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martimartinka20 · 4 months

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4. Tam, Gdzie Ściany Mają Uszy

Spanikowała. Oczywiście, że tak, przecież co innego miałaby zrobić Odette Malfoy w tej sytuacji? Zawsze odwieczna panika. Minęło 5 lat, nie powinna tego tak przeżywać. Jak zwykle jednak Ral twierdził co innego, ale to nie znaczy, że miał rację. Przeważnie ją miał, ale "przeważnie" nie znaczyło "za każdym razem".

Ral był jej współlokatorem. Starszy od niej, nieco samotny, z doświadczeniem. Życie go nie oszczędziło, dlatego musiał znaleźć się u niej. Przygarnęła go, znali się paręnaście lat, nie zostawiłaby go na lodzie. To on był przy niej tamtej nocy, w której zdarzyła się tragedia, od której wszystko się zaczęło...

Szła właśnie w stronę Ministerstwa Magii wejściem dla gości, żeby móc przyjrzeć się mugolskim ulicom Londynu. Mogła wejść jak zawsze, siecią Fiuu, ale nie chciała. Musiała trochę odpocząć, poukładać sobie w głowie parę spraw, zanim ruszy do Hogwartu.

To nie miała być długa podróż. Dzieciaki i niektórzy profesorowie ruszyli z rana Ekspresem Hogwart, ale Knot nie chciał, aby ona i Dolores musiały spędzić parę godzin w pociągu z bandą nieletnich czarodziejów. Dlatego kazał zorganizować dla nich świstoklika do Hogsmeade, skąd miały udać się do zamku. Wszystko było zaplanowane tak, by pojawiły się w szkole pół godziny przed przyjściem uczniów. Ich rzeczy zostały spakowane wcześniej i przewiezione w specjalnym wagonie, by drodzy szpiedzy nie musieli się wysilać. Cóż za niezmierna łaska.

Mimo gwaru londyńskich kamienic, Odette nie mogła skupić się na niczym poza tamtą pamiętną nocą miesiąc temu. Pickles unikał jej od tamtej pory, w trosce o własne życie. Była mu wdzięczna, bo nie ręczyła za siebie.

Teleportowała się przed drzwiami do mieszkania Przez chwilę bawiła się kluczami, próbując znaleźć ten właściwy. Nie otworzyła ich, za bardzo się trzęsła. Poddała się po piątej próbie.

Ral i jego zaklęcia ochronne, niech go szlag trafi.

Oparła się o ścianę, czując jak klatka piersiowa coraz bardziej pali ją z każdym wdechem. Ścisnęła dłonie i zaczęła walić pięściami w drzwi. Ciągnęła za klamkę, rzucała Alohomorę, wszystko, żeby naruszyć barierę. Sama nie wejdzie, ktoś musiał ją wpuścić.

Po chwili z drugiej strony usłyszała głos swojego przyjaciela. Cholera, nawet nie wiedziała, jak za nim tęskniła.

– Kto to? – doszedł zza ściany niski ton.

Właśnie, przecież nikt poza nią nie wiedział, że czarodziej tu mieszka. Ta naiwność.

– Ral? – odezwała się słabo. – Tu Odette.

Nie spodziewała się, że drzwi otworzą się z takim impetem. Odruchowo odskoczyła od wejścia, w którym teraz stał średniego wzrostu mężczyzna po pięćdziesiątce. Uśmiechnęła się do niego słabo, a on niezwłocznie wciągnął ją do przedpokoju, upewnił się, że nikt ich nie widział i zatrzasnął drzwi z hukiem.

Ale delikatny.

– Co ci się stało? – zapytał dość ostro, podchodząc do niej.

Leżała na podłodze, oparta o ścianę błądziła wzrokiem po pokoju. Rejestrowała płaszcze na drewnianych wieszakach, wielką, debową szafę w rogu pomieszczenia, półkę na klucze, fotel, lustro, albumy na regale...

– Zabiłam ich – szepnęła Odette. Jej głos tylko nieco ponad ciszę. – Zabiłam ich...

Ral zdawał się przyglądać jej uważnie przez kilka chwil, po czym usiadł obok niej i złapał mocno za ramię.

– To nie ty ich zabiłaś – stwierdził rzeczowo mężczyzna. – Ich losy były przesądzone.

Blondynka zaprzeczyła głową w obłędzie.

– Gdybym była tam szybciej... Gdybym przewidziała...

Z jej oczu zaczęły sączyć się łzy, a twarz nabrała trupio bladego odcienia. Jej przerażony wzrok skrzyżował się ze spokojnym spojrzeniem Rala i przez chwilę miała wrażenie, że czas się wokół nich zatrzymał.

– Przestań. – powiedział stanowczo, mocno szarpiąc ją za rękę. – To nie twoja wina, że nie byłaś tam na czas. To nie twoja wina, że nikt ci nie powiedział.

Spojrzał na nią gniewnie, ale łagodnie zarazem. Ten wyraz twarzy mógł należeć tylko do niego. Mimo chęci, mimo prób uwierzenia w jego słowa, coś nie pozwalało jej odpocząć. Nie miał racji, nie mógł mieć. W końcu to ona powinna tam być, to ona powinna pomóc. Taki jej obowiązek.

– Skończ z tym pieprzeniem i weź się w garść. – zarządał czarodziej, potrząsając nią. – Za miesiąc jedziesz zajmować się nieodpowiedzialną bandą bachorów, nie możesz załamywać się na pierwszą lepszą wzmiankę o dzieciach. Wstawaj, idziemy ci zrobić herbatę.

Iście pamiętna data. Odette sama do końca nie wiedziała, jak to się stało, że udało jej się uspokoić. Tamtej nocy spała w swojej sypialni, a Ral obserwował ją, siedząc na skraju łóżka, dopóki nie był pewien, że zasnęła. Zawsze to robił. Tamten incydent to nie pierwszy raz, kiedy coś takiego miało miejsce. W jej spanikowanym stanie słodkie słówka nie pomagały i szybko się o tym przekonali. Trzeba z nią było postępować ostro, nie zapewniać, że będzie lepiej, wygarnąć to, co powinna usłyszeć. Nie była jajkiem, miała grubą skórę, przez którą należało się przebić. Ral to wiedział.

– Dzień dobry, panno Malfoy! – usłyszała po swojej lewej stronie.

Znajdowała się w gościnnej recepcji Ministerstwa Magii.

Jak ja tu weszłam?

– Szuka panienka czegoś konkretnego? – zapytała Margaret Whitman, jedna z recepcjonistek.

Nie, tak sobie przeszłam parę kilometrów, żeby sobie pooglądać ściany.

Margaret Whitman była niską, przysadzistą kobietą przy kości. Miała nieco ponad 80 lat, ale wciąż pracowała i miała się nieźle. Z pewnością nie należała do najbardziej znanych twarzy ministerstwa, ale do najbardziej lubianych już tak.

– Jestem umówiona z Dolores Umbridge i drogim ministrem, aby spotkać się na chwilę przed podróżą – wyjaśniła krótko blondynka.

Starsza spojrzała na nią zaciekawiona, jakby już chciała pytać, czemu weszła przejściem dla gości, ale się powstrzymała. Rzuciła jej tylko serdeczny uśmiech i wskazała drogę do windy.

– Jestem pewna, że trafisz we właściwe miejsce. Miłego dnia, panno Malfoy! – jej melodyjny sopran odbił się echem od ciemnych ścian.

Odette skinęła jej uprzejmie głową i ruszyła w odpowiednim kierunku. Już po kilku minutach wchodziła do biura Ministra Magii.

– W samą porę, panno Malfoy! – krzyknął Knot, kiedy zamykała drzwi. – To moja Starsza Podsekretarz, Dolores Jane Umbridge. Jestem pewien, że już ją znasz.

Młodsza czarownica odwróciła się w ich stronę i powoli schodziła w dół stopni, uśmiechając się uprzejmie.

Oczywiście, że ją znała, tylko nowi niczego o niej nie wiedzieli. Każdy o zdrowych zmysłach miał pojęcie na temat jej oddania ministerstwu. "Wszystko w imię dobra" - powtarzała. "Ministerstwo wie najlepiej" - powtarzała. Tych cytatów można byłoby przywołać tysiąc, a i tak nie oddałoby się podziwu, z jakim traktowała Ministra Magii. Ubóstwiała go z wręcz prześmiewczą czcią, lecz była przy tym w pełni poważna.

– A oto moje najnowsze odkrycie – podekscytował się Korneliusz. – Panna Odette Malfoy, uzdrowicielka i pracownica Departamentu Magicznych Wypadków i Katastrof. Kuzynka Lucjusza Malfoya, mojego zaufanego znajomego. Jestem pewien, że dobrze się zapoznacie.

Twoje odkrycie?

Kobiety mierzyły się przez chwilę wzrokiem, ale z ich twarzy ani na sekundę nie schodził sztuczny uśmiech. Obie doskonale wiedziały, że były tu tylko po to, by wypełnić swój obowiązek, a nie zawierać nowe znajomości. Mimo wszystko podały sobie ręce.

– Jakże miło mi panią poznać, pani Umbridge – przywitała ją Odette.

– Ach, wystarczy Dolores. Cała przyjemność po mojej stronie, Odette – odparła czarownica, z miejsca przechodząc na "ty".

Grała dobrą szopkę przed ministrem, to musiała jej przyznać. Zobaczy, jak jej to dalej pójdzie.

– No, czas się zbierać, drogie panie. Za chwilę powinnyście znaleźć się w sektorze deportacyjnym – stwierdził Knot pospieszająco.

~*~*~

Mówiąc, że uczniowie niezbyt przychylnie zareagowali na pojawienie się w szkole pracowników ministerstwa, użyłoby się strasznego niedopowiedzenia. Chyba tylko część Ślizgonów była tym faktem zachwycona i Odette wydawało się, że miało to coś wspólnego z jej krewnym, Draconem. To dziecko było tak rozpieszczone i skrzywdzone zarazem, że większej rozbieżności chyba nie dało się stworzyć. "Pieniądze to klucz do wszystkiego".

Chyba w twojej chorej wyobraźni, Lucjuszu.

Wyjątkowo przyglądała się sławnemu Harry'emu Potterowi. Chłopak wyglądał normalnie, jadł, rozmawiał, czasami się śmiał. Mimo wszystko coś w jego oczach i sposobie, w jaki raz po raz patrzył nieprzytomnie w jeden punkt sprawiało wrażenie wyobcowania. O czymś myślał i Odette domyślała się, o czym. Turniej Trójmagiczny musiał przewrócić jego życie do góry nogami, o ile to w ogóle wciąż było możliwe. Miała ochotę mu pomóc, dać mu się wygadać, przytulić. Co prawda patrzył na nią, jakby to ona zabiła mu rodziców, ale rozumiała jego wrodzoną niechęć do Malfoyów. W końcu jej "bratanka" nie dało się zaliczyć do najsympatyczniejszych nastolatków. Jaki ojciec, taki syn.

Po uczcie syn Narcyzy zaczepił swoją kochaną cioteczkę na korytarzu i zaciągnął do pokoju wspólnego Slytherinu. W dość dosłownym tego zdania znaczeniu, bo jego banda, ciągnęła ją za ręce tak długo, aż zgodziła się z nimi pójść. Nachalność dzisiejszej młodzieży.

– Zobaczysz, spodoba ci się, ciociu – zapewniał Draco przez większość drogi.

W sumie dobrze było zobaczyć swój dawny dom po tylu latach z dala od niego. Może Ślizgoni przeważnie nie przepadali za Hogwartem, ale dla czystokrwistych uczniów to jedyne miejsce, w którym mogli odpocząć od rodzin. Nie wszystkim się udawało, niektórzy rodzice potrafili być bardzo stanowczy, jednak dla Odette to miejsce było gwarancją spokoju przez prawie 10 miesięcy w roku. Z dala od jej szalonego ojca i bezsilnej matki.

Nie powiedziałaby, że jej życie wyglądało fatalnie. Nie była torturowana, nikt się nad nią nie znęcał, ale Raxtus, stryj Lucjusza i brat Abraxasa, uwielbiał ignorować swoją jedyną pociechę, przez co cały czas czuła się, jakby nie miała ojca. Przynajmniej z matką mogła porozmawiać, ale brakowało jej twardych rozmów albo ojcowskiej miłości, o której tyle słyszała. W szkole nikt jej nie olewał. Tutaj była kimś. Dziwnym trafem to w Draconie widziała swoje odbicie.

