like to do bad things for good reasons, it's Jacob so he goes back to Merula.

As for Merula, she knows what it's like to want revenge after a betrayal and she recognizes the ambiguity of her own actions. Moreover, torturing someone you love yourself in the hope of saving them takes a lot of guts, and now that Jacob has figured it out, he recognizes her value and offers her what Merula has always wanted: recognition. It gives her wings and encourages forgiveness.

Beyond their good intentions, they have done a lot of damage to each other but their relationship has never been and will never be a smooth one so... 😅

I hope this message answers your questions. If not, don't hesitate to ask for clarification. Thank you for your kind comment. 💙 I am very flattered to see such engaged readers.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Apparently Hogwarts Legacy will let you be evil/go on a darker path but only if you’re a Slytherin for some reason? I don’t know if the Slytherin bit is true for sure, that’s just what I’ve been hearing tho. But if it is true then it’s kinda cool that they’ll let players choose what kind of morals their characters have but if it’s only for Slytherin MCs then that’s pretty lame. Why do they only get the choice but players with MCs in other houses apparently don’t?

You-

You gotta be kidding me.

Welp, you heard it here first. Playing Slytherin gives you a genuine advantage of over playing any other House. And by that I mean, the full in-game system is only available if you play Slytherin. What the hell is this nonsense...I can only hope this is a false rumor, or, barring that, modders get to work with adding an update that lets characters of any House choose the dark side as well. And if the devs are reading this, it's not too late fix this if it's real!

But beyond how limiting this would be in the actual game...I really just don't like what this is implying about the wizarding world at all? I thought...I kinda thought we were past this? Y'know, I'm someone who has never really gotten on board with the idea that "Rowling hates Slytherins" because, like, I understand that the isolation of Slytherin House was part of the point of their story, so giving them "better" representation within the original seven books wouldn't work, as their story wouldn't make as much sense.

But this isn't an adaptation of the books. (Even if it were, it's a damn video game, the option to go dark side should be available to players of all houses.) This is a different era altogether. Yes, I know that Slytherin has always been the House that dangles closest to the Dark Side, even after the Voldemort Wars, but this is like taking Hagrid's line from Philosopher's Stone about how "There's not a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin" as gospel. And frankly, that line was always senseless and prejudiced, since Harry's own parents were betrayed by a Gryffindor Death Eater.

This is just a very immature take on the Hogwarts Houses. None of them are automatically good or evil. None of the traits prized by the Four Founders are evil, not inherently. The Houses are all collectives of people (of children, no less) who are constantly gaining and losing members as people arrive and graduate. What is this, Deathly Hallows Part 2, where we shove all of them in the dungeons? (I have never forgiven the films for that, least of all for having McGonagall be the one to call for it. She would never-) This makes it feel like Rowling actually does hate Slytherins after all, or someone on the development team does.

I know it has problems. I know the history of Salazar Slytherin. How racism toward muggles persisted for years and infected Slytherin House. It created an echo chamber (really, all of the Houses were echo chambers, so this was a danger for all of them) where the racist ideas were never challenged, so the Slytherin kids grew up into racist adults who taught the same bigotry to their kids from the cradle. They proceeded to be Sorted into Slytherin as well, the House that everyone else hates, so they had only each other to talk to...starting the whole cycle all over again. It's a problem.

But racism and The Dark Arts aren't synonymous. They often go hand in hand, sure. But not always. A curiosity about The Dark Arts isn't exclusive to Slytherin, anymore than ideas of pureblood supremacy. It's also a humongous generalization to act as though every kid in Slytherin is just a budding Death Eater (or their generation's equivalent) because, like...even within the books, we have Horace Slughorn? We also have Regulus and Snape, who may have started out on that path, but ultimately proved to be better people. And HPHM handles this best, giving us memorable and good people like Barnaby Lee and Liz Tuttle. Actually, while it does have it's problems, HPHM is basically doing everything right that HPHL is doing wrong.

Just...on top of what I've been hearing about the game's plot, and how it's supposedly about one of the Goblin Rebellions...it just feels like the creators are trying to fan the flames. The Harry Potter brand is already in trouble. Making the plot of this game be about the heavily criticized Goblins, who( intentionally or not) came across as a Jewish sterotype...apparently that wasn't enough? They're also provoking the fandom by suggesting that Evil = Slytherin and no one else? This is a prank, right? I'm definitely being punked here?

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter: Hogwarts Legacy #Slytherin House

[otherworldly-realms]

The Gift Of Gratitude SQ Incorrect Quotes Pt. 2

~

Snape, appearing out of nowhere behind MC:

MC, turning around: … Daddy?

Snape: DO I LOOK LIK-

~

Snape: Be mindful of the time and return to Hogwarts before sunset. Walking back in the dark can be unpleasant.

MC, looking around: I don’t see him.

Snape: What on earth are you doing?

MC: I’m looking for my Head of House, have you seen him?

Snape: What.

MC: Oh, he’s about your height, same sense of style, come to think of it you look kinda like him too. 

Snape:

MC:

Snape: I swear-

MC, quickly: Sorry father, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll make sure I’m home before it gets dark. 

~

Arthur: MC! What a delightful surprise!

Molly: I can’t believe my eyes. You’re growing up so fast!

MC, flustered: Thank you, it’s very nice to see you again. 

Also MC: Calm down, they like you. They like you, right?

 ~

Molly: So, you’re spending your Christmas holidays helping Charlie keep his promise to Zonko’s?

MC: Yes, I really don’t mind at all. It’s been fun to keep moving around and Charlie is behaving himself, he really wasn’t goofing around earlier.

Molly: You have to be the sweetest friend that one could ask for!

MC: Oh well uh-

Arthur: You should thank your friend, Charlie. 

MC: No that’s quite alright, I-

Charlie: Thank you, MC. Really, I mean it. You’re a good friend.

MC: I just like Char- like helping Charlie! Yeah, it's my favourite part so far… helping Charlie. 

MC’s head: friend friend friends 

~

Snape, looking absolutely miserable in the Three Broomsticks:

MC, pointing proudly: You are my dad, you’re my dad, boogie woogie woogie

~

MC and Snape sharing a rare wholesome moment together.

Snape: Still running deliveries for Zonko’s?

MC: Yes and I thought you could use some company.

Snape: *silent appreciative noises*

 ~

Snape: Does a Dirigible Plum flavoured Blancmange sound appealing to you?

MC: That sounds delicious. I’d love to try it sometime, should you have any around, if that’s something you would like to do, of course.

Snape: I am not completely opposed to the idea.

MC: Good, neither am I, surprisingly.

Snape, smiling: Surprisingly. 

~

MC: I don’t get it, you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately. It’s kinda disgusting. But, nice? 

Snape: I don’t understand.

MC: Like earlier when you said you appreciated me and wished me well.

Snape: 

MC: Professor?

Snape: I never said those words exactly.

MC: But you did though.

Snape: You’re a fucking brat, you know that right?

MC, smiling softly: Oh, there you are. Missed you for a second. 

~

Bilton: Oh, make sure to keep an eye out for mistletoe when you give Charlie those Sugar Quills!

MC: What’s that? I can’t hear you! I’m walking out of the door now!

~

#incorrect harry potter hogwarts mystery quotes #Incorrect hogwarts mystery quotes #incorrect harry potter quotes #hogwarts mystery #hphm #severus snape #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley #slytherin mc #snape here is what i had hoped snape was in hphm #this sq is just so wholesome #incorrect quotes

[autisticarachnid]

I'd die to be where you are, I tried to be where you are (HPHM oneshot)

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE ATTEMPT, self harm, past character death, references to said character death, mentions of eating disorders

“Every night I dream you're still here

The ghost by my side, so perfectly clear

When I awake, you'll disappear

Back to the shadows

With all I hold, dear

With all I hold, dear

I dream you're still here (I dream you're still here)

I dream you're still here”

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

Hogwarts, November 1989. Approx 4 days after Rowan Khanna’s death.

The castle just wasn’t the same anymore. Salem, ever the optimist, had never thought anything like this would, could, happen. Of course, Salem wasn’t blind to the horrors of the world- it was just that, deep down, they refused to believe anything tragic would ever truly happen to them. 

They were wrong.

Classes were still suspended. Dumbledore had announced classes would resume the next week, but students would only have half of their schedule until the week after when classes would return full force. None of the students looked at all ready to study again, and none of the teachers looked ready to teach again. Even some of the more dedicated fifth and seventh years had stopped studying for their exams in the aftermath.

And of course, all eyes were now on Salem. Everyone in the school knew- knew of their friendship with Rowan, how close the two had been, how devastated Salem must be. Of course, no one even knew the half of it- how could they? Salem never let on half of what went through their brain to anyone, and so much of their struggles would always go unnoticed.

Some of their friends had noticed how much Salem had changed, though. It didn’t take much to realize there must’ve been a lot going through Salem’s head.

The threats had been bad enough. The fight with Charlie had been icing on the cake. And Rowan’s death had been the final nail in the coffin. Salem was cracking.

The sun had already set by the time Salem was done. They glanced at the potion in front of them, the leftover ingredients still scattered on the floor of the Artefact room. Salem was never amazing at potions- it wasn’t their worst subject, but Snape’s avid hatred of them prevented Salem from enjoying the class enough to ever get much out of it. Still, Salem poured the potion into a vial and capped it, tucking it carefully under their robes. There was still a bit left, so they took the cauldron and stuffed it in a dark corner, away from sight. They’d come back for it later if this one didn’t work.

It was almost lights out by time Salem left the Artefact room. Dinner was already over, as they’d opted out of it for the night. Salem was used to the hunger by now, considering they’d been skipping meals unintentionally for years now. Most kids were already in their dorms, or just straggling behind. When Salem ducked out of the Artefact room, they brushed their now dark hair into their face and walked quickly, hoping to avoid any cries of sympathy on their way.

They managed to get to their common room without issue, but had to run to avoid a second year who had reached to grab their arm on the way to their dorm. Tonks and Chiara were already in bed- Chiara was reading, her wand lit with lumos in the dim room; Tonks was writing something in a notebook, dipping her quill furiously to get more ink. Both their heads lifted as Salem walked in, with matching worried looks plastered on their faces. Still, neither witch said anything- they both knew the pain was still raw, and that Salem had been asked “Are you okay?” five dozen times already.

Rowan’s bed was empty, made as neatly as it had been left the last morning Rowan slept there. The curtains had been drawn over the bed, to shield it from sight, as if it was some ghastly reminder that it’s occupant was no longer there. It was, in a way- a study book still laying on the pillow, a letter and quill laying next to it, all little reminders of her. Salem could hardly stand to look at it, wishing desperately that someone, somehow, could just make it disappear- as if a gaping hole where a bed used to be would help any, Salem would tell themselves whenever they had found their mind drifting to the thought. 

Salem shed their school robes, pulling on a sweatshirt from third year that was worn and had three different little holes in it. It was old, but it was comfortable and the fabric felt nice against their skin, and the others didn’t question it. The potion Salem had made stayed tucked in their robes, and Salem tucked a book under their pillow for later entertainment and a stim ball to keep themselves awake.

“Goodnight, Salem.” Chiara spoke, her voice quiet but clear in the silent room. Salem just nodded in response as Chiara extinguished her light and tucked herself in. Tonks put her notebook to the side as well- it seemed both witches had only stayed up to ensure Salem got back to the dorm. Tonks also said goodnight, a very clear note of melancholy present, one Salem chose to ignore.

With that, all the lights but Salem’s lamp were off, and the room was cast in a low light, with just enough warmth from the lamp to leave Salem comfortable. They pulled out their book and began to read under the low lamp light, fingers occupied with the stim ball, waiting until the soft sound of Tonks’s snoring filled the room.

Sure enough, a half hour passed before the snoring could be heard. Chiara groaned and tossed onto her side- she was still awake, Salem noted.

Another hour went by. Chiara fell asleep for a few minutes before waking up, a bit groggy and still very tired.

Another hour. Chiara finally fell asleep. A distant bell marked midnight, briefly catching Salem’s attention.

Another hour. Silence had long since fallen on the castle. Salem tried not to cry as they noticed how empty and haunting Rowan’s bed was.

Another hour. Salem kept on reading.

Another hour, and another, and soon it was nearly 4 am. Salem closed their book, a large first edition Care of Magical Creatures volume by Newt Scamander himself. They sighed and finally unsheathed the vial from their robes, holding it in the lamp light. It was a shade of green, bubbles popping at the top into little skulls. Salem bit their lip and took off the cork.

That night in the forest began to replay in Salem’s head. Nighttime was even more of a nightmare now, as all that came with the darkness were nightmares and reminders. Salem could still hear the coarseness of Rakepick’s voice, the volume of her shout, their own scream of anguish as green light filled the grove. Rowan’s body had laid there, cold and frozen in place, and Salem had to be dragged away, screaming and wailing at the top of their lungs. It was Salem’s visceral wailing that had alerted the professors and caused them to come running, it was Salem’s visceral wailing that woke a number of students at a quarter to midnight as Rowan’s death was revealed. They hadn’t slept at all that night.

The next day had been even worse. Salem had hardly stopped crying, their throat dry and cracked from the sheer amount of screaming. They’d hardly had a voice enough to talk to anyone, but they were swarmed with questions from the moment the castle woke. The memorial was held a little after noon. Their friends had all stood with devastated, hollow expressions, each clearly begging to check up on Salem, who had ducked into the Artefact room at the first opportunity once the memorial had ended. Their powers weren’t working now, so they didn’t have an option to disguise and hide. They had tucked themselves away in the corner, tears streaming down their face as they bit their lip to keep from wailing.

Salem had stayed there the rest of the day, only leaving after nearly all the lights were off, uncaring of whether or not they’d get in trouble.

The second day, Salem hadn’t left their dorm. Classes had been canceled and the castle left in a stunned silence. Many of their friends had walked past the common room, others by their dorm door, but Salem didn’t come out. They spent most of the day either sleeping or sobbing. Chiara had come in a little after noon with a plate of food, but Salem dug underneath their covers and Chiara eventually gave up.

The third day, Salem had finally left their dorm only to be quickly swamped with worried questions by students. Their friends had sat with them at breakfast, forming a protective barrier, not saying anything- but each of them wore an incredibly worried expression that bore holes in Salem. They’d tried to spend the day in the library, but after getting pulled aside enough times by worried peers, fled to their dorm room instead and didn’t even go back out for dinner. 

And the fourth day, Salem could hardly take a step without feeling a hundred eyes concentrated on them. People either stared at them with torn, pitying expressions, or stared at Salem’s once bright hair that now fell limp, a dusty shade of dark brown. Salem mostly stayed on the Reserve that day, away from everyone. The animals didn’t ask them anything, after all. They had returned for lunch, attempting to brave the crowds to ease the growing hunger pains in their abdomen, but after a mere ten minutes of pitying stares, Salem took their food to the library instead. Usually Madam Pince would’ve had a fit, but the librarian allowed it out of pity for the bereaved teen. Salem had sat in a back corner, quiet as a mouse, and that’s when they’d absentmindedly come across the potion. 

Throughout the fourth day, everything from the past few weeks had been on a loop in their head. The premonition, the fuss around the escapee, the fight with Charlie, the letter. “Have we ever been safe with all the danger Salem brings around?” Clearly not.

Salem held the vial tightly, staring into it. They hadn’t really been thinking as they had brewed the potion, their mind more a blank, contrite slate, but they’d ended up with it just the same. It looked a shade off- Penny would know how to brew it perfectly, their mind spoke- but they didn’t care. It was close enough. 

Salem took a slight sniff of it- it was a acrid combination of death and rot, and Salem cringed at the smell. They shuddered at the thought of the taste, and held it up again. They stared deeply at it for a few minutes, thoughts swarming in their head.

