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the-al-chemist · 10 months

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The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 36

A/N: the night of the ball has finally arrived, and Ophelia is determined to make the most of this opportunity.

Warnings: Ophelia’s usual antics, plus fake-dating trope gone wrong.

OCs featured/mentioned: Carolyn Nyberg, Selene Fraser, Alan the ferret and Henry Lovecraft @lifeofkaze, Bradford Pendleton, Ivy Anders, Oliver Gerard and Eliot Gerard @kc-and-co, Adelia Selwyn @thatravenpuffwitch, Marigold Sterling and Cledwyn Ironwood @that-scouse-wizard, Victoria Summer @whatwouldvalerydo, Primrose Gray @endlessly-cursed, William Devlin and Maxwell Pembroke @unfortunate-arrow, Lydia Ellis @mjs-oc-corner

May 1897

The night of the Celestial Ball had arrived at last, and it was everything Ophelia had dreamed it would be. The Great Hall had been transformed into a grand ballroom, with the tables vanished to make enough space for people to dance, and a large obelisk in the very middle. Even the enchanted ceiling appeared more star-filled than usual, as if the very sky knew that this night was going to be one where something magical might happen.

Ophelia observed the scene from one of the seats that lined the walls of the Great Hall. Carolyn, Adelia, and Marigold were all on the dancefloor; Caro with Bradford Pendleton, Adelia with Teddy Ellison, and Marigold with Lydia Ellis. All three of them looked beautiful in their dress robes, and were the very pictures of poise and grace as they danced with their suitors.

The Slytherins were not the only ones who were looking and dancing exquisitely. Hufflepuff’s Ivy Anders flashed Ophelia a wide and friendly smile as she paraded past on the arm of Maxwell Pembroke, while Gryffindor’s Oliver Gerard and Victoria Summer appeared to be saving their smiles for each other. Primrose Grey from Ravenclaw was among the best dressed, smiling as she danced with her fiancé William Devlin. Ophelia felt a pang of jealousy. It was not fair, really. Primrose’s parents had picked out a wealthy suitor for her as a child, and she did not even need one. She clearly had enough money for pretty dresses and dance lessons without one.

As for Ophelia herself, she had managed to magically alter the dress her mother had bought her for birthday so it looked brand new and far fancier and more fashionable than it was in reality. She had arranged her newly blonde hair very prettily and applied a subtle amount of Marigold’s rouge to her cheeks in order to accentuate her newly green eyes. But as of yet, no one had asked her to dance with them.

It was peculiar; she looked as close to being beautiful as she ever would, and the stage had been set perfectly for her to showcase that, but somehow, she still found herself waiting in the wings. She had so many potential leading men, but she had yet to become a leading lady. Sitting to the side of the dance floor next to the wall, she may not have even been part of the ensemble. No, she was merely a piece of the scenery.

She was trying to act as if nothing was vexing her - after all, no gentleman would want to dance with a lady who did not smile nicely - but she was finding it increasingly difficult to not show how disappointed she was by this turn of events. Still, she was able to force a smile as Carolyn approached her, Bradford at her side, the two of them having retired from the dancefloor.

“Ophelia, are you not dancing?” Caro asked her, and Ophelia shook her head. “Why, has no one yet asked you?”

“No, sadly not.”

“Now, that simply will not do. You must have a dance,” said Brady. Ophelia looked at him hopefully, but his eyes had started to scan the dancefloor. “I’m certain that we can find someone to dance with you. Let’s see… Ah, just the person. Jim, old bean!”

At the sound of his name being called out, Jim Hexley walked towards the group. When he reached them, Brady etched around to clap him on the back.

“Jim, my friend, we have a young lady who wishes to dance and has no partner to dance with, and I see that you appear to have misplaced your dance partner.”

“Oh, well, I… I have not misplaced her. That is to say, I am quite certain of where she is. Over there, look.” Jim pointed in the direction of the refreshment table, where his twin sister Ethel was drinking pumpkinade with her own dance partner, Cledwyn Ironwood. On her other side, Selene Fraser was intently listening to something that Eliot Gerard was telling her.

“I take no joy in being the man to deliver this news to you, old chap, but it would appear that there are three of you in this partnership.”

“Yes, but then that… that has been the case since the beginning of the evening.”

As Jim spoke, the small, minky-furred body of a ferret climbed up over Selene’s shoulder and came to rest there, a small bow tie tied around its neck. Brady guffawed, Jim chuckled, and even Carolyn’s lips twitched a little.

“So, what do you say, Jim?” Brady asked, once he had finished laughing. “Fancy a turn about the room with Miss Burke here?”

Jim cleared his throat before nodding his head. “Uh, yes. Of course. It would be my pleasure. An honour. I… Ophelia, would you like to dance?”

Ophelia considered the offer. Jim Hexley was not the sort of wizard she had hoped to dance with. He was a decent enough fellow, but not at all wealthy. Still, one had to start somewhere, and everyone knew that a gentleman showing interest in a woman was sure to garner the interest of other men. So, she took Jim’s proffered hand and accompanied him to the dancefloor, where the couples had just begun to dance along to the polka music being played by an unmanned orchestra.

“I am afraid that I… I am not the best dancer,” Jim apologised. “Ethel and Selene did teach me - or attempted to teach me, I should say - but their efforts, I fear, have been in vain.”

“Do you think that is why Miss Fraser has set her sights on Eliot Gerard?” Ophelia asked. Jim shook his head. His face looked somewhat saddened. “Are you upset by this snub?”

“No. Not at all,” Jim almost smiled. “Selene and I are just friends. Perhaps more like family, with how close she and my sister are.”

“Then why do you seem downhearted?”

“It is nothing. I mean, I am not. I… Well, I had wished to accompany someone else tonight. I am sorry.”

“That is very well. I had wished to accompany someone else, as well.”

“Really? Who?”

“No one in particular. Just someone of status.”

“I see,” Jim nodded slowly, frowning. “I feel that I must be a disappointment.”