Po wieczorze spędzonym na rozmowach, grach, przekupowaniu i próbie zarobienia dodatkowych punktów, ten dzień mogła uznać za skończony. Nie spodziewała się, że jej krewniak aż tak dorósł od ostatniego spotkania. Przynajmniej nie używał już aż takiej ilości żelu do włosów, ale charakterek wciąż miał.

– Dobry wieczór – wzdrygnęła się na dźwięk niskiego, leniwego głosu.

A liczyłam na spokojny spacer do sypialni...

Odwróciła się i ujrzała przed sobą Snape'a, ale coś z nim było nie tak. Jego szaty zostały rozszarpane, włosy potargane, a z twarzy dało się wyczytać zmęczenie. Opierał się ostrożnie o ścianę, a kiedy podchodził do niej, mogłaby przysiąc, że kulał na prawą nogę. Do tego szedł w stronę lochów, w których powinien być godzinę temu.

– Dobry wieczór, Sewerusie – odparła szeptem w ciszy ciemnego korytarza.

– Lepiej nie kręć się tu o tej porze, jeśli Dumbledore nie przydzieli ci obchodu. Choć wątpię, abyście ty i Dolores chętnie spełniały jego rozkazy – ostrzegł z nutą sarkazmu tak mu nieobcą.

– Mogłabym powiedzieć to samo o tobie i chodzeniu po błoniach o północy – stwierdziła oschle, mierząc go wzrokiem.

Mistrz Eliksirów zatrzymał się na chwilę, po czym spojrzał na nią wyzywająco i wysyczał przez zaciśnięte zęby:

– Nie wtykaj nosa w nie swoje sprawy.

– To nie mów mi, co mam robić – spiorunowała go wzrokiem, robiąc krok do przodu.

Nie mogła powiedzieć, że się nie lubili, przeważnie mieli co do siebie neutralne stosunki. Tym razem jednak oboje byli zmęczeni i nie mieli ochoty na reprymendy ze strony współpracowników. Przez chwilę patrzyli sobie w oczy gniewnie, żadne z nich nie chciało odpuścić, ale wtedy usłyszeli coś z zewnątrz budynku i oboje ruszyli do własnych komnat.

~*~*~

Była godzina 01:27, kiedy profesor McGonagall w swej kociej postaci, patrolowała korytarze Hogwartu. Szukała uczniów, którzy z marszu mieliby ochotę na tygodniowy szlaban u Filcha przez krzątanie się po godzinach poza dormitoriami.

Właśnie mijała posąg jednej z czarownic z Salem, kiedy usłyszała szept. Czyżby ktoś kręcił się po czwartym piętrze? Rozejrzała się i ujrzała, że drzwi do Skrzydła Szpitalnego są szczelnie zamknięte. Jednak ktoś musiał tu być.

Zrobiła kilka kroków w stronę głosu i zorientowała się, że dochodził z jednej z sal.

– Wiem, ale co ja mam zrobić? – odezwał się jakiś kobiecy głos. – Nie mogę nad tym tak po postu zapanować... Nie da się... Próbowałam, uwierz mi... Ale jak?... Byłoby łatwiej, gdybyś tu był...

Poznała ten głos. Odette Malfoy. Musiała dostać tę salę jako swoją komnatę, bo przecież w Skrzydle Szpitalnym spała Poppy. Z kim ona właściwie rozmawiała o tej godzinie? Do tego o czym rozmawiała? Minerwa nie miała czasu się domyślać, wślizgnęła się do środka i przemieniła w człowieka. Kominek był zgaszony.

Blondynka stała jak słup soli, wpatrując się w nauczycielkę transfiguracji, która uważnie obserwowała każdy kąt. Co ona tu robiła?

McGonagall musiała zauważyć zaskoczenie na twarzy uzdrowicielki, bo zaczęła wyjaśniać pospiesznie.

– Robiłam obchód na piętrze, kiedy usłyszałam, jak z kimś rozmawiasz. Myślałam, że to któryś z uczniów – odparła chłodno. – Powinnaś zamykać drzwi na przyszłość.

Nie zamknęła drzwi? Co gdyby to ktoś inny nakrył ją na tej rozmowie? Czy skończyłoby się na zwykłym upomnieniu? Musiała przyznać, było blisko. Cieszyła się, że wciąż nie odkryła sposobu, by każdy mógł je zobaczyć, bo... pewnie byłoby mniej przyjemnie.

Minerwa obserwowała ją przez chwilę, ale widząc, że Odette nie miała zamiaru nic dodać, sama zaczęła mówić.

– Jest wpół do drugiej, powinnaś już spać, z rana zaczynacie z Poppy dyżur.

Jej poważny ton i wyprostowana sylwetka sprawiały, że nawet Malfoy się wycofała. Do tego ta tradycyjna mina "przeżyłam huncwotów, przeżyję i to" nie dodawała ani grama otuchy temu, do kogo była skierowana. W końcu młodsza się poddała.

– Zapamiętam na przyszłość. Dobranoc, profesor McGonagall – podsumowała krótko.

~*~*~

Kobieta pracowała przy śniadaniu, gdy pierwsze promienie poranka zawitały do kuchni. To nie pierwszy dzień, w którym musiała wstać przed wschodem słońca. Odkąd nie mieli skrzata domowego, ona zajmowała się domem. Coś, czego nigdy nie była uczona. Może raz czy dwa jej matka coś wspominała, ale jej rodzina raczej wychodziła z założenia, że to skrzaty będą za nią polerowały podłogi, czyściły półki, prasowały ubrania czy przyrządzały posiłki. Cóż, tak początkowo to wyglądało.

To nie tak, że wykorzystywała Zgredka. On żył, żeby coś robić, każdy taki, jak on, chciał, aby powierzono mu jakieś zadanie. Początkowo wykonywał je bardzo entuzjastycznie, choć już kiedy poślubiła Lucjusza, zachowywał się nieco inaczej niż reszta skrzatów. Nie darzyła go wielką sympatią, ale nie obrażała go i nie wymierzała kar. Zwłaszcza, że bardzo sumiennie wywiązywał się ze swoich obowiązków. Kiedy zaszła w ciążę, wszystko się zmieniło. Jej mąż denerwował się na Zgredka o każdą najmniejszą głupotę związaną z nią. Nawet jeżeli stworzenie było Bogu ducha winne. Zaczął traktować go jak niewolnika. Próbowała coś zrobić, lecz nic to nie dawało i w końcu się poddała. Taki już jego los. I to trwało aż do wiekopomnego roku 1993, kiedy to Lucjusz wrócił do domu bez skrzata.

Od tamtej pory Narcyza sama musiała się zmagać z pracami domowymi. Kupiła w Esach i Floresach książkę o podstawowych zaklęciach domowych i rzeczywiście je opanowała. Musiała przyznać, było to skrajnie upokarzające dla kogoś jej pochodzenia, ale prędzej czy później ten dzień by nastąpił. W końcu Zgredek przeszedłby w ręce Dracona, kiedy ten założyłby własną rodzinę, Lucjusz by o to zadbał. Cóż, najwyraźniej padło na "prędzej".

Nagle drzwi otworzyły się z impetem i do kuchni wpadła głowa rodu Malfoyów. Jego świeżo umyte włosy lśniły w blasku słońca, a czarne szaty idealnie leżały na jego czterdziesto dwuletnim ciele. Jak ona marzyła, żeby cofnąć się do czasów Hogwartu...

– Widzę, że już wstałaś – stwierdził sucho czarodziej, siadając przy niewielkim stole.

Ale spostrzegawczy.

– Tak, właśnie szykowałam śniadanie – odparła Narcyza, najlżejszym tonem, na jaki umiała się zmusić.

Ta cała akcja z odrodzeniem Czarnego Pana go zmieniła. Kiedyś był inny w stosunku do niej, delikatniejszy. Może nie poślubiła go z miłości, ale był jej najbliższy ze wszystkich kandydatów i pozostawała gotowa na zmiany. W końcu jej rodzina raczej nie zniosłaby widoku własnej córki z uroczą Gryfonką...

Ona i Lucjusz chodzili ze sobą podczas ostatniego roku w Hogwarcie. Wtedy też Blackowie i Malfoyowie potwierdzili zaręczyny swoich dzieci i czekali, aż Narcyza skończy 17 lat, by mogli wziąć ślub. Kobieta wbrew pozorom wcale nie była taka przychylna. Miała ochotę uciec z ukochaną tak samo, jak to zrobili Andromeda z Tedem, ale... widziała, jaki los spotkał jej siostrę po ucieczce. Była szczęśliwa, lecz jakim kosztem? Narcyza stchórzyła. Jej dziewczyna zrozumiała, od zawsze wiedziała, że może nie będzie im dane być razem, a teraz...

Zawsze porównywali ją do jej sióstr. Niegdyś potrafiła być potulna na zewnątrz, jednak buntownicza w środku jak Andromeda, ale po tym incydencie stała się kimś zupełnie innym - potulna na zewnątrz i potulna, choć krwawiąca, w sercu. Do Bellatrix właściwie nigdy nie była podobna. Jej obsesja czarną magią, buntownicza natura, zaniedbanie ze strony rodziców doprowadziły najstarszą z sióstr Black do szaleństwa. I ta przysięga, że już nigdy nie odezwie się do Andromedy... zabolała najbardziej. To był cios poniżej pasa.

Wyrwała się z bolesnych wspomnień. Podała śniadanie do stołu, szybko ustawiła wszystko tak, by łatwiej było to umyć i usiadła na swoim miejscu. Małżeństwo jadło w ciszy. Kiedyś nigdy tego nie robili, zawsze mieli dużo do powiedzenia, ale... czasy się zmieniają, jak widać.

Wtedy do kuchni przez otwarte okno wleciała sowa z listem i podleciała do Narcyzy. Na kopercie widać było jej imię, a także adres Malfoy Manor i...

– Oddaj go – rzucił od razu Lucjusz.

No tak, mogła się spodziewać, że nie przeczyta własnej korespondencji, jeśli jej mąż był w pokoju. Im więcej się zmienia, tym więcej pozostaje bez zmian.

– Proszę – powiedziała z wyrzutem, podając mężczyźnie pocztę.

Ten zmierzył ją uważnym spojrzeniem, przełamał pieczęć, nie spuszczając wzroku z żony, a następnie wyprostował się powoli i spojrzał na nią ostrzegawczo.

– Uważaj na ton i szanuj to, co ci daję, żono. Chyba, że chcesz powtórkę z rozrywki – jego brew uniosła się maniakalnie.

Po plecach czarownicy przeszedł dreszcz. Definitywnie nie miała ochoty na "powtórkę z rozrywki", chyba podziękuje. Co nie zmieniało faktu, że jej korespondencja wciąż była jej do odczytania. Właśnie o tym myślała, mówiąc, że wiele się zmieniło, odkąd Czarny Pan powrócił. Wiele, zwłaszcza w jej mężu.

Lucjusz kilkukrotnie przeskanował wzrokiem list, wrzucił go do pustej miski i wyjął różdżkę. Kobieta wiedziała, co zamierzał zrobić. Prawie zawsze to robił.

Po chwili pergamin stanął w płomieniach.

– Dracon pisze, że Odette zaszczyciła ich swoją obecnością na ślizgońskiej prywatce, otwierającej rok szkolny. Co za błazeństwo – streścił jej wiadomość Dracona czarodziej.

A przynajmniej jej część.

– Nie dałeś mi przeczytać listu od naszego syna? – zapytała, nie dowierzając.

Lucjusz wstał i, idąc szybkim krokiem, znalazł się tuż przed Narcyzą. Blondynka cofnęła się szybko, przywierając do ściany, przy której siedziała. Mężczyzna złapał ją za szczękę, patrząc głęboko w oczy.

– Nie unoś na mnie głosu – wyszeptał niebezpiecznie, po czym sam zaczął krzyczeć. – Poza tym twoje listy to też moje listy, jasne?!

Nie była w stanie odpowiedzieć, dłoń na jej twarzy zacisnęła się jeszcze mocniej, sprawiając ból.

– To nie ty decydujesz, smarkulo. Jestem twoim ojcem, jesteś moją własnością, jasne?!