Finally, Salem held the potion to their lips. This is it, they thought, and tilted it to let it slide down their throat, burning it all the way down. Salem shuddered and fell back onto their bed, staring up at the ceiling. They held a hand up, turned onto their side and closed their eyes.

~~~~~

Chiara was the first to wake up, and she quickly noticed an odd smell. Her sense of smell had always been enhanced- both a blessing and a cursed side effect of her lycanthropy- and it took her a minute to somewhat identify the smell. She glanced over at Tonks, who was still asleep, then to Salem, who was unusually still.

Chiara tossed her blanket to the side and strided across the room, glancing at Salem. She instantly noticed Salem was not moving much- an odd thing, considering they practically danced in their sleep every night. Chiara stepped back a bit, thinking, and tugged on Tonks’s bedsheets.

“Tonks. Tonks! Wake up.” Chiara snapped, pulling on Tonks’s pajama sleeve until the metamorphmagus finally stirred. The usually pink-haired metamorphmagus, now donning sad mouse brown hair, blinked a few times before finally meeting Chiara’s eyes.

“What?”

“Look at Salem for me, would you?” Chiara replied, glancing back at Salem’s bed. Tonks did as asked and stared.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

Chiara paused for a moment. “Isn’t Salem a tad too still?”

Tonks paused at that, taking a long pause to stare at Salem. Her feet made contact with the dorm floor and she reached a hand out, pressing against Salem’s forehead. “They’re cold.”

Chiara fell forward and pressed a hand to Salem’s forehead, and sure enough, they were oddly cold. She pressed two fingers to Salem’s neck out of instinct, and nearly fainted when she realized how slow the heartbeat was. As she began to worry, the realization of just what the smell was finally hit her- and Chiara went full-blown panic mode in an instant.

“TONKS! TONKS- SALEM-“ Chiara suddenly cried, panic filling her voice as her hands frantically moved to Salem’s wrists, trying desperately to find a strong heartbeat. “Salem they’re- oh god- Tonks come here! Lift them up! Help me!”

Tonks, still not grasping what was going on, jumped up as Chiara grabbed hold of Salem’s upper body. Tonks grabbed their legs and the two heaved, carrying Salem’s limp body off the bed.

“Quickly! Hospital Wing- now!”

“Hospital Wing? Are you sur-“

“I’m as sure as I’ll ever be! Come on!”

Tonks had never heard so much panic in someone’s voice, and didn’t think twice. Chiara pushed open the dorm door, out into the spiraling hallway and stairs that led to the common room. Penny was the first person they laid eyes on in there, her blonde hair and braids recognizable anywhere. The other Hufflepuff stood almost instantly, worry sprawling across her face as she stared at the two.

“What’s going on?” Penny questioned.

“Penny! Go get Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape- someone, anyone! We’re going to the Hospital Wing!” Chiara cried, and Penny jumped from her chair, running after them as they tore out of the common room and out into the hall. Penny ran with them, all the way to the main hall before splitting apart to run into the Great Hall. Chiara and Tonks threw open the door to the Hospital Wing, for once completely ignoring the fact that the petrified Madam Pomfrey was still standing there.

As soon as Salem was dumped onto the closest available bed, Chiara rushed to grab whatever medical equipment she could. Tonks hovered over Salem, worrying as Chiara ran back over. Chiara instantly began examining Salem, her panic growing by the minute as she slowly recognized what had happened. Just as she made that discovery, the doors swung open again to reveal that Penny had managed to get Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick.

“Miss Lobosca, may I ask the matter?” Dumbledore inquired as his eyes fell upon Salem.

“Professor Dumbledore I- Salem- I think-“ Chiara swallowed apprehensively, trying to gather herself. “I think they took something they shouldn’t have. They’re cold, and their heartbeat is weak. Too weak.”

McGonagall instantly rushed forward, followed by Snape. It took one moment before Snape stopped in his tracks.

“Do you have an idea of what they took, Miss Lobosca?” Dumbledore asked again.

“A- A potion of some sort. I think it’s-“

“Weedsoros.” Snape finished, staring at Salem. “A most dangerous poison.”

“Oh my goodness-“ McGonagall whimpered. Her face, which was usually strict, was instantly painted with heartwrenching sorrow as she stared at Salem on the hospital wing bed. 

“This is very serious indeed,” Dumbledore mused, an odd note of worry in his voice- one that was only heard in times of great stress or sorrow, such as the morning when Rowan’s death was officially announced. “Minerva, go to the outskirts of the school and apparate to St. Mungo’s. We need a healer at once.” 

McGonagall only nodded before leaving. She could then be heard summoning a broom right outside, and then was gone. 

“And Severus,” Dumbledore turned to Snape, “Surely you have an antidote for Weedsoros in your collection?”

“I think I’m fresh out, but I have enough to brew one. I’ll be back.” Snape turned curtly and strided back to his classroom. That left Dumbledore and Flitwick, who’d been staring on with a stricken expression the whole time. 

“Filius? You know healing spells, do you not?”

Right as Flitwick nodded, Chiara piped up. “I know some too, professor.”

“Ah yes, Miss Lobosca. You’ve volunteered here since your first year, correct?” Chiara nodded. “Alright, but Professor Flitwick will oversee you.”

Chiara nodded again and turned to Salem, mentally flipping through an arsenal of healing spells. She used a range of them, mainly Episkey, but none succeeded to fully wake Salem. Chiara’s panic grew more by the minute, as Tonks left the Hospital Wing. (”I’m going to go warn the others- Don’t worry Professor Dumbledore! I won’t say what happened, but Penny did see us and has probably let others know. I need to ease her worries.”) 

A million thoughts ran through her head every second- why Salem, how could this have happened, she was right there, she should’ve stopped it, she’s supposed to be a healer- as she tried to keep herself as outwardly calm as she could. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone else so quickly after Rowan- especially not Salem, not before she could tell them, not before she could have her chance.

Flitwick kept a watch over her, his own expression steady but clearly worried. He hadn’t ever seen something like this.

Five minutes of waiting became ten, and then twenty- Chiara’s panic grew by the minute, as her spells slowly began to lessen the effects, but not the poison itself. Dumbledore had taken his turn casting spells as well, but with such a strong poison, spells were of little effect.

A half hour had passed when the door burst open to both Snape, McGonagall and two St. Mungo’s healers. Chiara could’ve swore Snape’s feet didn’t even touch the ground as he glided over, antidote bottle in hand.

“How long have they been unconscious?” One of the healers, a brown-haired woman, asked.

“I don’t know.” Chiara admitted, her voice dripping with panic. “I fell asleep at what must’ve been midnight. Then I woke up at 7:30 and they were cold.”

The witch hummed and took the antidote vial from Snape. “Hold them up.” She said, and Chiara helped the other healer hold Salem up into a semi-sitting position. The other healer then held Salem’s mouth open and head back, as the witch poured half of the antidote down Salem’s throat. Their mouth was then closed, and as soon as the antidote had been gulped down, the witch poured the rest in.

A hint of color filled Salem’s cheeks almost instantly, and Chiara held back a choking sound.

“They should wake in the next half hour. Their body is weak from the poison, and since we don’t know how long it’s been in their system, we can’t accurately say how much damage it’s caused.” The witch tidied herself and handed the vial back to Snape with a grim nod. “They took this intentionally, correct? If so, they’ll need to be placed on watch. And rest for at least a week.”

The professors had all nodded, McGonagall’s stare becoming especially intense upon the metamorphmagi’s still figure. Chiara had clasped her hand around Salem’s, almost weeping, her other hand covering her face to stop any tears. Salem would not die today.

The two healers stayed for a few minutes, thoroughly explaining exactly what the recovery process would be like and what they would have to do to ensure Salem’s safety beyond it. After ten minutes, both healers had left along with Flitwick and McGonagall, leaving just Dumbledore, Snape and Chiara in the hospital wing.

It was another ten minutes before Salem finally began to lightly stir. Chiara’s face had practically slammed upwards, staring in both hope and desperation as life began to slowly trickle back into Salem. Another five minutes, and their eyes opened.

Salem blinked once, then twice. Their eyes- once just a light grayish blue, now such a dark, murky shade- stared up briefly at the ceiling, then to the lights, then onto Chiara. Their eyes had instantly widened, but Chiara had quickly placed her hand on their chest to keep Salem from trying to get up.

“Chi- ara.” Salem croaked, their voice so hoarse they could barely speak. Their eyes were teeming with emotion- Sorrow? Guilt? Chiara could hardly tell- as Chiara gently shook her head.

“Shh. Take it easy.” She crooned, trying to keep herself from crying as she placed a hand on Salem’s cheek. “You’ll feel better once the antidote has run its course.”

Salem stared at Chiara, with an oh god you know look- as though deeply ashamed of themselves- but stayed quiet and laid their head back against the pillow. They let out a small sigh as Chiara clasped her hand over theirs.

Chiara wasn’t sure what to think. She wanted to be mad- how could you do that, so soon after Rowan, why would you make us lose another friend- but she knew it was only because Salem was in such immense pain that they had even attempted. Chiara just couldn’t bring herself to be mad.

It was the clearing of a throat that reminded Chiara that Dumbledore and Snape were still in the room. Snape took a step forward, and Salem’s eyes drifted towards him, almost scared. Snape then paused, as though trying to carefully pick the correct words.

“You will be excused from classes for the next week,” Said Dumbledore, moving to speak before Snape could. “And you’ll be placed on bed rest for a week, minimum. And from now on, you are not allowed anywhere by yourself. You must be accompanied by a friend everywhere you go.”

Salem’s eyes scanned his face for a brief moment before nodding gently in defeat. Dumbledore then turned to Chiara.

“I will tell miss Tonks the same, but from now on, one of you must stay up each night until Salem falls asleep.”

Chiara nodded, turning her head slowly to face Salem. Salem was staring at her, eyes just slightly watering. Chiara gave a weak smile and tightened her grip on their hand.

Dumbledore looked between the two, then to Snape. “I believe our stay here is ending. We needn’t give the student body more reason to worry.” He then turned to Chiara again, who met his eyes expectantly. “I’m relying upon you to watch after Salem today, miss Lobosca. I’ll have food brought for the two of you as well.”

It was with a nod that Dumbledore left the room, with Snape following close behind. Chiara looked back at Salem and briefly ran her fingers through their hair.

“Sleep. It’ll do you some good.”

Salem stared at her for a while, their eyes all over her face, as though searching for something. Whatever it was, Salem eventually found it and laid their head back, allowing their eyes to flutter closed. Chiara began humming gently, eventually escalating into a soft lullaby as Salem drifted away into sleep.

—————

November 25th brought with it the first snowfall of the year. It had been exceptionally cold the night prior, so Salem was not at all surprised to look out of their window that morning to white patches all over the grounds and ice stuck to the window pane. 

Three weeks had passed since Rowan’s death, and a little over two weeks since their own suicide attempt. Salem could still vividly remember being torn out of their sleep that afternoon to the cacophony of voices as their friends burst into the hospital wing, news having finally broken. Merula’s face, surprisingly enough, was the first to show up in their field of view, her eyes wet and face covered in so many tears that Salem could hardly process it. She had pressed her face to their chest, weeping almost angrily, a near incoherent stream of how could you, why would you, what were you thinking falling from her lips. Behind her, Penny was weeping, covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes bore a hole into Salem. 

Ben was there too, his typically stoic face now a sorrow mess, and Salem noted there were tears in his eyes too.

Talbott was there too, and Barnaby, and Tulip, and Jae and all the others- even Charlie, Salem noticed, despite their fight not even two weeks prior. Nearly all of them were crying or on the verge of tears, but Chiara managed to hold all but Merula back.

“They’re still weak.” Chiara murmured, one hand still on the bed as she half-stood to face them all. They had all nodded, gently, as Salem’s eyes flitted over each of them with a penitent look.

Salem had managed to speak- a gentle “I’m sorry” as Merula cried into their shirt. They spoke it again, their voice a bit more hollow this time, as Merula finally faced them. She swallowed thickly, gave a small nod, and grasped Salem’s face in her hands, pressing a firm kiss to their lips.

“You idiot.” She spoke, voice dripping with a mix of sorrow and anger, as Salem’s eyes filled with tears to match. “You absolute idiot.”

“I’m sorry.”

None of their friends left the Hospital Wing until dark. Barnaby had carried Salem through the halls, uncaring as to what anyone else thought, all the way to the door of the Hufflepuff common room. Diego had carried them to the entrance to the dorms, at which point Chiara and Tonks helped them up the stairs and into their dorm. Penny went with them too, and fell asleep on the floor next to Salem’s bed. Salem fell asleep early that night.

The next day, Chiara insisted Salem rest, refusing to even let them leave their bed. Tonks had stayed in the dorm too, watching over Salem as Chiara left to get them food. Salem was soon handed a plate of french toast for breakfast, chicken for lunch and pasta for dinner, and ate everything under Chiara’s watchful eye. Penny slept on the floor again that night.

It wasn’t until the 15th that Salem finally left the common room again. Classes had half-started up again, and already Salem’s friends had agreed upon a system to ensure Salem wasn’t left alone for even a minute. Chiara or Penny walked them to each class, Ben or Barnaby or Tonks sat next to them in each class, and Badeea had even offered to do their History of Magic homework for them. It was nearly suffocating, being unable to be left alone, but Salem couldn’t bring themselves to complain. They knew they couldn’t be trusted to be left alone.

The artifact room was also off-limits unless they had someone with them. Penny had been the one to go with them, and she had accidentally stumbled upon the remains of the potion, tucked secretly in the corner. She had started crying, wrapping her arms around Salem and insisting fervently that they were loved and deserved to live. Salem couldn’t bring themselves to do anything but sink into Penny’s embrace and start crying in return.

Days passed of being escorted around everywhere, until finally November 25th came and with it, snow.

Salem loved the snow. It was fun to walk around in, to make snowballs and snowmen and to feel it in your fingers. Salem had donned a long sleeve, two jackets and a thick winter coat that morning, pulling on a beanie as well to cover their dark hair. They wished they could change their hair color to a brilliant silver to match the snow, but Salem feared their powers wouldn’t work for another few weeks at least.

Tonks was still sleepy, but Chiara was awake and dressed in a long sleeve, a sweater and a winter coat. Seems she had had the same thought to go outside in the snow.

“Good morning.” She said, her eyes glancing over to Salem, who was standing next to their bed now, looking at their own figure in the mirror. Salem turned, briefly meeting Chiara’s eyes before averting them. 

“Good morning, Chiara.”

Salem’s fingers fumbled a bit with their coat, straightening it out so it fit them just right, before deeming the outfit appropriate. They turned, finally facing Chiara, who greeted them with a smile. “You ready to go outside?” Salem had just nodded in response, but Chiara was quick to notice the slightest hint of fervor to their movements. Chiara smiled at that. 

Chiara led Salem out of their dorm and down the hallway, all the way down the stairs and through the common room. The castle was often chilled in the winter, despite the litany of little spells casted to keep an ambient warmth about the castle. The dungeons especially were cool in the winter, enough so that a long sleeve was necessary to walk around. It was a stark contrast to the Hufflepuff common room, which was always kept warm with the constantly crackling fireplace. Salem let their hand drift briefly over the cold stone walls, before turning their eyes forward to the stairs in front of them. 

Chiara and Salem ascended the stairs together, climbing what must have been three stories before finally reaching the main hall. Badeea was standing just outside of the Great Hall, dressed neatly in a long deep blue winter coat buttoned up over a dark blue sweater and navy blue pants. She lifted her head, smiling when she saw the two of them walking towards her. 

“Good morning Chiara! Salem! Are you two going outside to see the snow?” When Salem and Chiara both nodded, Badeea lifted her head a little. “Well, there are quite a few students already in the courtyard, so I’d recommend going out onto the field or the reserve if you don’t want to be bothered.” 

Salem smiled at her, a genuine smile. “Thank you. Would you like to come with us?”

“Sure!”

Badeea turned on her heel and followed them, and the three gradually made their way outside and towards the reserve. It was on their way, however, when Salem stopped and realized they were near the forest. 

Chiara had evidently noticed too, as she gently placed a hand on Salem’s arm and looked at them, careful to not disturb them too much. “Are you okay?”

Salem lifted their head to stare deep into the woods. Their eyes stared into the expanse of trees, as though hoping they would melt under their gaze. They stared a beat too long, worrying Chiara and Badeea, before speaking softly. 

“I miss her.” Salem’s voice was barely above a whisper, lips moving of their own accord. They blinked, then realized what they had said as tears filled their eyes. “I- I miss her.” 

Before they knew it, Salem had started to cry, their knees giving way as Chiara and Badeea both dropped to hold them up. Salem fisted the light layer of snow underneath their hands and let loose, keening as tears fell like rain down their cheeks. Chiara’s eyes also welled with tears, and and she wrapped her arms around Salem, just as Badeea did the same. The three stayed there for a while, Salem crying unabashedly as Chiara rubbed their back and whispered words of comfort and Badeea silently urged them on. 

A silence fell over the castle that day, a silence not heard since Rowan’s death. And what should have been haunting, was the only comfort to a grieving metamorphmagus. 

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc #hogwarts mystery fanfic #hogwarts mystery fic #oneshot #salem jordan #chiara lobosca #rowan khanna #penny haywood #nymphadora tonks #badeea ali #merula snyde #salem x merula #merula x mc #implied chiara x mc #tw suicide #tw character death #tw suicide attempt #tw eating disorder mention #tw self harm #cw suicide #cw suicide attempt

[catohphm]

A True Friend for a Werewolf

Hi everyone, here’s the third in a series of drabbles that shed some light on my MC, Cato’s relationships with the canon characters of HPHM. I’ve written pieces for Talbott and Badeea. It’s Chiara’s turn now. For a while, we didn’t know what house she was in. She was revealed to be Hufflepuff in the sixth year. Chiara’s life and personality are defined by her biggest secret: she’s a werewolf. Very mysterious, she is. But unlike Talbott, she also faces social rejection and shame if her status is disclosed, not just government interference. In time, Cato grows to build a very close friendship with Chiara based on trust and a vow to look out for each other and keep their secrets safe. Just beware, this post is longer than the others as I provided some background and more details to help build the foundation of their bond. Enjoy!

Chiara Lobasca was born to an affluent family. Her father was an arithmancer and her mother was extremely skilled with memory charms. Due to her knowledge of the spells, she was employed by the Ministry as an Obliviator, responsible for solving violations of the secrecy laws by wiping the memories of muggles who were aware of the incident, as well as knowledge of magic in general. 

As a young child, Chiara ran afoul of the infamous werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. She was bitten by him and became a werewolf too. He attempted to recruit her for his army, which sought to take over the wizarding world as revenge for oppression against their kind. Fortunately, her parents were able to stop him and send him packing before their daughter could be influenced by him. Chiara, aware that she got lycanthropy from her encounter with the cruel Greyback, was extremely scared that he had gotten very close toward taking her away from home and doing who knows what to her. Sheltering their daughter, they chose to keep it private that she was a werewolf, knowing of the large negative stigma and laws that would make it hard to live with her condition. 

The Lobascas managed to live stable lives for some time afterwards, but the expenses of procuring Wolfsbane potion to help Chiara get through her transformations put strain on the family’s finances. She eventually befriended a neighbor named Selina, who wasn’t intimidated by hearing she was a werewolf. They were good friends until the former saw Chiara after she transformed. Selina was horrified and never talked to her again out of fear. Her memories were wiped by Chiara’s mum so she wouldn’t have to live haunted by the memories. It was from this incident that Chiara became a more guarded person, being very cautious over who she let into her circle.

She was sorted into Hufflepuff upon arriving at Hogwarts. Her secret meant her life and she understood that if it went out, she’d be in great danger. Chiara’s greatest fear was the fact she was a werewolf becoming known at school. Inside though, she remained the sweet, goodhearted individual she was before she was infected with lycanthropy. Between classes, she would help out Madam Pomfrey with work in the Hospital Wing, her dream of becoming a healer. It was there she first met Cato.

While Chiara found the Ravenclaw boy to be a kind soul who valued people, they remained only acquaintances for a while because of her previous experience with her former friend. They said “Hi!” or even waved to each other when they passed in the halls, but Chiara tried to avoid conversation as much as possible. Cato wondered why she was like this, but he had a feeling that she had something she didn’t want to share, so he respected her choice. It was early into their third year that they got closer.

Cato, Penny and Chiara were all in Herbology when a boggart emerged from its hiding spot. It took the form of a werewolf. Hearing Penny’s shouts, Chiara ducked under a table and fled from the greenhouse when the boggart was repelled. Her memories of Selina finding out she was a werewolf were triggered by the incident. As a result, she became less like her usual self and isolated herself more from her peers. Both they and her professors caught on this and grew worried. Penny was concerned too, and she sought her best friend Cato to try to speak to her roommate and find out what’s going on. 

He was advised by Penny not to mention her to Chiara, as she is worried that her encounter with the boggart may create a rift between them. Cato was worried too, as he hadn’t seen Chiara in the hospital wing much after the ruckus in the greenhouse. He first questioned Madam Pomfrey on her whereabouts. She suggested he look in a cupboard down the hallway she uses to store medical potions and other supplies separate from Snape’s classroom so that students wouldn’t touch them during classes.

Cato went to the cupboard, quietly muttering "I hope you're in there, Chiara." A door opens and her, recognizing him by his voice, ushers him in and quickly shuts the door. Chiara explains that she has to tell him something, needing someone outside of her house that she can be able to trust with the information. He learns of a rumor that she overheard about a first year who was attacked by a mysterious white creature in the Forbidden Forest which was believed to be a werewolf. The victim is believed to be a Gryffindor named Pippa MacMillian as she was reported absent from Astronomy the night the attack took place. Hearing this made Chiara desperate. Afraid of what could happen if people started thinking she was the creature, Chiara wanted to tell somebody she knew who could be able to help her solve the mystery.

Together, she and Cato sought out Pippa, who couldn’t recall anything the moment she was attacked in the woods. With the help of a memory potion, she was able to explain that wasn’t sure if her assailant was actually a werewolf. Claw marks on the arm prompted the assumption it was a lycanthrope. Chiara was very relieved to hear this. The three of them dispelled the rumors with Penny’s help, who was also happy to learn the good news. Cato and Chiara became friends after the case was solved. They talked more, especially when they were assigned together in classes such as Herbology. She was still careful with how deep the conversations got, but entrusted Cato with her secret, knowing she could depend on him.

Eventually, their bond would be put to the test. Chiara introduced Cato to an acquaintance of hers, another werewolf named Remus Lupin. She revealed how she shared some of the wolfsbane potion she received from the school to aid in his plight. Lupin was poor and had to keep moving and changing jobs every once in a while to prevent people from finding out he was a werewolf. He stopped accepting wolfsbane from Chiara as it was now time for him to keep moving on. Before leaving, he reminded her that the full moon would be out that night.

That night, Cato and Chiara were playing gobstones, where they opened up a bit more about each other’s lives. She quickly left after remembering Lupin’s warning about the Full Moon. Urgently looking for a safe place to transform, a greatly worried Cato followed her to the Training Grounds. She was about to tell him to run. But it was seconds before she shifted into her werewolf form. Instead, she told him to not let her hurt anyone. As she transformed right in front of Cato, he covered his eyes with his hands, tripping and falling on the ground. When he looked back up, Chiara was now a large werewolf with white fur. She was menacing, but there appeared to be some hesitance in her motion. Cato pulled out his wand, got up and with it behind his back, he called out at her “This is not who you’re really like Chiara! Remember, you’re my friend! You can count on me!” Chiara pauses for a moment, halted by what he just said, but then becomes aggressive. He calls out “I’m sorry! I have to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or anyone, for you! Cato casts Flipendo but the jinx misses and the transformed Chiara strikes him, knocking him back to the ground. His arm is now hurting from the hard blow, but he remembers the Banishing Charm he had learned from Charms a few days ago. Teeth-clenched from the pain of his arm, Cato aims his wand at the werewolf as she closes in to him, his eyes now brimming with tears. He mutters out “Depulso” in a stressed, worried tone. A mass of bluish-white energy explodes from the tip of his wand, blasting the werewolf Chiara several feet away from Cato.

She gets back up on her feet and stares at Cato. A twinkle gleams across her eyes and she makes out a weak smile, before turning away and running back toward the Forbidden Forest to wait out the rest of the night. The morning after the fight, Cato joins Chiara in the artifact room to catch up on the night before. She, although surprised, thanks him for standing by her and not running away when she turned into a werewolf. She then explains why she was keeping her distance all this time, recalling the incident when her neighbor found out what she looked like as werewolf and asked her mum to Obliviate Selena so that she wouldn’t have to live in fear. Chiara was then reluctant to make friends as she didn’t want to harm others through her lycanthropy. Now confident enough to face her fears, she fully opens up to Cato. 

He presents her a photo he recovered from the Training Ground after the fight. It was a beautiful color photo of the sun setting over the Black Lake, with Hogwarts Castle in the foreground. Chiara lets Cato keep it as gratitude for his help, and tells him that Lupin gave it to her. The photo was taken by Lupin’s friend James Potter, both of whom were part of the Marauders during their years in school. Cato learns from Chiara that the message of the photo is “The morning will always come.” They immediately give each other a big hug, Cato still holding the photo in one hand. She remarks “This is for not giving up on me. Thank you, Cato!" He answers “Anything I can do for my friends. They’re like family to me.” Chiara then said “I’ll always be able to make it through even the darkest night, so long as I have the support of my friends.”

They were best friends after those events, and continued to be so well into adulthood. Eventually Cato would retire from the high-adventure lifestyle of curse-breaking, looking for a more stable job he enjoyed that could also support his wife Penny and their two sons. He was hired as a healer at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Working with Penny and Chiara, Cato and they would often reminisce about their past adventures in school and as young adults. He continues to keep the photo Chiara gave him back in Hogwarts as a token of their friendship.

#cato reese #chiara lobosca #hphm chiara #hphm #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm headcanon #hphm headcanons #hphm friendship #hphm jacobs sibling #jacob's sibling

[madelineorionswan]

I posted 390 times in 2021

161 posts created (41%)

229 posts reblogged (59%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.4 posts.

I added 561 tags in 2021

#harry potter - 101 posts

#hogwarts mystery - 73 posts

#hphm mc - 64 posts

#hphm au - 53 posts

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#hp fanfic - 43 posts

#charlie weasley - 25 posts

Longest Tag: 67 characters

#also our physics teacher is to old amd shes being well a grandma 😂

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

hello! can you write an enemies to lovers with harry potter where they are partners in potions (they’re assigned a task) which forces them to study and spend time together and their feeling develop yk? oh also this is set in their 5th year. the reader can be in any house and i’ll leave the rest of the plot? to you :) thanks!

Thanks for the ask buddy, I'm sorry it took so much time tho.

Love at first assignment.

A/N: here it is, now I'm not really used to this type of story but, well, I'm a gryffindor and I like to take risked in life okAy??!? Also Ive choosen the house as gryffindor (I hope that's ok, I love all houses equally don't worry)

Warnings:fluff and enemies, Snape being a meanie, mentions of blood and self harm.

Y/N Y/L/N. A gryffindor, who hated Harry Potter.

Sounds unbelievable? Well it's the truth. Y/N has never liked the choosen one and swears to never will.

But was it true?

It was just the usual potions class with Snape grumbling away and just being, well, himself.

Unfortunately for Y/N, thus wasn't having the best of days. First off, her owl decided to ruin her favourite meal by dropping a very important letter on it, which was then ruined.

Second, fred and George had decided to pull a prank on her in front of the great hall, which embarrassed her to hell.

Third was that she failed in defence against the dark arts and the pink toad decided to punish her.

All she could hope for was a nice amd quiet potions. But the universe was against her.

"Today, all of you will be grouped with a partner"Snape drawled on.

And guess whom he decide to group Y/N with. That's right, Harry freaking Potter.

"Great, just great' Y/N mumbled as she sat down with Harry.

They both worked silently, focusing on the potion instead of their partner which worked well with Y/N.

The assignment would be lasting a week. Judging by how she had an okay time with Harry, she would be fine.

Right?

Surprisingly, she felt a little better after potions.

A slight blush creeped up on her as Harry agreed to meet her at the common room for the assignment.

"You're totally whipped girl!" Ginny exclaimed as Y/N plopped on her bed.

"Nonsense" she glared at Ginny, who flashed a mischievous grin.

"I'm just stating what's true" Ginny said, falling asleep.

Y/N shook her head. It couldn't be true.

Could it?

The next evening as agreed, Y/N waited at the common room.

Five minutes later, no sign of Harry.

Thirty minutes later, still no sign.

Y/N groaned in annoyance, picking up her books. She was about to leave when Harry appeared. He looked disheveled and was panting heavily. Y/N would not admit it but she did feel a little bad for him. But she was still angry at him.

See the full post

79 notes • Posted 2021-08-23 06:30:24 GMT

#4

The new potters

Chapter 3: Hey there

Summary: Now having revealed that they are going to be parents, Harry and Y/N couldn't be happier. Or can they?

warnings: Crying, cuteness overload

Author's POV

Harry rolled around and buried his face between Y/N's neck. She chuckled softly and held onto Harry's hand. She swore she could feel him smile. But pregnancy means sleep and just as suddenly she'd woken up, Y/N went out like a light.

Harry's POV

"Good mornin-"

I had just gotten out of bed and was about wish Y/N when I saw that she was still sleeping. I took this time to admire her. I would've admired her forever if our owl hadn't tapped vigorously on the window pane.

I sighed and let the owl in. I figured that Y/N would want some breakfast so I went downstairs to make some. Should be easy right?

Guess I was wrong.

Reader's POV

I was woken up by sunlight streaming into our shared bedroom. I turned over but I couldn't find Harry. He must've gotten up. Just as I was about to get up, the distinct smell of smoke wafted into my nose.

Oh boy!

I got up quickly (as quickly as I could at least; which let me tell you was not very quick) and rushed into the kitchen, to see Harry frantically running around trying to somehow organize the kitchen, but was failing miserably.

I ran in, grabbing my wand and muttering a spell, water gushing out from the tip of my wand and splashing onto Harry, the frying pan and toaster.

Once everything was settled we both burst out laughing.

"Well, I guess breakfast was a fail," Harry said, trying to shake his head dry.

"Next time you want o make breakfast, call me I'll have a fire extinguisher with me," I said, giggling.

"But I wanted to make you comfy" harry held me close whining, with his puppy dog face, only making me giggle more.

"Sorry potter, but I'm not risking burning down the house"

"Ok fair enough, but sti-"