“It is better than dancing with no one at all, is it not?” Ophelia asked him.

“I am not certain that I agree. I… It seems to me that the more dances one has with others, the more one misses the company of the one they truly wish to dance with.”

“Well, maybe if the one you wish to dance with sees you dancing with another, she will find herself wishing that it was her you were dancing with and miss you in return.”

Jim looked thoughtful. “That is what my sister said. But so far, Héloïse has barely looked at me.”

“Does she know that you and Selene are only friends, and that Selene has also been accompanied by her ferret?”

“I… I do believe that she does.”

“Then perhaps this is why your sister’s plan has not worked. Say, I have an idea,” said Ophelia, suddenly feeling hopeful again. “A ruse, one which will allow us to help one another. If we each appear to be enjoying the other’s company as we dance, then other wizards shall wish to dance with me, and… Héloïse, did you say? Perhaps Héloïse will take notice of you at last. What say you?”

“It is as good a plan as any, I suppose,” Jim sighed. “How… How should I act towards you.”

“You may start by smiling,” Ophelia told him, and Jim laughed quietly to himself. “See? You are doing quite well already.”

They smiled at one another as they danced, barely talking. Jim did not seem to want to talk much, seeming to be too preoccupied with counting his steps to attempt to hold a conversation. Eventually, though, he asked her:

“Is it working? The ruse?”

“I think it is, yes,” Ophelia said. She looked around her at the boys at the edges of the hall. Several were looking at her, including Henry Lovecraft, who was watching the scene with the little dark-haired, dark-eyed girl at his side. “Héloïse is looking at us.”

“She is?” Jim’s eyes brightened. He cleared his throat. “Is she… What is she doing?”

“At present she is talking with Henry Lovecraft.”

“Ah.”

“He is putting an arm around her shoulders.”

“Oh.”

“I do believe that he is attempting to comfort her,” Ophelia informed Jim, watching as Héloïse took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. “Yes, she looks quite upset.”

“What? Is she-”

“No, don’t look, you’ll ruin the ruse,” said Ophelia. “It is working, is it not?” Jim nodded, but he looked doubtful. Ophelia turned her attention back to Héloïse and Henry Lovecraft. “She is sad, but Henry is saying something to her. She is shaking her head, and has stepped away from him.”

“She has?”

“Yes, but he’s taken hold of her hand. Oh, but she’s taken her hand back. She’s taken another step away from him. She… Oh.”

“What?” Jim asked urgently. “What is she doing?”

“I do not know,” said Ophelia. “She has left. She ran that way.” She pointed in the direction of the main doors out of the hall, and Jim turned his head to look, his lips parting and his arms falling to his sides. Ophelia sighed. “You should go after her.”

“Are you… You do not mind my leaving?”

“Of course not. The ruse has served its purpose.”

Jim bowed his head to her, and she curtsied back. And with that they parted ways, their ruse over. And it had worked. For as Jim rushed out of the Great Hall, Ophelia returned to her seat by the wall with more eyes on her than ever, knowing fully well that this time, she would not remain a wallflower for long.

#the beginning of a symphony #ophelia burke #carolyn nyberg #bradford elijah pendleton iv #jim hexley #hogwarts legacy

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unfortunate-arrow · 1 year

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𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

A/N: For @hp-12monthsofmagic’s April prompt (“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good”). I saw the prompt and knew immediately that it belonged to the Gryffindorks. Thus, Tadhg’s partners in crime, Teddy and Gabriel, belong to @cursebreakerfarrier and @slytherindisaster.

The wind howled as the rain slashed across the windows, obscuring all visibility towards the outside. Thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed. Inside the warmth of the drafty castle, Hogwarts was surprisingly quiet. Most of its students were in class, aside from the handful of classes that were canceled due to the onslaught of the cold and violent April thunderstorm.

Inside the library, three dark-haired Gryffindors had their heads bent together, poring over a book on jinxes. Their herbology class had been canceled due to the storm, which had suddenly left the three fifth years with free time. They had immediately headed up towards the library, with the intent of studying for their OWLs which were rapidly approaching. But, that had all been left behind when they had discovered the book.

“This one could be quite useful,” Tadhg Lynch muttered, pointing to a jinx whose intention was to turn the recipient into a duck.

“Yeah, but it’s kinda boring, Tadhg. Why turn someone into a duck when you could just use flipendo?” Teddy Ellison replied, tipping his chair backwards.

“It is interesting that there’s a whole section on jinxes to turn people into animals, though. Like who would think to turn their opponent into a duck or a chicken or even a worm,” Gabriel Sapieha mused, looking up from the book.

“My brother would probably make a good worm,” Tadhg mumbled, causing the other two boys to burst out laughing, earning a glare from the librarian.

“Uh, lads…” Gabriel began, elbowing Teddy into the gut.

Tadhg, who was tipping his chair back and trying to get it to stay steady on just the back two legs, looked up to see their head of house and promptly lost the balance that he had gained. The chair, and Tadhg, clattered to the ground with a resounding echo. Gryffindor’s head cast a disapproving look towards the three boys.

“Ellison. Lynch. Sapieha. Just the three I was looking for. Come with me,” the professor said, standing as the three boys scrambled to clear the table and pack their bags.

The walk back to their head’s office was a long and tense one. Tadhg had an inkling that he knew why they had been dragged into the head’s office. Someone had discovered the swamp that they had been growing in a seldom used corridor. Or the professor had discovered who had filled the Slytherins’ bathrooms with frog spawn. Or that they were the ones to enchant all the portraits in the castle to have the most absurd facial hair that they could think of. Or that they had been the ones to make the stairs move… even though Tadhg still wasn’t sure how they had managed that one. Or… okay, so Tadhg didn’t know exactly why they were being dragged into their head’s office.

“Take a seat,” Gryffindor’s head said, gesturing to the three chairs as they entered the office.

The three boys glanced at one another, but one glance at the professor told them all that they needed to know.