Oczy jej się przeszkliły, patrzyła z przerażeniem na twarz męża, który po kilku chwilach stracił gniewny błysk z oczu i spojrzał na nią zdezorientowany i nieco przestraszony. Natychmiast puścił żonę i szybko wyszedł z pokoju.

Narcyza nie wiedziała, co ma o tym myśleć. Ile by dała, żeby uciec z Andromedą, kiedy miała okazję.

Im więcej się zmienia, tym więcej pozostaje bez zmian.

Nawet nie zauważyła, kiedy po jej rumianych policzkach zaczęły spływać gorzkie krople.

#alastor #draco malfoy #harry potter #malfoyfamily #moody #narcissa malfoy #nymphadora tonks #remus lupin #sirius black #Odette Malfoy

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theharpersadventureinhogwarts · 1 year

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what are some weird habits that each of them have but would never admit to each other???

The Weird Habits of The Fabulous Eight

Dawn Harper: Dawn's weird habit is that she would not admit to the group is that she used to yodel when she has to sing in front of the large crowd since kindergarten.

Dicky Harper: Dicky's weird habit is that he would not admit to the group is that he used to eat shoe baloney a lot when he was a kid and still continues to do this today.

Ricky Harper: Ricky's weird habit is that he would not admit to the group is that he stills labels anything in his stuff a lot and also the fact that he can be impatient when people misspells things.

Nicky Harper: Nicky's weird habit is that he would not admit to the group is that he stills checks out his clocks in the nighttime in order to wake up in the morning to make breakfast for himself and his friends.

Sarah O'Brien: Sarah's weird habit is that she would not admit to the group is that she runs up and down in the hallway to stim a lot, she still dances in the middle of the night to listen some music.

Alex Kingsley: Alex's weird habit is that she would not admit to the group is that she sometimes that she steps on little snails because she thinks they're disgusting.

Joy Garcia: Joy's weird habit is that she would not admit to the group is that she always bite her bottom lip and pinch her arms when she is nervous.

Odette Mitchell: Odette's weird habit is that she would not admit to the group is that she always bites her nails when she gets anxious and she wishes on the stars in the night time sky when she is bored.

#harry potter au #nicky ricky dicky & dawn #nicky ricky dicky & dawn au #nicky x sarah #ricky x joy #theharpersadventureinhogwarts #dicky x alex #nicky harper #dicky harper #ricky harper #dawn harper #alex kingsley #sarah o'brien #joy garcia #dawn x odette #odette mitchell

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endlessly-cursed · 1 year

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𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 ⁎✶✧

odette @kathrynalicemc

alethea @cursebreakerfarrier

angélique

sabine @magicallymalted

#hogwarts legacy #hphl #harry potter: hogwarts legacy #odette bellerose #alethea bellerose #oc: angelique bellerose #sabine bellerose #bellerose sisters #mygifset*#mine

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chaoticrebels · 21 hours

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✪ 。゜ ⠀ ☆ 。゜ ⠀ ★ Closed Starter » { Odette }

✦ — * ⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀﹕⠀ ❪ @gentlepuff ❫

❝You will be fine...❞ Romeo sighed, sliding down next to Odette. Typically the Slytherin would have minded his business but when the Hufflepuff seemed a bit distracted by something and everyone seemed to be ignoring her, he couldn't help but find out what's up with the younger student. Though he almost regretted it because he clearly didn't know what he was getting himself into. ❝There may be decisions to make and surprises in store, life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. The future is never set in stone, remember that.❞ The male remarked, giving the female his best reassuring smile that he could master. Then he stood up once more and held out his hand to her. ❝But instead of sitting here worrying about what's to come, how about we just go find something fun to do?❞ Romeo offered, rather or not Odette accepted was up to debate.

#☯ 。゜ ⠀ ☆ ⠀ 。゜ ⠀ ★ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ﹕Romeo #♚↬ʀɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴍᴀѕᴛᴇʀᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ↫♚ ✘Chats✘#✪↬ʏᴏᴜʀ ωᴏʀʟᴅ ɪѕ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʙɪɢɢᴇʀ↫✪ ✘Closed Starter✘#♛➺ Odette⠀。゜ ⠀ ☆ ── { gentlepuff }#gentlepuff #✦ 。゜ ✧ - ̗̀ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 ─── ❪ Main ❫#✦ 。゜ ✧ - ̗̀ 𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 ─── ❪ Harry Potter ❫

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treasurechestmemories · 4 days

Video

youtube

Universal Studios Hollywood Day 3 Part 2

#youtube #Universal Studios Hollywood Day 3 Part 2 #Treasure Chest Memories #Icelyn Odette #Universal Studios Hollywood #Super Nintendo World #Harry Potter #Kung Fu Panda #Universal Studios #Unviersal #Universal Studios Hollywood California #Universal Studios Hollywood 2024 #Super Nintendo World 1 Year Anniversary #Super Nintendo World Universal Studios #Universal Studios Super Nintendo World

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countrymusicandcher · 4 months

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Other Voices too (a trip back to bountiful) by Nanci Griffith is forever a criminally underrated record, and here is why:

It features more artists of note than most any charity album ever could. Literally. All these artists appear on one record, many on the same songs:

Odette

Ian Tyson

Guy & Susanne Clark

Jean Ritchie

Emmylou Harris (And Meghan Ahern)

Richard Thompson

Lucinda Willams

Rodney Crowell

Gillian Welch

Carolyn Hester

Dolores Keane

Tom Russel

Lyle Lovett

Steve Earle

Harlan Howard

John Prine

Jerry Jeff Walker

Sharon Shannon

And these are just the ones I consider large and well recognized. The record feature at least a doussin more like Rosalie Sorrels, The Kennedys, Julie Gold, Lucy Kaplinsky, Eric Taylor etc. This album is a miracle of artist collaborations and it sounds so great. Just...if you haven't heard it before give it a chance!

#nanci griffith #odette #guy clark #Emmylou Harris #ian tyson #country music #folk music #richard thompson #Spotify

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gaerlhoss-a · 1 year

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TAG DROP – ronald lewis, i.e. my goodest boy.

⤷ file / ronald lewis.

⤷ ronald / character study.

⤷ ronald / characterization.

⤷ ronald / visage.

⤷ ronald / interactions.

⤷ ronald / rel. breanna casey.

⤷ ronald / rel. sophie devereaux.

⤷ ronald / rel. alec hardison.

⤷ ronald / rel. parker.

⤷ ronald / rel. eliot spencer.

⤷ ronald / rel. harry wilson.

#⤷ file / ronald lewis.#⤷ ronald / character study.#⤷ ronald / characterization.#⤷ ronald / visage.#⤷ ronald / interactions.#⤷ ronald / rel. breanna casey.#⤷ ronald / rel. sophie devereaux.#⤷ ronald / rel. alec hardison.#⤷ ronald / rel. parker.#⤷ ronald / rel. eliot spencer.#⤷ ronald / rel. harry wilson.#tag drop #hashtag no regrets #MY GOODEST BOY I ADORE HIM #stealing odette's description because I'm adopting this

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maepolzine · 2 years

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New v. Old Book Covers: Which do I Prefer?

Comparing old book covers with new ones, and sharing my thoughts on what I prefer in a book cover.

View On WordPress

#book #book covers #cassandra clare #harry potter #jk rowling #Pop Culture #richelle mead #sarah j maas #scott westerfeld #stephenie meyer #tessonja odette

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ahollowgrave · 1 month

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I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

(lore below)

A teardrop of the moon, fallen to earth with borrowed light, harried by over-curious sparrows, rescued by a heavenly bird. With a new form woven from moonbeams, Odette frolics through the forest as a breeze, leaving frost in her wake. Prone to mischief she spends her time rustling leaves, playing music, and following travelers; nipping at their noses with her chill and guiding the lost ones back to the path.

Catching sight of her through the forest is said to bring good luck. Hearing her laugh warns of trouble ahead.

Concealed within a cloak of moths, she is most easily spotted during the transitional seasons; autumn and spring. She represents play, rest, and the new growth that follows.

Thanks to @iron-sparrow for letting me once again link Odette to Yein <3

#Pigeon Screens #ffxiv screenshots #hyur #middie #midlander #technically kinda sort lmaaaaaao #the mushrooms are seasonal i think #take any kind of meaningful screenshot??? no.... create more creatures

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skeptiquewrites · 3 months

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Microfic: Classy

for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'classy'

"Aren't you a darling. May I see your paw, Madame? Thank you. What an elegant little lady. Just taking a look, just taking a look." Harry hadn't expected to encounter Draco at the vet's, much less have him cooing over his cat Odette, who was preening for him. "Poor thing."

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #fifty words

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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I can't stop thinking about dot having a nightmare and tooster comforting her🥺 he would be so good with her

We need a break from all the angst don’t we? 🥺🥺 here the Terms of Endearment Masterlist if you wanna read it.

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

Oh my heart can’t take this. Picture it.

One of the things that your OBGYN had told you not to do while you were in the later stages of your third trimester and boarding on what you thought would be your fourth, was to move house.

Did you and Bradley listen? No—

Because you needed a bigger house for your growing family and when you found this one on the market, two story, four bedroom, two and a half bathroom, massive entertainment areas with an open plan kitchen smack bang in the middle of a cul de sac just a twenty minute drive from base? You and Bradley put in an offer the real estate and previous owners just couldn’t refuse. A few weeks later? You were signing off on all the paperwork and being handed the keys.

But just because you’d both found the most perfect house to make a home for your growing family, that didn’t negate the fact that your OBGYN had been right.

“Mama!!” Dot's cries could be heard down the hall in the dead quiet of the night. “Mama—!” With every passing second that she wasn’t being attended to, her cried became more pained, desperate to be consoled after the nightmare she had just been startled from by a loud clap of thunder followed almost immediately by the bright drawn out flashes of lightning creeping in through her curtains to eerily illuminate her new bedroom. “Tooster!”

“Okay—“ It’s your deep sigh that’s laced in exhaustion that has Bradley immediately rolling over to kiss your cheek. You’d both been lying there for a few minutes wondering if your now four and a half year old would soothe herself back to sleep. “I’m coming bubba.”

“No, no you stay in bed mama I’ll get her.” Bradley Bradshaw never thought he could fall any more in love with you, until you told him you were pregnant. “You stay here, sleep, I’ve got her.”

“Mama! Tooster!” Dots screaming out as the thunder outside rawrs on, so much so it even makes you jump a little as you sit up to rest against the headboard, baby bump engorged and in the way of practically everything you did nowadays.

“She sounds like someone’s slitting her throat.” You're tired and swollen and exhausted from unpacking the copious amounts of boxes. “Better hurry Tooster—“

“I’m going, I’m up.” You don’t know if Bradley was trying to convince himself or you that he was awake, but regardless—his feet hit the carpet as he pushed his boxer briefs clad self up and out of the comfort of the bed he shared with you every night. “You know you can’t even blame me for this one, she’s all you.” Rooster teases as Dot's ear piercing shrills echo out from down the hall, forcing you and Bradley to both frown and hiss at the overly dramatic sounds escaping from your clearly distressed four year old daughter. “My daughter, your DNA—“

“Oh I can’t wait to hear the end of that gag when your daughter is born Bradshaw.” Rooster would from time to time remind you that he had no involvement with the creation of Odette Dolan. Although he loved and cared for her as his own and would tell every Tom Dick and Harry that Odette was his daughter, there was always the odd occasion when she’d do something overly dramatic or totally inappropriate that would remind Bradley Bradshaw that Odette was 100% without a shadow of a doubt not his biological daughter and that whatever personality trait she was exhibiting was passed down by you. “I can’t stand that joke—“

Bradley just laughs to himself as he’s padding around the bed, leaning over, and kissing your lips softly. Placing a gentle hand over your stomach that’s harboring his unborn daughter. One of his old T-shirts adorns your bump. Nothing else quite fit you at the moment.

“You can’t stand it because it’s the truth mama—“ Bradley coos against your lips.but you and Bradley both know that Odette hangs out with Bradley far too much to not mimic him and his mannerisms. Bradley was Dot’s dad in all the ways that counted, that mattered—and although he’d joke and tease you that she wasn’t his, he loved her far too much to not want her to be.