Before Harry could say anything I silenced him with a short kiss. We both melted into the kiss.

It felt good.

"As much as I'd like a good snogging session, think we should make breakfast," I murmured and moved to sit at the kitchen counter, taking out the burnt toast.

"I agree"

---

We both sat in comfortable silence, munching on our toast. Harry had been gently stoaking my growing belly as I sat on his lap. Just then I remembered.

"We have an ultrasound today, did you check the owl post love?"

I jumped up from my place on harry's lap and he did the same from the couch.

See the full post

84 notes • Posted 2021-09-20 04:23:25 GMT

#3

The new potters

Prologue: the beginning

Harry Potter x reader

Summary: The wizarding war is finally over, the dark lord gone forever. Harry Potter can finally have the life he had always wanted, starting with marrying you.

Warnings: fluff, wedding fluff, mentions of the war, also daddy Sirius is ALIVE. I don't think there's anything else, let me know if there is.

A/N : Woohoo 🎉 my first reader insert series. I'm so nervous. Hopefully I do Harry some justice cause the guy really needs some love. Might be a pretty long one at that. (Warning this is VERY long). Also the links for their looks are given where ever I have mentioned it.

Author's POV

The wizarding war was finally over. As Harry stood at the bridge, connecting Hogwarts with the forest, he felt free. Voldemort was gone, finally. The one person he had been fighting with to avenge his parents' death, was finally, gone. As he stared at the great expanse before him, he felt relief, and hope for a better future. But as he turned to see Hogwarts, all he felt was remorse.

There was hope yes, but he couldn't help but feel guilty for this war. So many died, just because he dragged them to this war. But, the guilt felt different, as if he was proud, as if he knew they were proud and deep down, Harry knew this feeling was right.

As twilight approached slowly, Y/N searched around for Harry. Right after the war ended she and Harry had spent a few minutes together, crying and laughing. But they eventually had to separate, but not without promising to see each other, the very moment they were free. As Y/N searched around the front yard of Hogwarts, she spotted him all alone.

Reader's POV

As I saw Harry standing alone, I could only feel love for him. He faced so much through his life at such a young age, yet he never gave up. He never stopped loving. But it was time that he forgot about all of his "chosen one" business. That started with relaxing. I approached him from behind and covered his eyes. I could tell that he was relaxed enough to not hit me with a spell 😂. He laughed and tried to pull my hands away from his face but I giggled and kept my hand firmly on his face.

Harry's POV

As I stood on the bridge reminiscing about the war and my future, I felt a pair of hands cover my eyes and I relaxed after guessing who's it was. I could hear her distinct giggling, the same one I had fallen for during my 6th year and still fall for every time I hear it.

"Guess who?" The voice asked playfully. "Oh I don't know, maybe Hermione?" I said wanting to play around a little. "Guess again" the voice said again. I knew that if I said another name, I would probably make Y/N angry and I do NOT want to face that so I replied with a "Y/N" and the hands slipped away. As I turned around, I saw her, smiling. To be honest, I felt guilty, she was all bloodied up because of the war, her Y/H/C hair was tangled and covered with dust. But more than that I felt love for her. I smiled and kissed her. God, that felt good. I lifted her up and spun her around (probably was dangerous, but we still did it). We laughed and kissed like crazy, after what seemed like years. If I had to pick an ending to my life, this would be it. Just me, Y/N and Hogwarts.

2 year later

Today was the day. The day I make Y/N my wife. If this was two years back I would never have thought I would get married, giving some excuse about finding death eaters and such. But, now I can't even imagine life without her. I sat down in Ron's room at the burrow, where I was getting ready. God, this was real wasn't it. I started to panicky a little, my hands getting sweaty. But as I thought back to the time I proposed, it melted my very being.

It was a beautiful Starry night. So we both decided to go star gazing to a nearby field. The night was a beautiful one, that was for sure but something even more beautiful was Y/N. She twirled around the grassy meadow, her hair flying about. So I decided that now was the time to ask her. As she stopped and came closer to me I got down on one knee.

Reader's POV

"Y/N I first met you on my to charms class, since then I had a special place for in my heart. The last couple of years my love for you grew stronger each day and now I can't imagine my life without you. So, Y/N, will you marry me?

I still couldn't believe that Harry had proposed to me, even on the day I was getting married!

As I admired myself in the mirror at the burrow, the door to the room opened, I turned around to see my BFFs Hermione, Luna and Ginny. All three of them stared at me with the biggest smiles in their faces.

"If Harry doesn't cry when he sees you, then I don't what will!" Hermione said, clasping my hands in hers. The girls and I giggled and talking about old times. Everything had changed hadn't it ?

Authors pov

As Y/N walked down the isle Harry thought she was literally a goddess. Her dress framed her body perfectly, the veil flowing down to her back. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant bun with wisps of hair falling out.

As they both stood together at the end of the isle Y/N couldn't help but admire Harry. For once in his life he wore a proper pair of glasses. His suit fit snugly on his body defining his features. But he kept his hair just as messy as ever, a classic for Harry.

The pair smiled at each other and Harry went in for a little peck. "Ready?" He whispered softly. "As I'll ever be" she said and the pair turned to the minister. "Welcome friends, family members and all present here today to witness the union of Harry James potter and Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. The strength for their union is strong, their love undeniable. Now, if you please Mr. potter, the vows. Harry turned to face Y/N, the happiest of smiles he ever had.

" Y/N," he said, already tearing up a bit, "gosh I don't know where to start. When I first came to Hogwarts, you were the first person who didn't know my name. you were always the friend who was concerned about me, but who also enjoyed the risk, the adventure. And that's what loving you ever since sixth year has been, an adventure. You are my home, the one person whom I thought about throughout the war, the one person I wanted to kiss and hug the most. You're the one person I can see my future with. If I can have the happy family my parents shared I would always have it with you Y/N.

As Harry finished, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, were already sobbing while Y/N was full on crying. Sirius smiled at the couple remembering James standing and saying his vows to Lily so many years ago

"Now miss Y/N,"

See the full post

96 notes • Posted 2021-07-07 07:25:36 GMT

#2

The new potters

Chapter 1: Surprise!

Summary: Morning sickness can be terrible, but the reason behind it can be life altering

Warning : fluff, morning sickness, food, vomiting, maybe a little sad? If we squint really hard?

Reader's POV

It was probably the fourth time I went to the bathroom for the night. As I crouched over the toilet and puked out all of the contents of my stomach, I felt my husband, Harry hold my hair in a makeshift bun and rub small circles on my back.

"That's it love, let it out"

Finally after about an hour, I washed up and just practically died in bed. But what I didn't know was that someone else was still wide awake.

Authors POV

Harry was really confused. Y/N had been acting strangely lately. One moment she was having a bucket of ice cream claiming she was starving, the next moment she would be throwing up. She was also quite whinny lately.

But as he stared quietly at his sleeping wife he sighed softly, he placed a kiss on her temple as he finally settled under the covers, although he still continued to worry.

Reader's POV

It was a new morning and I felt fresh as a daisy. I got up, careful not to wake up Harry and walked to the kitchen. As was making the batter for the omelette, I immediately felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom. Boy, this was getting tiring! Finally, after what seemed like an hour of me throwing up, I came out of the bathroom. I was really confused, why was this happening. I looked at the calendar, my period was late!

I completely zoned out as I looked at the dates. It was two weeks late. I would've looked at the calendar forever if Harry hadn't woken up and bumped into me. I turned around and started giggling, as Harry tried to find his glasses.

"Love have you seen my glasses? I bloody lost them again."

I giggled at his antics and grabbed his glasses out of his reach and hid them behind me. Harry smiled knowingly.

"Love, I need my glasses"

"The only way to get it is to catch me."

"Oh yeah, well then let's see how you escape me"

We ran around the living, the only things which showed a speck of childishness in our hearts. Finally, Harry grabbed my waist as I slowed down, sneakily grabbing the glasses. He kissed the back of my neck, as we both swayed together, to an imaginary tune.

"Love, are alright?" Harry asked, as my breathing got a little heavier.

"Yeah I'm fine, think I'll just go to the medical store"

I put my coat on, heading outside. The weather was crisp outside making me feel slightly better.

As I entered the store, I suddenly spotted my good friend Hermione. I smiled at the thoughts of our fun adventures at Hogwarts. I walked up to her, tapping her gently on the shoulder. She immediately whirled around and smiled as she saw me.

"Y/N!!!"

"Hermione! You're a sight for sore eyes, what are you doing here?"

"I needed some first aid supplies, so I came here, what about you?"

I bit my lower lip, fiddling with the hem of my shirt as I said, "I was thinking of buying a pregnancy test"

Hermione gasped lightly as she held my hands in hers.

"How about we go to my house to check, Ron's probably not coming home anytime soon, so I have an empty house"

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131 notes • Posted 2021-08-01 09:34:03 GMT

#1

The new potters

Chapter 2:First steps.

Summary: After receiving the news that they were gonna be parents, Harry and Y/N decide to share it with everyone.

Warnings: family fluff amd maybe some sentimental Harry 🙈 and Sirius

That night, while Y/N basically passed out on bed, Harry was to happy to sleep. Throughout the entire night he stared at his wife smiling until it hurt.

There was only one thought on his mind, he was going to be a dad.

Reader's POV

The warm rays of the sun, woke me up to a pleasant day and how could it not ? Finally me and Harry were going to be our own little family!

I rolled over to my right expecting to cuddle up with my husband but the bed was empty. I tossed around in bed a little and was about to get up when I saw Harry. He had a huge breakfast in bed tray overflowing with food.

He say down beside me and put the food down. He chuckled as he saw my perplexed expression.

"What, can't I make some breakfast for my wife?"

"Well, yes, but you could have at-

Harry cut me off by kissing me deeply.

"Just eat now will you" he teased returning back to his toast. I shook my head, giggling.

"Always the charmer, eh Potter?"

X-X

It had been a month, since we found out about my pregnancy, and bow was it the happiest month of my life. Harry had been the biggest support, doing anything and everything for me. And before we knew it, we were to spread the word.

The first person, Sirius Black.

Having lost his parents at a tender age, Harry had never known a father figure, except Sirius. So we knew that we had to let him know first.

As I packed up my hand bag with a couple off essentials, Harry rubbed my arms protectively.

"Are you sure you want to apparate there, we can take a cab or something" he asked, tremulously.

I smiled and turned over to him.

"I'm fine, love, really"

"Bu-

"No buts, lets go already"

Harry nodded. Taking my hand in his, we both apparated away, 12 grimmauld place.

Authors POV

Grimmauld place was looking, quite merry for the holidays. Kreachure and dobby had been hanging tinsel every where z while Sirius had been cleaning up the house.

Just then, he heard the sudden pop of someone apparating and he movee to open the door.

He smiled as he saw his godson, Harry and his wife Y/N at the door step.

See the full post

131 notes • Posted 2021-08-18 05:51:35 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #phew that got long #what a year #my crazy life

[missnight0wl]

I'm...not sure what my stance is on HPHM anymore. I used to be so excited about it and could barely wait for new chapters. But now I can hardly bring myself to play it daily. I didn't even try for this last TLSQ because I've moved up to full time at work and had little free time these past few days. The game is just full of filler and junk and microtransactions. The story isn't interesting to me anymore. I would quit, but I kind of want to stick it out until the end since I've been here since the beginning. Plus I could use some inspiration for my story, even though it's far from canon-compliant. I haven't even really updated my story in a few months now...

That’s fair.

Honestly, the main thing that keeps me with HPHM at this point is Jacob and Rakepick, and, um… Oh boy, can Jam City disappoint in this area. I’m also not planning on following canon from the second part of Y6 and Y7 in “Secrets and riddles”, so technically, I could simply quit. I don’t expect the game can reveal anything that will change my mind much.

Still, I do get your point. I’m also here basically from the beginning, so I am quite curious how it ends. But truth be told, I’m also still kind of having fun – even though I’m aware that it’s me who actively makes it fun for myself through the analysis etc. I actually find the main story of Y7 quite interesting as well (for Jam City’s standards) – even though again, it’s mostly thanks to my own interpretation. I don’t know, I just enjoy that there are still things fitting into the Rogues theory, and to be completely honest… I’m hoping for another satisfying moment of vindication, similar to how it was with Merula.

That being said, I’m not sure what to tell you, to be frank… I’d definitely recommend ignoring TLSQs. It’ll be fewer nerves for you, they don’t really matter for the main story anyway, and I feel like their quality is just decreasing lately. I believe that the last TLSQ I genuinely enjoyed was the most recent Christmas one (with Snape). I’m not saying that everything after that was bad, but I probably could’ve skipped it. As for the main story – well, with the current release schedule, we’re getting about 1-2 new chapters per a month, so it’s not that time-consuming.

Alternatively, you can try watching the videos on YouTube to stay up to date. Although I admit that it probably wouldn’t work for me personally. If I don’t engage in something directly, I’m most likely to lose interest entirely sooner than later. That’s pretty much how it was for me with the Quidditch chapters. I stopped playing before the first House match, thinking that I’ll be back after a break or at least I’ll try to learn what’s going on there, but now? I really couldn’t be bothered to return.

Oh, and don’t be worried about not updating your story! It’s your story after all, and you’re working on it at your own pace, whenever you can and you enjoy it. It’s been over seven months between chapters 3 and 4 of my fanfic, so… y’know. No sweat. You’re doing it primarily for yourself.

I hope my ramblings were somewhat… helpful? I don’t know. Still, if you ever want to talk or vent or whatever, my inbox is always open. Overall, I think that if you want to still enjoy HPHM at least to some degree, you just have to ignore some things. But also, know that you’re not alone with your feelings.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #jam city #ask #nuttydelphox

[whatwouldvalerydo]

HPHM April Prompts - Day 3 by @stupendousbookworm

A tad late, so sorry, but here it is. How Talia’s sorting hat ceremony went.

“You will never utter your real name.” Snape spoke in hushed tones as he dragged Talia by the arm down the poor lit corridors, in the dead of the night “You will refer to me as professor Snape and nothing else.”

“Yes sir.” The eleven year old spoke, head down, the mass of hair encompassing her face.

“You are to only come out at night and not mingle with the students here. All your classes will be after dinner.” He glanced over at the little girl he was practically dragging behind him, a hint of concern widening his eyes “This is for your own good Talia, do you understand this?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, Talia lifting large turquoise pools to look at her godfather “I do, if I stay hidden there will be no more pain.” Pressing a small hand to her beating heart, she swallowed thickly at the very memory of what she had to endure “I am a soldier.”

He hated it, Snape loathed how he had to teach the girl to fend for herself. She was nothing like the bubbling youth that just had to go through the sorting hat ceremony. There was no joyful spark in those eyes of her, only the understanding that perhaps not even an adult could muster, let alone a child.

As they entered Dumbledore’s office, despite the strong façade she kept, her heart hammered inside her chest when she glanced at the sorting hat. In perfect head master fashion, he smiled at her, welcoming her to Hogwarts, hoping that she would enjoy what it has to offer despite her unique predicament.

“I’m here to become stronger sir.” Dumbledore’s eyes rose to look at Snape, an unsatisfied glace clear as day.

Talia quietly sat on the chair offered, the hat being placed on her head. Immediately it came to life, scoffing as it settled better on her head, her bringing her hands up to her chest, repeating in her head a silent plea “Well, well, I thought I was done with the likes of you. A cunning little one fit for Slytherin, truly ambitious.” The hat wiggled more, a displeased look on its worn out face “Yet you are brave, too brave for your age. But what is this I see hidden deep down? Well cultured, a clever little one fit for Ravenclaw if handled right.”

All the thoughts she had in her head blurred together, a whisper leaving her mouth “Not Slytherin, please not Slytherin.” It would have meant following the steps of her family, be in a house she never wished to be in.

“You are not kind, no, yet you are honest.” The hat interrupted “Fiercely loyal.” Taking a deep breath in the hat sighed as it settled properly on her head.

Talia’s heart sank, wishing herself to become so small that the world would no longer be able to see her. Her life, her small insignificant life, shrouded in shadows and pain, now hanged in the balance. Lowering her hands, she gripped the fabric of her worn out pants, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“It’s alright Talia, every house is here for a reason, each with wonderful traits and lessons that will help you grow.” Lifting her gaze to look at Dumbledore, her eyes darkened like the sea at night, small frail digits trembling with the force of her grip.

“Don’t baby me, I am not a child you need to take care of.” Tears wet her cheeks as she spoke “I hate this, I hate this.”

The hat stirred once more causing Talia to clamp her mouth shut “I have come to a decision, a difficult one at that…Ravenclaw.”

Cradling her hear in her hands, she let out a sob, feeling as if the weight of the world was finally pushed off her. It meant she was meant for more, could do more, be more.

#Aprilprompts2021 #fanfiction #late night enchantments #Talia Hayes #severus snape #professor dumbledore #albus dumbledore #the sorting hat

[carewyncromwell]

Ficlet: This’ll Be the Day that I Die [Part 3]

[First] [<<<] [>>>] [Last]

YES! AT LONG LAST WE HAVE PART THREE! *collapses* Geezus, this took forever! Prepare for something long and stuffed to the brim with exposition and world-building...hopefully wrapped up in an entertaining package, but even so. I had a lot of fun trying to explore the characterization of the four Founders of Hogwarts -- although Slytherin is easily the worst of the batch as the resident blood purity nut, it was still fun to try to give him depth the same way I have Rakepick. It was also fun to give some spotlight to Carewyn and Jacob’s magical historian mother, Lane Cromwell! And my precious ghost boy Duncan. ^.^

I apologize in advance for my horrid Old English, Welsh, and Norse: take any translations I’ve done with a grain of salt, I profess no great knowledge of any of them. XD; I did do a good amount of historical research for this, though, so the pieces of that I integrated in should hopefully make the whole thing feel that bit more real, disregarding the magic and dangerous Dark creatures.

Thank you to those of you who reblogged/commented on the last part -- @samshogwarts @dat-silvers-girl @mizutoyama @ruby-and-opal-withers @missnight0wl @that-ravenpuff-witch @weasley-adoptee @cursebreakerelmswood @nightrhea-hphm​ and @wandsandrings​! If you haven’t read the first two parts, I’d highly suggest you do so, as I fear you might be completely and totally lost otherwise. XDD And...yeah, I hope you all enjoy it! Please consider liking/reblogging/commenting if you do, and hopefully part 4 (which will be the last part) will take MUCH less time than this one did to finish!! xoxo

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While Patricia Rakepick had told her tale to Carewyn, Jacob, and the Circle of Khanna, the battle at the Black Lake had raged, with the Hogwarts professors – led by Heads of House Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Pomona Sprout, and Filius Flitwick – defending both the Lake and the castle from the forces of R. In the midst of the battle, Fawkes the phoenix was sent to the skies to track down his master, Albus Dumbledore, and bring him back to the school at once.

The reason Albus Dumbledore had left Hogwarts none of the teachers had known – for the night hadn't really gone as Dumbledore himself had originally foreseen either.

In the Fenlands of East Anglia, out of open night air, appeared two figures in the high grass surrounding a modest reservoir. One was very tall with a long, white beard, a pointed dark blue velvet hat, and flowing robes the color of a robin's egg and flecked with gold dust. The other was much smaller with shoulder-length blond hair, an off-white sweater with a chunky purple line zigzagged across the chest, and faded jeans tucked into a pair of scuffed-up black boots. This smaller figure released the taller wizard's arm as he glanced around.

“Quite deserted, as to be expected,” said Albus Dumbledore. Once he gave another look around at the stars twinkling over head, he indicated the skyline to his right. “If my navigation is correct, I'd say our destination should be about a hundred paces from here.”

The smaller woman nodded politely, before immediately setting off at a brisk walk. It was impressive that a man so much older than her was able to keep step, given how quickly she moved. As she walked, she kept her wand at her side in her right hand and a very worn scroll close to her chest in the other.

Within a few minutes the pair had reached what appeared to be an old brick warehouse. It was deserted – it was so late that anyone who worked there had no doubt already headed home for the day.

Dumbledore and his traveling companion approached the back of the warehouse, both raising their wands. They silently lit them, looking down at the muddy, wet marshland just underneath the stilts and platform holding the warehouse up and out of the water.

“I daresay Salazar Slytherin would seal any records in such a way that only a fellow Parselmouth could open it,” said Dumbledore airily.

The witch nodded.

“I haven't been able to study Parseltongue very thoroughly,” she spoke in a very soft, almost wispy sort of voice, and yet it was low enough in her throat that she clearly felt no fear or hesitation, “but I know what password Salazar would use – ”

Taking three striding steps forward, the blond-haired witch approached the edge of the marshland, the light from her wand creating dark shadows around her narrowed almond-shaped blue eyes. She opened her mouth and let out a messy cluster of hissing sounds.

At once, there was a rumbling under their feet. One by one, a set of stones burbled out of the murky water, pushing it aside, and formed a long set of cracked gray and black stairs that spiraled down in a wide spiral around and then under the brick warehouse and marshlands.

Dumbledore gave the witch a dewy smile. “Most impressive, Lane, my dear. What phrase was it that Slytherin chose, may I ask?”

“'As pure as the driven snow,'” answered Lane Cromwell, her soft voice sounding rather cool.

“Ah,” said Dumbledore, his own dreamy tone betraying some disgust despite himself, “for that was what Slytherin liked to think he was, in both blood and character. Very good.”

Holding his lit Elder wand aloft, the Hogwarts Headmaster led the way down the wet, cracked stone stairs, down into the depths of the shallow reservoir and then below it, under the ground. The murky water they passed was frozen in place almost as perfectly as the stone and earth under it.

At last they reached the base of the stairs and the small chamber it opened up into. Despite its modest size, it boasted a rather tall ceiling, as well as many completely filled bookcases full of dusty scrolls and books. In the far corner was a very old chair carved out of blackthorn wood, and in the very center of the room was a podium made out of marble, with beautifully intricate carvings of silvery, emerald-eyed serpents slithering up the base.

“Remarkable,” mused Dumbledore. “The library looks to be in very good condition, for its supposed age. This place likely hasn't seen a living soul since Slytherin first abandoned it, oh...nine hundred and fifty years ago, wouldn't you say?”

“Nine hundred and sixty-six,” said Lane gravely. “Since the day it was announced that Godric Gryffindor had passed away. But it's very possible Salazar's descendants may have come down here to check on this place over the years, to maintain it...at least until the last of them left the Fenlands, back in the seventeenth century...”

She tucked the scroll she was carrying in the waist of her jeans as she approached the podium. Bending down, the magical historian trailed a hand along the gleaming serpents carved into the podium.

“...This isn't silver,” she realized. “It's platinum.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “A rather rare stone to find here, in Britain.”

“Yes, but it's been well-documented that Salazar traveled to South and Central America in his young adulthood...the forests there are the only place he could have found the type of snakewood used to make his wand. And platinum would've been much more easily found in South America, during that period – the Spanish conquistadors found quite a bit of it themselves, when they arrived there in the eighteenth century searching for gold. But these stones...they weren't carved naturally. Judging by the angles here – and here, as well...it's clear that this was constructed with magic. There's even magic inlaid in the emeralds, judging by the slight discoloration around the edges – very true to magical artifacts of that time period...”

It was striking how Lane's volume never seemed to rise, even despite the passion in her voice. The magical historian's blue eyes narrowed as she rose to her feet again and frowned at the podium.

“Salazar clearly created this podium with a special purpose in mind,” she said slowly, “more than just decoration...but I'm not sure what that purpose would be.”

“Perhaps I might be able to discern that.”

With a little nod, Dumbledore took a step toward the podium; Lane politely moved aside so that the Headmaster could examine it himself. He trailed a hand over the marble, looking over the carvings himself; he tapped the podium with his wand in several places and cast several silent, experimental spells. At last, he trailed his wand along the snake carved into the right-hand side of the base.

In an instant, the carved snakes began to glow, silvery light rippling out of their platinum grooves. Short, almost pulsing flashes of green flickered out of their eyes, and a voice seemed to echo throughout the room.

“Secgan! Ic dôð rôf Salazar Slytherin, ûphêah orgilde duguð cýf ealdefæder orgilde Hogwarts Stellan râd Foretâc.”

The voice was low, almost like a hiss, but as fierce as a king giving an order. Lane also noted a unique, rather beautiful accent, though it was hard to place exactly what kind.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow curiously. “'Speak,' you say? Hmm...”

Trailing his wand along the carved serpent again, he spoke very firmly,

“I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The serpents' emerald eyes stopped pulsing, their light locked in place. There was an ominous hissing, and then another voice bounded off the walls of the small room – it was Albus Dumbledore's voice, echoing back at them in perfect clarity, speaking words the Headmaster had never said.

“Speak! I am the great Salazar Slytherin, one of the four noble Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Lane couldn't hold back a gasp. Dumbledore beamed at Lane.

“It seems we have something of a translating magic here,” he said in an airy kind of amusement. “Upon hearing my response, the podium has repeated the phrase it greeted us with in my voice and language.”

Lane's eyes, identical in color and shape to her children Carewyn and Jacob's, lit up.

“Then this podium...would be able to translate anything written by Salazar Slytherin into Modern English?” she said excitedly, though again, her emotions couldn't manage to make her voice any louder.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “It seems that, for all of his faults, Salazar Slytherin was at least shrewd enough to discern that language changes rapidly over time. Any descendants of his might have difficulty understanding his writings, without such a measure.”

Lane immediately descended on the shelves of scrolls and books.

“His family history might also explain that,” she said as she opened several of them and skimmed their contents. “Salazar's family came from what is now modern Spain...evident by the name he was given, which had previously belonged to his maternal great-grandfather, Salazar Ordaño...and he was originally born near the coast of Ireland. People call him 'Slytherin from fen' – but in truth, the Fenlands, where we are now, are merely where Salazar settled in his later years, after he'd married and started a family.”

“Fascinating,” said Dumbledore mildly, as he settled himself down into the blackthorn chair in the corner. “I presume that explains the accent I noted in the first voice we heard – the one that must have been Slytherin's?”

“Yes. By the time Salazar was born, Ireland had transitioned into using early Middle Irish, as opposed to old Gaelic...but people living in England – where Salazar's family moved to, while Ireland faced off against the Norse Vikings – were still using what we today call Old English. That's the language Salazar would've used while speaking to the other three Founders. Early Middle English only started taking hold after Salazar died, after the Norman conquest in 1066 A.D. I daresay what we heard was something of a fusion between an Old Castillian and Middle Irish accent, speaking old English.”

“An interesting mix of cultures, indeed.”

Dumbledore's tone was very pleasant even if it wasn't even half as enthusiastic as Lane's soft-spoken, scholarly voice. He placed his wand back into his robin's-egg-blue robes at last, crossing his arms loosely over his chest and waiting patiently as Lane consulted the documents.

After about thirty minutes, Lane – an excited look in her eyes – brought a rather worn-looking leather portfolio containing a stack of parchment over to Dumbledore for him to look at.

“This looks like it might be a collection of letters...perhaps even a journal that hasn't been properly bound yet,” she said, her hushed voice rather eager. “See the dates there, in the corners?”

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles at the line of runes and sketched crescent moons in the upper corner of the top page, and then down at the written lines below.

“Yes, that is what this seems to be,” he said, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “Given that I can only read about half of it...I would guess that it contains both Old English and Middle Irish – making it more than probable that this was written in Slytherin's hand, wouldn't you say?”

Lane nodded, looking even more excited. “Yes. Would you say the dates match up too? Judging by the condition of these pages compared to everything else I've seen, I'd guess these would be the newest documents, in this library.”

“I believe you said that Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts in July 1022, correct? Less than a year before Gryffindor's death? If so...”

Dumbledore turned several pieces of parchment over, consulting each of the dates, before settling on one near the bottom of the stack.

“...Then these moon runes match up perfectly.”

Lane's face was soon consumed by a wide, slightly crooked smile like the one her son Jacob often wore. She moved over to the platform with new confidence, removing the piece of parchment Dumbledore indicated from the stack and placing it down on top of the podium.

The podium gave another low hiss. The piece of parchment fluttered up off the marble as if trapped in a magical gust of wind, rotating in mid-air of its own accord as the podium created by Salazar Slytherin once again spoke in Albus Dumbledore's voice.

“Twentieth day of Harvest Month, 1022.

“Today marks the end of Hogwarts, as we know it.

“Despite all of my objections and disregarding all common sense, Rowena, Helga, and Godric remained obstinate in the decision to allow Mudblooded magical creatures to walk our hallowed halls in the upcoming school year. I urged them to reconsider, to the point that it bordered on pleading, and still, Godric absolutely refused to take heed. To my horror, not even the others would hear reason. I cannot fathom what virtue of theirs could possibly outweigh the safety of our school and our students – whether it is arrogance, ignorance, or just pure delusion – but whatever it was that fueled them to fight against me, it is a demonic magic that I cannot hope to exorcise.

“Although I can't stand by and let Hogwarts fall at the claws of treacherous rats that my friends would deign to call 'students'...I cannot halt my research, when I'm so close to tracking down the answer. Although we were able to petrify the Cetus, and no one should be able to access it without opening all of the Vaults in their proper order, the Beast will claw away at our enchantments the longer it takes for us to find a way to nullify its power. The magic of sacrificial love may indeed be our salvation – and yet a sacrifice made by one who has never feared Death – on the contrary, has frequently been tempted by it, like Odysseus before the Sirens – cannot possibly be powerful enough to destroy it. I only hope that the documents I'll find here in the Fen can help me track down the final answer. It may be the one thing I can still do, to protect my friends and the school we have created, now that they have fallen from grace. In the meantime, the safeguards I put in place should be able to protect the school, even in my absence, now that Garcea, Marvolo, and Amice have started their education – at least until I make my proper return, with the knowledge needed to finally slay the Cetus once and for all.”

