#penseive
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being an early jeongchaner was not kind to me they didn't even stand next to each other 90% of the time and now they're kissing each other and calling each other cute and complimenting each other EVERY DAY??????? i am very blessed to be alive in this time line... thankful to exist in this version of events ...........
#i am at work and maybe i look penseive but i'm thinking abt jeongchan...#my laptop is working finally so 👍 rip to everyone else i will continue to be a MENACE .#li.txt
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Fuck JKR: How To Create A Harry Potter-Esque Aesthetic Without Any Harry Potter In It
So I saw a few posts from people mentioning that a reason people might be into Harry Potter is because of the aesthetic or atmosphere, and ya know what? I can't even argue that, because if there's one thing about HP, it's that it Sure Does Have Aesthetic And Atmosphere.
So! I'm gonna tell you how to STEAL ITS LOOK! Because:
JK Rowling considers ANY support of her work to be support of her politics.
Fan content/fan merch is still free advertisement for Rowling's work. YOU might not choose to give her money, but you can't be sure you won't pull people into the fandom who will.
Everyone should create more things that aren't tied to corporate-owned IP, period.
So. Most things in these films have an aged, antique look. You'll see a lot of brown hues, both on sets and on people's clothes. There's a lot of near-blacks (especially charcoals and walnuts) and lighter grays on the sets, especially from the third film onwards. (Wood is more often than not stained dark, while lighter hues are often provided by bricks or plaster.) The last two films use a lot of stormy blues and grays. Prisoner of Azkaban also emphasizes contrast between tones, which heightens a sense of texture. True black also appears throughout the films, such as on students' uniforms and many Death Eaters' outfits, and on the chairs in Malfoy Manor. White appears occasionally, especially on Hedwig, students' shirts, or during winter scenes, but pure white isn't otherwise really common. Paper or parchment is usually warm beige. There's also a lot of silver, gold, and brass, often appearing on things like dishware, tools, trinkets, Christmas baubles, and so forth. Bronze also comes up occasionally.
Reds, yellows, blues, and greens are pretty common throughout the films, even outside of Hogwarts, though you'll see just about every color somewhere. For example, orange is often found around the Weasleys, and orange, maroon, and purple feature in the divination classroom. Teal features prominently in Grimmauld Place (contrasted with saffron yellows).
Most colors aren't really super bright; a lot of the time they look a little faded, or like they're colored with natural dyes. If you use medieval illustrations to source your colors, or aim for earth tones and jewel tones, you'll be about right for a lot of what you see in the films. Bright colors are pretty rare; some of the brights we do see are in Honeydukes, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and certain magical effects, such as Floo fire.
A lot of light is provided by candles, torches, or fireplaces, which cast a warm yellow/orange light. Moonlight is represented by blue light in the first and second films. Blue light is also used for the Goblet of Fire and the penseive.
Another thing you gotta have in there is clutter. It should look kinda antique and give off a kind of magical or mystical atmosphere. Think books, storage jars, orreries, crystal balls, old lamps, antique clocks, vintage glassware, antique mirrors, old teapots, and little metal trinkets. (If you're trying to decorate a physical room, your stuff doesn't have to actually be antique, of course; antique-styled is fine.)
Texture is also very important, which can be represented with full or top grain leather book covers, stone walls, dents and scratches, cracks, embellishments, and embossing. Additionally, all damage and wear gives a sense of oldness to things. Stains and variegated colors also add interest. (If you're decorating a physical space, you might look into aging/distressing/antiquing techniques.)
If you want a space to look cozy, you don't really want bare or blank walls. Shelves, paintings, tapestries, and wallpaper can all help with that. Again, use brown, rather than black. Warm, yellow lighting will also help. If you lean toward blacks and cool lighting, you're going to have a colder-looking space.