Hell, he loved your daughter so much he’d even mentioned the possibility of adopting her, but to be able to legally adopt Dot Bradley had to live in the same house as you and your daughter for at least four years—and Jaidyn needed to relinquish all his parental rights before anything could go through the courts. So—at this point in time, Bradley Bradshaw had his hands tied. He just needed to wait for the right time.

“MAMA!—“ Dots screaming. “MAMA! HELP—!”

“Rooster, if you don’t go see what’s wrong she’s going to tear her throat apart.” You sigh, looking up at the man you loved, the man who’d become your best friend, your partner in crime.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Bradley mumbled against your lips just one more time before he’s departing from the bedroom he shared with you. Rubbing his eyes when he hits the hallway light on, the bright hume of yellow and white force him to squint as he wraps his fist around the door handle of Dots door, her cry’s still raging on as he opens it slowly—trying his best not to startle the already hysteric four year old he loved so dearly.

“Odette darlin? S’wrong baby?” It’s almost instant, as soon as Bradley is taking a step into the darkness of Odette's room—there’s a huge clap of thunder that quite frankly even startled him. He can’t imagine how fast her little heart must be racing as she screams out for painful hot tears of sadness.

“TOOSTER!!!”

“Hey, im here baby im here.” Bradley coos as he switches on the fairy lights that hang above and around the top of Dots little toddler bed. It looks like a house delicate white white tulle drapes that hang down the sides and across the top. “I’m here Dot.”

“I’m scawed—“ She sniffles out, trying to regulate her breathing when she realises her Tooster is here. “S’loud and I had a bad dweam—“

“Oh well that's just no good, is it princess.” Bradley’s mumbling as he climbs on into the toddler bed, ducking down so he doesn’t smack his forehead on the white beam that runs across the top. “How about I stay in here for a little while?”

“Won’t mama miss you?” Dot asks as Bradley lays down again the side of the bed closest to the wall, collecting dot in his strong arms as he settles in. Wrapping his daughter up in his arms against his chest.

“Hmm, probably, but mamas a big girl you know.”

“Mamas scared of tunder too.” If there’s one thing Bradley never wants to change is the way Odette talks. She still has trouble with her R’s and K’s and in some cases her H’es, but it just melts his heart. “Is she otay?”

“Mums more than okay Sweetheart, she’s probably already snoring her head off.” Bradley nuzzles his nose against Dot's cheek, making her giggle as she squirms in his grip. Her tears still wet on her lashes.

“Mama doesn’t snore.” Dot yawns, climbing herself up onto Rooster's bare chest, the warmth he radiates reminds her that although there’s a fierce and ferocious storm rumbling away outside, she’s safe in her Roosters arms. “You do Tooster.”

Bradley scoffs out loud, like fuck you don’t snore. You snore louder than he does. It’s because of the baby, he knows it, but still he agrees, closing his eyes because he’s tired and it’s nearing three in the morning.

“Well now you get to deal with me snoring because I’m not leaving this bed.” Bradley sticks his tongue out, he can’t see Dot smiling down at him as she climbs the expanse of his torso but he hears her laugh. He’d take that sound over her cries any day of the week. “Why does the thunder scare you?” Bradley liked to talk to Dot like she was a big girl, he wanted her to feel like she could always talk to him, always come to him about any of her problems, her trials, her tribulations in life and he’d be there to listen, give advice. “You know your grandma used to tell me that thunder is just Santa busy in his workshop with all his elves and that lightning is just him testing out all his Christmas lights.”

“But I don’t have a gwandma Tooster, I have a uwncle Jakey.” It was true. Dot didn’t have a set of grandparents on either side of your families. It was something the pair of you never really thought about until you fell pregnant. The idea that your growing family was just so…..small. “Can I meet gwandma?” Dot asked as she finally settled into Rooster’s side. Pulling up his little blush pink covers as she did so.

“She’s in heaven darlin, been there even before you were born.” Bradley hoped his mum could see him now, being the one thing he thought he’d never be. A dad, a good dad he hoped.

“Why did mum bownded me?” Bradley couldn’t help but to smile and stifled a loud laugh for this time of night. Rolling over onto his side as Dot laid on hers. He was cramped in her toddler bed that he and Jake had spent far to many hours putting together. But he’d stay here all night if that meant she felt safe.

“Why did your mum born you?” Bradley cooed, bornded—that was Rooster’s new favourite word. Drinking in the sight of the little girl who looked more like you every day. “Well, If I'm being perfectly honest with you Dotty girl I think your mama bornded you because she needed someone to show her she wasn’t finished fighting.” It was probably a far deeper response than Dot had the capacity to comprehend, but it was what Bradley truly believed. “But she also bornded you because you were in her tummy and she couldn’t keep you there forever, you got too big.”

“Like mama is now with the new baby?” Dot asked as she yawned again, her eyelids heavy as she tried to stay away, enjoying the conversation she was having with her Rooster. “

“Exactly like mama is now.” Bradley replied as he kissed Dots forever, once again wrapping her up in his arms, pulling her close to his chest as she settled into the warmth of his chest. “Get some rest sweetheart, I’ll be here in the morning.”

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

“Ow! Ya little turd.” With a grown and a huff you were rolling over in bed. Your unborn daughter was going to grow up to be a kickboxer at this rate, you were sure of it. She’d been using your ribs as target practice for her future opponents from the moment the sun had begun to rise. “Bradley I swear to god if this child of yours doesn’t stop using me as her personal soccer ball I swear I’m gonna opt to get my tubes tied after delivery.”

When you were met with nothing but silence, you rolled over, a hand caressing your stomach as you did so. To your surprise there was no Bradley, just an empty bed that was closed and lonely.

“Huh—“ It took you a moment to put the pieces of the foggy puzzle together. It was Sunday which meant sleep in day, but where the hell was your soon to be husband? “Oh! Right!” As if your unborn daughter was telling you that you’d make a great detective, she kicked you hard and kicked you fast against your bladder, forcing you to groan as you struggled to sit up in the middle of the bed your Fiancé had abandoned you in. “Okay, that’s it—you’re definitely your fathers daughter you little shit.”

As you waddled down the hall, you rubbed your eyes and stretched your back. Feeling awfully large as of late as your daughter overtook your uterus. She was Bradley’s for sure. He was a giant, six foot three on a good day. But even as your annoyance grew, your heart melted as you pushed open the door to your daughter's room and saw Bradley Bradshaw curled up and cramped in your daughter's bed. He dwarfed her, but wrapped in Bradley’s arms laid your sleeping tot. Completely anchored by all the love that radiated off Rooster.

“I can’t feel my legs—“ Bradley grumbled when he caught your smirk, watching as you leaned against the threshold of the door. “I’ve got pins and needles in my lower back.”

“If I wasn’t already pregnant Bradshaw you’d be in a world of trouble.” You teased, seeing Bradley all curled up with your daughter in her toddler bed made your heart grow so fond of the man who’d swooped you off your feet a few years ago, kept you safe, protected you from the real monsters of the world. “I like this, I like this a lot.” You giggled, circling your finger Bradley’s way as he tried to sneak out of Odette's bed without disturbing her.

“Oh really?” Tip toeing across Dots room. Bradley wiggled his eyebrows as his hand’s gravitated towards your baby bump. “That’s good to know—“ He mumbled as his lips took yours hostage before he ducked to kiss your stomach over the shirt of his you wore. “Good morning my beautiful girls.”

“Love when you go full dad mode.” You beamed, watching as Dot stirred Bradleys shoulder. “It’s a real turn on.” Looking at his watch, which had no watch on it, Bradley mulled over his next move before shooting his shot.

“I reckon we’ve got about ten minutes before she’s up and at it.”

“Go—“ You giggled, racing out of Dot's room behind Bradley, two giggling messes, quietly shutting her door behind you. “Go!”

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

Author Note: If you would like to send in concepts for Terms of Endearment, requests are always open. xxx - Leah

(Dots Bed)

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising

#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradleybradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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theharpersadventureinhogwarts · 1 year

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𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

Dawn Harper

Full name: Dawn Abigail Harper

Nicknames: Dawny-Bear (by Nicky), Rockstar Dawn (by Sarah), Know-it-all Dawn (by brothers) and Do-it-all-Dawn (by herself)

Date of Birth: November 14, 2004

Pronouns and Sexuality: She/her and Lesbian

Blood status: Muggleborn

Nationality: American

Family: Tom and Anne Harper (parents) Ricky, Nicky and Dicky Harper (brothers)

MBTI Type: ENTJ (The Commander)

Enneagram Type: 8w7 (The Nonconformist)

Personality Traits: She is a independent, stubborn, bossy, golden-hearted, sharp-witted, strong, clumsy, energetic and enthusiastic young woman.

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Favourite Subject: Flying

Worst Subject: Potions

Patronus: Lioness

Boggart: Failure

Amortentia: Fresh grass, nail polish and cherry blossoms (what she smells like) and warm vanilla, tea and charity shops (what she smells in the potion).

Hobbies: Quidditch, football, helping others, listening to boy bands music, basketball, sports in general and having sleepovers.

Likes: Singing, playing quidditch, football, spending time with her friends and family, basketball, sports, eating tacos, boy bands and matchmaking people.

Dislikes: Lying to people, Dicky's stinky feet, the boys' messiness, not having personal space to herself, not being independent, letting people down and Madison.

Fun Facts:

She is the oldest quad by four seconds. (Brags about it all the time)

She loves tacos, but her favourite food is sushi.

She and Nicky are the only quadruplets who are left-handed.

She is the only quad that isn't afraid of spiders, but she is afraid of needles

Both she and Ricky think they are the leader and the boss of the boys. So they always fight over which one of them is the real leader.

Pink is her favorite color.

Her best friend is Mae Valentine.

Dawn chose the winning name, ''Squishy Paws''

She was initially the tallest quad until Dicky outgrew her in their third year

She's the only quad who's name is not short for anything.

Dawn can't dance properly unlike Nicky and Dicky.

Fun Facts at Hogwarts

She plays as a seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Her, Joy and Sarah has friendship flower crowns and rings to remember each other by while they are in holidays far away from each other.

She definitely pressures Nicky and Ricky to confess their romantic feelings for Sarah and Joy once she finds out that Nicky and Ricky likes Sarah and Joy romantically.

She likes to fly in a broomstick because for once in her life, she has the freedom to fly anywhere she wants to be in her life.

Since Mae left her behind in the muggle world so that she can go to the boarding school, she is struggling to make girl friendships for a while in the muggle world until she meets Sarah and Joy from the Hogwarts station in the wizarding world.

Dicky Harper

Full name: Dominic "Dicky" Steven Harper

Nicknames: Dingus (by Joy as a joke), Bro (by Sarah), and Dicky (by everyone)

Date of Birth: November 14, 2004

Pronouns and Sexuality: He/Him and Pansexual

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Nationality: American

MBTI Type: ESFP (The Entertainer)

Enneagram Type: 7w6 (The Pathfinder)

Personality Traits: He is a outgoing, friendly, goofy, spontaneous, flirty, kind and funny young man.

Family: Anne Harper (Mum), Tom Harper (Dad), Nicky Harper (younger quadruple brother), Ricky Harper (older quadruple brother) and Dawn Harper (older quadruple sister).

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Favourite Subjects: Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration

Worst Subjects: History of magic

Patronus: Monkey

Boggart: Being rejected by his friends and family.

Amortentia: Peaches, hairspray and sunflowers (what he smells like) and vanilla, freshcut rose and pizza (what he smells in the potion).

Hobbies: Dancing, hanging out with his friends, watching TV series, doing self-care with his hair, cracking jokes, annoying his quads with his stinky feet and taking dares and challenges seriously from his friends.

Likes: Music, people, jokes, dares and challenges, getting into trouble, parties and social events.

Dislikes: Rules, homework, people thinking he is dumb, negative people, when people take things too serious and boredom.

Fun Facts:

He was a third quad to be born, he says that he is the cool and chill one in his family

Dicky is kind-hearted and usually has good intentions. However, his inability to understand or take things seriously often serves to lead the group into troubles - and unexpected adventures,

He is the only quad to have brown eyes,

Blue is his favorite color

Dicky is lactose intolerant and he has trouble pronouncing words or getting phrases right (probably dyslexic)-

He became the tallest quadruplet after growing taller than Dawn.

Hogwarts Fun Facts:

He is the quad who has been in detention more times and Flich hates him.

McGonagall doesn’t like that he takes so many points from Gryffindor. But she still likes him because of his good heart.