“You’ll be happy to know that we have finally put an end to the profanity that was coming from the griffin to Headmaster Black’s office,” the professor began and Tadhg swallowed to stifle a laugh, willing himself not to glance at either Teddy or Gabriel. He had forgotten about that one.

“It was quite a task, removing that spell. And after narrowing down our considerable suspect list, we have determined that you three were responsible. Brava for creativity and not involving Mr. Lynch’s brother this time.”

“Ah, professor, how can you be so sure that it was us?” Teddy asked.

“Answer me this, Mr. Ellison, why are you three always nearby when something happens?”

“Sheer coincidence, professor,” Teddy replied in the most innocent-sounding tone he could muster. Except Tadhg caught Gabriel’s eye at that moment and the dam burst. The laugh slipped out and soon enough the three boys had dissolved into giggles. Their professor let out a long-suffering sigh.

“And without a doubt, you three are clearly responsible. You will serve detention for all Friday evenings until OWL examinations have finished.”

#hp12mom #the gryffindorks #gryffindorks #tadhg lynch #teddy ellison #gabriel sapieha #hp victorian era #hp legacy era #my writing #my aesthetic #other people’s ocs #god i love these idiots #idk if the timeline truly works or not but oh well #also these three are totally the type to just make eye contact and start laughing #it’s gotten them busted on numerous occasions #also idk who the head of gryffindor would be so that’s why it’s like that #also went through the numerous gryffindork tags to come up with their antics #idk if i like title but it fits

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slytherindisaster · 11 months

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web weaving: the gryffindorks

the four loves by c.s. lewis / northanger abbey by jane austen / dead poets society (1989) / a little life by hanya yanagihara /blood brothers by bruce springsteen / it by stephen king / class (1983) / the people you will fall in love with in your 20s by ryan o’connell / brother by kodeline / a little life by hanya yanagihara / another country (1984) / the body by stephen king / the kids aren't alright by fall out boy

teddy ellison by @cursebreakerfarrier

tadhg lynch by @unfortunate-arrow

gabriel sapieha by me

#the gryffindorks #hphl #hp victorian era #teddy ellison #tadhg lynch #gabriel sapieha #web weaving #I've missed our bys okay #and it's been a while since i did a web

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endlessly-cursed · 2 years

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All the HP OCs of my moots are amazing, but you know my fav male OCs? Redheads, himbos and tall-dark-handsome men are the elite of the fandom, I will not elaborate <3

@cursebreakerfarrier @beloved-bucky @catohphm @the-al-chemist

#fax 😌❤️#ofc the rest are as amazing but these are some of my top fav men #arthur 'teddy' ellison #jim hexley #toby brokenshire #danny gibson #william berkeley

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smarti-at-smogwarts · 10 months

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OC Pride Challenge 2023 ⍚ WEEK TWO (June 8th—14th): LGBTQIA+ TROPES ⍚ Tropes played Straight ⍚ Family of Choice ⍚ Theo Jane Abott & Her Hogwarts Friends.

inspo by @squirrelstone x

When a group of characters who've been disowned by their own families decide to be each others' family instead.

Ft. Adelia Selwyn ( @thatravenpuffwitch ) Io Gordon ( @drinkyoursoupbitch ) Taghd Lynch ( @unfortunate-arrow ) Danny Gibson ( @catohphm ) Teddy Ellison ( @cursebreakerfarrier )

Family isn’t who you’re born with, it’s who you’d die for.

#opc2023 #my mcs #other ppl mcs #hphl #i always think I'm gonna make it through a challenge without making something for the tlds lmao #and then i never do #i did add some new friends to this ne tho

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filmspun · 1 year

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2023 Oscar nominations :

Best Picture

“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Malte Grunert, Producer

“Avatar: The Way of Water,” James Cameron and Jon Landau, Producers

“The Banshees of Inisherin,” Graham Broadbent, Pete Czernin and Martin McDonagh, Producers

“Elvis,” Baz Luhrmann, Catherine Martin, Gail Berman, Patrick McCormick and Schuyler Weiss, Producers

“Everything Everywhere All at Once,” Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert and Jonathan Wang, Producers

“The Fabelmans,” Kristie Macosko Krieger, Steven Spielberg and Tony Kushner, Producers

“Tár,” Todd Field, Alexandra Milchan and Scott Lambert, Producers

“Top Gun: Maverick,” Tom Cruise, Christopher McQuarrie, David Ellison and Jerry Bruckheimer, Producers

“Triangle of Sadness,” Erik Hemmendorff and Philippe Bober, Producers

“Women Talking,” Dede Gardner, Jeremy Kleiner and Frances McDormand, Producers

Best Director

Martin McDonagh (“The Banshees of Inisherin”)

Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Steven Spielberg (“The Fabelmans”)

Todd Field (“Tár”)

Ruben Östlund (“Triangle of Sadness”)

Best Lead Actor

Austin Butler (“Elvis”)

Colin Farrell (“The Banshees of Inisherin”)

Brendan Fraser (“The Whale”)

Paul Mescal (“Aftersun”)

Bill Nighy (“Living”)

Best Lead Actress

Cate Blanchett (“Tár”)

Ana de Armas (“Blonde”)

Andrea Riseborough (“To Leslie”)

Michelle Williams (“The Fabelmans”)

Michelle Yeoh (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Supporting Actor

Brendan Gleeson (“The Banshees of Inisherin”)

Brian Tyree Henry (“Causeway”)

Judd Hirsch (“The Fabelmans”)

Barry Keoghan (“The Banshees of Inisherin”)

Ke Huy Quan (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Supporting Actress

Angela Bassett (“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever”)

Hong Chau (“The Whale”)

Kerry Condon (“The Banshees of Inisherin”)

Jamie Lee Curtis (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Stephanie Hsu (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Adapted Screenplay

“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Screenplay by Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson & Ian Stokell

“Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery,” Written by Rian Johnson