Fashion in the wizarding world is extremely all over the place, ranging from stereotypical fantasy witch and wizard clothing, to pretty normal vintage clothing, to some wacky vintage-inspired looks, to the kind of fashion that would be put under the cozycore umbrella, to ordinary modern clothing. One thing that's absent is subculture fashion as we know it. (Bellatrix Lestrange does look kinda goth, but it's less a subculture thing, and more a "yeah we're putting our bad guys in fancy black stuff" thing.)
If you're trying to lean into the whole quirky/eccentric/old-fashioned kinda thing, you'll want to pass over the more modern and obviously synthetic type stuff. Also, patterns, textured fabrics, knits, mixed colors, lace, and other embellishments can add interest to outfits.
Architecture is also all over the place. Hogwarts is pretty medieval, while places like Diagon Alley give more Victorian vibe. The main thing is looking old fashioned and quaint.
To try and summarize all of that:
Browns. Lots and lots and lots of browns. Blacks and grays, too.
Contrast between light and dark browns and blacks/grays.
More beige and gray than pure white; more charcoal gray and dark walnut brown than true black.
Among other colors, mostly earth tones and jewel tones. Very limited brights.
Polished metal and glass also add shininess.
Old-fashioned. Vintage. Antique.
Clutter, texture, patterns, variegation. Minimalist/clean aesthetic avoided.
Aged and distressed.
Lighting often yellow/orange due to coming from fire. Blue/teal light often coming from moonlight and certain magical light sources.
Now, here are some things we actually don't see. I'm not mentioning them to discourage you from using them if they're what you really want, but to inform you about them so you can consider whether they might throw off the vibe for you:
Green/purple/black combos.
Purple/silver/black combos.
Pink/purple/teal combos.
Pink/black combos.
Orange/black combos.
Green/orange/purple combos.
Red/black combos.
Basically a lot of combos commonly associated with Halloween, witches, or vampires.
Big raw crystals. We see crystal balls now and then, but that's it.
Other natural items used as decorations - feathers, pinecones, sticks, etc. The one exception I can think of are the shells embedded in the walls of Shell Cottage.
Crushed velvet. Lots of fantasy uses this, HP films don't.
If you need inspiration, go look up medieval and renaissance diagrams and illustrations of stuff like the four elements, the zodiac, the solar system, and all that. Go look up alchemical symbols and emblems. Search up pre-WWII vintage ephemera. Go look up Victorian clipart. Look up stuff like botanical, zoological, and astronomical books and art from the 17th-19th centuries. Look up vintage wallpaper and fabric patterns. Look at vintage-style crafts. Research period architecture and fashion. Research European heraldry.
If you're wondering what exactly you're going to design around without Hogwarts and the Four Houses, here are some suggestions:
The four classical elements (earth, air, fire, and water)
The four seasons
Card suits - Tarot, French, whatever you want
Holidays - Halloween, Christmas, whatever
Fairy tales
Flowers
Mythical creatures
Bugs
Birds
Any other animals you like
Ecosystems
Your own original worldbuilding
So yeah, there ya go. You don't need to keep participating in HP to indulge in the aesthetic.
[NOTICE: Anybody who clowns on this post by making this about them and their childhood, patting themselves on the back about their chosen means of "ethical" participation, praising the fandom, or adding any other form of irrelevant bullshit is getting blocked. Also, I don't want to hear about PJO or Earthsea again for the millionth time, either.]
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my favorite my immortal line is 'i jump sexily into da pensieve' and i have taken that quote so literally yk? i am not going to class in the cold. i am jumping sexily into da penseive you hear me????
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I need help once again - my friend is trying to find the name of a HP fanfic that’s been deleted!
She said it’s a fic where Harry is going through Sirius’ storage unit after his death and he finds a penseive of his memories. he looks at his marauders memories and sees Sirius fall in love with an OC and it’s their love story!! Please help us find this!!