Ricky, Sarah and Joy always need to study with him so he can pass the exams for graduate with them in Hogwarts.

Hagrid has a soft spot for him and adores to having Dicky, his siblings, Sarah and Joy as visitors in his cabin.

Nicky Harper

Full name: Nicholas "Nicky" Daniel Harper

Nicknames: Nicky (by everyone), Nickigotior (by himself), Sunshine (by Sarah) and Nicks (By Joy).

Date of Birth: November 14, 2004

Pronouns and sexuality: He/Him and Bisexual (with a strong female lean)

Blood status: Muggleborn

Nationality: American

MBTI Type: INFJ (The Advocate)

Enneagram Type: 1w2 (The Activist)

Personality traits: He is a quiet, selfless, compassionate, mischievous, determined, insecure, strong, calm, sarcastic, mature, loyal and honest young man.

Family: Tom and Anne Harper (parents) and Ricky, Dicky and Dawn Harper (older quadruple siblings).

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Favourite Subjects: Potions and Herbology

Worst Subjects: DADA

Patronus: Grizzly Bear

Boggart: Losing his family, friends and Sarah.

Amortentia: Buttercream, suncream and cottoninnte (what he smells like) Freshly baked cookies, the forest and white orchids (what he smells in it)

Hobbies: Cooking, playing the guitar, giving gifts, video games, cleaning, being sarcastic to his siblings and watching superhero movies.

Likes: Cooking, spending time with his friends and family, being with Sarah, playing the guitar, cleaning, being honest about cooking and playing video games.

Dislikes: Someone hurting Sarah, his friends and his family, mess, lying about his cooking, obnoxious people, Sarah being sad and Professor Snape.

Fun Facts:

He is the youngest of the quads.

He was originally the shortest quad, but as of Season 3 he is taller than Ricky.

He is the quietest and most well-mannered quad and tries to stay out of trouble.

He has a passion for cooking.

Green is his favourite colour.

He and Dawn are the only quadruples who are left-handed.

Hogwarts Fun Facts:

He helps the elves cook in the Hufflepuff kitchen in the Hufflepuff common room.

His favourite professor is Professor Sprout, because he thought that Professor Sprout is a very lovely teacher.

He gave the cookies for Professor McGonagall to eat every time he bakes something sweet for McGonagall.

He usually sits next to Sarah because he loves to braid her hair into braids and he can admire Sarah closely and personally.

He started his crush on Sarah in his second year of Hogwarts.

Ricky Harper

Full name: Richard “Ricky” Jared Harper

Nicknames: Rick (by Sarah), smart-boy (by Joy sometimes) and Ricky (by everyone)

Date of Birth: November 14, 2004

Pronouns and Sexuality: he/him; demisexual/biromantic

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Nationality: American

MBTI Type: ISTJ (The Logistician)

Enneagram Type: 1w9 (The Optimist)

Personality Traits: He is a intelligent, curious, organized, caring, know-it-all, short-tempered, mature, responsible and caring young man.

Family: Anne Harper (Mum), Tom Harper (Dad), Nicky Harper (younger quadruple brother), Dicky Harper (younger quadruple brother) and Dawn Harper (older quadruple sister).

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Favourite Subjects: Charms, History of Magic and Transfiguration

Worst Subjects: Flying (he thinks it is a waste of time)

Patronus: Owl

Boggart: McGonagall telling him that he had failed all the subjects.

Amortientia: Smells like books, gladiolus, yarn and rain. Smells in the potion; books, bonfires, coffee and cinnamon.

Hobbies: Reading, studying, learning, talking about the things he is passionate about, stargazing and making plans.

Likes: Books, space, science, probing he is right and quiet time.

Dislikes: Social events, when people make fun of him, stupid students and when the group doesn’t trust his plans.

Fun Facts:

He was the second quad born, four seconds after Dawn

Unlike his siblings, Ricky doesn't try too hard to be popular or to fit in.

Ricky will bend rules at times, if it's an opportunity to show off how smart he is.

He fights with Dawn about who's the leader in multiple times

He became the shortest quadruplet after Nicky grew taller than him.

Ricky tends to refer to himself in the third person whenever he gets really angry or upset

He started to have a crush on Joy in his third year

Ricky is incapable of dancing especially when it comes to the Yule Ball.

Fun Facts at Hogwarts:

He spends all the afternoons in the library with the books to read from.

The only reason why he watches the Quidditch's matches is because Joy and Dawn play in them.

He, Sarah and Joy have a little friendly competition to see who has the best marks in class.

He likes to play chess with McGonagall because he looks up to her a lot.

Sarah O'Brien

Full name: Sarah Paige O'Brien

Nicknames: Sarah-Bear (by Nicky), Sars (by Dawn), Sis (by Dicky), Sar (by Ricky) and Sa-Sa (by Joy)

Date of Birth: 11th of December 2004

Pronouns and Sexuality: She/Her and Bisexual (with a strong male lean)

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Nationality: Australian

MBTI Type: INFJ (The Advocate)

Enneagram Type: 2w3 (The Host)

Personality Traits: She is a sensible, kind-hearted, optimistic, friendly, smart, dependable, reliable, trustworthy, strong, loyal, funny, impatient, determined, blunt, stubborn and sweet young woman.

Family: Paula O'Brien (Mum)

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Favourite Subjects: Care of Magical Creatures, Charms and Divination.

Worst Subjects: Potions and Flying (She doesn't like heights a lot).

Patronus: Dolphin

Boggart: Her dad and losing her friends, her mum and Nicky.

Amortentia: White orchids, books, cinnamon and hot cocoa (what she smells like) and freshly baked cookies, home and sunshine (what she smells like in the potion).

Hobbies: Singing, dancing, acting, writing stories, reading books, typing, watching Disney movies and learning about Zodiac signs and MBTI types.

Likes: Singing, dancing, acting, writing stories, reading books, typing, spending time with her friends and her family, being with Nicky and zodiac signs and MBTI types.

Dislikes: Bullies, someone hurting the ones she loves the most, Nicky being sad and upset and disappointing anyone in her life.

Fun Facts:

She is the only child in her family.

She has been diagnosed autism since she was 3 years old.

She loves watching Disney movies a lot.

Her favourite food is Mac and cheese.

She loves bubble baths but hates showers.

She believes in zodiac signs and is an MBTI types fanigrl lover.

Hogwarts Fun Facts:

Sarah, Joy and Ricky usually helps Dicky pass his exams for school in order for Dicky to pass Hogwarts and graduated with them.

Sarah are often watching Dawn and Joy in the Quidditch practices and competitions to support them in her way in Quidditch.

She reads books with Professor McGonagall because she looks up to Professor McGonagall as a grandmother figure.

She loves to play with Nicky's hair because Nicky's hair is very soft to touch and very easy to brush his hair with her hands and a brush.

She loves to beat Ricky in academic competitions because she likes the look on his face when she won a academic prize as friends.

She started to have a crush on Nicky in her third year.

To Joy and Ricky's dismay, she is best at Divination.

She becomes a Slytherin headgirl in her fifth year of Hogwarts.

Joy Gracia

Full name: Joy Marie Garcia

Nicknames: Jo-jo (By Dicky when he tries to annoy her), Jo (by Ricky) and Queen Joy (by Sarah)

Date of Birth: 22nd of December 2004

Pronouns and Sexuality: she/her, heterosexual

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Nationality: English and Spanish

MBTI Type: INFJ (The Advocate)

Enneagram Type: 1w2 (The Activist)

Personality Traits: shy at first, talkative, smart, day-dreamer, creative, brave, kind, competitive, caring, stubborn and supportive.

Family: Helena Garcia (mother), Martin Garcia (father) and Theo Garcia, Eva Garcia, Luke Garcia and Marcos Garcia (younger siblings).

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Favourite Subjects: History of Magic, Transfigurations and Charms.

Worst Subjects: Divination (doesn’t believe in it)

Patronus: Wolf

Boggart: All her friends and family forget who she is.

Amortentia: rain, yarn and books (smells in the potion) and she smells like bonfires, cinnamon, coffee and books.

Hobbies: Reading, writing (especially poetry), playing quidditch, listening to music, learning, singing, dancing, helping others, and going for walks.

Likes: Books, long conversations, animals, music, night, the moon, rain and nature.

Dislikes: Being told to shut up, crowded places, being alone and pure-blood supremacy.

Fun Facts:

She is really shy and quiet at first but once you are her friend she never shuts up talking.

Normally she is the one who takes the mother role in the group as she has a lot of practice with his siblings.

She is really calm and always says no to violence, but if you mess up with her friends you are in trouble.

She always stands up for what she believes in and for the weak ones.

She is secretly a romantic and loves cheesy songs and romance books, but she will never tell anyone.

Fun Facts at Hogwarts

She joined Gryffindor quidditch team as a keeper.

She has a little friendly competition with Ricky and Sarah to see who is the best student at Hogwarts.

She has a crush on Ricky since their fourth year.

To Ricky's dismay, she is the best in History of Magic.

Alex Kingsley

Full Name: Alexandra Eveera Kingsley

Nicknames: a few pet names (by Remus Lupin)

Date Of Birth: 4th December 2004

Pronouns and Sexuality: She/her and biromantic asexual

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Nationality: British

Family: Unnamed mother, unnamed deceased father, unnamed slibings (one of them is deceased)

MBTI Type: INTJ (The Architect)

Enneagram Type: 4w5 (The Free Spirit)

Personality Traits: She's very shy and quiet, but she is realistic, strong and smart.

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Favourite Subject: Defence Against the Dark Arts

Worst Subject: Potions

Patronus: Blackbird

Boggart: Realizing she forgot to study for a test.

Amortentia: vanilla, coconut and fresh cut rose (what she smells like); hair spray, hair gel, cream cheese and strawberry jam (what she smells in the potion).

Hobbies: gardening, decorating, drawing and writing.

Likes: chocolate, being kind to animals and people who deserve it and lessons with Professor Lupin.

Dislikes: injustices, liars, being touched by strangers and people she doesn't feel comfortable around and overthinking.

Fun Facts:

She gets out of lesson of defense against dark arts with a gift, whatever is flowers or chocolate... why?

Actually; Remus spoils her because he sees her as the daughter he wants from Tonks, there's actually teacher-student relationship between them.

Dicky is in love with her, but she doesn't feel like being in a relationship right now.

Odette Mitchell

Full Name: Odette Audrei Mitchell

Nickname: Ette (by everybody)

Date of Birth: 15th August 2004

Pronouns and Sexuality: She/They and Lesbian

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Nationality: American

Family: Malcolm Mitchell (dad; divorced with Louisa Mitchell), Louisa Mitchell (mum; divorced with Malcolm Mitchell) and Jem Mitchell (older brother)

MBTI Type: INFP (The Mediator)

Enneagram Type: 9 (The Peacemaker)

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Favourite Subject: Herbology

Worse Subject: Charms

Patronus: Lamb

Boggart: Someone she loves leaving her

Amortentia: tea-roses, warm vanilla, charity shops (what she smells like) and fresh grass, nail polish and cherry blossom (what she smells in the potion).

Hobbies: painting, journaling, dinner parties with friends, vintage shopping, yoga, dancing to vintage love songs and visiting art galleries.

Likes: her family and friends, silk hair ribbons, creative activities, romance books and the herbology classroom.

Dislikes: when her plants die, crying in front of people, when her parents are around each other, bad jokes and eating meat.

Fun Facts about Her:

She cries about literally everything when she’s happy she cries and when she’s sad she cries.

Her favourite food is strawberry macarons.

Her father is a professor of Latin so she can understand it fluently.

She remembers little things about people even if she’s only met them once.

She collects vintage paintings.

She’s really good at yoga.

Her favourite book is Emma by Jane Austen.

Her favourite colour is burnt orange.

She loves plants but no matter how much she tries she can’t keep them alive.

She fiddles with hair ribbons when she’s nervous.

Fun Facts about Her in Hogwarts:

She always wears hair ribbons that match her uniform.

She is really shy and struggles to make friends at first.

She’s always really flustered by Dawn; she doesn’t know how to act.

She loves helping out with Pomona Sprout in her spare time.

She always forgets how to enter her common room.

Thanks for @nelabelievesindragons for the moodboards for this NRDD AU story and credits to @alexandrawritesfics and @diorgirl444 for creating Alex Kingsley and Odette Mitchell for this NRDD AU story!