“Living,” Written by Kazuo Ishiguro

“Top Gun: Maverick,” Screenplay by Ehren Kruger and Eric Warren Singer and Christopher McQuarrie; Story by Peter Craig and Justin Marks

“Women Talking,” Screenplay by Sarah Polley

Best Original Screenplay

“The Banshees of Inisherin,” Written by Martin McDonagh

“Everything Everywhere All at Once,” Written by Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert

“The Fabelmans,” Written by Steven Spielberg & Tony Kushner

“Tár,” Written by Todd Field

“Triangle of Sadness,” Written by Ruben Östlund

All Quiet on the Western Front”, James Friend

“Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths,” Darius Khondji

“Elvis,” Mandy Walker

“Empire of Light,” Roger Deakins

“Tár,” Florian Hoffmeister

Best Documentary Feature Film

“All That Breathes,” Shaunak Sen, Aman Mann and Teddy Leifer

“All the Beauty and the Bloodshed,” Laura Poitras, Howard Gertler, John Lyons, Nan Goldin and Yoni Golijov

“Fire of Love,” Sara Dosa, Shane Boris and Ina Fichman

“A House Made of Splinters,” Simon Lereng Wilmont and Monica Hellström

“Navalny,” Daniel Roher, Odessa Rae, Diane Becker, Melanie Miller and Shane Boris

Best Documentary Short Film

“The Elephant Whisperers,” Kartiki Gonsalves and Guneet Monga

“Haulout,” Evgenia Arbugaeva and Maxim Arbugaev

“How Do You Measure a Year?” Jay Rosenblatt

“The Martha Mitchell Effect,” Anne Alvergue and Beth Levison

“Stranger at the Gate,” Joshua Seftel and Conall Jones

Best Film Editing

“The Banshees of Inisherin,” Mikkel E.G. Nielsen

“Elvis,” Matt Villa and Jonathan Redmond

“Everything Everywhere All at Once,” Paul Rogers

“Tár,” Monika Willi

“Top Gun: Maverick,” Eddie Hamilton

Best International Feature Film

“All Quiet on the Western Front” (Germany)

“Argentina, 1985” (Argentina)

“Close” (Belgium)

“EO” (Poland)

“The Quiet Girl” (Ireland)

Best Original Song

“Applause” from “Tell It Like a Woman,” Music and Lyric by Diane Warren

“Hold My Hand” from “Top Gun: Maverick,” Music and Lyric by Lady Gaga and BloodPop

“Lift Me Up” from “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” Music by Tems, Rihanna, Ryan Coogler and Ludwig Goransson; Lyric by Tems and Ryan Coogler

“Naatu Naatu” from “RRR,” Music by M.M. Keeravaani; Lyric by Chandrabose

“This Is a Life” from “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” Music by Ryan Lott, David Byrne and Mitski; Lyric by Ryan Lott and David Byrne

Best Production Design

“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Production Design: Christian M. Goldbeck; Set Decoration: Ernestine Hipper

“Avatar: The Way of Water,” Production Design: Dylan Cole and Ben Procter; Set Decoration: Vanessa Cole

“Babylon,” Production Design: Florencia Martin; Set Decoration: Anthony Carlino

“Elvis,” Production Design: Catherine Martin and Karen Murphy; Set Decoration: Bev Dunn

“The Fabelmans,” Production Design: Rick Carter; Set Decoration: Karen O’Hara

Best Visual Effects

“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Frank Petzold, Viktor Müller, Markus Frank and Kamil Jafar

“Avatar: The Way of Water,” Joe Letteri, Richard Baneham, Eric Saindon and Daniel Barrett

“The Batman,” Dan Lemmon, Russell Earl, Anders Langlands and Dominic Tuohy

“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” Geoffrey Baumann, Craig Hammack, R. Christopher White and Dan Sudick

“Top Gun: Maverick,” Ryan Tudhope, Seth Hill, Bryan Litson and Scott R. Fisher

Best Animated Feature Film

“Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio,” Guillermo del Toro, Mark Gustafson, Gary Ungar and Alex Bulkley

“Marcel the Shell With Shoes On,” Dean Fleischer Camp, Elisabeth Holm, Andrew Goldman, Caroline Kaplan and Paul Mezey

“Puss in Boots: The Last Wish,” Joel Crawford and Mark Swift

“The Sea Beast,” Chris Williams and Jed Schlanger

“Turning Red,” Domee Shi and Lindsey Collins

Best Animated Short Film

“The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse,” Charlie Mackesy and Matthew Freud

“The Flying Sailor,” Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby

“Ice Merchants,” João Gonzalez and Bruno Caetano

“My Year of Dicks,” Sara Gunnarsdóttir and Pamela Ribon

“An Ostrich Told Me the World Is Fake and I Think I Believe It,” Lachlan Pendragon

Best Costume Design

“Babylon,” Mary Zophres

“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” Ruth Carter

“Elvis,” Catherine Martin

“Everything Everywhere All at Once,” Shirley Kurata

“Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris,” Jenny Beavan

Best Live Action Short

“An Irish Goodbye,” Tom Berkeley and Ross White

“Ivalu,” Anders Walter and Rebecca Pruzan

“Le Pupille,” Alice Rohrwacher and Alfonso Cuarón

“Night Ride,” Eirik Tveiten and Gaute Lid Larssen

“The Red Suitcase,” Cyrus Neshvad

Best Makeup and Hairstyling

“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Heike Merker and Linda Eisenhamerová

“The Batman,” Naomi Donne, Mike Marino and Mike Fontaine

“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” Camille Friend and Joel Harlow

“Elvis,” Mark Coulier, Jason Baird and Aldo Signoretti

The Whale,” Adrien Morot, Judy Chin and Anne Marie Bradley

Best Original Score

“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Volker Bertelmann

“Babylon,” Justin Hurwitz

“The Banshees of Inisherin,” Carter Burwell

“Everything Everywhere All at Once,” Son Lux

“The Fabelmans,” John Williams

Best Sound

“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Viktor Prášil, Frank Kruse, Markus Stemler, Lars Ginzel and Stefan Korte