The piece of parchment slowly stopped turning, fluttered back down onto the marble, and lay still.

Lane's eyes widened. Dumbledore's lips came together solemnly.

“I would say your hypothesis was correct, Lane,” the Headmaster said softly. “Slytherin was working on a method to destroy the artifact inside the Cursed Vaults.”

Still slightly stunned, Lane reached out to pick up the page of Slytherin's journal, holding it out and gazing down at the lines of Old English and Irish she could barely read herself.

“Even after he left the school,” she whispered, “even after he broke off from the other Founders and ended their friendship over his anti-Muggle-born bigotry...Salazar was still trying to find a way to prevent Godric from sacrificing himself.”

~*~

“Remind me again why it makes sense to unlock the inner door, if we don't want to open the column and set the Cetus free?” said Merula in an incredibly tart voice.

Duncan stuck his head back through the Vault's inner door to look down dully at Merula.

“Hey, you blokes said you wanted to find a way to stop that thing from possessing people and eating their magic, didn't you? Well, inside the inner Vault, there are four painted statues of the Founders. By common sense, those statues were carved and left there, rather than the ones out here, which were all people who got petrified. Plus there's this huge mosaic on the ceiling that sounds like the picture Carewyn saw in Rakepick's head, but there's different writing there than what Rakepick translated.”

“Therefore it's likely the Founders put those things there, as a hint of what to do when someone got inside,” said Bill logically, offering Merula an encouraging look.

“It's something we should investigate, at least,” said Rakepick in a very clipped sort of voice, her arms crossed over her chest, “considering it would take a lot longer for Duncan to jump back and forth through the door telling me each line so I can translate it.”

“You mean so we can translate it,” Jacob snarled.

“Ah yes, pardon me,” Rakepick couldn't help but scoff. “I apologize for not equating myself with a perfect amateur in reading Old English.”

“Don't bother,” Carewyn murmured dully when Jacob looked ready to snap back.

She turned to Rakepick coldly.

“Don't forget our terms, Rakepick – you'll stay under Jacob's and/or my watch at all times...so nothing you do will be just 'you.' It will be 'us.'”

“And for your information, Patty, the words on the mural aren't in Old English,” Duncan added rather coolly. “Otherwise I could've translated it just fine on my own, the Bloody Baron taught me more than enough to get by...”

Everyone turned to blink at Duncan. The ghost looked rather affronted.

“I've been dead for more than seven years, I had to fill that time somehow! Did you really think I just sulked about in the Prefect's Bathroom the whole time?!”

“Maybe not the whole time,” confessed Charlie sheepishly, “but...”

Duncan crossed his arms and gave a loud huff. “I came down to this Vault a lot after I died, I'll have you know. Deluded myself for a year or so that even if I was dead, maybe I could still find a way to break the curse...at least until I finally figured out that no, in fact, it's impossible to break much of anything when you have to give yourself a bloody migraine just to touch something...”

Jacob looked deeply ashamed and upset. The expression clearly bothered Duncan, for he rather gruffly said, “Well, come on, then!” and with a soft pop disappeared fully through the Vault's inner door.

Ben looked at Carewyn, his face betraying some doubt despite himself.

“Carewyn, are you sure we should do this? We're already going to have a hard enough time trying to keep R away from the Cetus as it is without the inner Vault being open.”

His eyes drifted over the rest of the Circle of Khanna, who were spread out over the rest of the glass-domed chamber. Diego, Talbott, Badeea, Jae, Liz, Tulip, and Tonks had started conjuring large Shield Charms around the hall. Meanwhile Beatrice, Penny, Ismelda, Andre, Cedric, and the twins had started levitating the dozens of stone statues off to the sides – as Beatrice had pointed out, it wouldn't be right to let a bunch of innocent people get smashed to pieces in their inevitable fight with R.

Carewyn bowed her head, her eyes resting solemnly on Ben's left shoulder instead of his face.

“I know...but we don't know how many members of R we'll be facing, or how long we'll be able to hold them off. If there's any chance we can destroy the Cetus's power so that no one can use it, R or otherwise – aside from Gryffindor's method, of course – we have to find out for sure.”

“Yeah...and well, just because we unlock the inner Vault now doesn't mean we can't lock it again later, right?” asked Barnaby, trying to be optimistic.

“Presumably yes,” said Rakepick. Her dark blue eyes flickered from the door to over at Carewyn. “Though I'd be hesitant to do it, considering we've come so close to the end...”

Jacob scowled, but he had to agree. He sighed and spared a reluctant nod. “...True. We don't want to take the chance that the Vault's Petrification Curse activates to protect itself, like it did last time. If that happened, we'd have to re-lock and unlock the other four Vaults all over again.”

Tulip, who'd been helping Jae seal any possible openings in the golden dome shield they'd created around the back wall, lowered her wand as she faced the others.

“Even if we don't unlock the door, R could just as easily try blasting it open like you tried to, when they get here,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” said Jae dryly. “Then the Curse would activate, and we'd have to run for our lives – and anyone who wasn't suddenly a statue would have to go break the Vaults' curses all over again anyway.”

Bill nodded. “It is risky...but it'd be foolish not to try to find out everything we can.”

“Right!” Cedric agreed. He shot Ben a bright smile over his shoulder as he levitated a statue off of one of the stairs leading up to the Vault. “It's like my Dad says – 'nothing ventured, nothing gained.'”

With a sigh, Ben nodded, his eyes narrowing with fresh determination.

“All right, then – let's do this.”

Carewyn nodded too, her eyes just as firm as Ben's. “Merula...will you do the honors?”

Merula also gave a heavy sigh, but nonetheless strode forward, withdrew the coral key from the inside of her robes, and brought it up to the keyhole. Yet again it started to vibrate when it came within inches of the door, and the glowing white writing reappeared.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, 'don't let the Cetus out,'” Merula muttered irritably in the direction of the door.

She forced the key into the rusted keyhole and turned it. With a loud CLICK, the inner doors swung open, just as the outer doors had.

The inner Vault may have been a much smaller room, but that was only because the outer chamber was a hundred feet long with a mile-high green-tinted glass dome for a ceiling. The inner Vault was still almost as large as a standard Hogwarts classroom, though far more ornate and ancient. True to what Duncan had said, four limestone statues – two women and two men, all holding wands – stood in the four corners of the room on black zircon platforms, and on the ceiling was a gigantic, detailed mosaic identical to the picture Carewyn had seen in Rakepick's mind, made up of thousands of tiny colorful tiles. The only light in the room came from the magical blueish-white flames lashing out of the grooves cut into all four sides of the black zircon platforms, which left surreal, blue-tinted shadows on the statues' limestone faces. Even the air itself suddenly felt heavier, making them feel like a large weight had been lowered onto their shoulders, making the group all subconsciously shrink in the face of such a grand, imposing sanctuary. Strikingly, though, the gold-trimmed glass column housing the Cetus was nowhere to be seen – the statues surrounded nothing but an empty white-and-gold-tiled floor, marred by a large inky black stain that branched out like vines toward the walls and double doors.

When Carewyn moved toward the center of the room so as to try to get a better look at the mosaic, she was stopped abruptly by a terrible, booming voice.

“Gan ne latost!”

She whirled around.

The voice had come from the statue she'd just walked past – a large, broad-chested man of about 30 with a short red-painted beard and sparkling eyes made of blue-green agate. The left hand not holding his wand rested on a silver-painted sword hilt at his side.

Bill hurried over to Carewyn's side, crossing in front of the statue next to the first, only to halt in front of Carewyn and whirl around at the sound of a female voice, booming just as gravely down at him.

“FÆr sy hêore.”

The statue Bill had passed was that of a tall, willowy woman about the same age as the man with ebony-painted plaited hair so long it almost reached her feet. There was an odd-looking, silver-painted tiara resting low on her forehead and her eyes were made of smoky quartz.

Rakepick strode forward, not flinching at the sound of the woman's voice again booming“FÆr sy hêore” down at her, as she came up to stand beside Carewyn and Bill, her dark blue eyes narrowing upon the statues.

“Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw,” Rakepick murmured.

“I know,” said Carewyn. She glanced at Rakepick out the side of her eye. Despite knowing she was their ally now, it was hard not to still look at her with suspicion. “...What are they saying?”

“'Go no further,'” said Rakepick. “'There is danger here.'”

She also seemed to have trouble looking Carewyn in the face. Carewyn couldn't sense Rakepick's thoughts anymore, since the older woman was using her Occlumency again, but Carewyn could still surmise that Rakepick also had not expected to be working side by side with her again and was a bit uncomfortable about it.

'She should be uncomfortable,' Carewyn couldn't help but think resentfully. 'No matter what her motives were, I can't forgive her for what she did to Rowan.'

Jacob, Merula, Charlie, Barnaby, and Ben all slowly made their way into the inner Vault. All of them flinched as they walked past the two large statues of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw, which once again boomed their warnings down at them.

Jacob, the one who was the least warded off by the voices, strode across the tile floor, stopping in front of the statue on the corner across from Gryffindor's – a weedy-looking gentleman of about 35 with a black-painted goatee, his left hand not holding his wand resting on a gold-painted locket resting around the high-collared neck of his robes, and striking eyes made out of grayish Blue John fluorite.

“Nanu, nanu, Slytherin, you old feck,” Jacob said coolly.

He waved an arm broadly in front of Salazar Slytherin's statue and – predictably – another booming, cold voice emanated from it.

“Linnan nû.”

“That'd be something like...'surrender now,'” Jacob translated slowly. Rakepick nodded.

With a determined look on her face, Merula approached the last statue – a round, beautiful woman a few years younger than the first two statues with long pink-painted ribbons braided into her mane of chocolate-painted curls and a pair of boulder opals for eyes, presenting a chalice in the right hand not holding her wand as if she planned to propose a toast. The so-called “Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts” flinched when the Helga Hufflepuff statue spoke in an older, clearer voice than the rest, but she recovered very quickly.

“Beorgan!”

“'Beware,'” said Duncan idly.

He floated down from the ceiling, hovering next to Jacob's left shoulder.

“They've said those same things every other time I came in here,” he explained. “I figure there's some sort of Sensory Enchantment on them – though I gotta admit, I wouldn't have thought a spell like that could be so sensitive it could even sense a ghost's presence. But yeah...”

He floated up to the ceiling, pointing up at the mosaic.

“That's not Old English. Any guesses, Jacob?”

Jacob squinted up at the line of text. He mouthed something silently to himself, as if he were trying to imagine how the words might sound. Then his eyes lit up.

“Welsh!” he said eagerly. “Old Welsh! Helga Hufflepuff grew up in Wales – this inscription must have been written by her! And that there...”

He dashed right past Bill, Rakepick, and Carewyn to the other side of the room and pointed at another cluster of text near the bottom left corner of the mosaic.

“...That looks like some kind of early Germanic language – like Old Norse! Rowena Ravenclaw grew up in Scotland – I think the country was still only about half-formed by that point, so there would've been all sorts of languages floating around back then...”

“...One of which would've been Old Norse,” Carewyn surmised.

“Right!”

Jacob smiled almost wistfully up at the mosaic. “Aw, Mum would love this...”

Carewyn's eyes softened fondly at the thought of how thrilled magical historian Lane would be, seeing a written record by two of the Founders of Hogwarts.

“Can you read what Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw wrote, Jacob?” asked Bill.

Jacob frowned irritably. “Mm, perhaps...I haven't studied either language very thoroughly. But Old Norse, being a Germanic language, is distantly related to modern German and therefore to modern English, so it might be easy enough for me to suss out. And Welsh as a language fortunately hasn't drifted as far as English has, over the centuries – so even if Hufflepuff's is harder to read, I can always compare it to what I know of modern Welsh...”

His gaze settled on Ravenclaw's Old Norse text first.

“'Með imprisonmentrinn ór kreature'...'after the imprisonment of the creature' – no doubt the Cetus – 'we the Founders...created...a series of...false chambers.' The other Vaults, she means. 'Now that you...have opened these chambers...you can now meet it. Take heed – '”

He glanced at Carewyn, who'd come over to stand beside him and look up at the words too.

“' – Cetus...is a living thing. It eats magic to live. It will eat and eat...forever. Only the strongest...weapon – a spell...cast by selfless love...might be enough to...purify it.'”

“Then it's just like Rakepick said, after all,” muttered Charlie, sharing a glance with Carewyn out the side of his eye. “Sacrificial love is the only thing that can stop it...”

“It also means we learned absolutely nothing new, from reading that,” said Merula impatiently.

“That's not true,” said Barnaby softly. He glanced up at the picture of Ceto Annis on the mural. “It said...that the Cetus is alive. I mean, yeah, Rakepick said it's a parasite, but...from the way Ravenclaw was talking about it...it kind of sounds like a magical creature. Like a Puffskein!”

“I reckon it's a bit more like a Dementor, mate,” said Charlie darkly.

Jacob squinted up at one section of the Old Norse lines critically, frowning deeply in thought. He crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyebrows knitting together tightly as his hollowed-out blue eyes bore into the ceiling.

“Jacob?” asked Carewyn.

Jacob shook his head. “There's something...weird, in the word choice. Ravenclaw uses the word 'ástir' in the final phrase, when discussing the magic of sacrificial love. The ending 'ir' makes it plural. A single act of love would probably use the form 'ásta' instead.”

“So does more than one person have to die, in order to kill that thing?” said Ben, his eyes narrowing.

“Let's not jump to that conclusion,” said Bill very firmly.

Carewyn nodded. “Maybe Hufflepuff wrote something that can help...”

Jacob strode back to where he started, raising his gaze to the two lines of Welsh in the upper right corner of the mosaic.

“Looks like Hufflepuff was a lot more succinct,” he said dryly.

He squinted a bit as he read the couplet several times.

“...'I gael mynediad i'r golofn'...'golofn' means column! It's talking about how to find the column! 'Mae'n rhaid...' Hmm...'you must...walk!' 'Walk'...either 'into' or 'through'...'the past?'”

“'Walk through the past?'” repeated Merula incredulously. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe we need to use a Time Turner!” suggested Barnaby.

“Doubtful,” scoffed Rakepick. “Anyone who uses a Time Turner ages the amount of years they've gone back on return trip – we'd all be dust, by the time we got back.”

Jacob rested a hand on his chin thoughtfully as he read and reread the second line several times.

“'Datgloi'r basn gyda phedwar ffrind fel allweddi,'” he murmured. His blue eyes drifted up and away, as it often did when he was thinking hard. “...'Unlock the' something...'basn,' 'basn'...”

He straightened up sharply, his whole face lighting up as if a Lumos charm had been cast behind it.

“Basin! 'Basn' means 'basin!' In order to walk through the past, we have to use what wizards in the Dark Ages used to call an 'ingemyndláu' – a 'memory dish' – ”

“A Pensieve,” realized Rakepick, her eyes growing very wide.

Duncan grinned down at Jacob. “That's it! Rather than waste space on the wall trying to write down everything she knew...Hufflepuff must've decided to leave her memories behind instead!”

“Including the memories of when she and the other Founders fought the Cetus in the past!” said Bill, his freckled face nearly as bright as Jacob's. “Brilliant!”

Carewyn looked at her brother with a new determined spark in her eyes. “How do we reach the Pensieve? What's the rest of the line, Jacob?”

“Let's see,” said Jacob, and it was clear he was getting excited too. “'Gyda phedwar'...we need four of something...four friends! 'Ffrind' is 'friends!' We need 'four friends as keys!'”

“Well, there's more than four of us in here,” said Charlie, gesturing widely around at himself and the others. “What are we supposed to do?”

Ben glanced up at the mural of the four Founders and Ceto Annis and then around at the four statues.

“Maybe we need only four people in here,” he said slowly.

He started to walk back toward the door frame. On his way, however, he passed in front of the Gryffindor statue – as soon as Ben's shadow passed over it, the Gryffindor statue's agate eyes flashed as it once again proclaimed, “Gan ne latost!”

“Ben!” said Carewyn.

Ben had noticed the flash too. He backtracked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Then, slowly and deliberately, he stepped back in front of Gryffindor's statue. At once, two beams of dazzling blue-green light flared out of the statue's bejeweled eyes as it said again,“Gan ne latost!”

Duncan suddenly looked more excited than anyone had ever seen him – his shoulders were hunched up and both of his translucent fists were clenched over his chest. He whirled on Jacob standing to his right, his ghostly robes flaring as he spun around.

“Jacob! Take a step back so you're in front of Hufflepuff!”

Jacob did so. The Hufflepuff statue once again warned, “Beorgan!” – but her opal eyes didn't glow like Gryffindor's had.

Jacob stepped away from the Hufflepuff statue, shooting it something of a halfhearted glare. Rakepick considered the statue carefully, her white-gloved hand coming to rest over her lower lip in thought.

“It seems that Duncan is on the right track,” she muttered, “but Jacob's placement is wrong, somehow. I've seen rooms like this before, where you need several people to stand in certain places in order to unlock whatever treasure it's hiding. There's generally some sort of correlation between the person in question and where they're standing – such as eye color compared to the color of a platform, or height compared to certain notches on the wall. I would guess any such correlation here would be related to the statues themselves.”

The once-Head Cursebreaker's dark blue eyes narrowed to slits upon Ben and the Godric Gryffindor statue as she considered this.

“...Perhaps gender is the issue.”

Rakepick strode up to stand in front of Hufflepuff's statue herself. Once again, Hufflepuff's warning echoed throughout the room, but still the opal eyes did not light up.

“Apparently not,” said Carewyn.

“Well, duh,” scoffed Duncan. “Slytherin's statue didn't respond to Jacob when he was waving his arm in front of it earlier, did it? I thought it might be an issue of order, like you have to start with Gryffindor and end with Slytherin, but...”

He trailed off, his light-less eyes flickering between Rakepick stepping away from Hufflepuff's statue and Ben standing in front of Gryffindor's statue. Then he seemed to get an idea – with his mouth spread into such a wide grin, he almost resembled his friend, Peeves the poltergeist.

“Wait just a tick – ”

In a flash, the ghost flung himself right through both Ben and the Godric Gryffindor statue (making Ben shudder from the cold) and phased right through the wall back into the outer Vault. A moment later, Duncan had reentered the Vault, soaring back over toward the Hufflepuff statue. Running through the open double doors after him were Cedric and Tulip.

“You! Puffball!” Duncan shot at Cedric. “Stand right here!”

Looking thoroughly confused, Cedric nonetheless walked into the center of the room. He and Tulip both gave a start at the sound of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor's voices bellowing down at them.

“It's okay,” Carewyn reassured them, “it's just a Sensory Enchantment – ”

“Move it!” said Duncan, sweeping around Cedric impatiently and back around to point down at the black and gold tile floor in front of Hufflepuff's statue. “We don't have all day!”

Despite the hesitant look on his face, Cedric obeyed. His eyes still very wide as he looked around, drinking in the rest of the room, he strode over to stand on the spot Duncan indicated.

Once again, the Helga Hufflepuff statue said, “Beorgan!”, but this time the blue-streaked brown gemstones lit up, just as the Gryffindor statue's eyes had.

“Yes!” hissed Duncan.

He whirled on Tulip. “You! Red! In front of Ravenclaw's statue, over there!”

With a braver and much more determined face than Cedric's, Tulip very quickly turned on her heel and darted over to stand in front of the Rowena Ravenclaw statue. Its dark brown gemstone eyes began to glow too as Ravenclaw's “FÆr sy hêore” bounded off the walls.

Jacob's eyes widened, becoming almost over-bright.

“It's house placement!” he cried in delight. “Ashe, you're a genius!”

Duncan smirked. “'Bout time you finally acknowledged it!”

Merula's pink eyes were suddenly alight with a kind of exhilaration better suited to a child before a Little League game.

“Stand back, Cromwell,” she said with a broad, smug grin at Carewyn, “I've got this!”

She darted over to the final corner to stand in front of Salazar Slytherin's statue. Its fluorite eyes blazed grayish-white as it rumbled, “Linnan nû” once more.

All of a sudden, the floor began to quake. Carewyn threw up her arms protectively in front of the others, silently urging them back, as the black and gold tiles rippled apart like water after a stone was skipped across it. Then out of the rippling floor emerged a large, shallow silver dish that looked like it was carved out of pure moonlight. Runes were carved along the edge, and it was full of a strange, half-liquid and half-gas-like substance, almost like dry ice, except fuller-bodied and ethereally sparkling.

Carewyn took a step forward and approached the Pensieve. Bending down beside it, she brought up a hand to trail along the edge, her blue eyes running over the runes carved into the shimmering metal.

“It's beautiful,” she whispered.

Rakepick couldn't stop herself from bending down beside Carewyn, looking just as awed as she was. She brought her own gloved hand onto the other side of the dish, examining the runes.

“This Pensieve is different from any I've seen before,” Rakepick said slowly. “It's too shallow to place one's head in. Judging by the runes...” she rotated the dish a corner turn to the right, “...one would have to step into it, in order to access the memories contained.”

“I did some reading about this,” said Jacob casually, and he not-so-subtly bent down too so that he created a physical barrier between Rakepick and his sister. “Pensieves have actually gone through a lot of changes, over the centuries. The model we use today is considered safer, since it's easier to remove someone from inside the memories – just grab the person by the scruff of the neck and yank their head out of it, you know? The older models, like the kind from the medieval period, ran the risk of the person becoming trapped in someone else's memories.”

“Trapped?” said Cedric anxiously.

Carewyn's eyes narrowed upon the Pensieve. Then she took a deep breath.

“...It's a risk we'll have to take. I'll go.”

“No,” Ben said very harshly.

“No way, Carey!” snarled Charlie, his voice hard with anxiety. “If you get trapped – ”

“Then I'll need to come up with a way out, somehow,” said Carewyn, as she offered her fellow Fireball a small, reassuring smile. “Just like we always have.”

She glanced at Bill. Her best friend had gone very white and his eyes were even more stricken and full of anxiety than Charlie's, but he tried to put on a brave face all the same.

“Carey's right,” Bill said softly. “We have to find a way to stop the Cetus from hurting anyone. ...This might be our only chance.”

Ben and Charlie looked very upset, but they seemed to know in their hearts that Bill was right. Charlie bowed his head and looked away; Ben strode over to Carewyn, bent down, and grabbed her shoulder.

“I'm coming with you.”

“No, Ben – I need you here,” said Carewyn. Ben tried to argue, but she cut him off as kindly as she could, “If I'm going, then you, Merula, Charlie, and Bill will need to lead. There won't be any enemies to fight in the Pensieve, but there will be plenty of them here, if R arrives before I come out. You're better at Charms than anyone else I know, and one of the best duelists too. You need to be here.”

Ben's hand holding her shoulder had started to tremble. Carewyn's eyes softened as she brought up a hand to take his holding her shoulder and give it a light, supportive squeeze. Ben's eyes narrowed in frustration – then, exhaling through his nose, he moved forward to rest his forehead on the top of Carewyn's head in something of a quasi-hug.

“Promise that you'll come back alive,” he said very lowly.

Carewyn knew Ben was thinking of that terrible night in the Forest – the night he'd refused to let Carewyn go in there alone and tried to protect her and Merula, only for Rowan to jump in front of him and take the Killing Curse meant for him. Carewyn was forced to close her eyes to obscure the pain and raw emotion that had taken them over at the memory.

“I promise,” she whispered.

With a squeeze to Carewyn's hand, Ben lifted his head and pulled away, his dark eyes harder and more determined than ever as he slowly rose to his feet.

“What I will need with me, though,” said Carewyn more solemnly, “is someone who can translate. I don't think anyone in Hufflepuff's memories will be speaking modern English...”

She looked over Jacob's shoulder at Rakepick. Rakepick held Carewyn's gaze and nodded.

“I'll go with you, Miss Cromwell,” she said lowly.

Jacob whirled on Carewyn, his blue eyes flashing.

“There's no way in Hell I'm going to let you go somewhere alone with Rakepick, Pip,” he said fiercely. “Either we go together, or you don't go at all.”

Carewyn exhaled through her nose and nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I'm coming too,” said Duncan.

Carewyn blinked at him in surprise. The ghost crossed his translucent arms irritably.

“It's not like I have anything left to lose,” he said gruffly. “And I reckon I can speak Old English just as well as old Patty here can read it – probably better.”

His light-less eyes flickered beadily in Rakepick's direction. Despite his excuses, Carewyn thought she could sense some genuine suspicion from Duncan toward the ex-professor: he was likely feeling the same kind of protectiveness that Jacob was.

Carewyn gave her brother's best friend a small, soft smile. “Thank you.”

'I guess since Duncan can phase through anything, he'd be able to get out of the Pensieve more easily, if something goes wrong,' she thought to herself.

Duncan averted his eyes uncomfortably, a stubborn grayish flush clinging to his cheeks, as Carewyn turned to Bill.

“Take care of things here – we'll be back soon.”

Bill swallowed and nodded, his shoulders straight and strong even though his freckled face was so pale.

“Please be careful, Carewyn,” said Barnaby very quietly.

Carewyn faced the silver Pensieve on the floor. Her jaw set and her left fist clenched around her wand at her side, she inhaled slowly through her nose...and stepped into the basin.

Rather than touch the bottom, her foot fell right through it as if she'd tried and failed to walk on water. In an instant, Carewyn felt herself somersaulting in mid-air. Her feet were thrown up over her head as she was yanked down into the basin's swirling, misty contents.

~*~

“Something still troubles me, however,” said Dumbledore solemnly. “If Slytherin did, in fact, discover a way to destroy the Cetus artifact...then why is it that it still exists? If he had truly found the answer, would he not have returned to Hogwarts, to cast the proper counter-curses?”

Lane strode back across the small library over to the enchanted podium, ruffling through the loose pages of Slytherin's journal as she went.

“It's a troubling question...but it doesn't prove Salazar's research didn't come to anything,” she murmured, and her soft voice was hard with determination. “Salazar died only two months after Godric did. Plenty of historians theorize that Salazar had been struggling with an illness even while he was still at Hogwarts, given that his appearance aged so dramatically in the last ten years of his life...but whether he was or wasn't, I don't think it's far-fetched to think that there was a connection. Salazar and Godric knew each other the longest out of any of the Founders – it's well-documented by Salazar's descendants that the Slytherin family settled in the area of what would become Godric's Hollow, after they first left Ireland, and that Salazar tutored Godric in magic before they worked together as equals. I remember the Sorting Hat even loved to sing about what good friends Salazar and Godric were, no matter how different they were as people.”

“Indeed, the Hat does reference that rather frequently,” granted Dumbledore. “It is interesting how much good and evil can have in common, at first glance.”

“Yes, but I'm afraid none of the Founders can be boiled down to such shallow words as 'good' and 'evil,' Professor,” said Lane, and her voice actually sounded a bit cool. “Don't forget that it was Godric who stole a sword from a goblin craftsman and then slapped his name on it to claim it as his own.”

Returning the piece of parchment she'd put on the podium back to the stack in her hands, Lane then withdrew the next page and placed it down on the marble. The podium gave another low hiss, and the piece of parchment rotated in mid-air as Dumbledore's disembodied voice again filled the room.

“Autumnal Equinox, 1022.

“Thus far, my search near home has run dry. It's remarkable how a place like the Fen, which has always been so attuned to magic, can be so utterly devoid of the very magical knowledge I need!

“Fortunately, for all of my bitterness toward my sweet Fen, there are witches and wizards here with contacts elsewhere that appear promising. I shall set off for London tomorrow, in the hopes of meeting with Eadric Bald, a wizard who specializes in the study of rare and exotic magics.

“First day of Holy Month, 1022.

“The school year has started. It pains me beyond words that I shall not be present, to welcome the newest members of my house to our school. I thought of sending an owl to Helga, passing along my best wishes for our newest class to her and the others, but in order to do that, I would have to extend those well wishes to the rats that they've seen fit to dress in student robes. And I see no reason to poke the dragon of their ire by purposefully excluding those Mudblooded magic users.

“To my frustration, I am leaving London with no more knowledge than I started with. Bald is a talented wizard, it's true, but his mind is too focused on concrete magics that one can hold in one's hand and bend to their will. Considering love is perhaps one of the least tangible magics one could hope to find, I believe him to be thoroughly unhelpful, in such a situation. Fortunately he was able to provide a Wiggenweld Tonic for my return trip home to Fen.

“Full Moon, Holy Month, 1022. Helga's birthday.

“Followed up with my neighbor Kendrick Creed about a contact of his in Yorkshire who has recently boasted about his invincibility due to a spell of sacrificial love. Although Kendrick himself doubts that the wizard is as protected as he claims, I plan to pay him a visit to make absolutely sure.

“Feast of St. Matthew, 1022.

“Kendrick's contact apparently was rescued by his lover, who threw herself in front of him in order to protect him from another wizard's Killing Curse. The wizard in question was then able to ward off his assassin with the declaration that because the witch sacrificed her life for him, he was protected by her love, and that anyone who tried to hurt him would only be hurt themselves. This worked for about one month until yet another person who this wizard had wronged caught up with him and hurled a javelin through his chest. I might have found some dark humor in the situation were I not so utterly frustrated.

“Will spend the night here in York before returning home in the morning.”

~*~

Carewyn felt as if she was floating down to the bottom of a sparkling, silvery swimming pool, and yet, her loose red hair and her brown and red “Fakepick” robes weren't weighed down with water. Instead they floated upward as if they had no gravity at all, even though Carewyn herself was slowly falling.

'Is this what Alice felt like, when she fell down the rabbit hole?' she couldn't help but wonder, thinking back on one of the Muggle fiction books she'd liked reading as a little kid.

As she fell, murmured voices and broken words she didn't understand swept past her ears. The swirling mist around her took on colors that brightened and then grew, abruptly blooming into deeper, more radiant shades with shadows and highlights and depth and warmth –

Carewyn maneuvered her legs so that when she reached the newly created gray stone floor below, she could land on her feet. She looked around, and she couldn't stop herself from letting out a soft gasp.

'It's Hogwarts...'

It was remarkable how similar her surroundings looked to the castle she'd left earlier that evening. Perhaps some of the portraits were different and everything did look considerably newer, but the gray stone walls, lit torches, and high ceilings were nearly just the same. Even the sunlight pooled through the stained glass window panes and bounded tinted light across the marble floor in just the same way.

Rakepick landed on her feet to Carewyn's right. She brushed her strawberry-blond hair out of her face as her eyes glided around, taking in their new surroundings.

“This would be the fifth floor corridor,” she murmured, “the one that leads to Gryffindor Tower...”

“And Ravenclaw Tower.”

Jacob's feet had barely touched the ground before he'd barreled over to stand between Rakepick and Carewyn again, shooting Rakepick a dirty look. Rakepick's eyes narrowed on Jacob's face in return, but she didn't reply.

Duncan swirled down in leisurely spirals to join them, coming to a halt over Carewyn. He smirked around at the hallway around them – his crossed translucent arms rested on the top of Carewyn's head just enough that it felt like she was standing under a particularly cold air vent.

“Would you look at that, it's my corridor,” said the ghost, his face consumed by a huge, cheeky, over-bright smirk. He nodded to the door just past a portrait of oranges that led to the Prefect's Bathroom. “See, there's my digs – and just past it, the eagle door knocker that guards Ravenclaw Tower. Never did understand why Ravenclaw thought riddles were a better safety measure than passwords...”