#theharpersadventureinhogwarts #character profiles #character profile #nicky ricky dicky & dawn #harry potter au #nicky ricky dicky & dawn au #nicky x sarah #ricky x joy #dicky x alex #dawn x odette

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to-fly-with-clipped-wings · 4 months

Text

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing out of your sewage-system of a mouth.” Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.” “The same goes for you.” OR: in which you hitch a ride on the Hogwarts Express and buckle up for one hell of a ride. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Perhaps, if you had any less self-respect, having had a mental breakdown on the King’s Cross platform would have been your morning on the 1st of September.

The train leaves at eleven, Hagrid had told you. The Caddels had dropped you off at the station at half past ten before leaving to drop Odette off at her new school, Smeltings, they’d said.

All you were really aware of was the nifty cane that came with the uniform, supposedly used to thwack fellow peers. An excellent training for later life.

Regardless of peculiar apparels or uniform, you had now acquired a steadily rising fear that you would never be able to wear yours, if you couldn’t uncover where exactly platform nine and three-quarters situated on the station.

There they were, right in front of you, platforms nine and ten – right there – but nowhere could you spot any semblance or notion of anything three-quarters related. The large plastic number nine leered tauntingly at you, swinging back and forth vaguely with the passing breeze.

You had pestered the guard manning the station. He hadn’t even heard of Hogwarts, and since you had no flying clue where or even what the school was, you couldn’t describe it to him. The guard stared you down incredulously, as though you were trying to be stupid (you didn’t miss how he eyed Hedwig, the name you had christened your snowy owl, who chirped irritably back at him).

It took every ounce of your remaining willpower to not snap or lunge at him and cause a scene in the middle of the station, especially when a congregation of people had formed a circle around you to observe the exchange curiously.

Apparently, according to a variety of people at the station, there wasn’t even a train that left at eleven o’clock. And to top the cherry on your fabulous sundae of anxiety and chagrin, according to the large clock situated on the arrivals board, you had a little under fifteen minutes to be seated on the train.

You wished Hagrid had left you with more information, but when the man had dropped you back at your house and allowed you the time to blink, he had vanished.

Urgent magical business, you mused dryly. Almost like the kerfuffle of being stranded on a station with not the foggiest idea of where to go.

Fleeting anxiety began to weave around your periphery. What if you missed the train? Were you missing something? Did you need to cast a spell? Oh, you knew you should have read the books before coming to the station. You swore at that moment to leave no page in your spell-books unturned.

You prepared to brandish your wand at the stray ticket box next to platform nine, trying your very best to formulate a spell that would divulge the presence of platform nine and three-quarters.

In a perfectly timed turn of events, a group of people passed behind you, and you managed to glean a glimpse of their conversation.

“ – packed with Muggles, of course –

You heard your neck crack from how fast you wheeled around. Muggles. You had never been happier to hear a single word. The speaker was a stout woman, to an audience of about five red-headed children. Four boys and a girl, who from the conversation that ensued, you discovered was too young to attend Hogwarts just yet.

You turned your hawk-like stare toward ‘Percy’, the oldest boy, as he dashed toward the brick wall of platform nine, pushing his trolley along with him. Wincing, you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him and all of his school supplies crash onto the floor.

Miraculously, though, when you peeled your eyelids back open, the boy was gone.

As were the twin brothers, Fred and George (or did their mother say George and Fred?).

There was only one more boy left; a tall – though that entire family seemed to be on stilts – lanky, deeply freckled one. If you wanted to know where the sons were disappearing to, this was your final shot.

“Hey!” you called out, dragging your trolley behind you as you approached the remaining members of the red-headed family. Then, realising how the abruptness of a random girl yelling at someone may be perceived as rude, you decided to dial back your advances. “Hi, sorry. Do you happen to know how to –”

“How to get on to the platform?” she said kindly. “No worries at all, dear. Is this your first time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”

She pointed at her last son. He had dirt on his nose. You tilted your head slightly toward him in greeting, but your mind, however, was still hyper focused on how the clock was dwindling closer and closer to eleven.

“Pleasure,” you smiled, desperation beginning to blemish your voice, evident as it began to inch one or two octaves higher. “So, er, I’m hoping that you do know how to get to the train?”

“That’s right,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Go on, go now before Ron.”

You ruffled the collar of your shirt, which was looking far too neat and sophisticated (and therefore, not nearly as charming as you liked it to be). “Thanks, Miss.”

You sucked in a deep breath before gathering your courage and sprinted toward the very solid, opaque looking barrier of platform nine and three-quarters.

As you were running, you realised you were almost there – and then, quite suddenly, you weren’t.

Rather, you now found yourself underneath a sign that read Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock.

Permeating through a brick wall was yet another box to check from your list of magical experiences. Twice, actually, if you counted the entrance to Diagon Alley. Odd was it indeed, but it was your odd now, and you lest let anyone try and rob you of it.

You stood in awe, head on a swivel as you examined the new environment. A mammoth of a train, one whose size could only be attributed to the slight of one’s magical hand, with smoke seeping out of its charcoal chimneys, stood tall against the crowded stage of the station.

You turned around to see if the red-headed family had made it through as well, and sure enough, there they were. The woman was still looking at you, and when you waved at her, her face split into a soft smile and she returned the gesture.

You swept your dishevelled hair to the side – it had tousled itself into a heaping mess sometime during your episode on the other side of the train station.

You only registered the consequence of this action when the red-headed woman’s eyes widened, and as an abrupt muteness circulated throughout the platform, capitulating the vocal cords of what seemed to be every single man, woman and/or child present there at that very moment.

Families that were once bidding their children goodbye, lovingly caressing cheeks or smoothing down fly-away hairs, or families who were once loading trunks onto compartments, were now reacting in an identical fashion of the same scene that had transpired at the leaky pub; normal chatter was extinguished, and murmurs crept around the platform like an amateur thief in a treasure trove.

“The lightning scar!”

“Is that – oh, my sweet Merlin, it is!”

“Oh – where –?!”

“Move! Let me get a glimpse!”

“Look, over there!”

“(Y/n) (L/n)!”

You stiffened slightly under everyone’s combined gazes, the abruptness of this changing you off guard. But, as quickly as the alarm had rippled into your body, it had dispersed out.

A smirk split your face, and you nodded toward the woman closest to you (who promptly went pink and near-fainted) as a way to acknowledge that you acknowledged their sudden interest in you. You heard someone chuckle at your brazenness, and a few more flurries of whispers burgeoned from other by-standers.

During the time it took for you to jostle your trolley into an empty carriage near the back of the train, the number of people actively tracking your every move had died down, though only by a fraction. From the corners of your eyes, you could still see the odd third-year trying to estimate how many laces you had on your shoes, no doubt so he could pester his parents into getting the same.

(You kept to yourself that they had previously belonged to Odette, however, as you seriously doubted anyone wanted to know that (Y/n) (L/n), hero of the wizarding world, still wore hand-me-downs.)

Unfortunately, it seemed that although you possessed the power to terminate the reign of the darkest and most powerful wizards in history, you had apparently not attained the muscles required to heave your trunk up the stairs onto the Hogwarts Express. You stumbled back, cursing as you reeled from the pain that rocketed through your foot after you dropped your trunk on your toes.

“Want a hand?”

You looked up. It was one of the red-headed twins, from that family you had met before.

“Yes,” you said almost immediately. “Er, please.”

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

The three of you managed to successfully store your trunk into the corner of your compartment. Before you could thank the twins for their help, though, one of the twins pointed at the spot on your forehead where the thin lightning-shaped scar donned your skin.

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n),” he announced. Just like Olivander, this had not been a question, but rather a statement.

“Yes,” you straightened your posture a little higher. “That’s right. I am.”

The two boys gawked at you, and you subtly swept your sweaty hair to expose the scar even further. To your slightest dismay, however, the familiar voice of the red-headed mother drifted through the carriage before you were able to elaborate further on your battle-scar.

“Fred? George? Are you there?” Both the twins groaned at their mother’s summoning. Sparing one last glance at you, they ambled toward her call. “Coming, Mum.”

You waved the twins goodbye. Sitting down by the window, you ducked your head so you could listen to the family, who were still on the platform, whilst being half-hidden at the same time. Their mother had scourged out a handkerchief and was furiously scrubbing at Ron’s nose to rid the smudge of dirt that laid upon it.

You watched with amusement as Ron tried to lurch away before being caught in his mother’s iron-fisted clutches once again.

“Mum – geroff!”

One of the twins snickered, leaning close to Ron. “Aaaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?”

“Shut up!” You saw the oldest of the red-headed siblings saunter towards his family, already draped in his robes. A shiny red and gold badge was pinned onto his chest, with the letter P engraved onto it.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said stiffly. “I’m up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –”

“Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?” One of the twins gasped, bringing his hands to his face in disbelief. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it, once –”

“Or twice –”

“A minute –”

“All summer –”

You huffed a laugh at the back and forth going between the family. Percy the Prefect’s face was starting to sport a lovely bright, irritable shade of red.

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” queried one of the twins.

“Because he’s a Prefect,” their mother smoothed Percy’s already-perfectly-smoothened hair fondly. “All right, dear, well have a good term – send me an owl when you get there.”

She sent him off with a kiss.

You sunk back into your seat. For some reason, the jovial atmosphere you’d felt upon discovering the magical platform had now become strangely dampened.

Call it a moment of weakness, sure – but in that moment, you wished that you could have a mother. A mother who would dote on you like that or who would comfort you.

But, as soon as that looming train of thoughts had festered, you vanquished them from your mind – the other kids could keep their affectionate mothers who waved them goodbye as they left, the same, in fact, would go for their superficial, gentle-natured fathers; you had your fame and that topped any shred of whatever they may have had, whatever you were missing.

As though the red-head family were suddenly attuned with your train of thought, you heard the voice of the youngest child (the girl) pipe up. “Oh! (Y/n) (L/n) On the train? Please can I go see her, Mum, please, please…”

“You’ve already seen her, Ginny, and the poor girl isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Fred? How do you know?”

“Asked her. Saw the scar. It’s really there – like lightning.”

“Poor dear.”

Your fingers traced the pattern of the scar, not particularly enjoying the feeling of pity emanating from the family.

“No wonder she was alone. I wondered. She was ever enthusiastic, though, when she asked how to get on to the platform. I’d have thought she’d be scared, by herself…”

“Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”

The red-headed mother swelled like an angry bullfrog. “I forbid you to ask her that, Fred! No, don’t you dare. As though she needs reminding of –... ”

The disarrayed ruckus of another family hurriedly barrelling onto the platform and ushering their boy onto the train, stripped your focus from the ginger group.

Observing the mop of black hair, you realised pleasantly that it was the boy you had met at the Quidditch store that day in Diagon Alley. Closely behind him, a stressed looking woman with copper-coloured hair, followed him briskly onto the train. Your lips twitched as you noticed that she possessed the same brilliant green eyes as her son.

The father, a carbon copy of his son, followed seconds after, carrying a tremendously large trunk onto the train. There was one more man – perhaps one of the uncles the boy had mentioned – who remained on the platform, presumably allowing the family their final moments together. He didn’t really look alike to the mother or father of Quidditch Boy’s family, so you guessed that he was probably an uncle by choice, not blood. He had sandy brown hair with substantially sized scars running down the entirety of his face and neck. There was a large, shaggy black dog beside him too, and you swore that it had winked when it saw you looking at it.

A shrill burst of steam raged outwards from the chimney of the train. You guessed that this was a warning to families that the train was about to depart right now. True to your word, just as Quidditch Boy’s mother and father practically leapt off the train carriage they’d left their son in, the train doors slammed shut, and the vehicle began dutifully chugging forward.

Left behind now, was the platform of nine and three-quarters.

Leaning back in your seat, you exhaled roughly. This was it, the moment that marked the beginning of your journey into Hogwarts. You had no clue where you were going, but you just knew it would be good. A grand moment, you were sure, but what you were also sure of was that the next few hours on the train (or possibly days or months, who knew?) would result in you being bored out of your mind. Stuck in an empty carriage by yourself with no one to talk to – tragic – maybe it would do you some good if you popped down into one of the other carriages and try to find some other first-years.