“Avatar: The Way of Water,” Julian Howarth, Gwendolyn Yates Whittle, Dick Bernstein, Christopher Boyes, Gary Summers and Michael Hedges

“The Batman,” Stuart Wilson, William Files, Douglas Murray and Andy Nelson

“Elvis,” David Lee, Wayne Pashley, Andy Nelson and Michael Keller

“Top Gun: Maverick,” Mark Weingarten, James H. Mather, Al Nelson, Chris Burdon and Mark Taylor

#oscars #oscar nominations #2023 oscars #academy award nominations #oscar nods

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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“Raise a glass to freedom, Something they can never take away, No matter what they tell you... (Someone will come running to take you home...) Raise a glass to all of us -- Tomorrow there'll be more of us, Telling the story of tonight! (Out of the shadows...) The morning is breaking, (They'll tell the story of tonight!) And all is new -- (All is new) All is new! It's only a matter of time...”

~“Found/Tonight” by Ben Platt and Lin-Manuel Miranda

x~x~x~x

featuring Atticus Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier and Bartholomew “Bat” Varney @carewyncromwell, and also referencing Danny Gibson @catohphm, Jackson Knightly, Rex Brokenshire, and Teddy, Adelia, Bertie, Violet, and Holly Selwyn-Ellison @thatravenpuffwitch

x~x~x~x

It was a significant event in 1915 when Atticus Grimsley finally retired from the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His successor ended up being one of Atticus’s former students, a well-respected Auror named Dan Gibson, who was soon embraced by the remaining faculty and students just as Atticus had been when he’d first arrived. Not that Atticus had had any doubts -- Danny had always been a very bright lad, and it was good to see him prosper.

Even in retirement, however, Atticus continued to visit Hogsmeade village regularly. Although yes, it was a good way for him to catch up with his former work colleagues and students, all those who knew Atticus knew the main reason was so that Atticus could spend quality time with his closest companion -- the vampire called Bartholomew Varney.

Varney, affectionately called “Bat” by just about everyone, was an oddity among his kind. Whereas many vampires actively tried to cloister themselves away in colonies far away from humans so as to not provoke their blood lust, Bat spent his days meditating in the attic of Honeydukes’ Sweet Shop and spent his nights wandering through the village. There he’d enjoy the atmosphere, go shopping, and even engage with those precious few students from the neighboring school who earned his esteem enough to merit a lecture in History of Magic or Potions. And, of course, he’d talk and laugh with “Grim,” as he affectionately called Atticus, for hours on end, well into the night and more warmly than with anyone else. Then they’d often leave the village together, still talking avidly, with Bat returning to Honeydukes in the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise.

They were a funny pair, Bat Varney and Atticus Grimsley -- funnier still, many thought, as Atticus got older and grayer and Bat remained ever youthful in look, even despite his hollowed-out eyes and sickly pale complexion. There were points where Bat almost treated Atticus like his aging uncle, in how he’d help his compatriot up out of his chair, and yet there were other times they acted almost like a couple, in how Bat would help Atticus put his coat back on, before going back outside. And still even throughout all that, regardless of the little gestures here and there, every day they smiled, laughed, teased, debated, entertained, and confided in each other like nothing less than the very best of friends.

One of these many nights Atticus and Bat spent together was in the fall of 1927, in the height of the so-called “roaring 20′s.” Atticus had come down with a rather nasty chest cold, so Bat had swung by his cottage in Cumbria to cheer his friend up and brew him some proper Pepper-up Potions, along with the usual Sleeping Draught. Bat clearly took great pleasure in the opportunity to be useful to his old friend -- he was even humming to himself as he set about chopping up the mandrake root on Atticus’s kitchen counter.

“Joy to the world -- the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King...”

Atticus couldn’t fight back the tired grin winding its way onto his face. “Singing Christmas carols? Come now, Bat, we’ve not even passed October yet...”

“Mayhaps if Halloween developed some proper carols of its own, I could sing those instead,” Bat called over playfully from the next room. “Until then, I shall just have to enjoy the best time of the year a bit early -- goodness knows those two months will fly by soon enough...”

Atticus shook his head amusedly. It was something he regretted, though, when his sinuses began to pound behind his eyes angrily -- the older man flopped back down onto his pillows with a low groan.

Bat strolled through the open door of Atticus’s room, a tray in his hands. Stacked haphazardly on it was a full tea service, a goblet with white steam coming off of it, and two leather-bound books. There was also a newspaper folded under Bat’s arm -- no doubt the most recent edition of the Evening Prophet -- and the familiar white stick of a Blood Pop sticking out of his mouth.

“Hang in there, Grim,” he said with a slightly wry, but still rather gentle expression. “I’m coming.”

He put the tray, books, and newspaper down on Atticus’s side table and immediately moved to Atticus’s bedside, the steaming goblet in hand.

“Can you sit up on your own?” he asked.

Atticus coughed loudly, only to hold his head at the pain that shot through as a result. “Of course I can -- I’m not that infirm...”

The over-sixty-year-old man eased himself up into a seated position in bed. Atticus’s stubbornness only served to make Bat grin that bit more toothily around his Blood Pop.

“What’s that smirk for?” Atticus asked with a soft grunt as he adjusted himself so he could lean back against his headboard.

Bat’s grin only broadened. “Nothing. Just thinking you haven’t changed a bit.”

Atticus gave a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Rubbish. The very first thing out of your mouth when you arrived was that it looked like I’d grown another gray hair.”