“Anyone can regurgitate a password,” said Jacob coolly. “Only clever wizards can use their brains.”

“And get a bunch of clever wizards from other houses sneaking into your dormitory,” Duncan shot back just as coolly.

“We Eagles don't mind company – as long as it's intelligent company.”

“For goodness' sake, will you two focus?” Rakepick said with a roll of her eyes. “We're on a mission.”

Carewyn pointed up the hall. “Look over there.”

Coming up the hall were two figures – a beautiful dark-skinned woman even smaller than Carewyn with a round frame and dark brown curls held out of her face by sunny yellow ribbons, talking to a slightly older, weedy-looking gentleman with thin black hair, striking gray eyes, and a black goatee. They both were around Rakepick's age and wore dress robes, the woman in modest light blue, the man in more elegant black trimmed with white ermine fur.

“Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin, in the flesh,” breathed Jacob. “Well – not really, but...”

Hufflepuff was holding Slytherin's arm and talking very animatedly to him as they walked. Although the older man didn't look nearly as excited, his lips were still upturned slightly and his gray eyes were rather soft. Carewyn found it kind of weird to see her house founder – who she'd only ever seen as a haughty old man in his portraits and statues – with such a gentle, almost fond expression on his face.

Whatever they'd been talking about was cut abruptly short, however, by the sound of a loud CRASH outside. Both Founders stiffened, dashing over to the closest window to look out: Carewyn ran after them so she could look out too.

The Training Grounds below had been full of students dressed in black linen robes, but those students were suddenly screaming and running for cover as a horrible, inky darkness descended upon the Hogwarts grounds. It was massive – about the size of a whale – and although its consistency resembled an oddly full-bodied mist, long webbed claws, a long eel-like tail, and gnashing teeth lashed out of its smoky depths, tearing away at the school as it pursued the terrified students.

In alarm, Hufflepuff made as if to run down the hall, but Slytherin grabbed her by the arm. Looking almost more scared himself, but clenching his jaw in determination, he shoved open the window with his wand arm, climbed up onto the ledge, and then reached out a hand to Hufflepuff. She hesitated only for a second, before grabbing her comrade's hand. In an instant, Slytherin had transfigured himself and Hufflepuff into a strange kind of black and white fabric-like shape, which flapped through the air of its own accord down toward the ground.

Carewyn felt a bizarre yank in the area of her pelvis, and all at once, their surroundings had changed, becoming the grounds below. Hufflepuff and Slytherin had reached the ground and turned to face the blackness that awaited them. Hufflepuff looked very scared as she yelled something at Slytherin.

“She's asking what it is,” said Rakepick. She, Jacob, and Duncan had ended up right behind Carewyn, in the same positions they'd been in when they'd still been indoors.

Slytherin shouted something back, his gray eyes narrowing. The inky blackness turned on the two, and with the speed of a cobra, lashed out – Hufflepuff and Slytherin had to hurtle themselves out of the way before its large, fanged jaws clamped around the space they'd just been standing on.

“He called it an abomination,” Duncan said lightly. “Guess the Cetus didn't take kindly to that.”

Hufflepuff and Slytherin cast different spells in an attempt to force the creature back. Unfortunately thanks to its body's smoky consistency, the Cetus was able to twist and contort around their blasts. It once again lashed out, snapping jaws that seemed unnaturally large and grotesque even for how massive it already was. Before long, the Cetus had cornered the two, backing Hufflepuff and Slytherin into a corner. Slytherin conjured up a large gold-domed Shield Charm around himself and Hufflepuff, trying to use the barrier to shove the creature back away from them. But instead of keeping the Cetus back, the creature instead gnashed its teeth at the Shield, biting off chunks of golden light.

“It's eating Slytherin's Shield Charm!” said Carewyn, her eyes widening.

“It possesses witches and wizards in order to feed off of their magic and life force,” said Rakepick. “This must be why the Cetus is so difficult to destroy. It drains the life out of anything in its path, yet every spell you cast to try to defend yourself only strengthens it and makes it pursue you even more.”

“Magister Slytherin!”

A young witch, likely the same age as Beatrice, dashed out onto the grounds. Her curly blond hair had come loose of the hood she was wearing – Carewyn guessed the hood was the school's original variation on house ties, given that it was a bright Slytherin green with silver trim.

The Slytherin student began blasting Incendio charms at the Cetus's back. The smoky mass gave a startled, shrieking sound, but it didn't sound like it was hurt: if anything, it kind of reminded Carewyn of a dolphin...if the dolphin had somehow been turned into a vampire.

'She's trying to distract the Cetus,' Carewyn surmised. 'Make it chase after her, so that it'll back off of Slytherin and Hufflepuff...'

Slytherin shouted something at his student, but it was too late. In an instant, the Cetus had whirled around, violently slapping the air like a whip. The young witch was snatched up by the Cetus's flippered, eel-like tail and then, just as quickly, disappeared into its inky depths all together.

Hufflepuff screamed. Slytherin, his gray eyes wide with panic, ran forward, lashing out at the creature with fierce violet and black spells from his wand –

Suddenly, from out of the creature grew a large, golden dome, just like the Shield Charm Slytherin had cast mere moments ago. Slytherin's spells bounded off, right back at their owner, who had to leap out of the way once again to avoid them.

The black mist had largely dissipated to reveal the young Slytherin witch floating overhead. Her hair whipped at the air in much the same way as the Cetus's mist had and black mist trickled out of her mouth and nose and out of the corners of her pitch-black, pupil-less eyes. Her wand had fallen to the ground, discarded – the Shield Charm itself seemed to have come solely from her hands, which had grown a terrible set of black, claw-like nails.

“So that's what it looks like, when the Cetus possesses someone,” murmured Jacob.

Hufflepuff stared up at the young witch bleeding black smoke from her eyes, mouth, and nose, her hazel-brown eyes widening in horrified realization.

“Ceto?” she whispered.

Slytherin turned to look at Hufflepuff in confusion, but before he could say anything, the young witch raised a clawed hand and pointed at Slytherin. A flare of yellow burst from her finger like a blowtorch, and Hufflepuff was forced to hurl herself in front of Slytherin and conjure another Shield Charm to protect them from the blast.

“SALAZAR! HELGA!”

Gryffindor had arrived, his brown-fur-trimmed gold robes billowing behind him. His russet-colored beard was a little longer than the modest one worn by his statue back in the Vault, but his wide blue-green eyes were the exact same color as the agate gemstones inlaid into the limestone statue's eyes.

He unsheathed the silver sword at his side and charged at the person attacking his comrades. Carewyn couldn't stop herself from subconsciously lurching forward and raising her wand.

'Stop! You can't – !'

“Godric, BID!” screamed Hufflepuff.

The young witch turned around, and Gryffindor instantly froze up, his sword halting over his head – he must not have realized that it was one of their students, or that she was possessed. The Cetus, however, showed none of the hesitation Gryffindor had. As soon as he'd halted, the young witch brought up a hand to the older man's chest –

BANG.

In a large blast of white light, Gryffindor was blasted clean off his feet. He was thrown full-force into the closest wall back first, before he collapsed in a shuddering heap, the chest of his gold robes stained with scarlet.

His face blanching with terror and rage, Slytherin barreled forward. He conjured up thick black manacles that flung themselves at the young witch and lashed her to the ground. The witch threw back her head, shrieking in frustration as more black smoke leaked out of her mouth and eyes.

Slytherin and Hufflepuff both ran to Gryffindor's side. Hufflepuff immediately raised her wand and got to work trying to heal the damage to Gryffindor's chest. Slytherin appeared too scared to help; instead he was muttering something very quickly under his breath at Gryffindor.

“He's scolding Gryffindor for being so stupid,” said Duncan.

'Scolding – no,' thought Carewyn. 'That's only what it sounds like.'

Slytherin's expression was too upset and tense to truly be angry. It reminded Carewyn of when she'd disappeared for a whole 24 hours after Rowan's death and Duncan, after finding her curled up in a closet in the Astronomy Tower, yelled at her to the point of tears.

Within moments, however, the black mist trailing out of the young witch's eyes had effectively nibbled away at the chains binding her. With a loud SNAP, she broke the chains, turning on the three Founders once again. The young witch raised her hand and it lit up with violent light blue lightning –

WHAM. CRASH.

The Cetus's attack was blocked by a massive crystal ball that had abruptly materialized around Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. The spell was strong enough to shatter the crystal and sent it flying, making Hufflepuff and Slytherin huddle over Gryffindor protectively to shield him from the falling shards.

Standing in front of the school with her bronze-painted wand pointed at the young witch was Rowena Ravenclaw. There were some age lines and shadows on her face that her statue didn't have, but otherwise she looked very much the same, from her floor-length black plait to her sparkling dark eyes. She was dressed in violet silk trimmed with sparkling silver embroidery the same color as the tiara resting over her brow.

As Ravenclaw rushed to confront the Cetus, Hufflepuff yelled over to her, her face very worried.

“'Rowena, look at her eyes!'” translated Duncan. “'Didn't Ceto's magic used to black out her eyes the same way, when she didn't have a wand?'”

Ravenclaw's eyes flickered with a strange, horrified light. As the young witch blasted another spell and Ravenclaw blocked it, the dark-haired Founder shouted up at her.

Rakepick and Duncan both looked oddly stricken.

“She's...appealing to it,” said Duncan.

“To her,” corrected Rakepick in a hushed voice. “She's appealing to Ceto Annis – saying she doesn't want to hurt her...”

Carewyn could tell why Rakepick and Duncan were so shocked. She could see it in Ravenclaw's face – this wasn't an act of mercy: it was a plea. It was desperation, worry, and caring, all rolled up into one.

The young witch possessed by the Cetus at first seemed to consider Ravenclaw, her posture very stiff and guarded as her pupil-less black eyes bore into her. The dark-haired Founder's face broke out into a very fragile, scared smile as she took several slow, cautious steps forward, still talking in as reassuring of a voice as she could muster.

Jacob's eyes widened too as he listened to Ravenclaw. “'Leorningcild' – did Ravenclaw just call Ceto one of her students?”

“Yeah,” breathed Duncan, his light-less eyes just as wide.

The young witch suddenly gave an abrupt lurch forward in mid-air. Her chest contorted like she was having trouble breathing.

“NE!” screamed Slytherin.

Ravenclaw just barely managed to grab hold of her comrade's arm to prevent him from attacking, but there was nothing any of them could do. In an instant, the young witch's mouth was almost ripped open by the Cetus's mass of black smoke as it left her body and returned to the air. The little Slytherin student was thrown to the ground in a motionless heap.

Slytherin tore out of Ravenclaw's grip and ran over to his student, turning her over. Her broken jaw was covered with blood, her veins were pitch black, and she was very pale and shaking from head to toe. Slytherin cradled the small girl in the crook of his left arm, murmuring as gently as he could despite the fear in his face as he trailed his wand along her arms, trying to heal the damage.

The Cetus, however, hadn't seemed to slow down at all. Ignoring Ravenclaw's continued pleas, it lurched through the air toward Hogwarts, slamming its tail against the side of the castle as it went.

“The Cetus must've taken all of the magic it could from that little girl,” said Jacob, his eyes narrowing upon the black smoke-like mass in hatred, “so it's looking for more victims to feed off of...”

Rakepick nodded grimly. “Ravenclaw's pleas were useless. The documents say that when Ceto Annis reduced herself down to her barest essence, all that was left was a parasitic shade. A monster, more than a human being. There was no point in appealing to Ceto's better instincts...because Ceto Annis the person no longer existed.”

Duncan and Carewyn exchanged a glance before they both looked up at the Cetus smashing stone off of one of Hogwarts' ramparts, shrieking that piercing, dolphin-like cry.

“Rakepick,” said Carewyn slowly, “you said that the Cetus was all that was left of Ceto's magic...and that it needs a host to strengthen and protect itself. And Ravenclaw, she said...that the Cetus eats magic to survive...”

Her almond-shaped blue eyes drifted over to Ravenclaw, who had started conjuring shields around the school to try to drive the Cetus back.

“...I think Ravenclaw must have realized...the Cetus wasn't doing any of this because it wanted to hurt people. It was made by Dark magic...but it lost any humanity or moral code when Ceto stripped herself down so much that she...well, lost 'herself' completely.”

Carewyn looked up at the Cetus. She tried to make out where its eel-like tail and sharp webbed claws were, inside the hulking smoke, but it was too opaque to see.

“Barnaby was right,” she said, her heart full of pity. “It's not a monster – it's a magical creature.”

~*~

“Fourth day of Winter Full Moon, 1022,” the podium read the next page of Slytherin's journal aloud in Dumbledore's voice, “Upon discussing the matter of sacrificial love with my dear Cyneburga, I've come to a thought I had not yet considered. There's nothing inherent in the word 'sacrifice' that slims it down to just the giving up of one's life. Is it not possible, therefore, that such magical love could be invoked by more means than dying? It's something I hope to examine further.

“Tomorrow I shall set off for Kent to follow up with the witch Merry Millard, who specializes in the study of love-centric spells and potions.

“Twentieth day of Winter Full Moon, 1022.

“Fie! My trip to Kent was a loss and a waste. I was forced to sleep in the woods outside Kent for the night before starting homeward, for all inns and residences in the area were owned by Muggles. I was able to conjure up a bluebell fire to keep me warm, but was unable to do much more for fear of drawing unwanted attention.

“All Saints Day, 1022.

“Thanks to my brother-in-law, Oswine, I was given access to the records owned by a wizard in Tamworth of a successful application of sacrificial love from the 9th century. The records testified to a young wizard who protected his younger brother during a Viking Raid. The boy was sick in bed, and the young wizard refused to leave his brother's side, no matter how the Norsemen urged him to get out of the way and let them take what they wanted. In the struggle, the young wizard was killed, and when the Norsemen made one step toward his brother's bed, they were thrown backward by a massive Shield Charm.

“I must confess that the account brought many things back to my mind that I wish it hadn't. The younger brother was even described as having bright scarlet hair.

“Full Moon, Month of Sacrifice, 1022.

“The flight home from Tamworth was delayed by heavy snow, which forced me to take shelter at the Peverell estate just outside London. My lateness greatly upset Cyneburga. She has grown very restless about my frequent traveling, expressing concerns for my health, but she needn't worry. Once the Cetus has been slain once and for all, there shall be much more time for us to enjoy each other's company.

“New Moon, Month of Sacrifice, 1022.

“The wizard I spoke to in Tamworth followed up with me by owl, forwarding me a copy of a passage from a book of White magic from the 5th century. The passage discusses another such instance of successfully applied sacrificial love, where a witch was imprisoned and later executed, only for her son to be magically shielded from harm when he was nearly killed in a duel several years later. I find it interesting that the spell she cast didn't manifest for so long – perhaps because the son's life hadn't been in life-threatening danger until that point? There are some details missing, but the question of whether or not the witch sacrificing her freedom or her life was what cast the spell would lend some credence to the idea that the sacrifice one makes does not have to be one's life.

“There has been a terrible chill in the air, as of late. I remember Godric once saying that the coldest winters exist so that you better appreciate the glory of summer – well, I certainly do long for summer, if only to thaw the ice that encases me every time I step out my door.

“Feast of St. Andrew, 1022.

“I have tracked down a promising lead just outside Oxford. Will write more, upon my return.”

~*~

Little by little, the memory of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw trying to beat the Cetus back away from Hogwarts began to blur. Carewyn watched as their surroundings melted and darkened – soon it was night, and the battle between the Founders and the Cetus raged on. There were several more students and teachers lying prone across the grounds, their veins pitch black and their bodies motionless. The four Founders had managed to steer the Cetus toward the Black Lake, encircling it in an attempt to keep it from escaping into the Forest or returning to the castle.

“Nûna!” cried Gryffindor.

At the same time, the two witches and two wizards shot blasts of blueish-white light from their wands. The light grew and grew, expanding and brightening, until it had completely enveloped the Cetus's mist. The creature shrieked in fury, its darkness lashing out; the light grew brighter still and more violent, like flames; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin all hunched in on themselves as their wands began to quake in their hands – the blueish-white light began to crack through their wands, spilling out at both ends and lashing at their hands –

“The magic's so strong that they're having trouble controlling it,” said Jacob, his hollowed-out eyes narrowing tensely. “Wands are supposed to help you focus your magic – if what they're doing is so destructive that their wands can't channel it properly – ”

The blueish-white light attempted to suffocate the Cetus, pushing and shoving it into submission in the same way someone might try to shove some extra clothing into a suitcase. With every bit of force it used to trap the Cetus, however, that light also seemed to drain the Founders of their life and strength. Gryffindor had fallen to his knees, his wand arm visibly shaking; Ravenclaw was breathing very heavily and her eyes were so unfocused and glassy it was likely that she was barely conscious; Hufflepuff was holding her crackling, quaking wand with both hands and struggling not to collapse; Slytherin's hair and beard had turned gray and he clutched at his chest, gasping for air.

At long, long last, the Cetus was completely encased in light and began to shrink. With one last massive blue-tinted flare, the Cetus collided with the ground and fell still, encased in a thick stone shell that was about the size of an ostrich egg.

All four Founders collapsed, unable to stand and barely able to breathe. Carewyn couldn't help but walk up to them – she knew they were only memories that she couldn't touch, and in Slytherin's case, he was a blood purist bigot that she could never like as a person...but it didn't stop her from wanting to try to help them to their feet, when they were clearly in so much pain.

Jacob brought an arm around Carewyn and squeezed her against his side.

“It took that much out of them, just to imprison the Cetus,” he murmured.

“And even with that,” said Rakepick lowly, “the Cetus's power wasn't destroyed.”

She pointed to the egg-like artifact on the ground, which was already starting to form tiny black cracks.

~*~

“Sixth day of Old Yule, 1022. Godric's birthday.

“My research in Oxford has uncovered a story of a wizard who successfully applied the magic of sacrificial love in order to save his wife. The wife in question was a magic-less Muggle, so I hardly think he should have bothered – but nonetheless, the protective magic created something of a barrier around the deceased wizard's home, making it so that anyone who tried to attack the Muggle was instead injured with their own weapons. A local magical family was forced to intervene so that things didn't escalate. It's through that magical family that I acquired some interesting details –

“First, the wizard's Muggle wife was the target of the witch-hunters' wrath. Apparently it was a case of mistaken identity, where the Muggle townspeople saw some evidence of the wizard's magic and stupidly assigned blame to the one living thing in the house that wasn't able to cast magic.

“Second, the witch-hunters – since they presumed the wizard's innocence – gave him the chance to step aside, saying that he wouldn't be harmed if he bent to their will. The wizard, however, refused, and pleaded with the witch-hunters to take him in his wife's place. It was only after he refused to move that the witch-hunters attacked and killed him, and thus the protective enchantment was cast.

“These two facts reinforce what other successful cases have shown. In order to invoke the magic of sacrificial love, there must be a choice presented. Simply hurtling yourself in front of someone in the height of battle or dying with others in mind would not create that kind of postmortem shield. Therefore any sacrifice like the kind Godric has suggested would not invoke the magic needed to destroy the Cetus's power. Even if his emotions would no doubt be sincere, the Cetus would still have the power needed to eat away at the enchantments we've cast to contain it. Once it does that, it could theoretically turn our own Cursed Vaults against us and against Hogwarts itself. The Vaults we created to protect our students would attack them instead.

“Still looking into my second theory, regarding the nature of sacrifice. Hopefully I shall have a proper answer to that question, once I'm able to follow up with Johannes Eriugena.

“This winter has been colder than any I've ever seen. I may need to spend a few days in Oxford before setting off for home.”

~*~

The Black Lake dissolved, and suddenly Carewyn, Jacob, Rakepick and Duncan were inside the Cursed Vault they'd just left. It was devoid of the dozens of statues they'd seen when they arrived, so there was nothing halting Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw from running across the hall toward the Inner Vault. Both women looked a good ten years older than they'd been last, and they only looked about half-dressed, given that Hufflepuff's mane of brown curls and Ravenclaw's graying dark tresses flapped freely behind them and Ravenclaw wasn't even wearing her tiara.

Hufflepuff reached the inner doors first, taking out the same coral key Merula had used not too long ago – when the key came close to the keyhole, it began to vibrate, which alarmed Hufflepuff. She and Ravenclaw watched in horror as the silvery-white written warning appeared.

“Godric,” Hufflepuff breathed.

Ravenclaw turned to Hufflepuff, her face as white as a skull's as she frantically cried something else.

“She says he must have written that message, in case something went wrong,” said Duncan, and he actually looked rather troubled himself. He looked at Carewyn. “This was the day that...”

Carewyn nodded, her blue eyes welling up with pain as she watched Hufflepuff quickly unlock the door and the double doors swung open.

Lying in a heap on the floor beside a gold-trimmed glass column in the center of the Inner Vault's floor was the lifeless form of Godric Gryffindor. Like the two women, he looked a good ten years older than he had when he fought the Cetus, as well as quite a bit broader in the chest – but, Carewyn thought, he only looked a little older than Professor McGonagall. He was far too young to have died like this...

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw both ran to their friend's side. Hufflepuff desperately pulled at Gryffindor's shoulders, talking rapidly as if she were begging him to wake up. Ravenclaw said nothing, instead staring down at Gryffindor helplessly through her tears. Her hands trembling, she rather quickly turned to look at the column – in a flash, she'd dashed over to it, before she raised her wand and silently lit it.

As Ravenclaw stared at the column, however, both she and Carewyn standing behind her could see a mass of inky black smoke throbbing dangerously just under the enchanted glass.

Ravenclaw's wand clattered to the floor. She covered her face in her hands and began to cry.

“She says that Gryffindor's spell failed,” said Rakepick. Her own face had lost most of its color as she stared at the inky darkness pulsing inside the column.

“'The Vaults...must remain locked,'” Duncan translated sadly.

Tears streaming down her face, Hufflepuff clutched the back of Gryffindor's red and white robes, hoisting him up and off the ground with as much strength as she could in a vain attempt to turn him over. When her strength failed her, she fell upon Gryffindor's back, and the room was filled with her scream of utter despair.

~*~

“Last Day of Yule, New Year 1023

“As expected, Johannes is a true philosopher among wizards! I think the answer to the Cetus dilemma may finally be within my grasp!

“Sacrificial love is, in truth, just that – a sacrifice, namely, anything that one would be hard pressed to lose, made solely out of the purest, most sincere love. Therefore, as you might presume, one needn't necessarily sacrifice their life in order to activate it, if there was something of equal or somehow greater value to give instead.

“The one problem this leaves us with, however, is how to purposefully cast such an enchantment – for now that I know the power that such a spell might have over the Cetus, my motivation for casting it would no longer be done out of selfless love, but for my own gain. One could always try to deceive another person into making such a sacrifice, but I would hesitate to try it, for deception is deathly poisonous to all forms of love. Nevertheless, it may be something to broach with Rowena, if she will accept my owl. Perhaps if I start with Helga, it will be easier – she knows the demons of despair Godric has faced over the years, and I know she cares for his safety as much as I.

“Will spend several more nights in London before starting the journey home. Hopefully the weather will have improved enough by then that the broom flight will be speedy.”

The last page of Slytherin's journal flapped back down onto the podium and fell still.

Lane picked it up, her blue eyes trailing helplessly over the Old English words, so much more shakily written than the ones written in the previous months. Dumbledore looked at Lane sadly.

“It looks like that's all he wrote,” he said softly.

Lane closed her eyes. “Godric's death was recorded on January 5th, 1023. Salazar would've learned of it either as soon as he got home, or en route.”

She bowed her head.

“...Salazar put in so much work, to try to save Godric's life. With Godric dead...he must have lost the will to keep fighting.”

~*~

Hufflepuff's scream echoed endlessly until it had faded away completely. Then the inner Vault's walls again began to quake, and molt, and change. The blueish-tinted darkness of the Vault was broken up by the warm, golden glow of firelight, and suddenly Jacob, Duncan, Rakepick, and Carewyn found themselves in the main room of a small cottage.

The ceilings were so much lower than back at Hogwarts – had this not been a memory, Carewyn thought that Bill and Ben would've probably hit their heads on it, were they standing at full height. The walls were made of dark red bricks and the low rafters, decorated with carvings of galloping unicorns and rearing dragons, were crafted out of warm cherry wood. There was a long table and stools set up on the far end by the sooty brick fireplace in the far right corner, while on the far left corner, there was a small library with two oak bookshelves full of well-worn books and two small, rounded Dante chairs with soft emerald green cushions.

Sitting in the Dante chair closest to the stained-glass window was Helga Hufflepuff, resting the Pensieve she'd left in the Cursed Vault for them down on a small table next to her. She looked far older now – her chocolate brown curls had gone gray, her dark skin was wrinkled and age-spotted, and she looked incredibly frail. And yet she smiled toward the empty Dante chair beside her and talked to herself with as much composure as she would at a fine feast.

Duncan and Rakepick both stiffened uncomfortably.

“What is it?” asked Carewyn.

“She said 'hello,' but...” said Duncan uneasily, “...there's nobody there.”

As Hufflepuff continued to speak, Rakepick's eyes narrowed upon her face.

“She's reassuring the chair that she's not mad,” she said, her eyebrows raised scornfully.

Her dark blue eyes then abruptly widened.

“...She knows we're listening.”

“What?” said Jacob, taken aback. “But she can't know that – this is just a memory!”

“Yes,” said Rakepick, her eyes still very wide upon Hufflepuff. “And she knows that, as well. Hufflepuff knows this memory of herself will go into the Pensieve – so she's talking as if the person who will find the Pensieve in the future is sitting with her in this room!”

Carewyn looked from Rakepick to Hufflepuff. The little old woman did indeed look like she was having a pleasant, but still serious conversation with an unseen person in the chair beside her.

With a purposeful stride, Carewyn crossed the room, settling herself down on the ground in front of the chair Hufflepuff was speaking to.

“Translate everything she's saying, to the word,” Carewyn told Rakepick firmly, keeping her eyes locked on the old woman's face.

Rakepick followed Carewyn across the room, slowly lowering herself to the ground so that she was bent down beside Carewyn, her eyes also on Hufflepuff.

“'You must have put in a lot of work, to end up here,'” Rakepick translated little by little. “'I applaud your courage – I can only hope that you either are or were one of my students.'”

Hufflepuff laughed softly, before growing much more serious.

“'The same day that Godric passed away, I received a letter from Salazar. Although he'd left the school, he'd continued his research into how to use sacrificial love – the strongest white magic there is – to purify the Cetus of its evil, parasitic power. Unfortunately his letter did not arrive soon enough to save Godric's life...and after the news of Godric's passing reached Salazar, his health declined very quickly. I never received another letter from him again.

“'Several years later, Rowena's health also started to fail. Like Salazar, she had trouble recovering from the Cetus's attack, thanks in no small part to her emotional attachment to Ceto, when she was still alive. Despite the animosity that grew between them in later years, Ceto was Rowena's first student and – I would think – something of a daughter to her, long before she gave birth to Helena. Sometimes I wonder if the reason Rowena had such difficulty relating to Helena all the way up until her death was that she never fully recovered from the heartbreak of Ceto embracing Dark magic and turning her back on Rowena's teachings.

“'This is why I am the only one who can give you this final piece of wisdom, in how best to defeat the Cetus. According to Salazar's research, a spell of sacrificial love requires that the spell's caster be given a choice of whether or not to make a sacrifice, and that they choose to make the sacrifice for someone else, for no other reason than pure, selfless love. The sacrifice needn't be one's life, but it must be something of equal or greater value that they would be hard-pressed to give up. There can also be no element of righteousness or self-gain in play. The reason Godric's sacrifice failed is not just because he struggled with whether or not to value his own life many times over the years...but because, in the end, he chose to die with the aim of defeating the Cetus and saving our school from evil – because he made the choice in order to live up to the code of honor and chivalry he aspired to, not solely to protect those he loved most and who loved him in return. Therefore he was not invoking sacrificial love, when he gave up his own life. It was a noble act – but it was not an expression of true love.'”

Rakepick's voice had become very quiet. Carewyn glanced at her out the side of her eye – she'd lowered her gaze to her gloved hand resting on her thigh.

Hufflepuff's hazel-brown eyes flickered with a bit more sadness.

“'This is, sadly, where Salazar noted a terrible paradox,'” Rakepick translated her once more. “'In your pursuit to discover a way to purify the Cetus so as to protect yourself and others, you've come seeking a way to invoke the magic of sacrificial love. But now that you know that sacrificial love could be strong enough to defeat the Cetus...any attempt you might make to use it will likely be tainted by your desire to defeat it, rather than simply being about expressing love for the people you cherish most. The magic you seek to invoke...you cannot...simply because you wish to purposefully invoke it.'”

Duncan lashed through the air down toward Hufflepuff, hovering over her with righteous anger. “WHAT?! So you're saying that even if we know what to do now, it won't even work!?”

Carewyn's face blanched. 'No – no, that can't be! There has to be some way we – !'

Hufflepuff's expression softened with a smile, but her eyes were still far too sad and full of regret to be anything happy.

“'It's possible that a third party could cast the spell of love in your place – making the sacrifice for you, without knowing that it would serve as the counter-curse you need...but for that to come true, you would have to keep the knowledge you've learned completely to yourself. The person would have to make a sacrifice...without knowing that it could save your life, or the lives of others.'”

Jacob glanced at Rakepick out the side of his eye warily.

“'I myself could never do such a thing, to anyone I truly loved...but perhaps this is why, in the end...I'll die before I can ensure the Cetus never harms my Hogwarts or my students again.'”

Hufflepuff's gaze drifted down to the seat of the chair. It almost looked like she was looking Carewyn right in the face, though of course her eyes never lit up in acknowledgment of her.

“'...You must be a very brave, clever, hard-working, and determined person to have made it this far. I almost wish I could see your face as clearly as you must see mine, in whatever future you live in. I wish I could give you all the answers – I wish I could tell you how best to protect yourself and the ones you love from the Cetus. And I'm sorry – so sorry – to leave this heavy burden on your shoulders. One thing I do know, however, is that love is most powerful when it's reciprocated. Even if you can't invoke the otherworldly protection of sacrificial love...I truly believe, with all of my heart and soul, in the power that comes from loving someone who loves you in return.'”