Coincidentally, the door of the compartment was opened by none other than Quidditch Boy himself. His hair was askew, glasses lopsided and cheeks clearly flushed from the rush of trying to scramble onto the Hogwarts Express before it departed. He did not have his trunk with him, so his father was probably able to store it in time.

“Hey, again,” he flashed you a bashful smile. “Would it be alright if I could sit here with you?”

“Sure, no problem.”

You observed him as he took the seat opposite you. He was already wearing robes of sorts, not the Hogwarts ones, judging from the lack of school emblem, but the sorts that you hypothesised would be the wizarding equivalent to a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Er,” he started, causing you to look over at him. “It’s nice to see you. Again.”

“Yeah.” you agreed with him, offering a lopsided smile. “Great. To meet you.”

“Yep.”

The compartment fell into a highly awkward silence, one that you were not at all familiar with. Back with the Caddels, or even at your previous school, you had no problem whatsoever making friends with strangers. In fact, conversation came easily to you – you weren’t the school captain for no reason, after all. So the stuffiness invading the atmosphere was most definitely unwelcome, and quite frankly, unnatural.

Thankfully the awkward cloud hanging above you and Quidditch Boy dissipated abruptly when the compartment door slid open again, revealing the tall, freckled, ginger boy, Ron.

His eyes widened when he saw you sitting in front of him. “Uh – sorry, anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full.”

Quidditch Boy shook his head and Ron took the seat beside them, so they were both facing you. Ron’s eyes hadn’t settled and he kept on glancing toward you and then toward the window whenever he made eye contact with you. It was amusing, his discomfort, from how often he did it.

“Hey, Ron.” The red-headed twins popped into the compartment suddenly. “Listen, we’re going back down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” said the youngest sibling.

So we’re not going to question the spider. Okay, seems good.

“(Y/n),” the other twin, the one who hadn’t been talking to Ron, turned to you. “And other Kid,” referring to Quidditch Boy, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.” The three of you said bye in unison as the twins left.

As soon as they were gone, Ron blurted out, “Can we see the scar?” You blinked at him, and he went pink, but complied anyway (you had no qualms to showing off the lightning-shaped bolt). Pulling your hair back, the scar on your forehead was revealed to Quidditch Boy and Ron.

“Wow,” breathed out Quidditch Boy. “It really does look like lightning.”

Ron was equally stunned. “So that’s where You-Know-Who – ?”

“Yes.” You grinned brightly at their awed expressions. They stared at you a couple seconds longer before Ron diverted his gaze back to the greenery flitting through the window.

“So, is your whole family magic then?” you asked Ron.

You already knew that Quidditch Boy’s father was a pure-blood and his mother was a muggle-born, whatever that meant; you weren’t going to be the one to say you had no idea what those were.

“Quidditch Boy?” puzzled Quidditch Boy, eyebrows furrowing.

Ah, had you said that outloud? Whoops.

You laughed, bringing a hand to your nape. “Sorry, I don’t know your name, so I’ve kind of just resorted to calling you Quidditch Boy in my mind.”

“Uh, well, I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” said Harry, smiling at you once more.

“Nice to meet you, Harry Potter.”

Ron interjected into the conversation, for which you were grateful. The ginger boy seemed to hold the power of evaporating awkwardness with a snap of his freckles fingers. “Pure-blooded means that everyone on his father’s side is magic. I’m the same – everyone in my family is a wizard, well maybe except for my mum’s second cousin who’s an accountant, but we don’t really talk about him.”

“I get it,” you said, cupping your chin with your hand. “I’ve got no clue what I am. But I know that my father had no magic.”

“A muggle,” Ron nodded appreciably. “Well, basically everyone knows that your mother was a pure-blood, though. That makes you a half-blood like him, since you’re a mix of two bloods.” He pointed at Harry. You were slightly startled that he knew more about your family and lineage than you did yourself. Maybe you should get used to people knowing more about you, than you did yourself.

“A muggle-born’s a witch or wizard who was born from muggle parents,” continued Ron.

You tilted your head to the side. “Where does their magic come from, if they’ve got no magical blood or whatever?”

Ron looked partially affronted. “Who knows, – magic isn’t exactly something that comes in a nice little package that gets delivered to you when the time is right. All I know is that if you’ve got magic, then you’ve got it. That’s all there is to it, really.” He waved his hands about in the air for further emphasis.

This was probably a topic Ron was passionate about, as you noticed his ears flushing red under the combined blank stares of you and Harry. You decided then that if Ron were to ever wear something salmon-coloured, it would definitely wash him out. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his face and his left knee.

You tried to recover from the painful silence. “You two must know loads of magic then.”

“Not nearly enough as my mum wants me to,” said Harry.

“Hear, hear,” mumbled Ron.

“Huh. Guess that’s one good thing that comes out of being an orphan.”

You chuckled at the uncomfortable looks on the boys’ faces.

“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron, scratching the back of his neck. “What’re they like?”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Not outstandingly nice or anything, but they do their job. Would be cooler to have wizarding brothers like you though.”

“Not if you’ve got five of them.” answered Ron gloomily. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes and Charlie’s old wand. I wanted an owl, but they couldn't aff – I mean, they got Percy one instead for becoming a Prefect.”

Ron’s ears went pink again. Your brain, it seemed, was temporarily delayed and was not able to formulate a response to that.

“I’m sure you’ll do better than all your brothers combined,” said Harry.

Ron smiled gratefully at him.

As the train rolled onward and your surroundings grew greener, you, quite helpfully, took Hedwig’s cage and placed her on the centre of the table, announcing that the first one to get nipped whilst feeding her treats would be declared the ultimate ‘Lame Loser Lord.’

The three of you fell into an easy conversation after that, and you barely even realised how much time had passed until a smiling, old-looking woman popped her head into the compartment and said “anything off the trolley, dears?”

With that lovely gesture, you had leapt out of your seat and essentially pounced onto the food she was offering. Your pockets were lined with wizard money now, an infinite stash really, and so there was nothing stopping you from buying three of everything she had. As such, you, Harry and Ron had to drag back the food you’d purchased before dumping it on the table.

“Hungry, are you?” said Ron, raising his eyebrows at the pile of snacks that was nearly as tall as him.

“Starving,” you grinned back.

You, Harry and Ron tore into the pasties and cakes, the mountain rapidly diminishing by the second. There was one incident with a chocolate frog creeping into Hedwig’s cage before getting mauled by her talons. The card that supposedly came with the treat, according to Harry and Ron, had also been destroyed, so Harry had given his to you. One with a moving picture of Albus Dumbledore, who had waved politely at your stunned expression.

Once you’d moved onto Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, you found a lot of enjoyment when Ron had the misfortune of coming across a bean that tasted like dirty socks. Though, your amusement at Ron’s plight had been adjourned with the appearance of a round-faced boy.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

“No, sorry.”

You were taken aback when the boy promptly burst into tears. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” said Harry.

“Yes,” said the boy, turning away dejectedly. “Well, if you see him…”

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” remarked Ron once the boy had left. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could.”

You deadpanned at him. “You haven’t even got any pets to lose, Ron. I’m betting that if you ever got one, you’d have even worse attachment issues than Toad-Boy.”

“Mind you,” said Harry, talking around his mouthful of Cauldron Cake. “That’s saying a lot.”

“What’ve you got then?” asked Ron, turning his head to glare at Harry. “You seem awfully high and mighty for someone who probably doesn’t have rat, or even anything at all.”

“I’ve got a dog,” defended Harry. “Snuffles.”

You and Ron both stifled giggles. “Snuffles? No way you named your dog that!”

“I didn’t pick the name!”

“A dog’s not as good as an owl anyways,” you teased.

“I’d beg to differ – my dog totally is,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms. “Plus you don’t even need to have an owl – the school’s got its own aviary shock-full of ‘em that you can send letters with.”

“One day, I’m gonna get an owl.” Ron sighed dreamily. “Just for myself, I wouldn’t have to share with Fred or George or Percy or Ginny.”

“Who’s Ginny?”

Before Ron could divulge the identity of this ‘Ginny’, the compartment door was opened by a bushy-haired girl whose face was wrinkled up irritably. Toad-Boy also made a reappearance.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening. Rather, she had been staring at you.

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n).” she declared matter-of-factly. “I saw you on the station. I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

Ron gaped at her and Harry blinked a few times repeatedly.

“Be surprised if I wasn’t,” you said, winking cheekily. You also had no idea what she was talking about though.

She studied you appraisingly before asking Ron and Harry “and who are you?”

“Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure. Well, I’m Hermione Granger. I was ever so pleased when I got my letter to Hogwarts, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all of our set books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough.”

All three pairs of eyebrows furrowed in synchronisation. You, personally, had only caught about one-third of what she had been saying since she’d been basically rapping out her words.

Herminkoni (was that what she said her name was?) began talking again. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyay, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

Herpes Motion thus turned around and left, taking Toad-Boy with her.

“Well,” you announced cheerfully. “She was nice.”

“Sure,” muttered Ron, reaching for a Treacle Tart.

“She was right about one thing though,” said Harry, grinning and brushing his hair out of his face. “Gryffindor, by large, is definitely the best house.”

“Who’s Gryffindor?” you squinted your eyes at him.

Ron attempted an exasperated face-palm with his left hand (he was still holding the tart in his right). Harry laughed at this, and proceeded to explain the four houses to you.

Gryffindor had been the house Ron’s and Harry’s families had gotten into. The house of the brave, it was known for. Ravenclaw, the house for smart people (you had a feeling you would not be getting into that); Hufflepuff was the house for the loyal and well-meaning. And finally, there was Slytherin. Both Ron and Harry detested the green-and-silver clad house, for it had been the group to pump out the most dark witches and wizards.

“Ah,” you said. “So naturally, we should hate that house, since that was the one Voldemort was – “

“Woah,” said Ron, looking impressed. “You just said his name.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s just a name. Anyways, I’m guessing that you all want Gryffindor then?”

“Of course!” Ron puffed out his chest.

“Hey, did you – ?”

Unfortunately, whatever Harry had wanted to ask had been interrupted by the compartment door sliding open again.

This time, it was a group of three – the ringleader being a sallow-faced, gauntly blonde boy. The other two were giant-sized, goliath looking boys who looked like his bodyguards. And, of course, they were all fixated on you.

“Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that (Y/n) (L/N)’s in this compartment. So, it’s you, is it?”

“That’s right,” you smiled at him.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. He waved his hand carelessly at the two body-doubles next to him. “This is Crabbe and that’s Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron choked on his treacle tart, but you suspected that may have been him trying to disguise a sneer. Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Ron, causing your hackles to rise immediately.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”

Ron’s face went pink again and he sunk into his seat.

Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry, but before he could say something about his family, you cut him off.

Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.”

“The same goes for you.”

You stared down Draco Malfoy. Harry was glancing back and forth between the two of you, and he looked ready to stand up if this altercation escalated.

“You don’t get to come in here and poke fun at us,” you muttered slowly. “Especially, if you want to end up on good terms with me.”

His cheeks tinged a faint pink. “Not like I would want to be friends with the likes of you.” He placed the emphasis on ‘you’ the same way you did.

You, Harry and Ron all stood up.

“I think it’d be best if you left.” you gritted out, disliking the boy less and less by every twitch of his rat-like face.

Unfortunately for you, Malfoy’s rattish face had broken out into a sneer. “You’ll regret making enemies out of me, (L/n). I promise you that much.”

He furiously spun around and out of the carriage, but not before he could shoot you a final scathing look. Crabbe and Goyle chased after him, robes billowing out from behind them.

“What a buffoon,” you huffed angrily.

“Agreed,” said Harry, still glaring at the door.

“I’ve heard of his family before,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.”

“‘Specially if they thought it was the winning side,” added Harry.

The door opened before you could open your mouth. There was Hermit Yeti, yet again, standing at the entrance.

“What has been going on? Why did I just see three boys bolting out of this compartment?” She looked you up and down. “You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“They were the ones starting it – not us!” defended Ron, scowling at her.

“All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” she said sniffly. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know that?”

“Thank you,” you interjected, glaring at her on behalf of Ron. “Could you leave now?”

And finally, Herm-onion left.

If you had to guess, it had been only an hour after that when the train had pulled to a stop. You had donned your robes, ensuring that they still had your signature wind-swept appearance about them. Ron and Harry were also wearing their robes now too. You stuffed your pockets with the remaining sweets as you left the train.