It was a comment that had hurt more than Atticus would’ve ever admitted. He hated knowing he was getting older. Ironically it was something he’d never paid much mind to before -- he’d found himself losing track of his own birthdays even back when he was still a boy -- but since befriending Bat, Atticus had become much more aware of it. The ex-professor knew that Bat had had to disappear from his loved ones’ lives, just to keep his sanity in the face of watching them shrivel up and die before his eyes while he stayed the same. And yet Bat was staying by Atticus, even as he aged. And once he’d retired, Atticus found himself somewhat adrift without the consistent, relentless schedule of teaching. It had certainly been nice to have so much time to himself at the start, but it was also a bit terrifying, to have this thing that had defined so much of his life suddenly be gone...to not be as quick or strong as he once was...to catch himself having to refresh himself on routine spells like Aguamenti, simply because he’d gotten out of the habit of using them...

With a chuckle, Bat sat down on the bed beside Atticus. He slid the smoking goblet into his hands, holding both of them around the piping-hot glass, no doubt to ensure Atticus had a secure grip on it before letting go. Atticus himself, however, couldn’t stop himself from staring down at their joined hands: Bat’s as strong as ever, no matter how sickly pale, over his own rosy, but age-spotted and wrinkled ones.

“You got it?” said Bat.

“Of course I’ve got it,” Atticus shot back, a bit more sourly than he meant, as he pulled his hands and the goblet out of Bat’s grip. “Stop treating me like an old man.”

He took a long sip, only to choke at the feeling of the hot liquid scalding his throat. Once he’d recovered, Atticus quickly finished it off, breathing in the steam as it poured through his stuffed-up nostrils, dissipating the mucus and phlegm clogging up his sinuses.

“I’m the old man out of the two of us, Grim.”

When Atticus looked up at Bat again, the vampire’s expression had lost the smile, becoming a bit more serious. The ex-professor averted his eyes down to the still smoking goblet.

“Yes, obviously,” Atticus said uncomfortably, “but it doesn’t show on you. But I’m not that helpless, you know -- you don’t have to coddle me so much.”

“I’m doing that because you’re sick, Grim, not because you’re old.”

Bat considered Atticus for a moment. Then he gave a great suck to the Blood Pop in his mouth and, very tentatively, brought up a cold hand to Atticus’s forehead, so as to feel his temperature.

Atticus flushed a very dark red. “...B-Bat?”

Bat’s scarlet eyes were locked on his hand on Atticus’s forehead rather than Atticus’s face as he gave another loud slurp to the Blood Pop in his mouth.

“I won’t be able to stay into the morning,” he said lowly. “I’ve got to make sure you’ll be all right, before I leave.”

Atticus stared up at Bat, taken aback by just how serious he looked. He could feel his heart racing, and he tried desperately to will it into submission -- he knew Bat would be able to both hear and feel it, and the last thing he wanted was to needlessly antagonize his blood lust.

“I’m all right, Bat,” he murmured, his voice coming out oddly breathy. “I am.”

Bat gave another loud suck to the Blood Pop in his mouth as he looked at Atticus. Atticus could see red creeping in on the edge of his friend’s eyes and could tell he was having trouble, being so close to him -- and yet he powered through all the same.

“You will be,” he said softly. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Smoothing Atticus’s graying, sweat-soaked bangs from his face, Bat then closed his eyes and forcibly removed himself, retreating to the corner of the room so he could take his pewter flask out of the inside of his waistcoat and take a long swig. Then, taking several deep breaths, he chucked the spent white stick from his mouth, took a fresh Blood Pop out of his pocket, and stuck in his mouth before sweeping back toward the kitchen.

“I forgot,” he said in a noticeably brighter tone, “The eldest Honeydukes gave me some hazelnut chocolate scones for me to bring along for you.”

Atticus blinked. “Really? That was thoughtful of her.”

He shifted his gaze down to the tea service Bat had put out. The vampire had already prepared Atticus a cup of tea just the way he liked it, so the ex-professor gently picked it up and sipped it as he picked up the Evening Prophet next to the tray.

The tea smelled lovely. His nose was already clearing up nicely.

“Indeed,” Bat said amusedly. “She recalled your ‘voracious sweet tooth’ and thought you’d be the best test subject for her new recipe.”

Atticus bit back a laugh. “Considering the talent of the chocolatier in question, I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

Taking another sip of his tea, he perused the front page. The headline at the top, however, dimmed the light in his expression significantly.

GELLERT GRINDELWALD TERRORIZES PARIS

Rally hosted by infamous Dark wizard ends in an explosion of magical flames only barely contained by French Aurors

‘First New York City and now Paris,’ thought Atticus grimly. ‘He’s getting bolder, if he feels brave enough to act out in such large cities, protected by such powerful magical ministries...’

“...working on a new caramel recipe, if you’d like to try that as well...”

“Mm,” said Atticus, only vaguely taking in what Bat had said. The article was holding his attention captive.

‘Thirty dead or wounded...a good chunk of them French Aurors who’d been purposefully lured to the event, just to be made an example out of...burned alive with a lethal casting of Protego Diabolica...’

The mental image of a dozen young men with faces like the wizards he used to work with at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rippled over Atticus’s mind, making his stomach clench with nausea.

A clink to his left made Atticus straighten up sharply. Bat had returned with one of Madam Honeydukes’s scones and had just put the plate down on the tray beside the teapot.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, reading that,” Bat said lowly.

Atticus couldn’t tell if Bat was reproaching him or not -- it made him react a bit defensively.

“I want to know what’s going on in the world, Bat, whether I’m sick or not.”

To Atticus’s surprise, Bat’s expression actually softened.

“...I understand.”

He held out his hand expectantly.

“Hand me your cup -- I’ll pour you a new one.”

Atticus frowned. “I can do it my -- ”

“I know you can,” Bat cut him off smoothly. “But I want to do it.”

Atticus considered Bat for a moment, his eyes flitting down to his open hand. Then he relented, handing the empty cup over to Bat so that he could pour Atticus a new cup of tea and add in the proper amount of sugar and milk.

“It’s disgusting,” Atticus murmured.

Bat handed him the cup. “You mean Grindelwald and not the tea, I hope?”