Hufflepuff's eyes had filled with tears as she raised her gaze back to the chair itself.

“'Cherish your friends. Embrace your differences. Think of their well-being before your own pride. Let their memory give you strength and their love give you courage.'”

Her lips spread into a soft smile as the tears trailed down her wrinkled face.

“ ...Now go. The column will be waiting for you, when you get back. The Pensieve might be a bit hard to navigate, but you should be able to pull yourself up and out with a proper Ascending Charm. It always worked well for Rowena, whenever she consulted her past memories.'”

And with one final smile, Helga Hufflepuff's old, wrinkled, tear-stained face slowly faded away and disappeared once again into endless, silvery mist.

~*~

All of a sudden, echoing through the walls of the underground library came a wonderful, otherworldly song. The sound made Lane's heart swell, despite never having heard anything quite so beautiful before in her life.

Dumbledore blinked up at the ceiling in surprise, but rose from the blackwood chair at once.

“Come, Lane – we should return to the surface, quickly.”

With a sweep of his robes, he climbed the stairs up and out of Slytherin's library, Lane at his heels.

When they reached solid ground once more, they found Fawkes the phoenix soaring down toward them. Dumbledore extended an arm for the scarlet bird to land on, taking the scroll from his shining beak and unrolling it. His light blue eyes narrowed upon each word.

“Lane, my dear,” he said very gravely, as he looked up at her, “it appears that Carewyn and Jacob have entered the final Cursed Vault.”

“Jacob?” gasped Lane. “He's...”

“He's alive,” said Dumbledore as kindly as he could. “My guess is that he seeks to atone for the mistakes he has made. Nonetheless...Hogwarts is under attack, by those who would seek to use the Cetus for their own evil ends – I must return at once – ”

Lane grabbed the older wizard by the sleeve of his robes.

“Professor, please, take me with you,” she urged him. Despite the frailness of her voice, her grip on his arm was very firm.

Dumbledore looked upon Lane with a rather concerned expression. “I understand your feelings. But I must warn you – you do not just have family on the side protecting Hogwarts.”

Lane's blue eyes narrowed upon Dumbledore's face. She clearly understood what he meant – her father and siblings were there too, trying to break into the Vault.

“This battle will be very dangerous,” said Dumbledore, “far more dangerous for you than most.”

“If I'm in danger, then so are my bairns,” Lane shot back, her soft, level voice low in the back of her throat with determination. “Please take me with you.”

The Headmaster inclined his head respectfully to Lane. “Very well. Hold on tightly.”

He raised his arm – Fawkes took flight, and Dumbledore seized hold of his pet's tail. In a flash of scarlet and gold flames, Lane and Dumbledore vanished. Mere moments later, the steps leading down to Slytherin's library melted away back into the reservoir from whence they came, leaving no trace that anyone had been there.

~*~

When Jacob and Rakepick both helped her out of the Pensieve, Carewyn soon found herself enveloped in a gigantic hug by Barnaby, Ben, Charlie, and Bill, all of whom looked very pale and relieved at the sight of her. True to Hufflepuff's words, just over Bill and Barnaby's arms, she could see a gold-trimmed glass column, identical to the ones in the other Vaults, waiting for her – Bill had said it appeared just before Duncan and Jacob first emerged from the Pensieve. Just like back in Helga’s memories, Carewyn could see a large shadow burbling behind the glass -- there were also more inky black stains covering the base of the column, not unlike the stain that spread across the white and gold tile floor.

“Not long after you left, there were these really bad rumbling sounds, coming from outside the Vault,” Charlie told Carewyn. “Liz and Tonks went to investigate, and they'd found the Giant Squid attacking what looked like four red-robed figures...”

“One had black trim around the hood of his robe,” said Bill solemnly. “Jae said he sounded like the Leader you saw at the meeting with R.”

Rakepick's shoulders straightened tensely.

“Charles Cromwell,” growled Jacob.

A chill ran down Carewyn's spine at the memory of Charles's cold, cruel face in Rakepick's mind, alongside her tortured screams and his heartless taunt.

“It's what you deserve, isn't it?”

Ben's eyes narrowed. “Badeea and I conjured up the strongest shields we could around the front doors and Talbott helped me Transfigure the doors into a wall, to keep them out, but...”

“If we don't do something soon, it could turn into a siege, Cromwell,” said Merula very solemnly. “What's the plan? How do we destroy the Cetus?”

Carewyn didn't reply for a long moment. Hufflepuff's words once again echoed in her ears.

“It's possible that a third party could cast the spell of love in your place – making the sacrifice for you, without knowing that it would serve as the counter-curse you need...'”

'I could lie to my friends, to save them,' she thought, 'just like I tried before, when I first decided to go after the last Vault alone...but...'

The memory of Rowan pushing Ben out of the way of Rakepick's Killing Curse – of her being tossed to the ground by the force, and her eyes staring unblinkingly and lifelessly up at Carewyn as she grabbed hold of her, screaming –

'Rowan's death couldn't even evoke the magic of sacrificial love because she wasn't given a choice,' thought Carewyn, and her clenched fists began to shake her sides. 'She loved us more than anyone – yet I would give just about anything, if it meant she could still be here – '

The leader of the Circle of Khanna closed her eyes. She was silent for a very long moment before she finally responded.

“We...can't destroy the Cetus, Merula.”

Everyone straightened up, startled. No one looked more surprised than Rakepick.

“Miss Cromwell – ” she started, her usually cool, haughty face betraying genuine concern.

“I will not lie to them, Rakepick!” Carewyn cut her off fiercely. Her voice lowered significantly as she regained control of her temper. “...Not this time.”

~*~

And so Carewyn gathered the entire Circle of Khanna together, just outside the inner doors of the Vault. She told them everything that she'd seen in the Pensieve. She told them about the Founders' battle with the Cetus, how much damage it had done to them, and what Helga Hufflepuff had said.

“The spell needed to destroy the Cetus's power requires an act of selfless love – something done with no thought of morality or self-gain,” said Carewyn. “But it's a spell I can't cast. Neither can Jacob. Neither can Rakepick. Because all of us are too focused on making sure that R is defeated and that the Cursed Vaults never hurt anyone again. If we tried to make that sacrifice, we'd just end up like Gryffindor – dead, with nothing to show for it.”

Carewyn bowed her head, unable to look any of her friends in the face.

“Hufflepuff said that if I kept the knowledge to myself...someone else could make the sacrifice instead, ignorant of the power it would have, and it could work...but...”

Her blue eyes welled up with pain – she closed them to try to keep her composure.

“...I cannot and will not lie to you, if it means I might lose you forever. I've already learned the cost of not trusting the ones you care for most. I do not intend to make that mistake again.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat that made her want to cry.

“So all that's left to do...is to plan a proper evacuation.”

Everyone looked shocked.

“What?” said Talbott.

“Carewyn...” murmured Andre, looking stunned and horrified.

“Merula said it best – if we don't do something soon, this'll turn into a siege,” said Carewyn. “There's only one way in and out of this place – once R reaches those outer doors, there'll be no way out for any of us. And if my grandfather is leading the group on its way here...then he won't hesitate to kill every last person who stands between him and the Cetus.”

‘Jacob, Rakepick, and I...there is no going back for us,’ she thought. ‘We can’t run from this...but...’

Carewyn steadied her grip on her wand, forcing herself to raise her head and look up at her friends. Her blue eyes were swimming with tears, but she put on the bravest expression she could.

“I'm grateful to all of you...for everything you've done. But I don't want you becoming martyrs. So I'm disbanding the Circle of Khanna. Everyone is free to go. I'll cover your retreat. Go back to the castle. Go find the teachers and send them down here, if you want. You've all done more than I ever could've asked for or dreamed of, and...”

She choked. 

“...And...thank you.”

There was a resounding silence. Then Bill came up beside Carewyn, bringing an arm around her so that he could clutch her shoulder.

“We'll cover the retreat,” he corrected firmly, “of anyone who decides to go.”

Carewyn looked up at Bill, her eyes widening.

“Bill, it's suicide. If you stay here, you'll die!”

“I'm not afraid of dying, Carey,” Bill said sharply. “You know what my Boggart is – what it's always been. It's losing the ones who mean the most to me, and that includes you.”

He used the hand he'd anchored on her shoulder to pull her closer to him so he could take hold of her other shoulder too and look her straight-on in the face.

“Carey...we started this thing together,” he said, his brown eyes boring into her blue, “and I promised myself a long time ago that we'd finish it the same way. No matter what that 'finish' is – I'm with you.”

Carewyn stared at Bill, disbelieving and speechless. Charlie strode up behind Carewyn, wrapping his arms around her from behind and leaning his head on her shoulder.

“We're with you,” he said with a small smile. “Fireballs, remember? We fight together.”

Ben took Carewyn's hand on Bill's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze, his dark eyes very hard and determined. “We'll fight together and fall together.”

“Right!” said Barnaby brightly. “And we'll kick R's tail real good, too!”

“Reckon they could use a good Dungbomb to the face too, while we're at it,” said George.

“Chuck it down their throats!” laughed Fred.

Talbott looked at Carewyn very seriously. “Whatever anyone else chooses to do, Carewyn...I'm staying right here.”

“Me too,” said Penny, her eyes full of tears.

“Both of us will,” agreed Beatrice.

“All of us will,” corrected Andre.

“You bet!” said Tonks, and Liz, Jae, Diego, Tulip, and Cedric all nodded.

“We love you, Carewyn,” said Chiara gently. “Even if we can't cast that spell...Hufflepuff said love is strongest when it's reciprocated. We're stronger together than we could ever be apart.”

“You said you didn't want us to be martyrs,” said Merula harshly. “Well, you haven't presented a better option, save us leaving you to fend for yourself.”

Her pink eyes bore into Carewyn's face with a kind of fire she'd never seen before.

“If it takes every last one of us to keep R's slimy mitts off the Cetus...then so be it.”

The flood of affection was too much for Carewyn to handle. She couldn't summon any words at all – all she could do was just stand there, wrapped up in Bill and Charlie's arms and holding Ben's hand, while trying to contain the trembling in her shoulders.

Carewyn caught Jacob's eye as he stood off to the side, Duncan floating just over his shoulder. The older Cromwell's eyes were also filled with tears, his expression touched by a very soft smile. He looked like he'd never been so proud of his sister in his life.

“Thank you,” Carewyn's voice came out as a very fragile, tear-soaked whisper, even though she managed not to actually cry. “...Thank you.”

~*~

Within moments, the entire Circle of Khanna had gotten into formation in front of the Vault's inner doors like an army prepared for war. The younger students – Fred, George, Cedric, and Beatrice – were scattered among the ranks so that they each had two sixth years on either side of them who could support and protect them. Carewyn stood toward the back of the formation on the top stair in front of the Vault, flanked by Rakepick and Bill on her left and Jacob and Merula on her right.

As the Circle stood tall and waited, listening to the rumbles and crashes of Charles Cromwell and his reinforcements fighting off the Giant Squid and barraging the outside of the Vault, an eerie stillness filled the air. It made time feel like it was moving very slowly – like every lone beat of your heart echoed over several times in your ear.

Despite being a ghost who wouldn't be able to do much fighting, Duncan had nonetheless also chosen to stay. He drifted up between Jacob and Carewyn, his light-less eyes likewise focused on the reinforced outer doors of the Vault in the distance.

“I didn't think I'd have to worry about you two dying,” he said quietly. “Especially you, Carewyn.”

Jacob gave Duncan a dark smile. “You mean you didn't really think I was going to get myself killed, all those times you got mad at me for doing something dangerous?”

“Piss off,” snapped Duncan.

Jacob tried to give a light “ha” of laughter, but it died before he could fully open his mouth. The smile slid off his face as easily as if it had been wiped off with a handkerchief.

“Just promise me one thing,” Duncan said lowly.

“What?” asked Carewyn.

“Promise me that you won't stay behind.”

Jacob looked up at Duncan, startled.

“I stayed behind because I was too much of a coward to die,” mumbled Duncan, his head falling noticeably. “Because I couldn't accept that I couldn't do all the great things I'd wanted to do – that nothing I'd done really mattered – that my life was so insignificant that...nobody would really care, after I was gone.”

“Ashe...” murmured Jacob, but Duncan shook his head and forcefully cut him off.

“But you...neither of you are like me. You're not cowardly. And...there are people who love you. So...so don't stay behind. Even if you're worried about me being lonely or something stupid like that – don't. Because if this is the day you die...”

Duncan's face cracked into a bittersweet smile.

“...I want you to let go! Be free. Sing and laugh and...rest. Not...linger.”

Jacob's blue eyes were full of pain as he stared up at the ghost of his best friend. Carewyn's eyes rested  on Duncan's ghostly hand instead of his face, feeling genuinely touched by the sentiment.

'You may have been hard to deal with sometimes, Duncan,' she thought, 'but I'm really glad that I got to be your friend, too...like Jacob did.'

She looked up, once again looking out at the outer doors in the distance.

'If this is the day I die...'

The thought hurt her too much to contemplate. If it was her last day, she'd never see Hogwarts again. She'd never play in Quidditch friendlies again, or challenge her friends to Wizard Duels, or sing to the creatures at the Magical Creature Preserve again. She'd never had the chance to tell Professor McGonagall how much she admired her or thank Professor Snape properly for teaching her Legilimency and Occlumency. She'd never see Orion fly with the Montrose Magpies. She'd never be able to visit Torvus again or to help Hagrid with his magical creatures. She’d never graduate school. She’d never join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or help anyone with their legal problems, like she’d dreamed. She’d never be able to live the life she’d always wanted, free of the Cursed Vaults and R, with her brother beside her. ...She'd never see her mother again...never hug her tight again, never listen to any more of her historical lectures...never sing Christmas carols with her again.

Carewyn closed her eyes, exhaling heavily. Then she took a deep breath.

“A long, long time ago...

I can still remember how that music used to make me smile...”

On the other side of Bill, Rakepick stiffened visibly. Everyone else turned to glance at Carewyn. Her voice was very soft and low in her throat, to the point that it was almost a whisper – it was only because the Vault had been so very still and eerily quiet that her voice could've been heard at all.

“And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance,

And maybe they'd be happy for a while...

But February made me shiver – with every paper I'd deliver,

Bad news on the doorstep...I couldn't take one more step...

I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride...

But something touched me deep inside...the day...the music...died...”

Carewyn's voice trailed off into silence. She brought her right hand not holding her wand up onto her shoulder, as if subconsciously wanting to shift the terrible invisible weight that rested there.

The unsettling quiet returned, settling down over everyone like a cold blanket. Then, abruptly, the silence was broken by Duncan, who had leaned backward in mid-air in a “lying down” sort of posture with his left leg crossed over his right and his arms behind his head.

“So bye, bye, Miss American Pie –

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye – ”

His voice was less melancholy than Carewyn's had been, but no less quiet. He glanced at her out the side of his eye, and Carewyn couldn't help but smile at him as she again slipped in,

“ – Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die'...'this'll be the day that I die...'”

Another voice had joined Duncan and Carewyn's on the last word. They both turned to Jacob, whose face broke into a smile as he continued the song, picking up the tempo and lightening the tone.

“Did you write the book of love, and do you have faith in God above, If the Bible tells you so? Ahh, do you believe in rock and roll? Can music save your mortal soul, and Can you teach me how to dance real sloooow?”

It didn't take long for Jacob's enthusiasm to rub off on Duncan and Carewyn. Regardless of how strange it must have looked, the three sing the song a bit louder and cheerfully, in spite of the dark Vault they were in or how heavy the hopelessness of their situation weighed on their shoulders. Duncan swirled around Jacob in lackadaisical spirals, his translucent hands passing through Jacob's shoulder and hair a few times as the two danced around each other.

“Well, I know that you're in love with him, 'cause I saw you dancin' in the gym! You both kicked off your shoes... Man, I dig those rhythm and bluuUUUES!”

Jacob's high note was excellently pitched despite the flippancy with which he sang. Merula couldn't keep the huge, amused grin off her face.

“I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck with a pink carnation and a pickup truck, But I knew I was out of luck the day the music died...”

Soon everyone else was laughing and smiling – some of the half-bloods like Penny, Beatrice, Chiara and Badeea were starting to sing along, in places. Ben, the lone Muggle-born in the group, even sang along with the chorus when they reached it again.

“I started singing,

'Bye, bye Miss American Pie!' Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing 'this'll be the day that I die'...'this'll be the day that I die!'”

Before long, this miserable, rag-tag band had devolved into a laughing, singing, dancing gaggle of teenagers. Duncan, Jacob, and Carewyn took turns singing different stanzas, passing the invisible “microphone” from one to the other with over-dramatic flourishes, as those who knew the words jumped in when they could and those who didn't danced and swayed along. Diego was dancing more passionately than anyone, of course, but Tulip was giving him a run for his money. Fred and George pretty consistently shoved themselves in front of whomever was dancing so as to hilariously upstage them. Diego was even able to somehow rope Ismelda into dancing with him for a stanza. Before long, even those students raised by wizards who'd never heard the song in their lives like Andre and the Weasleys were able to sing gleefully along to the chorus.

“Oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space, With no time left to start again...

So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick –

Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'cause...fire is the devil's only frieeeend...

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage,

My hands were clenched in fists of rage – No angel born in Hell could break that Satan's spell!

And as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite, I saw Satan laughing with delight the day the music died... He was singing,

'Bye, bye, Miss American Pie!' Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die' – 'this'll be the day that I – '”

BOOM.

Everyone came to an abrupt halt.

The rumbling, blasting sounds that had echoed over their heads previously hadn't been so close as the one they heard now. It came from the outer doors of the Vault – as if someone was ramming at the other side with a battering ram.

The entire Circle of Khanna stared at the doors once more, all cheer and laughter fading from their faces. All at once, the gravity of the situation had returned.

Any minute, R would be ramming down that door – and then they'd have to fight with everything they had, with no guarantee that they'd survive to see another day. It made them suddenly feel both incredibly stupid and so much, much younger than they'd felt just ten minutes ago.

Before the freezing cold silence could completely congeal, another lower, more resounding voice broke through.

“I met a girl who sang the blues, and I asked her for some happy news,

But she just smiled and turned away...”

It was Rakepick.

The entire Circle of Khanna turned to face the ex-professor. She'd not joined into any of their revelry, staying on the sidelines and silently watching – but in that moment, her dark blue eyes locked on the outer doors much the same way as everyone else’s had been earlier, she sang the next stanzas in a soft, crisp, untrained voice that reminded Carewyn of the crackling of autumn leaves.

“I went down to the sacred store where I'd heard the music years before, But the man there said the music wouldn't play...

And in the streets, the children screamed,

The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed, But not a word was spoken – The church bells all were broken...”

Carewyn walked over to stand beside Rakepick, watching her silently.

Was that pain in her eyes? Were there tears? Carewyn couldn't poke around in Rakepick's head – but she couldn't help but wonder how much of what Rakepick had told them, about her background with R and about all of the regrets she had about what had happened with Jacob and...well, Carewyn herself...was running through the ex-professor's mind, in that moment.

‘She learned all the words, in that time after she heard me singing American Pie, as a kid,’ thought Carewyn. ‘Even though before then, she’d turned her back on all things Muggle.’

Rakepick’s dark blue eyes grew a bit smaller, almost sadder, upon the far wall.

“And the three men I admire most – the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost – They caught the last train for the coast the day...the music...died...”

“And they were singing – ”

Rakepick looked up, startled, as Carewyn joined her, her almond-shaped eyes also resting on the outer doors on the far end as she sang a sweet harmony part over her.

“'Bye, bye, Miss American Pie...' Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die'...'this'll be the day that I die'...”

In that moment, the Circle of Khanna seemed to have regained their posture.

Yes, it was silly – yes, it was stupid, to find any bit of comfort in something so insignificant and pointless – but no, in fact, it wasn't pointless. Perhaps things were hopeless. Perhaps they would fail. Perhaps they would die and never see their loved ones again. But they were together – and in that togetherness, they felt strong. In that community, they felt courageous – enough to sing about the specter of Death looming over them with optimism and heart rather than despair.

These children were, in truth, an army.

“They were singing, ‘Bye, bye, Miss American Pie...’ Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die.'”

[To be concluded...]

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #this'll be the day that i die #good!rakepick AU #patricia rakepick #carewyn cromwell #jacob cromwell #jacob's sibling #jacob #duncan ashe #ben copper #bill weasley #charlie weasley #helga hufflepuff #rowena ravenclaw #salazar slytherin #godric gryffindor #lane cromwell #albus dumbledore #barnaby lee #tulip karasu #cedric diggory #the circle of khanna #andre egwu #talbott winger #beatrice haywood #penny haywood

[hphmmatthewluther]

HPHM April Prompts 2021: Day 4: Past, Present and Future Affection

@stupendousbookworm ‘s April Prompts continue, and this time we have a look at the growth of Matthew’s feelings for the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts, Merula Snyde, as the mystery of Matthew’s past begins to unravel!

Prompt # 4 - Who is MC's heartthrob? How did they meet? What do they have in common, and what do they disagree on?

It was a given throughout the Wizarding World that nothing was ever as it seemed, and the place where that was the most true had to be Hogwarts. You couldn’t even trust the ground you walked on, lest a plank of wood decided to slide out of the way, causing you to take one heck of a tumble. For most people who weren’t born into it, this was a rather irritating aspect of magic, but for someone like Matthew Luther, it wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world. “And so,” he was explaining one breakfast at the Ravenclaw table, “that’s why Peeves causes chaos.” There was a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ as the fourth years all helped themselves to some toast. “Wow, now I feel awful for all those times I’ve yelled at him.” Andre lamented. “Don’t worry, he says he enjoys the insults.” Matthew reassured him, “Still, I imagine he’ll focus on pranking the people who deserve it now.” “You never cease to amaze me, Matthew Luther,” said Tulip, pushing a few insects towards Dennis, “If you could figure that one out, there’s no secret that’s safe from you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Tulip.” The group turned around to see Merula Snyde standing before them, her violet eyes piercing Matthew’s. He’d always wondered about them, and whether or not they were real. Unfortunately, curious as he was, he had never found the courage to ask her. It just sounded a little...forward. “Good morning to you too, Merula.” said Matthew, turning around fully, “You’re looking...proud of yourself.” “Well, of course! Why wouldn’t the most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts be proud of herself?” “...Mm, fair point.” he admitted nonchalantly, helping himself to some toast. A flash of confusion crossed Merula’s face. She always did that whenever Matthew complimented her, and there was something about it that made Matthew want to see it again. “I, um...Seems like you’re finally seeing sense, then!” she declared, leaning over him. “Oh, Merula, for goodness’ sake...” Rowan began, but Matthew waved a hand at them. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” Matthew said, wiping the sleep from his eyes, “Sorry, God, I’m tired...” Merula smirked at that, and Matthew returned the expression. “Look, if you’re too tired right now, we can have our argument later.” Merula suggested, much to everyone’s surprise. Matthew chuckled, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Merula cleared her throat, looking for an answer. “Yeah, ok, sounds great. How’s Potions for you?” “Alright, we’re just reviewing today.” Rowan stared at them, flabbergasted. “Sorry, are you scheduling an argument?!”

“Is it a crime to be organised, Khanna?” Merula sneered, before turning back to Matthew. “Well, if that’s that...” “Actually...” began Matthew, his stomach starting to fold, “Wh-Why don’t you have breakfast with us?” Merula stared for a few moments, as if her brain had short-circuited. “L-Luther, you must be a bigger dolt than I realised. I’m not a Ravenclaw...though I’m smarter than most of you.” “That hasn’t stopped me!” yelled Barnaby with his mouth full, who was sitting a few seats away helping himself to some bacon. “Matthew asked me, and I said yes!” “That’s because you’re an idiot, Barnaby.” said Merula bluntly, before glaring at Matthew. “Why on earth would you think I’d say yes?” Matthew suddenly looked a little nervous. “I just, well...it’s, um...” he stammered, glancing over at the Slytherin table. There was Preston Crawford and his cronies, chucking food at some of the muggle-borns in Ravenclaw. “It wouldn’t be a good idea to sit at the Slytherin table this morning, okay?” he said, leaning forward slightly. He looked up at Merula, hoping she was picking up what he was saying. 

She stared down the Ravenclaw table, seeing not only Barnaby, but Liz Tuttle and Erika Rath. She looked down at Matthew, before slowly sitting next to him. Matthew felt his face burn, which didn’t make sense. They sat near each other in Potions, and that had never caused...anything. But something was different this time. They were right next to each other out of choice, and that made all the difference in the world. They slowly ate breakfast for a while, until Merula whispered: “Alright, Luther, what’s all this about?” Matthew grimaced, “It’s complicated. Peeves is a little, well, peeved at Preston, and by extension that whole group, and so...” It happened in an instant. The two turned around to see Slytherin table burst in two, a jet of what looked like Stinksap covering Preston and the other Slytherins. Then, Peeves emerged with a bucket in hand, cackling like a hyena. He put a pudgy hand into the bucket and pulled out several wads of gum, which he proceeded to chuck at the group. Matthew and Merula stared for a moment, before turning to look at each other. It didn’t take long for them both to descend into laughter.

“Did...Ha ha! Did you know...” Merula wheezed between laughs, almost falling off her seat. “No, no! I knew he’d...” Matthew had to pause to let out a huge laugh, “I knew he was planning something, but nothing on this scale!” Their laughter was far greater than most peoples, and before long a horde of Stinksap-and-gum-covered Slytherins began to lumber over each other to get to them. “We should really...” Merula said, trying and failing to pull herself together, “Merlin, they’re leaving stuff everywhere!” Matthew managed to come to his senses and grabbed Merula’s arm, pulling her away from Preston’s gooey reach. They sprinted out of the Great Hall, hand in hand, passing by a confused Professor Snape. “Mr Luther, Miss Snyde...” he began, before noticing the dozen or so Stinksapped Slytherins crawling around the Great Hall, as the rest of the school pointed and laughed. Peeves was still chucking chewing gum at them, all the while singing: “Slippery jerks are all about,

Spewing out nothing but junk,

I’ll make sure I gross ‘em out,

By covering them in gunk!”

Matthew and Merula stopped at a bench in the Lower East Wing of the school to catch their breath. They both crashed onto the seat, still giggling. “That was...” Merula said between breaths, “Merlin, that was hilarious...I’ve never seen a poltergeist go that ballistic...well, not in years, at least...” Matthew wanted to say something, but he was frankly too exhausted. He felt the energy leave his body, and found himself looking at Merula. He had never seen her laugh like this before, enough to make her nose wrinkle and her head tilt back, her mouth agape. “I guess you found it funny, too...” she continued, “You’ve gone bright red!” “I have?!” Matthew exclaimed. He felt a wave of embarrassment, but seeing Merula like this made him less than willing to ruin the moment. “I guess so...though, you’ve gone all pink!” he observed. He wasn’t wrong. The pink that usually adorned her cheeks had expanded to cover her nose too. There was something awfully familiar about it all…

“Um, yes, well...” she stammered, “Anyway, that was your first experience of a poltergeist’s full power, wasn’t it?”  To her surprise, Matthew shook his head. “Actually, there was one other time I saw a poltergeist. It was at the Ministry, funnily enough...” Merula’s smile turned to a look of curiosity. “Huh, so was that other one...” she said quietly. Matthew’s mouth opened and closed again. No...it couldn’t be… He’d never thought about it before. Of course she would have gone to Hogwarts, why on earth didn’t he look for her? “Merula...that poltergeist...” Matthew ventured, “It wouldn’t happen to have been...The Drifting Jester, would it?” Merula gasped. Matthew’s eyes widened. “It was you!”

***

It was a hot summer’s day, and the streets of London were filled, mostly, with sweaty commuters moving to and fro. But not completely. For within the crowd of people of all sorts that moved around the city, there was one thing that passers-by should have picked up on. A six year boy was walking down a street with a silver bracelet on his arm, and a piece of paper in his hand. He kept walking down street after street until he found a strangely empty street with a telephone box. The boy walked towards it, noticing an owl flying overhead. He almost went to chase after it, but this was more important. He had to make sure he didn’t get lost. Opening the telephone box by stretching onto his tiptoes, he stepped inside and jumped to pick up the receiver. He looked at the piece of paper in his hand and dialled the number on it. Then, there came the voice of a woman:

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic.” it said. “Please state your name and business.” “Hello!” the boy said cheerfully. “My name’s Matthew! Matthew Luther! I’m here to find my Mum! Do you-” “Thank you.” the voice interrupted, “Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.” There was a rattling noise, and something came out of the change chute. It was a badge that read “Matthew Luther, Looking for Mum.” Matthew smiled and pinned it onto his T-shirt. “Thank you!” he exclaimed. “Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.” There was a tremor, and the box began to sink into the ground. Matthew felt very nervous as the sunlight disappeared. Despite being very little, the box was still very small for him, and fears began to grow about this box stopping, and him being trapped, and-

But then the box was filled with light, and the door swung open. “The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day.” the box said. “You too!” Matthew said, relieved to be free from the small space. He was now in a large corridor with a blue ceiling, which had symbols that seemed to change every so often. To the sides were several green fires, which people were somehow going in and out of. At the end of the corridor was a giant golden fountain, with statues of a Man, a woman, a centaur, a creature with long ears and large eyes and another one with long ears but small eyes. Matthew couldn’t help but gasp. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. He supposed he would look for his mother. He looked around the corridor, but he couldn’t see anyone that looked like his mother. He moved around the fountain until he rested by a sign asking for donations. He was beginning to worry again. He had been told that his mother would be here. The piece of paper just said to look for her here. But this place, this Ministry, was so very big that Matthew had no idea where to start. His stomach grumbled. He’d missed breakfast to get here without his Dad noticing. He sank to his knees and sighed, trying to regain energy.

It was then that a  tall, slim woman came up to him. She looked like she was in her thirties, and had chestnut hair. My Mum has black hair, Matthew reminded himself. “Hello there,” she said, leaning down slightly, “Are you lost?” Matthew thought for a moment, and nodded. “I want to see my Mum,” he explained. From behind the woman came a young girl who looked the same age as Matthew. “Don’t worry, dear.” said the woman, “I can help you. Tell me, do you know which department your mother works in?” Matthew shook his head. “No. I know she has black hair and green eyes like mine, and that she works in the Ministry.” The woman looked a little confused for a moment. She gazed at him. “Do you...know your mother?” Matthew shook his head again. The girl, presumably her daughter, moved forward. “Mummy, how does that work?” she asked, “How come he doesn’t know his mother?” “I don’t know, songbird.” The woman says. “ But I’m getting to the bottom of this. Let’s see here...Matthew Luther...” she whispered.