#there is marriage and babies involved too#pls help#marauders#harry potter#hp fandom#fanfiction#hp fanfic#draco malfoy#draco fanart#hermione granger#draco x hermione#harry potter fanfiction#Harry Potter fanfic
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For the Title Tales: Wandering down memory lane, I always stop at you.
Sirius Black & Regulus Black & Walburga Black genfic.
Heir Sirius Black spends so much time in the Penseive, reliving memories of when his baby brother was alive, that Lady Walburga Black begins to fear she will lose him as well.
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light horror, potentially smutty tomarry prompt:
i need portrait horcrux tom who’s a magical, pre-raphelite masterpiece (think waterhouse’s the lady of shalott) that leaves a trail of dead owners behind him as he graces one manor hall after another. in any case good luck to cursebreaker harry who’s tasked with figuring out what exactly is wrong with that infamous painting, all the while having to deal with his landslide crush on a way-too-high-functioning portrait. (cue year 6 harry whose only takeaway from his penseive lessons was “oh fuck tom riddle?! was so clever and so tall and sooo hot??!!!”)
indulge me
#tomarry#tomarry fanfiction#tomarry fic#hp prompts#writing prompt#hp fandom#harry potter#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#tom/harry#tom riddle x harry potter#opal dreams#brainspawn
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Draco was wiping the counter when Harry Potter came into the shop3
(I love how long this title is)
Two people already asked; I guess because you can tell it's H/D. The document title is named that because that was the first line of the fic and I couldn't be bothered to come up with how to save it.
Anyway, this is a coffee shop AU, except not really an AU because it's EWE and otherwise canon. The premise was that Draco works in a Muggle coffee shop. It's not that far from the Ministry of Magic and Aurors start getting coffee there. Eventually Harry comes to check it out because he hears Draco works there; although there was an alternate version where Harry first discovers Draco there because a suspect was spotted at the shop or something similar and Harry comes to investigate.
The fic was really supposed to be about Harry's sexuality; he's struggling with Ginny and they break up, and then for a while he's very confused because he thinks he's supposed to be dating but isn't really feeling it. Then he starts thinking he might be gay but really feels like he has no idea how to tell.
Draco meanwhile has been in lust with Harry since like first year and has tried to do some very healthy things to get over it, such as throw away a very vast, heavily labeled collection of memories he puts into his Penseive to get off on, and become so proficient and Occlusion that he doesn't even know when he's Occluding most of the time. So when he hears Harry is struggling with his sexuality he VERY CASUALLY (as is Draco's wont, because of the Occlusion) offers to show Harry the ropes, as it were.
Harry has been coming to the coffee shop a while now and almost thinks of Draco as a friend; Draco has this bartender role a bit where Harry will talk about cases and then later personal issues and Draco nods and listens and offers encouragement. So when Draco offers VERY CASUALLY to sleep with him Harry is like well why the hell not.
So they kiss and maybe touch a little and Harry pretty much instantly knows HOLY SHIT I'M SO GAY and also we the reader know but Draco remains oblivious and Occludes so hard that he actually manages to succeed in acting like it means nothing to him. And then Harry wants to do more and so of course Draco says yes and Harry is right off the bat extremely intense and passionate and into it and it's obvious to the reader that he's pretty much fallen head over heels now that he understands more about his sexuality, and Draco acts like it's nothing.
And this goes on for a while and eventually Harry is like look, I care about you, and Draco acts like it's nothing. He kind of assumes it's a phase and Harry will get over it, best to protect himself.
And they continue to sleep together for a while and at last Harry can't stand it and is like, I'm not sure I can really do this anymore because I'm so in love with you and I know you don't care about me, and it's killing me. And Draco opens his mouth to say he does care--but can't.
Like he literally can't; he's Occluded so much that he's actually magically fucked up his ability to share his emotions even verbally; and Harry is like "say something" and Draco is like "I can't," and Harry is like "ok but why can't you" and Draco can't explain that either; the Occlumency has fucked him up so much that he actually can't stop Occluding against even explaining the situation.