“Yes, of course,” Atticus said quickly. His face then grew that bit grimmer. “...What he did to those Aurors -- to the city -- to his own supporters, just for not being loyal enough. And all in the name of ‘protecting’ the Wizarding World!” His blue eyes flared with anger. “It’s absolutely vile.”

Bat’s own scarlet eyes hardened significantly. “It is. As are all people like him.”

He picked up the empty potion goblet and strolled back out into the kitchen as if to go clean it out.

“Men like Grindelwald...they don’t see anyone else as truly human, unless they align perfectly with their demented world view. Unless they’re wizards, or white, or Protestant, or Pureblood, or whatever else they’ve decided elevates them over everyone else. And, of course, unless they likewise ascribe to the idea that those people are inherently superior, for that reason...for what does it matter if you’re the perfect Pureblood specimen, if you’re a ‘blood traitor’ that sees other people as just as human as you are?”

Bat’s voice, however level and quiet, betrayed a lot of resentment and righteousness, smoldering just under the surface.

Atticus’s eyes narrowed a bit as he nodded.

“For the life of me, I will never understand such people,” he said. “Though I suppose in a way, that’s probably a good thing.”

“It is,” agreed Bat. “One thing is for sure, though -- blokes like Grindelwald don’t stop until they’re forced to. Yes, the British Ministry was able to prevent Grindelwald from torching Paris, but they didn’t capture him. They didn’t incapacitate him. Therefore it’s only a matter of time before he does something else that’s much worse.”

Atticus took another sip of tea. As he did, however, something made him pause, his lips lingering on the cup. He skimmed the article one more time, before straightening up a bit to look out the doorframe toward the kitchen.

“...British Ministry?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. “In the article, it says the French Aurors dealt with it.”

There was a very long silence. It was only punctured by the light clink and snap of Bat cleaning out the goblet and putting it back in the kitchen cabinet.

“Bat?” said Atticus.

Bat didn’t answer. Atticus’s frown deepened.

“Bat -- ”

“I heard you.”

Bat’s voice had become quieter and more detached. The sound troubled Atticus that bit more -- Bat only ever detached emotionally when he was upset. It made Atticus inch himself out of bed, supporting himself on the edge of his headboard as he straightened up and shuffled over to the doorframe.

He found Bat cleaning the kitchen, wiping the counter clean with a wet rag. His eyes were focused solely on what he was doing, so it was clearly busy work more than anything: something to distract him. He did stiffen ever-so-slightly when Atticus approached -- no matter how quiet Atticus might try to be, he could never sneak up on a vampire. Not that Atticus cared -- he had no interest in getting the drop on Bat. Instead he merely walked over to stand beside his friend, leaning on the edge of the counter and watching his pale, gaunt face as he stubbornly refused to look at him.

“Robert,” Atticus said a bit more gently.

The name had a visible impact on Bat. It made something flutter through his expression -- something more youthful and almost vulnerable -- to the point that it was almost like a boyish flush, bringing life back into his palid cheeks. He turned to Atticus very abruptly, his scarlet eyes seeming oddly rounder than before. It made the sharp, bright light in them shine more handsomely than ever -- more like a young man, rather than that of an old soul trapped in a young frame.

The handsomeness of Bat’s eyes didn’t falter even as he his expression turned much more evasive and hesitant.

“...The French Aurors at the event were all slaughtered,” Bat admitted softly at last. “The Aurors who saved Paris were from our department, in Britain. ...It’s something Minister Fawley doesn’t want circulated, when the British Ministry has been trying to keep its activity in other countries quiet.”

Atticus’s eyebrows furrowed. “...Well, yes, I suppose that’s understandable -- but if that’s true, then how are you aware of it? If you’ve heard of it from an outside source, then clearly it’s already being circulated -- ”

Bat looked Atticus straight-on in the eye, and Atticus’s words died in his throat. His eyes widened slowly.

“...They told you?” he whispered.

Bat inclined his head in something of a short nod, his scarlet eyes drifting away, up onto the kitchen window.

“But -- ” Atticus stammered, “ -- but if the Ministry told you, that means that they trust you with that kind of intelligence! And the only people that the Ministry of Magic would trust with that kind of intelligence would be people who work for them. Aurors, Unspeakables, investigators...”

“...And other such agents,” Bat finished off grimly. “Yes.”

Atticus stared at Bat for a moment. Then his eyes slowly lit up and his mouth spread into an incredulous smile.

“...You’re helping the Ministry fight Grindelwald?” he whispered.

“In a way,” Bat said uncomfortably. “I’m more an academic resource than anything. Adelia put me in contact with Minister Knightly several years back, and he sent me messages inquiring about certain things...asking me to put my ear to the ground in Knockturn Alley and such, among like-minded Dark wizards. Just try to sort out the source of Grindelwald’s new-found power, and what he might aim to do with it. Not that old Fawley’s been very forthcoming with help -- reckon it’s only because of the few contacts I worked with in the Department of Mysteries following up with me that I’ve gotten any updates since Knightly left office...”

Bat’s dismissiveness toward his work didn’t dampen Atticus’s smile one bit. On the contrary, the ex-professor was so delighted by it that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing his compatriot’s shoulders. The affectionate gesture visibly startled Bat.

“Bat, that’s wonderful,” said Atticus. “With how much you’ve studied over the years...why, that kind of knowledge must be invaluable, to the fight against Grindelwald.”

His blue eyes sparkled with pride.

“It was brilliant of Ms. Selwyn-Ellison, to suggest you to the Minister. And so good of you, to do it...I know you’ve never much liked the Ministry, so you putting your differences with them aside, to fight Grindelwald -- it’s so good of you, to put the safety of others first.”

Red pricked at the edges of Bat’s eyes in response to Atticus’s proximity. Upon noticing it, Atticus’s smile flickered and died and he immediately backed away.