“Yes, that’s right.” he said. Strange, he thought, their eyes are different...they’re pink!  The woman thought for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t know anyone called Luther in the Ministry...” she muttered, “H-How did you know to come here?” Matthew showed her the piece of paper. “A man gave it to me. He saved me from a monster, then said I could find my Mum here.” he explained. The woman read it, and her eyes widened. “My dear boy, I think I know where your mother is.” she announced, before turning to her daughter. “Songbird, I need you to keep an eye on him until I get back, alright?” The girl nodded, and the woman left. Matthew smiled, and the girl sat next to him. She got a small bag and pulled out an apple. “You look hungry.” she said, “You can have this.” “Thank you.” Matthew said, taking the apple and beginning to eat it. The girl looked at him. “Why don’t you know who your mother is?” she asked, pulling a sandwich out of her bag. “I don’t know.” replied Matthew. “She left, and took my brother with her. I don’t remember it well.” “That sounds sad.” she said. “It is sad. I like my brother. If I find my Mum, I want to see my brother too. That would be nice.”

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and a newspaper stand was knocked over. A silvery figure appeared on top of it, hooting and banging a drum. “I am the Drifting Jester, hee hee hee!” he exclaimed, “Let’s have some fun!!” Within moments, a group of people moved forwards, with wands pointed at the figure. The Jester blew a raspberry at them, one so powerful it blew them away and covered them in saliva. Matthew and the girl found it absolutely hilarious. “Ha ha! They went right over there!” Matthew yelled, howling with laughter. “It was so loud! Poltergeists are disgusting!” giggled the girl, rolling around on the floor. They watched as the wizards got to their feet and hit the ghost with some sort of spell which forced the saliva back into its mouth. That only made the two of them laugh even more, until- “Little boy!” yelled the woman over the ruckus. She came up to him, gazing at the now restrained poltergeist. “I think I’ve found her. Come with me...”

***

“And then I saw my mother again.” Matthew finished explaining. “And I got to see my brother again, too...for a bit, at least.” Merula sighed. She had filled in for the bits that he hadn’t known, like how the woman was indeed her mother, Rosemary Snyde, and how they were there to carry out some business, which she now guessed was them acting as informants for the Death Eaters. “All that time we’ve been rivals...” she thought aloud… “I never even considered...” “I should have been the one to figure it out.” Matthew fumed, “I’m the one who makes connections, and who else has a strand of ginger hair and...well, and...” “Yes?” Matthew sighed. “There’s nobody else with eyes like yours...though, perhaps I did know...maybe that’s why I could never really call you my enemy...”

There was a silence. Then, Matthew looked down. In all that time, he hadn’t let go of Merula’s hand. “Oh, um, sorry, I’ll-” “It’s ok!” Merula said rather suddenly. “Look… maybe I… I’m sorry, alright! You’d lost your family once before, and you got them back, and then lost them again!” “Merula..” “And what did I do?! I just rubbed salt in the wound, I’ve been saying he’s-” “Merula! It’s alright!” he exclaimed, gripping Merula’s hand slightly. “I forgive you. I owe it to you. I haven’t always been kind about your family, and your mother helped me find mine!” There was another pause. The commotion from the Great Hall had died down now, Peeves had presumably been stopped and the Slytherins sent to the Hospital Wing. But this wasn’t what Matthew was preoccupied with. He was still clutching Merula’s hand, and neither of them were letting go. She felt slightly cold, but soft all the same. Matthew blinked. “But...if that’s the c-case...th-then...m-maybe we don’t have to...to be...mortal enemies...anymore...” he said, every sinew of bravery within him electrified into action. Merula smiled. “I...I’d like th-”

Suddenly, the door to the Transfiguration class opened, and Professor McGonagall stepped out. The two immediately retracted their hands and got up off the seats. “Ah, Miss Snyde. You are with me this morning for Transfiguration, are you not?” Merula nodded. “That’s right, Professor.” “And where is everyone else?” McGonagall asked, “Class is starting soon, and you two are the only ones around.” “Peeves started causing chaos during breakfast,” Matthew explained, “I imagine it caused some congestion.” Sure enough, people began moving through the corridors, as people realised just how late Peeves had made them. “My, my...” lamented McGonagall, “I hope this doesn’t affect our schedule for the Ball...” Matthew’s ears perked up at that. “The what?” “The Celestial Ball, Mr Luther, held every fifteen years.” McGonagall said, “You will find out more in due course. Now, if I were you I would head to your lesson.” Matthew nodded, and started to move away. Before he did, however, he gave a silent wave to Merula. She looked at him, with those violet eyes, and waved back, a genuine smile on her face. Matthew headed up the stairs, with dances and dates on his mind.

#aprilprompts2021 #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #merula snyde #hphm jacobs sibling #jacob's sibling x merula #merula x mc #hphm fanfiction

[hphmsecretsanta2020]

Merry Christmas @dimitri-hphm !! This is from your Secret Santa @aviandemiwitch

We hope you have a wonderful day! Happy Holidays!!

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December, 1989

It was far colder than he liked, this year. The snow had come early this year to the Highlands, making him wish all the more that he was back home. The wolf in him wished to den down for the winter, or find a warmer location before it got any colder.

It was also nighttime, and he hoped the calculations he’d been given by the one Gryffindor were correct. The metallic ozone smell that lingered around her unnerved even him.

He entered the courtyard, shifting with barely a thought, before heading out to the forest. Talbott was due to meet him there. 

Finding their preferred meeting point, he turned back and shivered in the cold Scottish air. He was glad it wasn’t a full moon, though he could feel it was getting close. He’d be in Sicily for this month’s, meaning a back room instead of a drafty old house.

The closeness of the full moon, and his uncommon impatience with Talbott, left him feeling unusually restless.

A rustle of leaves, and familiar smells grabbed his attention as a bronze eagle fluttered to the forest floor. A twitch of tails, and Talbott appeared in human form.

They embraced briefly. Talbott was staying, and the portkey was only set to activate with him. There was a small part of him that wanted to stay, despite the efforts he put in to get out early. Charms and Kettleburn had been the least objectionable and easiest to payback. Snape and McGonagall were among the hardest, given their midterms were the most practical of the classes.

And the time was getting close.

He hoped Talbott would be able to come later, once the holidays started, and after winter midterms were completed for everyone else.

They untangled, before pulling a small gift out of his pocket. It had taken some hunting, and a trip to Flourish and Blott’s to find it.

“Thought I’d give this to you now,” he said, handing the blue-wrapped item to his boyfriend. This was his least favourite part of Christmas, the expectation of gift giving and receiving. He hated owing anything to anyone, or vice versa. It left a bitter undertone to his already anxious mood. But Talbot had been talking about it, and so he found it.

“Thanks,” Talbot replied. “I already owled yours to your family.” He nodded curtly, the tick-tick-tick of his wristwatch reminding him of the piece of parchment remaining in his pocket.

A last kiss, quiet murmurs of “Be careful,” before a flick of his tails, he was off.

The scenery sped past as he headed towards the Scottish border. It was times like this that he secretly appreciated his ability to keep part of his human mind while transformed.

He transformed back when he reached a clearing, where a boot sat waiting. It was if someone had just forgotten it, rather than his means home. He pulled the scrap of parchment out, before checking his watch.

Nearly time.

Her grabbed the ankle portion, before feeling the abrupt gut hook pull of magic moving him between Scotland and Italy.

It was not his favourite way to travel.

But it beat navigating several fireplaces between Scotland, England, France and Italy. And came with less suspicions about the firearm he kept on him, especially since he was going home.

The fewer the questions, the better.

The portkey landed, as abruptly as it had left, sending him thudding to the ground and it skidding a few feet, before stopping against the garden wall. 

It was light enough to tell time had passed, but dark enough to not know how much had.

He picked himself up, along with the boot, and headed inside.

It was warmer inside, a fire already roaring in the main fireplace, and several servants tending to morning duties. The carpets laid down muffled his footsteps as he headed towards his room, if only to change out of these clothes into some cleaner ones that would be consider more suitable.

His sister was coming home tomorrow, possibly, as she was staying to complete midterms in Japan, where their father had gone to school.

Thankfully, Jacob wasn’t coming for Christmas, too wrapped up in whatever he was doing.

He changed, shucking the clothes he’d worn, and finding something a little nicer for dealing with his father. A glance at his bedside clock told him it was just after 6:30 am, and his father was no doubt waiting. Weapons tucked away, he walked over to his father’s office.

He barely raised a hand to knock, when his father said, “Enter, Dimitri.”

It was terse, even for them. 

Snape had owled what seemed to be a sort of end of semester of report. While he was excelling in what classes he had, the fighting and hunt for the vaults diminished the success of his classes.

The meeting was otherwise civil for them, with them butting heads only a couple times.

He spent the rest of the day re-exploring the area. 

The rest of the week passed quickly, with Skylar’s arrival the highlight. With her arrival, the house felt a little warmer.

An owl or two also arrived  from Talbott, covering the progress made on some of the events around school. There were also things said that left him laying awake most nights. Cards arrived over the next week, each mirroring their respective personalities, with both of the Weasley boys sending one card.

Christmas was a quiet happening, with gifts exchanged early in the morning, before heading off to the holiday’s mass. Going into town was civil for them, with his mother and Skylar keeping the peace the best they could.

This outing was practically family tradition, the hours long Christmas mass, even as the large part of his family was magical. He itched to move. This was hardest thing, though easier than finding any gift. He sat next to his mother, with Skylar next to him, with Skylar only half paying attention to the service. 

After the service wrapped up around noon, they headed back to home, getting ready for the gathering that was due to start in a few hours. It would mostly be family and associates of his father, and would be a relatively formal affair. 

He opened Talbott’s gift in his room after they got home from the service, which turned out to be a beautifully decorated pen knife, along a few of his favourite sweets from Honeydukes. There was another package that smelled familiar, but doubted would much good now. He tucked the pen knife into the pocket of the pants he was going to wear for the gathering, and put the candy inside his shrunken trunk, joining the rest of his presents for the trip back to Scotland. There would be time to savour them later, when he was back in the relative privacy of his dorm back up at school.The remaining package joined his potion kit, and the stash of bottles therein. 

He finished getting things ready, wishing his guy was here with him. Yes, it was important for him to attend these events, considering he was to take over when his father wished. Or something happened. They were still tedious to attend on long days such as this. 

He glanced over at the sole bookcase kept beneath one of his windows, and it was packed with the manga books he’d either gotten or was gifted in years past. His gun sat on top of the bookshelf. Staring out into the grounds, 

He suspected tonight’s was especially important for whatever reason, though he wasn’t entirely sure as to why. His father had no immediate plans, as far as he knew, to transfer control yet, even as he took over more and more command over jobs.

The formality of the event was already feeling a touch stifling, though it was perhaps expected.  A holiday such as this tended to be formal, however casual it seemed.

A noise outside his windows caught his attention, as a familiar looking eagle landed in a clatter of wings and feathers into one of his mother’s regularly tended planters.

It could only be Talbott. Crazy bird boy.

He tossed a shirt and some shoes on, and hurried outside to gather his disoriented boy inside. He’d just managed to get inside his bedroom before Talbott returned to his human form. It was a flurry of hushed whispers, and holding each other close, before his sister knocked on his door, passing on a message from the parents wondering if he was ready. He groaned, before a snarky, “Not yet,” led his sister to retort, “You’re taking longer than it took me.” One hastily put together suit for Talbott and possibly setting a land speed record for himself, they were set. Weapons concealed they headed in.

The evening passed in a blur of chatter, good food, and quite a bit of alcohol. He was enjoying the fact that he’d turned seventeen, and could legally partake of some of the drinks, not that had stopped him before now. Skylar was less likely to imbibe as much as him, but even she had her favourites. Even the other guest were slightly less annoying than if Talbott hadn’t decided to come down, and there hadn’t been an open bar. 

Having Talbott there went surprisingly smooth, even if he expected it to go otherwise. His parents, while not wholly thrilled, seemed to accept Talbott with open arms. Skylar seemed thrilled to at least meet him. He wondered if Talbott had received some training, or as really this naturally charming. 

The next day was quiet. The party had lasted a few hours after he, Talbott and Skylar had all been sent off to bed, despite the muted protest of him and his sister. The nearly full moon was also having its impact. Despite that, his sleep wasn’t peaceful, the aches making it difficult.

The next night was the full moon, leading to a small frenzy of activity during the day, as the back room of the house was prepared for his confinement. Older blankets and sheets pulled from the linen cupboard where they were kept, and made into a pseudo-bed on the floor.

It was a rough night, even with the precautions taken. And perhaps because of them. The old shack, while drafty, was roomy. The room, while reasonably warmer, felt cramped and dark. 

Feeling the moon start to wane a number of hours later was a private relief that he’d only admit to himself, even with the magicks his grandfather had worked.

Talbott flew back a couple days later, even as he wished that he would have stayed for the New Year. It wasn’t long after that both he and Skylar were sent back to their respective schools. He was also expected to check in with Madam Pomfrey, which left him snarling. The worst had been bandaged and healed the day after, along with a helping of food and rest.

A stern look from his father left him grumbling to himself, and scowling for the walk outside. He’d be taking another portkey, but to Hogsmeade near the Hog’s Head this time. He felt far too tired still to ask why that hadn’t been what happened before.

It had been a quiet goodbye, and one bumpy portkey trip later, he was back in the cold, white north of Scotland. It was still snowy, and still very cold, and he trudged back to the castle, heading towards the Forbidden Forest before transforming and traveling back that way. The snow and cold permeating his body wasn’t helping, keeping his movements sluggish.

He just managed to transform back, and finding Talbott waiting in the courtyard area. Together, they headed inside, with his grumbling about his father’s orders to visit the infirmary. Talbott made him go as well, if only to check on the state of the newest scars.

Having been poked, prodded, a painful salves applied and two disgusting tasting potions later, Madam Pomfrey released him to go back to the Slytherin common room for more rest.

Back in his dorm, he infinitely glad the holidays were over.

For now.

[lins-fandom-hub]

HPHM BANG 2020

And woohoo, October 1 is here, so why not kick it off with a BANG? Okay, that joke’s been used already--but hey I got a writing work here. And it’s paired with gorgeous artwork done by @swissgirlfromnowhere - I’ll put up a link to the artwork once it’s up! This was really challenging and yet still a lot of fun to write, so I’m really grateful to have signed up for this cool event.

Thanks to @hphmbang2020 for this--now let’s get things going!

---

PROMPT: Faced with attending Hogwarts on her own, having no friends and being a Werewolf, Chiara has problems to adjust to her life as a Hogwarts student and find her way to happiness. But everything changes after she meets a cute little cub from the Forbidden Forest and gets more than she bargained for.

WORD COUNT: 3566

Here’s the artwork!

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LIGHT IN THE DARK

The glow of the flames rising high from the torches did nothing to light the darkness shrouded over the werewolf’s past.

Chiara Lobosca let out a slow, silent exhale, fists clenched at her sides. Hesitation slowed her steps, held her back in the throng of first-year students that surrounded her--the students all eagerly chattering in excitement as they followed their Prefect, Jane Court, to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Any typical kid her age right now would eagerly extend their hand to make a new friend, but she was not like the typical kid her age--not anymore.

Each of them were unaware of what she had been through. It was best to keep it that way.

It was not like she was scared of her own past. With parents that cared so much for her despite her recent afflictions, she felt like she could release her hold on the security blankets wrapped so tightly around her just a little. Still, the memory of her first and only friend learning of this secret and screaming in sheer terror at it when she realized her mistake upon seeing her transformation kept rising in her mind. The sight of what she became, when not the sweet shy girl in the day, led to the shadow forever cast over her head like an indestructible veil.

Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock. The sounds of her Prefect rapping her knuckles on a round wooden door caught her off-guard, but she managed to stop herself before she tripped over her feet. That was when she realized--tonight was the full moon. There was no way she could stay in her dormitory tonight without anyone knowing her secret.

The minute her Prefect dismissed everyone, she departed from the common room at high speed, dodging past the older students making their way into the common room and dashing out into the corridors. With what little strength she had in her conscious effort to distance herself, she wrenched the door open and sprinted across the grounds towards the forest. Her strides never faltered, feet pounding hard on the grass and breathing quickly through her mouth. As she reached the border treeline, she glanced back at the castle, distant lights from the windows twinkling like the stars in the sky.

Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.

---

“Miss Lobosca--a word, if you may.”

The first Potions class came and went, and the conclusion of the hour in the chilly dungeon brought the end of the first day of classes for the first-year students. The Ravenclaws gave a half-hearted cheer in unison as they packed their bags and left in small groups of twos and threes. Some of the Hufflepuffs did the same, anxious to get out of Professor Snape’s way. Chiara was just clearing her things and didn’t even make three steps to the exit when the Potions Master called her to the front. She did so as the last student almost tripped on his loose shoelaces oh his way out of the classroom, deliberately biting back a swear.

“What’s the issue, Professor?” Chiara asked him timidly. “It’s...not about my Cure for Boils, I hope?”

“Your Cure for Boils was...passable,” Professor Snape told her. “At the very least, it was not brewed in a cauldron coated with Bulbadox Powder.” He peered at her face, his scowl deepening. “I didn’t notice that scar on your cheek at the Welcome Feast last night.”

“S-scar?” Chiara’s eyes widened in shock, her hand raised to her cheek where the long red line was etched. Indeed, it was a wound inflicted from the night before--a sharp branch from an unyielding tree drew the mark through her flesh. The initial sting from the impact suddenly multiplied itself tenfold at the memory. “I didn’t know you paid attention to these things, sir.”

“Tch.” Professor Snape stood up straight once more and cleared up his station at the front of the classroom with a wave of his wand. Then he beckoned towards the student with a hand. “Please follow me, Lobosca.”

In a manner that was almost like following a lethargic ghost drifting along, Chiara trailed behind Snape as they walked through the halls. Her skin prickled unpleasantly at every student glancing their way, but she did not look back, paid no heed to their whispers and stares. There was no reason to engage in business that was not hers to meddle in. The further away she stood from them, the better off she would be.

Eventually they reached the school’s hospital ward--a large rectangular chamber lined with beds dressed in light green covers and divided with tall curtains of a similar shade. The vibrant colours of the sunset streamed through the large windows behind the beds, casting a warm glow into the room. Chiara glanced around at all the empty beds--it wouldn’t be long before students started filling them in with Quidditch accidents and other common illnesses ailing them. Then she watched as Professor Snape approached the school matron bustling around with a tray full of medicines--a member of staff she didn’t recall attending the Welcome Feast.

“Professor Snape!” the matron exclaimed. “Didn’t expect you to come here so soon.”

“I brought a student with me here, Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Snape explained, gesturing to Chiara with a hand. “Perhaps she could explain--”

“There’s really no need, Professor,” Chiara interrupted him softly. “It’s just a scratch from a tree branch. It’s nothing to worry about.”

The matron, Madam Pomfrey, took a careful look at the girl, her stern eyes scanning over Chiara’s body almost as if she was performing an X-ray scan. “What’s your name?” she finally asked.

“Chiara Lobosca, ma’am.”

“Were you inflicted with any long-term wounds prior to last night? I was warned by Professor Dumbledore that one of the incoming first-years is a werewolf.”

Chills suddenly rooted Chiara to the spot at the sudden question, the cold tingles shooting down her limbs numbing her coherent thoughts. She nodded tersely. “Yes, I was bitten by a werewolf when I was seven. I had to run to the Forbidden Forest last night following the Welcome Feast so I wouldn’t...disturb anyone.”

At this statement, Professor Snape’s stern face suddenly morphed into a sneer, hands clenched into fists at his side. Madam Pomfrey, however, just nodded in thought--a reaction Chiara did not expect.

“I see. You are not the first student who has come here with a lycanthropic affliction,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And thankfully this time around we have a potential solution that could relieve the symptoms, if not cure them entirely--”

“Is there?” Chiara tilted her head a little.

“Yes, Wolfsbane Potion. It is very expensive and advanced to brew, but with the resources we have here I’m sure it would be worth it to see you succeed at Hogwarts,” Madam Pomfrey reassured her, turning towards Professor Snape who looked like he just swallowed a toad. “Is that right, Professor Snape?”

Despite the discomfort projected on the Potion Master’s face, he managed to nod. “Of course, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Now, really. We must ensure that everyone remains safe and well here regardless of what happens,” Madam Pomfrey said crossly. Then she turned back to Chiara. “I’ll heal your scars, and then Professor Snape will brew the Wolfsbane Potions for you. You must take one dose per day for a full week prior to the full moon, otherwise the potion will be ineffective.”

“What will happen by the next full moon if I do take all the doses?” Chiara asked as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over the scars.

“I imagine you will still transform, but retain human intelligence,” Professor Snape responded.

Retain human intelligence? Chiara scrunched her face up in concern, but she knew better than to ask--no one here had had her condition and received this treatment before. She simply nodded again, turning her attention instead to the way Madam Pomfrey healed her wounds with her wand. There was definitely something enchanting about healing magic, the way it closed wounds faster than leaving them to nature and time. As the mark on her face finally faded away, she smiled ruefully as she lifted a hand to feel the newly healed skin.

“There we go--I think those are all the wounds I see,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And...Miss Lobosca?”

“Yes?”

“Do be careful, alright?”

She saw the concern glimmering in the matron’s eyes--the same glimmer in her parents’ eyes reminding her of how much she will always be pitied because of how different she was--and she nodded again.

“I will.”

---

The sunny day that beckoned to her a week after the visit to the Hospital Wing did nothing to ease her mind. Sitting in a shaded corner by the courtyard, her Herbology textbook propped open in her lap, Chiara watched as her peers socialized in small groups of twos and threes, reading together or playing Gobstones together, eating sweets or simply having a chat. She could see the Weasley brothers laughing by the fountain’s edge, Charlie flapping his arms almost as if he was a huge dragon with fiery breath. She could see Tulip and Andre playing Gobstones off to her right, the latter almost shrieking as the liquid from the marble squirted all over his robes and his opponent squealed in laughter. She could see Penny being bombarded by other students to talk about gossip going around the school. All of them had bright smiles on their faces--smiles that were natural, not forced out of fear.

She was once able to smile like that too. The days she spent with Selina felt like so long ago, a time that seemed to belong to someone else…

“Hey! Chiara! Catch me if you can!”

She could see her friend dashing away to their usual spot in the park--the big oak tree that stood a little ways away from the playset-- and she laughed as she ran to catch up to her, a wild laugh escaping into the air. The grass felt so soft beneath her bare feet, springing beneath her soles as if she was running atop a trampoline. A warm breeze blew past, lifting her hair and her spirits up so high--and then she finally tapped the trunk of the oak tree, dashing just past her friend at the last second.

“Gotcha!”

“Aw, not again!” Selina cried, folding her arms in mock anger. “You’ve always beat me in every foot race!”

“What can I say? I guess I’m just naturally good at it,” Chiara said with a shrug, slumping down toward the grass with a happy sigh. “Can’t believe the summer flew by so fast too.”

“Like the messenger god on swift wings,” Selina remarked in agreement. “Time plays funny tricks on all of us, it seems.”

Yes, time played funny tricks on everyone who knew no better than her. Why she even told Selina about her lycanthropy in the first place, she would never say out loud without seeing her terrified face--a face that tore into a single shriek.

“MONSTER!”

Could that really be all she was? Would anyone see her for what she can be without the light of the full moon?

There was one wound Madam Pomfrey could never heal. Chiara looked down at the scar Madam Pomfrey did not touch--the bite delivered by Fenrir Greyback when she was younger. It was sealed by other Healers with powdered silver and dittany, but it could not completely remove the damage. It was this very scar that changed her life forever. It was this scar that turned her from a simple human girl to a monster.

But things could look up here. Like everyone else in the courtyard, she was still a student. She was already contributing to Hogwarts’ legacy in some way--that had to count for something, right?

She closed her book just in time to see a toad hop over to her, a golden Dungbomb strapped onto its back gleaming in the sunlight.

“Oh, hello,” she said tentatively, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

That was when she heard a laugh from above her, and Tulip stooped down to pick up the toad.

“Dennis, what did I tell you about hopping away so much?” Tulip reprimanded the toad lightly, scooping it up with her hand. “Next time, stay where you are, or else I can’t find you and I might panic.” She glanced over at Chiara and smiled broadly. “Thanks for helping me find my toad.”

“Huh? Oh. It’s nothing,” Chiara murmured with a nod.

Tulip eventually departed with Dennis still in hand, and Chiara sighed in relief. She couldn’t risk having another friend. She couldn’t risk getting close to anyone again.

Perhaps she would never smile like she used to again.

---

In the days that followed, Chiara found being at Hogwarts rather enjoyable. Herbology, Potions, and Charms were such fun to learn--all the Professors gave her praise whenever she did well, and encouragement when things got tough. She even decided to help Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, which the matron greatly appreciated as students began to come in with ailments all over. In some way, accepting the letter to come to Hogwarts was probably one of the best things Chiara had ever done. Here she could forget about her own troubles, even for a fleeting moment, and find a purpose here.

However, the reminder of her troubles and the next full moon eventually brought her back to reality when she was once again called to the front of the classroom by Professor Snape after lessons. As the other students filed out once more in groups of two or three, she approached the Potions Master, apprehension settling in over her face.

“Muffliato,” Professor Snape muttered, waving his wand at the door. Then he turned to Chiara. “Wait here, Lobosca.”

He briefly left the room, ducking ino hisoffice, and came back out a few moments later with a goblet in hand. “Your Wolfsbane Potion dose for today, Lobosca.”

The goblet of potion looked very unsuspecting--filled to the top with dark blue liquid and emitting light blue smoke from the surface. She tilted her head at the goblet, then looked at Professor Snape. “It’s...supposed to look like this?”

“Yes, Lobosca. Now drink it.”

It was like tasting a soiled apple pie meleed with garlic and ghost chili peppers; as the concoction slipped down her throat with every sip, she had to resist every urge to gag. She glanced up at the Potion Master from the rim of her goblet, only to see his hardened glare forcing her to drink the rest of it in one gulp.

“Unpleasant, isn’t it?”

Chiara put the goblet down delicately and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s certainly...different,” she managed to say.

“Adding sugar to the potion would also render it ineffective,” Professor Snape warned her. Then he handed her a large bottle filled to the brim with the dark blue brew. “Remember, you must take one gobletful of the potion each day before the full moon. This should be enough to last you the rest of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

The Wolfsbane Potion was not easy to stomach, let alone swallow, yet it was a medicine she dutifully took every morning prior to breakfast. Thankfully, no one asked her about her sudden change in morning routine. The foul taste of the potion did not stick around for very long in her mouth, either; it was easily doused with a sip of fresh ice cold water a few moments later. Still, Chiara had second thoughts about what would happen when the full moon rose. Could a werewolf really still retain human intelligence under its effects? What if the effects that she experienced weren’t what she was promised? 

Eventually, the night of the full moon came around once more. Somehow, she felt that everything she had worked up to belonged to another student that should have been sleeping soundly in her cozy bed in the dormitory, safe and sound in the castle. As she ran out into the open air once more, sprinting across the grounds towards the forest, she felt uncertainty creep up her throat, the foul taste of the Wolfsbane Potion coating her tongue in place of the bile that usually came from shortness of breath and lack of stamina. 

Running in pure joy was one thing; running out of fear was another thing entirely.

Her feet slowed as she approached the treeline of the Forbidden Forest once more, and she glanced back at the castle, at the twinkling lights from the castle windows. For some reason this time, the view gave her a small glimmer of hope. Somehow, tonight, everything was going to be fine.

Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.

---

It was the sounds of birds chirping in the early morning that woke her from her deep slumber, the warmth of the sunrise seeping through her tensed cramped muscles. Chiara’s eyes slowly fluttered open, only to quickly shut again at the intense red-orange glow of the sun; she pushed herself up on her palms, the miniscule sticks and stones beneath her palms digging into her skin, and quickly surveyed her surroundings.

She seemed to be in a wooded clearing surrounded by bushes, trees with low branches serving a canopy over her head to shelter her from further dangers. Glancing around now at the forest in the day, she felt much more refreshed and energized than she ever had before following her transformations. She dusted her hands clean from the stones and sticks stuck on her palms and checked her face; there were no drying scabs, no scratches from what she could feel.

A small smile blossomed over Chiara’s face as she sat up, her eyes soon adjusted to the sunrise’s light. Somehow, she managed to make it through the night without a single murderous motive crossing her mind--what’s more, she survived without getting hurt herself. The Wolfsbane Potion truly worked after all.

“Borf!”

A chipper bark suddenly jolted Chiara up in her seat; her head whirled around now at the sound. Wherever could it be coming from?

“Borf!”

She tilted her head now at the rustling bushes to her right, a slow exhale escaping her lips. This couldn’t be one of the dangers in the Forbidden Forest now, could it?

“Borf borf!”

And out from the bushes burst a little pup with pointed ears, shining black eyes, and fluffy dark grey fur that bounced with every bound towards the girl. Its mouth turned up into a smile as it stopped by her knees, a playful gleam illuminating its eyes.