So Harry eventually leaves and we are very sad and Draco gets therapy and Harry eventually starts dating Michael Corner or somebody and maybe they're even going to get married or something and Draco finally unfucks himself up enough to be able to tell Harry what was happening like two years ago and Draco knows it's too late but he's loved Harry all along and happy ending.
#oh right#i forgot the title was anti-dote#because originally there was a potion that made him unable to state his feelings#but originally it was harry who couldn't say i love you?#then i realized draco is even more repressed than harry#then i realized i've been wanting to do a story on harry's sexuality for a long time#then someone told me they hated coffee shop aus so like#out of spite i wanted to write one#so it was really 3 different stories#h/d
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Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles
Chapter 23: The Truth
A/N: with Dumbledore’s help, Artemis uses her mother’s gift to help her find the answers she seeks, but they may not be the answers she wants… Warnings: This one gets dark. Very dark. Scenes and mentions of intrigue, violence, death, murder, child endangerment, child neglect.
Green flames engulfed Artemis as she and Professor Dumbledore stepped into one of the gilded fireplaces on the right side of the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Once the flames had died down, the room outside had changed; she was back at Hogwarts, in the headmaster’s office.
Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and across the office to a tall cabinet. He opened its doors to reveal a wide, shallow stone dish engraved with runic symbols and filled with a silvery liquid. A blue-ish glow radiated from it and illuminated his face.
"You have seen this before, if I remember correctly," Dumbledore said. Artemis nodded her head, her hand still gripped tightly around the vial she had thrown into the fountain almost a year previously.
"It's your Penseive. You use it to help you with all your thoughts."
"Precisely. A Pensieve allows you to deposit and keep hold of memories and streams of consciousness, to review and organise at your will. This particular Pensieve is not simply mine, however. It is the property of the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts, and has therefore belonged to every witch or wizard who has held this position, and every witch or wizard who ever shall. It contains centuries' worth of collective wisdom and knowledge." Dumbledore's eyes caught the light of the Pensieve, looking bluer than ever before. He smiled before continuing, "Between this, Kingsley Shacklebolt's investigation, and the research of both your brother and Madam Rakepick, I daresay that I have been privy to more information than almost anyone about the Cursed Vaults and the group that calls themselves…"
"R."
"R, The Ronde, the cabal. They are all the same, as you know. I believe that by now, you must also know who created the Cursed Vaults."
"Morgan Le Fay," answered Artemis. "I learnt that from the centaurs and from Merlin's portrait. She discovered a great power, and made the Vaults to keep it safe, but then she turned to dark magic. That's why she added all the curses. But-"
"And you also know of Madame Fortinbras, the professor who created the Ronde and was their first leader?" Artemis nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore hadn't finished with his questions. "Artemis, do you know who was the most recent leader of the Ronde?"
"Merula's aunt. Madam Buckthorn. She stopped us by the lake."
Dumbledore shook his head.
"No," he said. "Madam Buckthorn may have been the director of R, but rather than being its leader, she acted more as the caretaker of the group in the absence of a leader."
"Oh, yeah. They wanted me to lead them because of the prophecy, the one Charlie and I stole from the Department of Mysteries." Artemis bit her lip and turned to Dumbledore to add, "Um, can you forget that I said that last part?"
"I'm afraid that my hearing is not what it once was, Miss Hexley, and I did not quite catch the last few words of what you said," said Dumbledore, but his lips twitched as if he had indeed heard and was amused by it. "Was it only you that the prophecy spoke of?"
"Well, not exactly. It just said Hexley on it, so it could've been about me or Jacob. But I picked it up, and Olivia Green said only the person a prophecy is about can do that, so it must have been about me and not Jacob all along."
"Yes and no. I'm afraid that while you are correct in some respects, you are entirely wrong in others."
"What do you mean?"