“Forgive me, I -- I forgot myself -- ”

To Atticus’s surprise, though, Bat didn’t distance himself further. On the contrary, he took the spent Blood Pop stick out of his mouth, replaced it, and then extended an arm so as to wrap it around Atticus and pull him up beside his chest. Bat buried his face right beside Atticus’s neck, while Atticus’s face landed right on Bat’s chest -- right beside the cursed, undead heart that pumped the blood Bat had to consume so regularly, just to keep his body and mind from going insane from blood lust...

“Bat?” said Atticus, startled.

The breaths that hit Atticus’s neck from Bat’s nose were as supernaturally cold as his hand as it anchored itself on the back of Atticus’s head.

“Thanks, Grim,” Bat murmured.

Atticus could hear the smile in his friend’s voice, and he relaxed a bit despite himself. It was a reaction most anyone else would’ve been shocked by, considering he currently had a vampire’s fangs mere inches from his neck.

But Atticus wasn’t afraid. Bat would never harm him. He would never harm anyone, unless it was to protect someone he loved...

Atticus heard Bat take a very shaky breath and could tell that he was struggling to restrain himself. Bringing a hand up to hold onto the back of Bat’s shirt, he gently pried himself out of Bat’s arms.

“Robert,” he said softly, “you should let go now.”

But Bat seemed oddly reluctant to let go, even though his fangs were lengthening. His eyes were shut tight as his hand tangled itself that bit more in the dark strands of Atticus’s hair.

“Not yet,” he rasped.

Atticus’s eyes grew softer still. “Robert...”

“I can do it,” he repeated, a bit shakily. “I can do it.”

He took a sip from his flask without even taking the Blood Pop out of his mouth. Then, ignoring the fangs still at the front of his mouth, he brought his head down to rest on top of Atticus’s.

“I want to remember,” the vampire murmured beside Atticus’s hair.

Atticus blinked. “Remember what?”

“What I’m fighting for, every time I go out and scout out information, for those Ministry sheep.”

Atticus’s lip twitched with a faintly exasperated frown. “I was one of those so-called ‘sheep,’ as you might recall -- as was Mr. Gibson, and as is Mr. Ellison.”

“Every flock needs a few sheepdogs around, to give them some direction,” Bat said dismissively.

“So says someone who turns into a dog on a regular basis, whenever he needs to shepherd the Selwyn-Ellison children back to school.”

Bat chuckled lowly as his long-fingered hand trailed through Atticus’s hair absently. The ex-professor felt his flush darken that bit more every time Bat’s cold fingertips grazed the back of his neck.

“You see, Grim?” he said softly. His set of four sharp, cat-like fangs glinted brightly as he smiled. “This is it. What I’m fighting for, right here.”

Atticus cocked an eyebrow. “Friendly banter?”

“You,” Bat corrected him. He closed his eyes as he grinned around the Blood Pop in his mouth. “When I’m with you, or Danny, or Rex, or Adelia, or Teddy, or Bertie or Vi or little Holly-berry...the Honeydukes family, and your students and mine...”

He opened his eyes again, smiling fully and handsomely no matter how monstrous his entirely scarlet eyes looked.

“...When I see you all live your lives, and can be part of them, even just in some small way...it’s like...I’m almost me, again. Who I was before. When I can talk about silly things with you -- solve your problems and make you smile...you make me feel alive. More alive than I have in a hundred and forty years.”

Atticus felt his heart swell in his chest, seeing such sincere joy in his friend’s face. When he’d first met Bat in Hogsmeade, he never could’ve imagined such a mysterious, reclusive vampire could smile like that -- such a warm smile, such soft and...well, beautiful. As beautiful as a sunrise...a sunrise this man would never be able to enjoy again, all because of his condition that made it so that everything around him would wither away, while he stayed exactly the same...

Bat felt happy -- he felt alive, because of Atticus. It was such an empowering, yet bittersweet feeling: like a bite of savory chocolate with a terribly harsh aftertaste. It made Atticus swallow back the lump in his throat and, after the shortest hesitation, throw out his hand and clutch the back of Bat’s waistcoat and hold his friend tighter.

“You...” Atticus whispered, “...are more alive than any other man I have ever known in my life, Robert Harker.”

Bat’s hand in Atticus’s hair stilled.

“Blood lust or no -- vampirism or no,” Atticus said more firmly, “you love life, and the people around you, more deeply than any human man. More deeply than I will likely ever know.”

Atticus’s mouth spread into a wide, open grin beside Bat’s undead heart.

“Don’t ever change. No matter what -- stay just the way you are.”

Bat was very quiet for a long moment. Then, clutching Atticus’s dark hair in his fist, he yanked himself away at last.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “I can’t -- ”

He spat out the Blood Pop, his claw-like hand fumbling inside his waistcoat for his pewter flask. Atticus immediately reached out to help secure Bat’s shaking hand around the flask so it was easier to take a swig, and also reached into Bat’s pocket to unwrap another Blood Pop for him so that when he’d finally chugged down a good gallon’s worth of blood, Bat could immediately stick the Pop in his mouth and take several good deep breaths.

Once he’d recovered himself, the vampire chuckled.

“See?” he said playfully. “Told you I was the old man, out of the two of us.”

Atticus smiled wryly. “You know, you’re right. I think I can see the white hairs from here.”

Bat laughed louder still, as happily and sincerely as a man with no burdens to bear. It was a sound that likewise made Atticus’s smile grow that bit wider and his eyes sparkle that bit more brightly.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #my writing #atticus grimsley #bartholomew varney #adelia selwyn #danny gibson #jackson knightly #gellert grindelwald #goddamn it I love these two much I can't stand it!!#feels so good to write for them again <33 #being set in 1927 this is a mere fourteen years before bat's death #and yup bat was secretly helping the british ministry fight grindelwald even way back then #oh also halloween *does* have some good songs now #but back in bat's lifetime? nope #I'd say most of the good halloween songs popped up in the 80's 90's and 00's #namely the nightmare before christmas soundtrack disturbia thriller and the like #happy birthday grim my dear!!

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