“Oh. Hello there,” Chiara murmured softly, holding a tentative hand out. “You’re a really cute little pup, aren’t you?”

“Borf!”

It didn’t seem to be in a hurry to run off. Perhaps it sensed that she was one of its kind and wanted to keep her company. Nonetheless, it didn’t seem to be a danger at all. Smiling faintly now at the memory of the first awkward encounter she had with Dennis, Chiara slowly reached out and lightly pet the pup on the head, which earned her a soft hum.

A docile wolf pup...she faintly recalled one of the Healers treating her wounds making a passing comment about werewolf pups. Werewolf pups were conceived when two werewolves mated whilst transformed under the full moon, and they were not savage beasts at all; in fact, they were known to be very intelligent and beautiful. Now she knew what they meant--indeed, they were very beautiful. And somehow, this one knew she was one of them.

Just knowing that it didn’t judge her at all for what she was made her feel immensely grateful.

Eventually, Chiara made her way back to the edge of the Forest; the sun had just about fully risen, and if she didn’t hurry she would be late for her first lesson of the day. She looked back at the Forest now, an immense wash of relief flooding her entire body--and her eyes fell upon the little wolf pup who had followed her all this way.

“Borf!” the pup called, wagging its tail excitedly once more.

Chiara chuckled as she approached the pup once more, giving him an affectionate pat on the head. “Looks like you really like me, huh?”

“Borf!”

“Well, I’ll say,” Chiara smiled. “I have to go back to the school, but I’ll see you later...Borf.”

“Borf borf!” The pup’s eyes gleamed in such an adorable way that made Chiara grin.

A light feeling enveloped Chiara’s mind and soul as she skipped through the grounds and blended in with the students now milling through the halls getting to where they needed to go. Somehow, the prospect of fitting in at Hogwarts without being judged was not as dim as she once thought it to be. In fact, there was no harm in being different--not when somewhere she could be accepted for what she could not control. 

She smiled as she headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, thankful for Borf and all the joy and hope he brought her.

In some way, he was the light she needed that lifted the shadow of doubt that haunted her past. 

#hphm bang 2020 #this was fun to write #though challenging #anyway here we go #chiara lobosca #hphm chiara lobosca #hogwarts mystery fic #hphm fic

[visceryl]

“Who’s Side Are You On?” - HPHM

Hello! Finally did a long overdue prompt for @thewasp1995 that includes David Grant, my MC Konnor Rainwater, and @hogwartsmysterystory ‘s Ethren Whitecross. Enjoy whatever the hell this is XD

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

Footsteps clicked in even echoes against the stone floors, leaving a wet squelch and damp impressions of a shoe in their wake before traveling onwards to the red runner spanning up to the Gryffindor Tower. 

Konn approached with impatient trembles to his white knuckled fists as a cool anger surged rampant through his skull. Like a pound of blood slamming against his temples. He was soaked from head to toe, ignoring the passing gazes a few red robed kids sent him on their way to classes. 

“My my, a drowned snake approaches!” the portrait on the wall sang. 

The plump woman within the golden frame feigned back against her lounge, a pillow blanketing her head as her gaze turned watchful on the boy.

Konnor scoffed, his footsteps stalling against the otherwise blank stone brick wall that seemed to be nothing but a dead end. 

“I’m not here for games. I just need to see a friend.”

“I am sure, my boy, but you’re not going anywhere without the password.” 

A smile glittered on the portraits features and a hand rose to cup around her ear as if yearning for some far off sound.

“I don’t know the damn code, please. I know David is in there.”

“Language!” she chastised. “No code, no entry.”

Konn ground his teeth together, his jaw jumping with irritable strain. Pandering to the woman’s request, his gaze flitted back towards where a stream of students had just left the Gryffindor Common Room. It seemed they’d already turned the corner and disappeared. 

For the love of-

Wait. He knew this.

The Slytherin stalled on his heel, digging it in as a forearm raced up to brush white locks of hair back from their plastered position upon his forehead. The tips that had stained a soft pink with growing agitation slowly began to fade.

He turned back towards the lady in the portrait. 

Luckily, Konnor had been there just a few days back with Charlie and Hal, it hadn’t yet hit the weekly mark where another passcode would inevitably take its place. 

“Inexcussus,” he tested on his tongue. 

The woman broke into another smile, waving her hand. “Yes yes, my boy, very well, go on in.”

Her portrait swung forward to reveal a sizable hole in the brick. Stepping through, the Slytherin was welcomed by a warm hearth, the fire blazing warm and casting a deep red glow across the entirety of the common room. Long stained glass windows lined the walls gazing out far and wide over the Hogwarts grounds, transparent golden curtains draped down over them. Plush red armchairs and couches crowded the fireplace while a looming spiral staircase led up behind into the dorms.

It had all but emptied out now. 

With students attending their classes, Konnor knew only one person who’d still surely be floating about. It also happened to be the one guy he desperately needed to talk to if only for his sanity.

“David? Are you still alive in here?” 

His voice echoed up the staircase, overpowering the cracks and pops of the blazing fire. No answer.

Again, Konnor’s fists clenched and unclenched as he eased himself in passing breaths. This was ridiculous. He hated that he had even wound up here, but after today’s fiasco in potions with Merula… 

He was still dripping from where the pot had opened up into a geyser right in his face. The whole class had laughed, let alone what Snape had thought with his usual disapproving look. It scalded in the back of his mind.

That girl was nothing but trouble when left to her own devices. 

Even from year one, Konnor and Merula had never gotten along. Always bickering and costing each other precious house points. She had gotten better over time, they could tolerate one another on most occasions, but ever since her and David had opted for a break in their short lived relationship, she’d been gunning for a distraction.

A distraction that came in the form of pestering Konnor.

He blew out a frustrated breath, raking his fingers through his hair and dragging nails along his scalp. “Come on, David!” 

Konnor gripped the railing, twisting himself to leap past the first two steps of the winding staircase, and began to ascend. Quickly, he found himself in the boy’s dorms, his head poking around the doorway to glance inside.

Empty. 

Save for a single figure lumped beneath the blankets. 

Konn pushed his way in, nearly tripping over several belongings of other Gryffindor’s strewn across the floor. In a series of beds decorated in more golds and reds, he could see several personalities. Ben’s clean and tidy nook, Ethren’s disaster zone with an unmade bed and books scattered about, and David’s. 

His was somewhere in between, the dead giveaway the guitar leaned at the very end of his bed. 

“Are you really going to ignore your visitor who has so graciously blessed you with his presence?”

The blankets rumpled with a tired grunt as dark brown hair poked out in various angles from beneath. Finally, with a heave, David pushed himself up. His legs swung over the edge of the bed, a hand at his head. 

“I didn’t realize I was entertaining the Queen.”

“What does this have to do with- Oh, hey. You know what? Fuck you.”

A breathy chuckle left David’s lips as his arms shot up in the air. He stretched, his left shoulder popping and muscles straining before finally murky blue eyes found Konnor.

“Did you go for a swim?”

“Courtesy of your ex in the middle of Potions,” Konn retorted dryly. 

Ex seemed a poor choice of words as David’s gaze quickly skated away. He had a funny way of showing he was hurting by always avoiding it.

The Slytherin quickly went on to correct himself, breathing out a sigh. “Hey, you mind giving me a quick dry, at least? I just want to talk about this.”

“She’s not my problem anymore, Konnor. I can’t help her if I can’t help myself. If she wants to go around acting like a deranged wolverine, kudos. I'm done.” He stood, quickly moving to swipe his wand off of his bedside table and pointed it at his friend. 

A swift incantation sent a powerful gust of warm air spiraling out over Konn. His robes flew back, hair whipping about. When the spell faded, he looked grossly windswept, but dry. 

Quickly, Konnor moved to lick his hands, smoothing down the fluffy cloud of white hair puffed atop his head. 

“Thanks for that.”

“You asked.” 

David threw himself back onto his bed, this time with arms locked behind his head and knees bent to leave room for the Slytherin. Picking up on it, Konnor collapsed at the end of the bed, the subtle thrum of the guitar jostling at the end of the Gryffindor’s bed catching his attention. 

“...Alright, look. I’m not going to pretend to understand what is going on with you two. Honestly, the hot and cold is hard to keep up with, but Merula has gone right back to pestering me as always.” 

“What she does when we’re not together isn’t anything I’m concerned with. Sorry if it ends up on you.”

“So you really don’t care at all that she’s taking up old behaviors?”

“No.”

There was a slight raise of octave in David’s voice and he sat up enough to come to eye level with his friend. His gaze held warning. “I can’t care about a single damn thing she does, Konnor. I’m losing my fucking marbles as it is, so lay off.”

A quiet scoff left the Slytherin’s lips and he fell back to drape half off the bed going across it, as if in defeat. 

“So what is it? Moving on to Penny? Or Tulip again? What do you hope to gain here by fucking every girl you see? They deserve better than that.”

“Well that isn’t any of your business.”

“Isn’t it? They’re my friends too. Just because they care about you doesn’t mean you should take advantage of them.”

David felt himself bristle. “The hell do you know? You used Tulip once. She's perfectly happy being a fuck buddy.”

“I asked her to be my fake girlfriend, there is a difference. If you plan to focus on yourself, actually do it. Don’t focus between their legs.”

Konnor knew he was testing the boy’s patience. He noted the way fists curled into bed sheets to keep from hauling off at his friend.

“You know what, just forget it. Who’s side are you even on here?” Konnor questioned.

“The side that enjoys female company that isn't Merula with a pint in between. Anything else?”

It was hard to argue. As much as Konnor desperately couldn’t handle another phase of Merula’s tyranny, it wasn’t as if it was truly detrimental to his health. She’d grown past actually trying to genuinely harm him. At the end of the day, they shared friends, shared goals. 

He couldn’t rely on David for this. Even if his coping raised a fire in the Slytherin’s gut, he had no right to butt in.

“You’re impossible, it’s not like I can stop you, so your side it is. We’ve all had it hard haven’t we?”

The tension in David began to release as the other boy backed down from his stance. He always riled so easy. His shoulders sank. “That’s an understatement.”

“It is. But fuck Merula and fuck everything else.”

Konnor rolled onto his side, his arm lashing out to find the glossy red guitar. His fingers curled around its neck and in a single sweep he lofted it onto the bed, brandishing it for the Gryffindor’s taking.

“What are you doing?”

“Catch up, David. I’ve been ordering muggle rock tapes by owl every week now. Hal got me that cassette tape and I’ve practically run it into the ground with overuse.”

“You want me to play?”

Konn jammed his arm out behind him, swinging his weight up off his elbow to dig both feet back into the rug laid out beneath David’s bed. He swiftly spun on his heel, striking a pose and mimicking playing his invisible air guitar. 

“I learned different guitars make different sounds, eh? So we’ll just have to be imaginative. Give me ‘Sharp Dressed Man’ on three.”

David didn’t have it in him to deny such a request. With an amused sigh, he eased the guitar into his lap, letting his fingers find the strings. His thumb brushed over once in testing. 

“You’re crazy. You know this won’t sound even close to the same, right? Mine’s-”

“I am crazy. This place makes us crazy, so play that damn guitar and for a second lets not care at all. Snape gave me detention.”

That time, the brunette truly laughed. He shook his head, finding the chords in the back of his mind, and began to strum. 

The acoustic was incredibly different from the electric rock song that hit much harder with available muggle technology, but Konnor jumped in immediately. Not a singer by any means, but bold enough in the quiet of the Boy’s dorms to belt out the lyrics as he knew them. 

David was much more talented. A musical savant for someone who rarely showed off, his voice made up for Konn’s sharper pitch as the Slytherin tried to contain his own laughter. 

Over the noise, they scarcely heard the approach of another up the steps. Not until caught dead in the act of furious head bobbing to their own shitshow.

“This is why Konnor isn’t allowed in the Gryffindor rooms,” a voice muttered.

David paused mid stroke, his hand clasping down over the guitar strings as a coy smirk lifted towards Ethren who rubbed his temples in the doorway.

“Oh shut up, Whitecross, we’re having a pity party,” Konnor retorted.

“I’d pity myself too if I sounded like that.”

David gave a snort. “You know bloody well I got the pipes of Bon Jovi. Care to liven us up with your tone deafness?”

“No thanks.” Ethren swung around to his side of the room, collapsing down on his bed with his eyes closed. 

Several moments of silence ticked by before finally a baby blue peeked open towards the two out of breath boys across from him. 

“Well? I never said you had to stop. I could use the laugh.”

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #writing #prompt #David Grant #Konnor Rainwater #Ethren Whitecross #Merula Snyde

[angellazull]

The Beginning of a Fraternal Bond - Part 1

Dedicated to my brother @hphm-roger, thank you very much for being my friend and brother.

Angelo was trying to keep his attention fully focused on his cauldron, he didn't want to make any mistakes, especially now that he knew that Snape found out that he and Penny had been raiding the potions room to steal ingredients for the Polyjuice potion, so in the last classes Snape has been watching him, like a vulture, and the Ravenclaw didn't want to give the potions master any reason to scold him or take points from his house. However, even with his attention focused on the preparation of the beautification potion, as soon as the professor approached Angelo's table he asked with a strange calm:

"What do you think you're doing, Lancaster?"

"Sir?" Angelo asked without understanding what the professor was referring to.

"What do you think you are preparing in that cauldron, Lancaster?" Professor Snape asked again calmly, but it was possible to see the impatience on Snape's face.

"The beautification potion, sir." Angelo replied looking at the professor.

"I see that you are now in the process of letting the potion boil."

"Yes, sir."

"So you already added all of your ingredients?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lancaster, read the fifth line of the ingredient list and then the fourth line of the cooking method on the blackboard." Snape ordered indicating the slate with the ingredients and the potion preparation formula.

Angelo forced his vision to be able to see what was written on the blackboard through the darkness and the fumes of the other students' potion.

"Rose petals and… after adding the fairy wings, slowly add the rose petals and stir seven times in a clockwise direction, as you do this the potion will begin to emit colored bubbles."

"Where's your rose petals, Lancaster?" Asked Snape now showing his hidden impatience.

Angelo looked at his ingredients and felt his blood freeze, he had not taken the red rose petals that the potion instructed, and did not put it in the mixture, lowering his eyes he said:

"I… I… forgot, sir, I didn't take the rose petals."

"Do you know what that means, Lancaster?"

"That my potion is wrong." Angel replied.

"Not just wrong, Lancaster, means that it is useless, a waste of time and a waste of ingredients that could be used by more skilled and competent students than you." Snape said with a dismissive tone in his voice. But a defeated smile appeared on his face. "But honestly, I was mistaken, you don't look like your brother, as far as I know, Jacob Lancaster was competent enough to read and follow the instructions for preparing a potion, you on the other hand, I believe the biggest mystery that predominates at Hogwarts, that's why I still allow you and your inability in my class, Lancaster. "

Angelo felt his cheeks go red, today he really had been trying hard not to make a mistake, but it wasn't enough, he had made one more mistake. Merula and Ismelda who sat next to Angel started to laugh at him which made the boy's face with blue hair turn even redder.

"Lopez." He called Snape.

"Yes sir?"

A student sitting at the next table spoke up, his extremely black hair was well cut and fell on his forehead, by the green and silver colors on his uniform, the boy was from Slytherin.

"From the next class, you will sit next to Lancaster and help him, let's see if he can stop wasting the valuable ingredients at Hogwarts."

"Yes sir." The Slytherin boy agrees.

Pulling the wand out of the inside of his robes and ordered "Evanesco' in Angelo's cauldron making the entire potion disappear, leaving Angelo crestfallen, maybe he really is a potions disaster, and the worst thing was that if he didn't get an 'O' in your OWLs, would be the end of your dream of being an auror.

When the potions class ended, the Ravenclaw collected his material and proceeded to the next class, transfiguration. At least, in transfiguration, Angel was not a disaster, on the contrary, he was one of the best students of his year, Professor McGonagall sometimes even taught him more advanced and more complex spells that his year's curriculum had to offer, the professor was even considering starting to teach the theory of human transfiguration, even though she did not intend to teach practical spells, but nothing that Angel could not learn on her own.

"Don't be sad about what professor Snape said, you may not be good at potions, but you are amazing with the wand." Rowan tried to cheer up Angel who was looking defeated. "You can do spells that many seventh graders can't."

"Thanks, Rowie, but I'm not sad about what Snape said, I'm already used to people talking to me like that." Angel forced a smile at his friend. "I am sad because we are already in the fourth year, and I am still a potions disaster, in the first year I thought it was bad because it was the first time I prepared a potion, but I did not improve at all, Snape is right I am an incompetent."

"You are not incompetent, he said inability, not incompetent, and look on the bright side, you stopped blowing up the cauldrons."

"Yes, to melt them as was the case with the dasdores elixir." Replied Angelo, remembering the time he opened a hole in the cauldron causing the potion to leak all over the table. "I lost fifteen points from the Ravenclaw that day."

In the end it stole some laughs from the two crowds. Upon arriving at the classroom, the students sat in their seats while the teacher waited for the students in front of their desk.

"Good morning students." He greeted the teacher when everyone was in place. "Today we will continue to review the Colorvaria spell, but those who have already managed to perform the spell can open their books on page 307, the Serpensortia spell."

Angelo was an expert at Colorvaria, his hair was proof of that, and as he had read the entire book at least three times, so he basically already knew all the concepts of that spell, so he simply decided to watch his colleagues progress, Rowan managed to make his cat's orange fur turn scarlet, Talbott, just as Angel had also managed to change his cat's color from gray to sky blue in the past class, so he just read the book. However, what caught the attention of the boy with blue hair, was the Slytherin student named Lopez, he was trying, but all he managed to do was create some green balls on his white cat, his attempts seemed to have no effect on cat, who seemed to get more and more impatient with the boy.

The class progressed and some students managed to change the color of the cats, but others did not make much progress. At the end of class Professor McGonagall said:

"Everyone is already dismissed, with the exception of you, Mr. Lopez." As the students left, Roger talked to Professor McGonagall that as soon as Angelo headed for the exit, he heard the teacher calling him. "Mr. Lancaster, come here, please."

As soon as he approached the table, his sapphire blue eyes soon met the boy's brown eyes with a little doubt.

"Mr. Lancaster, this is Roger Lopez, Mr. Lopez, this is Angelo Lancaster, Mr. Lopez is having difficulties in my classes, and as you are one of the best students in that class, I believe that with your influence and guidance during classes, I believe he can improve your skills, so I would like to ask that from the next class on, you can sit next to him, please."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

Angelo agreed to make Professor McGonagall's request come true, but he was not very sure about it, he had never guided anyone before, he had already explained the historical events of History of Magic or explained the functions of some spells to some friends more intimate, who were no longer part of their circle of friends, with scorn to them, Angel had never guided a complete stranger, it made him nervous, with a nervous look at Roger, he forced a shy smile, at Roger who looked shyly for Angel too, that would be something new. Snape had commissioned Roger, who should logically be a great potions student, to help him with his potions, now McGonagall was tasked with Angel to guide Roger through his transfiguration lessons, either that was a secret arrangement from the teachers, or a coincidence extremely timely, and in a way, Angelo was eager to see where it would take him.

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After seeing the drawing of my soul brother, Roger Lopez, did, it inspired me to finally write about how Angel and Roger's friendship started. I hope you like the first part.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #angelo lancaster #roger lopez #my writing

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

To Your Beautiful

A/N #1: While this story is part of my Celestial Ball series, it was written for the HPHM Body Positivity Challenge by @aleksia-aries-hogwartsmystery (aka @thereluctantherosrose). Here are the other parts of my Celestial Ball series: You’ve Got a Friend in Me | Distraction | Something There | One Step Closer | Fashion Emergency | Get Your Head in the Game | Der Walzer von Alice | Of Quidditch and Ballgowns 

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Alice had had a very long day. Classes all day, followed by a quick dance lesson with Diego and Charlie, then diner, after which she studied for an upcoming exam in Care of Magical Creatures with Charlie, before being dragged away by Rowan to work on the potion essay due tomorrow. She needed time to relax before going to bed, even if it meant being out past curfew. She was lucky enough to be a Prefect, which meant she had access to the Prefect’s bathroom and its pool-like tub. She quietly made her way to the bathroom, which wasn’t too far from the Ravenclaw common room. She opened the door just enough to make sure the coast was clear before entering and locking the door.

She went in the tub and sat down, taking a deep breath as the warmth of the water relaxed her tense muscles. She closed her eyes, trying to unwind. After about half an hour, she got out of the bath, grabbing a towel in the process. As she was drying herself, she caught her reflection in one of the mirrors. Staring at her reflection, she couldn’t help but think about what Andre and Diego kept saying: “All eyes will be on you at the ball.”

“All eyes will be on me…” she muttered as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She hadn’t really noticed them before, but she had a few scars here and there on her arms. The Cursed Vaults had left their mark. Those scars were actually not very apparent, but the more Alice stared at them, the bigger they seemed. What would people say if they saw those scars? Not if, but when they saw them… All eyes would be on her, those scars would be the only thing anyone would notice thanks to her sleeveless dress and her being in the group that would open the ball. With those thoughts in mind, she put on her nightgown and quickly headed back to her dorm.

The next day, Alice could be seen glancing at her reflection in any form of reflective surfaces, may it be an actual mirror, a window, or even the surface of her potion, which had let to Snape commenting that staring intensely at her potion would not make it better. At the end of her last class of the day, she made a beeline for the library, thinking there might be something in one of those books that could help her with her scar situation. 

Once inside the library, she was faced with the daunting task of finding a book that would solve her problem. It’s not like she could ask Madam Pince. The school’s librarian would probably just tell her that the library is meant to further one’s knowledge, not deal with teenager’s insecurities, or something like that. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the Potions section, thinking this was where she had the best chance to find a concoction to deal with scars.

As she was looking at the various books on the shelves, she saw a pair of blue eyes looking at her from the other side, making her yelp. 

“Shhhh,” she heard Madam Pince say from somewhere in the library.

“Alice? What are you doing here?” whispered Penny from the other side of the bookcase.

“Looking for something. That’s what the library’s for, right?” replied Alice, trying to avoid the blue eyes staring at her.

“Sure, but I’ve never seen you in this section. You always come to me when you have potion questions,” pointed out Penny.

She was right. When it came to potions, Alice always went to Penny for information. The girl was a walking potion encyclopedia!

“It’s… personal,” muttered Alice, looking away.

“How personal can it be? You came to me when you needed a potion to deal with your monthly cramps! Can’t get any more personal than that,” remarked Penny.

“I know, but… Ugh! Alright, I’ll tell you. So, you know how Andre and Diego keep telling me all eyes will be on me at the ball?”

“Sure. You are the Curse-Breaker, and you’re part of the group that’s going to dance first.”

“Precisely! That means everyone will have plenty of time to observe everything about me, including my scars.”

“Scars? What scars? You don’t have any scars.”

“I do. On my arms. You’ve never seen them because we’re always wearing long sleeves, but they are there!”

“Alice, we’ve seen each other plenty of times during the summer, so I’ve seen your arms plenty of times. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen any scars on your arms,” said Penny as she joined her friend on her side of the bookcase.

“Maybe you weren’t paying attention, but they are definitely there,” grumbled Alice, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Then show me,” replied Penny, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“What?! But I can’t remove my clothes here!”

“Roll up your sleeves, you big dummy!”

“Oh… Right…” replied Alice before removing her robe and her sweater, and rolling up the sleeves of her shirt to show Penny part of her arms. “See?”

“See what?” asked Penny, staring at her friend’s arms.

“Here and there! Scars!” said Alice, pointing at various spots on her arms.

“What? These tiny things? I think I would need a magnifying glass to really see them.”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings, Penny. People will see them in my sleeveless dress!”

“I really don’t get what the fuss is all about. Even if they were big enough for people to see them without a microscope, you shouldn’t be ashamed of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“These are the marks left by the Vaults, the proof you vanquished them. You should be proud of them. They show that you are brave and not afraid to fight for what is right. They are a part of you. And if anyone says anything mean about you during the ball, I’ll put a hair-growing potion in their drinks that will make them look like the Yeti. But, believe me, no one will say anything spiteful when they see you dancing with Charlie. You are beautiful just the way you are,” said Penny before hugging her.

Alice stood there, taking in what Penny had just told her, realizing she was right. She hugged her Hufflepuff friend back, whispering in her ear: “Thanks, I think I needed to hear this.”

After parting ways, Alice left the library with a smile on her face. She had found what she had been looking for.

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A/N #2: Hope you enjoyed this little fic! Feel free to leave a comment.

#hphm fanfic #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery fanfic #hphm #hogwarts mystery mc #alice beaumont #penny haywood

[slytherinliththorne]

Tagged by @angellazull​ <333

Hogwarts Mystery Surway

As much as she liked talking about herself, as any other person does, Lith wasn’t very fond of interviews. Most of the time the only questions revolved around her brother and the Cursed Vaults. In spite of that, she found herself facing a strange person with quill and parchment ready. There was no point in lying, she thought, so the questions began.

Favorite Gryffindor:

“Ah this one is tough, I have two favorite Gryffindors. Bill and Charlie Weasley were unexpected friends, but I’m very glad they are part of my life.” Lith wondered before adding, “Maybe Jae too, I mean, I just met him but he has this way of getting away with stuff that I appreciate in allies.”

Least Favourite Gryffindor:

“Does Emily Tyler count? She disrespected my friends and that’s unforgivable. On thr other hand, there is Ben, but currently I don’t have anything against him.” 

Favorite Hufflepuff:

"Chiara, my baby!!" Lith answered inmediately, “We had a weird start, with the whole wereworlf secret, but I guess we bonded over our respective...peculiarities. It’s nice knowing someone gets it and the trio dinamic we have with Rowan works very good. I’m proud to call her one of my best friends.”

Least Favorite Hufflepuff:

Lith looked at the interviewer, hesitating. “I’m not sure, I don’t think I dislike any Hufflepuff, I mean, mostly I hace a neutral opinion on them...” She hums while thinking about an answer. “If I really have to choose...then Tonks. I don’t dislike her, but pranking just for the sake of pranking is not my thing.”

Favorite Ravenclaw:

“Oh god, this question” Lith mumbles as she tries to remain indifferent, a slight shade of pink coloring her cheeks. “Well, I think the answer is Talbott. Our friendship originated similarly to Chiara’s. I have found in him a great listener and company, and, overall...I enjoy spending time with him.”

Least Favorite Ravenclaw:

“Least favorite Ravenclaw? Mmm, I don´t have particularly negative feelings towards any of them but I would consider Andre since we don’t interact that much outside class or special events.”

Favorite Slytherin:

"Felix Rosier, a big platonic crush of mine” Lith laughs sheepishly. “He was way too obsessed with house points but he taught me a lot while he was my prefect. I know I haven’t seen him in about a year but I hope he is doing fine.” 

Least Favorite Slytherin:

“Uh, it’s a tie between Ismelda and Merula. Merula has been acting...nicer, I guess, since fifth year started so maybe Ismelda will be the only one here at the end.”

Favorite Quidditch Character:

“Quidditch?” Lith has never played quidditch in her life and has no intention of doing so, therefore she is not very familiar with the players. “Well I don’t personaly know anyone of the Quidditch people but Rowan and Charlie have dragged me to a few matches, so...the Slytherin captain, Orion Amari, seems nice so I guess him?”

Least Favorite Quidditch Character:

“I’ve crossed paths with that Skye Parkin girl, and she is...truly something”

Favorite Teacher:

“This is hard to tell” Lith sighs and shifts unconfortable. “I must admit that Rakepick is one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. At first I hated her, but now it’s difficult to do so. I still feel furious at her sometimes, tho, as much as I admire her I know I have to be careful around her.”

“Aside from her, Professor Kettleburn is close to being my favorite.”

Least Favorite Teacher:

A person immediately came to her mind and Lith answered with a little disgust in her voice, “Snape, he may be my Head of House but that doesn’t make him less horrible.” She then stops for a minute before continuing, “This is going to sound odd, but recently...Professor Dumbledore...has been...you know...I just don’t trust him anymore.”

Favorite Non-Teacher Adult:

“Well...I haven’t interacted with pleasant Non-Teacher Adults- no wait, Bill and Charlie’s parents! Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! They were really sweet.” 

Least Favorite Non-Teacher Adult:

“Ugh, this one’s easy,” Lith frowns, “Where do I even begin? Skeeter, Lockhart, Filch (does that even count?), Cecil Lee...Why are there so many shitty adults?? Who put them in charge??

Rate Rowan on a scale of 1-10, 1 being “Why are we even friends?” and 10 being “BFFs for Life!”:

“11, I would die for them.″

Rate Jacob on a scale of 1-10, 1 being “You’re dead to me” and 10 being “Love you forever, big bro!!”:

Lith shifted, uncomfortable again, “I...don’t know anymore, when we were kids I would have answered 9 without a doubt but now...”

Rate MC and your similarities on a scale of 1-10, 1 being “MC is nothing like me” to 10 being “MC is ttly a self-insert lol”:

Lith laughed, amused at the question. “We are quite similar, aren’t we? We are both called Lith, haha. But, I am more of an idealized version of Ela (that’s her name, just to differentiate us), what she would like to be so it’s like an 8, but I also carry her inner insecurities so thanks for that.”

Favorite Side Quest:

“Mmmm for timed SQ, Talbott’s and Chiara’s, also the Celestial Ball because I went with Rowan and it was just so amazing. The Farwell my prefect or smth SQ was also one of my favorites.”

Least Favorite Side Quest:

“Valentine’s Day SQ, don’t get me wrong, I loved to spend time with Talbott, but Lockhart was a pain in the ass and the tasks were dreadful.” Lith admitted, then added, “Yet again I haven’t completed a lot of SQs, so...”

Your Ideal Ending for Patricia Rakepick:

“Rakepick?” Lith looks confused, and she surely is. The woman hasn’t been the nicest person around but she is a great teacher and surely will help them get to the next Vault. (Honey, you’ve got a big storm coming)

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I never know who to tag but here I go @raeamtrick @catherinestark-hphm @tsikuri @immagrosscandy and whoever wants to do it. Srry if you have already been tagged.

#tag game #hpmh #hphm mc #hp hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #jacob's sibling #lith thorne #hahaha this took longer than expected #i'm drowning in homework tho