"Prophecies are fickle and endlessly cryptic things, Miss Hexley. The one of which you speak may have been about you or Jacob - or indeed, several others over the course of the centuries - but by the time you came to pick it up, certain events had occurred and created the circumstances by which the prophecy became about you," Dumbledore told Artemis, who was no less mystified than before. "The prophecy speaks of an heir, one descended from Morgan Le Fay herself, and born at the start of a new season. Professor Fortinbras thought herself the heir described in the prophecy, but it could have been any other person who meets these two criteria. The most recent leader of the Ronde thought that they themselves might be the one, until your brother came along."
"I don't-"
"You will understand once you have seen the contents of that vial you hold in your hand. You see, that bottle contains memories. The memories of two people who were at one time very closely connected with the leader of the Ronde."
Artemis frowned. "But my mother said that what was inside this was half mine."
"It is. But we will revisit your memories later. First, you must go back further." Dumbledore gestured from the vial to Pensieve and told her, "Go on. Take a look."
Not really sure what she was expecting to happen, Artemis pulled the stopper from the vial and tipped its contents into the Pensieve, which began to swirl faster and glow more brightly than before. As it did so, she could see something moving inside, a shadow or a person, and she rose onto her tiptoes and leaned forward to take a closer look.
She must have leaned too far, however, because a moment later, the ground beneath her gave a sudden lurch and she found herself falling - or perhaps being pulled - down into the Pensieve, which was far darker and colder than she had imagined it would be.
When she stopped falling, she found herself standing not in Dumbledore's office, but another room entirely. Like the office, the room had high ceilings and walls lined with books, but it was rectangular and far larger than the headmaster's office. It was filled with people, most of whom were reading or writing quietly, and all of whom were around her age or younger. It was a school library, she realised, but not that of Hogwarts, for the walls were of red brick rather than sandstone, and the students wore uniforms of blue and burgundy, not black.
"Excuse me," Artemis said to one of the students, who did not respond. She spoke louder. "Hello? Where is this?"
But the student clearly couldn't hear her, even though the library was silent. Almost silent, anyway. Two girls her own age were giggling quietly as they took books from one of the shelves and pretended to read them, all the while watching a wizard in the far corner of the room who was sitting at a desk all alone, and not wearing a uniform. Artemis wandered over to them so she could hear their hushed conversation.
"Whatever he's working on must be awfully important," said one of the girls, in an accent Artemis recognised as being American. "I've only ever seen him in the library. He's never once eaten in the hall - I'm not even sure he does eat - or anywhere else around the grounds, either. He just stays in here."
"Maybe he can't leave. Perhaps he's a vampire," whispered the second girl, and the first gasped quietly.
"Or maybe he's working on something so top secret and important that he's not even permitted to leave his desk even to have a meal."
Behind them, a third girl with her back to them shook her head, her long dark hair brushing the small of her back as it moved from side to side. She turned away from the bookshelf and joined them, a daring smile playing on her face, which was pretty and somehow familiar to Artemis, though she was not sure how.
"If you're so intrigued, why don't you go over there and ask him?" suggested the girl, raising a single eyebrow at her peers, who both blushed and shook their heads. She rolled her large hazel eyes dramatically. "Fine, then. If you two are too chicken, I'll go over and talk to him."
"But he never speaks to anyone!"
"Well, maybe he'll speak to me."
With an air of confidence, the girl pushed her dark hair back behind her shoulders and looked determinedly at the wizard on the far side of the library. Artemis frowned. She really did look familiar, as if she ought to recognise her. It was only once the girl started to walk away from her friends and straight past Artemis as if she hadn't even seen her standing there that she realised who she was.
"Ma?"
The girl who looked so much and yet not at all like Sara Hexley strode across the library in the direction of the lone wizard, Artemis following behind her, unseen and uncomprehending. As they reached the wizard, Artemis' mother leant against his desk next to him and cleared her throat. The wizard looked up at her. Now that Artemis could see his face, it was clear that he was a few years older than the students in the library. He had untidily cropped brown hair, brown eyes with a distinct ring of green around the pupil, and a face that again was distantly recognisable.