Hopping out of the train and onto the station, you were delighted to be met with the familiar, gentle face of Hagrid.

“Firs’-years! Firs-years over here! All right there, (Y/n)?” He beamed at you from under his scraggly beard.

You waved enthusiastically at him.

The first-years, it looked like, had their own means of reaching the school, which involved travelling in groups of four in a little boat across a lake. You, Harry, Ron and the bushy-haired girl (to your displeasure) took a boat close to the front.

Whilst you did not dislike the girl, you weren’t fond of her tendency to huff or be bossy, especially when she did it toward Ron (which you found she did often). Harry hadn’t done anything to get into her wrong books, and nor vice versa, so they were probably on the most amicable terms between you, him and Ron.

The boats glided in unison across the great body of water, before coming to a stop at the front of the school’s castle. You could hardly hear Toad-Boy’s reunion with his toad (“Trevor”) amongst the excited buzzing in your ears.

The gaggle of first-years came to a stop at the entrance of Hogwarts, a ginormous wooden castle door. Hagrid raised his fist and rapped three times on it.

The door opened immediately. There was a stern, grey-haired witch standing behind it. She was sifting through the crowd intensely, and her gaze did not linger on your scar like how most peoples’ did.

“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

The door was opened further and you streamed into the Entrance Hall. The entire school was huge, you realised, and was very elaborately decorated – like something you would read in a book. Flaming torches illuminated the corridor. The first-years were pulled into a little room, next to a place where you could hear the rest of the school talking.

It was then you noticed that Ron appeared quite pale under his freckles and that Harry was fiddling with his fingers. In fact, every first-year seemed to be exhibiting some sort of nervous tick, apart from Malfoy, who was rolling his eyes for some reason.

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion. Should you have been scared too? It wasn’t like they were going to force you to fight each other or anything right? At least, that’s what you hoped. Although, you definitely knew that if they made you fight, you’d win.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and speed free time in your house common room.

She continued giving a debrief of the houses, but as it was something you had already heard from Harry and Ron, it wasn’t anything new. You fidgeted restlessly, wanting to get onto the Sorting already.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered on your messy hair and ruffled collar, where one lapel was sticking up.

Once she left, you turned to Harry and Ron. “What do they do to get us into these houses? Is it like a test? Based on how you answer, that’s where you get in? Like, ‘what is the square root of sixteen?’”

“That’s probably only good for finding Ravenclaws and non-Ravenclaws though,” said Ron, taking you seriously. “My brothers said it was a test too, though. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Harry was looking more unsettled by the minute.

“Hey,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. I’m sure Ron’s brothers are just messing with us.”

“Me too,” nodded Ron.

“But,” Harry’s green eyes met yours anxiously. “A test? In front of the whole school? I barely know two spells, how will they sort me with that? What if they send me home? What if –”

“Listen,” you said. “That’s already two more spells than I know, and probably most of the first-years too. That Malfoy included.”

You narrowed your eyes at said boy, before returning them to Harry. “Don’t worry, alright? I’m sure we'll all do great.”

Beside you, Ron nodded appreciatively (although it looked like his skin was beginning to reach a sickly pale green colour).

“You’re right,” said Harry, and you were pleased to see that he was a fraction less scared than he was a moment ago.

You didn’t bother with ‘smartening yourself up.’ You were already pretty smart enough, in your opinion. Having bested the darkest wizard of the age at a meagre one year old didn’t come to just anyone, you know?

After a whole debacle with some ghosts flying in to greet you before the ceremony, Professor McGonagall entered the room once more. You all trudged in a single-file line into the Great Hall.

You gaped openly at the Great Hall, which looked even bigger than the Entrance. Four long tables were lain across the room, with golden plates and goblets sitting on each. The students were segregated by houses, indicated by the colour of their robes and ties. There were also several candles floating in the air, which was pretty sweet too. Oh, and the roof looked like the sky as well.

Professor McGongagall placed a three-legged stool in front of school, and then she placed a rusty-looking hat on top of it. You deadpanned when it broke into song, and even more when everyone burst into applause once it finished.

“So, we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whisper-yelled to you and Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!”

Harry gave him a nervous smile, and you said “I told you it wouldn’t have been that bad. Probably.”

Professor McGonagall approached the stool, unravelling a long roll of parchment paper. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah stumbled from the crowd of first-years and toward her. If you squinted, she looked a little like Odette, with yellower hair. She placed the hat on her head and after a moment of silence, the hat shouted out “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the right, with the yellow-and-black clad students cheered and hollered as Hannah went to join them.

‘Bones, Susan’ went up next and she too went to Hufflepuff. ‘Boot, Terry’ went to Ravenclaw, and ‘Brown Lavender’ became the first new Gryffindor. The cheering from the red table was definitely the loudest, especially when right after ‘Bulstrode Millicent’ was sorted in Slytherin and all she got was only a polite and semi-silent applause from her new house.

A few more people went, and then, so did ‘Granger, Hermione’ (so that was her name) who sat on the stool for a precariously long period of time before being sent to Gryffindor. Ron groaned. Toad-Boy (Longbottom, Neville) got Gryffindor too, but he was on the stool for longer than Hermione. A few more people went after them.

You were raising your hand to scratch your ear when your name was called.

As you stepped forward, the students in the Hall whispered loudly, just as they had done at the station.

“(L/n), did she say?”

“The (Y/n) (L/n)?”

Those comments did not help the rising ego blooming inside of you. You swaggered over the stool and sat down. Your fingers delicately gripped the brim of the hat. The fabric felt ragged and old underneath your fingertips. You brought the Sorting Hat down toward your –

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat had barely scraped the fly-away hairs on your head when it had shrieked out the name of your house.

The Great Hall was silent for a few, stunned moments, taken aback by your instantaneous sorting (which you guessed was not a frequent occurrence). You stared back at them with wide eyes, darting downwards to look at Harry and Ron. They were wide-eyed too, before Harry broke the silence and beamed a gigantic smile at you, and the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers – louder cheers than for any of the people before you.

You felt a warm glow in your chest. You looked around the table, and saw many friendly faces. Percy the Prefect had dived over the table (almost) to shake your hand vigorously and you could hear the Weasley twins jeering and yelling out “We got (L/n)! We got (L/n)!” Even a ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, was congratulating you by patting your arm, which felt like you were being doused in a cold bucket of water.

At the High Table, Hagrid was grinning and gave you the thumbs up. Dumbledore, you recognised him from the chocolate frog card, was up there too with a faint twinkle in his eye.

The only notable people left up, really, were Harry and Ron.

Harry had been called first.

The Sorting Hat was sat upon his head for what seemed to be the better portion of an eternity. For the first time since your arrival, you felt a jolt of fear. What if you and your friends would be separated into different houses? You didn’t to be stuck in a full with only Neville and Hermione, everyday you would wake up to find Neville’s slimy toad on your pillowcase or –

You felt a surge of joy and relief, as after a minute or two, the hat declared “GRYFFINDOR!” and the Great Hall erupted in cheers for Harry. You clapped your hands and smiled widely, looking for him among the sea of red and gold.

He took a seat beside you and you high-fived him.

“Nice to see you here, Potter, Harry,” you said, changing your voice to mimic McGonagall’s.

“Nice to see you too, the (Y/n) (L/n),” he snickered, mocking the way the students had reacted when they’d heard your name.

You grinned at him, shoving his shoulder.

Ron joined you rather quickly, even though he was one of the last people to get sorted. You were delighted at this, as it meant you could still be with them for the rest of your Hogwarts years, according to what Professor McGonagall had said.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

He sat down, and as he did, food magically appeared in front of you.

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asked you uncertainly.

“Probably,” you said, shrugging, reaching for the roast potatoes.

You scarfed down your food, listening to the conservation around you. You cheered when the dessert had come, causing the people around you to chuckle, quietly – except for Ron, who had gotten to the apple pie before you could.

You wrestled Ron for a slice of said pie, and were happily munching on it when you glanced back up to the High Table. Hagrid was drinking from his goblet, and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were in a deep discussion with each other. Another Professor, in a purple turban, was fiddling nervously with his cutlery, tapping his fork against the edge of the table. He was speaking with a professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

The teacher, as though he could sense your presence, glanced straight past the Turban-Professor and bore his black eyes into yours – a sharp, hot pain seared within your scar, and you let out a hiss of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked you, foreheading furrowing in concern.

“N-nothing.” The pain had left as quickly as it had come. How strange. You got the feeling that the hooked-nose teacher did not like you very much.

“Who's that teacher, the greasy-haired one?” you pointed at him, not discretely.

Harry stifled a laugh. “That’s Snape. No one likes him, they say he wants to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but every year he gets stuck as the Potions one instead. My dad doesn’t like him at all – actually, my entire family doesn’t really too.”

“Why’s that?” you questioned.

“Not sure,” said Harry, but he scratched his cheek nervously. “They won’t tell me.”

Deciding not to press him further, you continued to watch Snape a little longer. He never looked at you again, though, after that.

Once the desserts had all faded away, Dumbledore had announced his final speech and conducted a very tragic school school orchestra. He wiped his eyes when he had finished. “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Powering your legs through the sheer force of the food you’d guzzled down, you followed Percy up to the Gryffindor Tower. With horror, you realised that you’d have to climb an average of seven staircases everyday, simply just to get to your bed.

Anyways, the entrance to the Gryffindor headquarters was through a painting of a Fat Lady and she flipped open when you told her the password, Caput Draconis. You scrambled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room.

You lazily trudged up the stairs, and without even bothering to notice that your trunk had been transported up to your dorm room, you face-planted onto your bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

Perhaps you had eaten a bit too much, because that night, you had a very strange dream.

You were staring into a mirror, desperately trying to tug off a purple turban from your head. When did you get a turban? How did you get a turban? The fabric of the turban grew tighter, making you feel a sharp pain in your skull as the turban squeezed your head like a vice. You wondered how you got into this mess in the first place.

Furiously pulling, pulling, at the turban finally caused it to unravel and expose your hair. With a start, as you glanced back to the mirror, you discerned that your face had, horrifyingly enough, taken on the face of Snape. His own black, empty eyes stared back at you.

You scrambled back, leaping away from his cockroach-like eyes, only to find that, for some reason, there was a bottomless abyss behind you. You fell down, down, down into a pit. Closing your eyes as your head thrummed painfully, you braced yourself for the impact.

A bright flash of green light, and a high, cruel laugh jerked you awake.

Oddly enough, however, when you’d gone back to sleep, you hadn’t remembered the dream at all. You did question, however, the next morning why when you closed your eyes, all you saw was a luminous, green light in the shape of a lightning-bolt scar.

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

→ Author's Note: Hello my lovelies, welcome to ch 1.2 yippee!! Sorry that its super long but we’re pretty already halfway through the ch 1 portion of the series XD — I’m guessing now that it's gonna reach about 1.4 or 1.5 but I could also be widely incorrect :P Anyways that’s all so catch ya next time :))) thank you

Time for this chapters analysis ~ You will have probs noticed one of the most canon-divergent parts of this series so far is that instead of the same dilemma Harry faced when he was getting sorted (Slytherin vs Gryffindor), as soon as the hat touched the little hairs upon your head, you were sorted into Gryffindor. During this chapter, and a little of the last one (but mostly this one), I've kinda been subtly trying to hint that the Reader is really quite arrogant and brazen. Rather than Harry as the chosen one, where he longs for a quiet and normal life, Reader dives headfirst into her role. She shamelessly self-promotes her lightning-scar and doesn’t try to hide it – she knows she’s special and she feeds into that!! She’s kinda like James Potter in that regard >.< and therefore I want her to kind of be epitome of a Gryffindor (courageous and arrogant) and maybe, maybe not, a parallel to Draco Malfoy (who also got sorted into Slytherin ASAP, and is ambitious and arrogant) hehe → that’s also why Reader and Malfoy get more aggressive even more quickly than Harry did in canon… Anyways!!! This is the briefest hint at what I have in store for this series, and we’ll see how Reader’s arrogance courageousness deviates Harry Potter from canon. Tbh I’m planning to make the reader Percy Jackson-coded (with the sass and reckless bravery and loyalty and what not) and maybe just the slightest bit Gojo-coded hehe, I know that it's not that clear rn lol but I’ll work my way into it hopefully… Anyways, thanks again! :D Series Masterlist

Taglist (thanks for asking!): @kaverichauhan

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