"Dad?"
"May I help you?" asked the wizard Artemis assumed must be her father, his clipped voice so contrasting with those of the girls she had listened to on the other side of the library.
"Actually, yes," Artemis' mother answered, before Artemis had a chance to speak. "My friends over there were just wondering who you are and what it is you're studying so hard that none of us have ever seen you outside of the library since you first showed up here."
"If your friends are so curious to know, why didn't they come here and ask me themselves?"
"They're too nervous."
"I see," Leander Hexley raised his eyebrows. "You're less easily scared."
Sara shrugged. "I was junior state champion for duelling last year. It takes a lot more than some Brit with a pile of textbooks to scare me. No offence."
"None taken," said Artemis' father. "My name is Leander Hexley. I work for the British Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries."
"So, you're an international man of mystery, huh?"
"I suppose that I am."
"And what brings you to Ilvermorny Academy?"
"I'm afraid that I'm not actually allowed to talk about my work."
"Even if I promise to keep a secret?"
"You just said that your friends sent you over here to find out."
"I can make something up to tell them," Sara smiled sweetly, tilting her head to one side. "Go on. Your secret's safe with me."
As if he could tell that it was pointless to argue, Leander sighed. "Very well. I'm conducting research into Wampus cats."
"Why?"
"Too help us gain more insight into the process of thought, particularly in respect to the skill - or art, depending how you look at it - of Legilimency." Sara scowled at Leander's words, and he frowned before asking her, "You take offence at the idea?"
"You would too if your mother was a Legilimens," said Sara, and Leander's eyebrows shot upwards. She exhaled softly through her nose, her scowl softening. "Natural born, and no, I didn't inherit it. Apparently it can skip a generation or something."
"So I've heard. That must be frustrating."
"It can be. Means I've gotten pretty good at Occlumency, though." Sara shrugged again. "Hey, you know, I don't mind helping out with anything, if you..."
Leander Hexley bowed his head, smiling to himself. "That's very kind of you... Ah. What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't. But it's Sara. Sara Kowalski. But most people just call me Sally."
The library began to swirl around Artemis, and the scenery shifted. She was now standing outside in the sunshine, in a garden that she immediately recognised as that of her great-aunt and uncle in Dorset. Leander was sporting dress robes, his arm around Sara's waist. She was smiling broadly, her spare hand resting on the gentle bulge of her stomach that was poorly hidden below her white dress.
The world swirled again, and Artemis was now standing in the hallway of the dark narrow house in Lovelace Crescent, her mother at her side. Sara was leaning against the frame of the door that led into the sitting room, where Leander was kneeling beside a small dark-haired boy, whose eyebrows were deeply furrowed in confusion.
"That puzzle is too hard for him," said Sara, folding her arms across her chest. "He's not even nine years old yet, Leander."
"He's advanced for his age," her husband replied, not looking up from the parchment he held in front of his son. "He needs to be challenged. We're raising a genius, Sally. Just think, in few years time he'll be off to school, and they won't won't know what's hit them."
He ruffled Jacob's hair and handed him the parchment, before standing up and walking across to his wife and daughter, though he behaved as if Artemis was not even there. Sara uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around him, leaning her head against his chest as she continued to watch her son.
"It'll be so quiet when he goes," she murmured. She turned her face up to her husband and told him: "We should have another one."
"We don't need another one."
"Who said anything about needing? I want another one."
More swirling, another scene, another room. Artemis’ mother's room. The scene was altogether more familiar; Sara Hexley sitting in her bed, alone. Except, she wasn't alone, for in her arms she held a baby, her forehead resting against its crown, murmuring softly to it. Artemis swallowed and stepped closer. Was that...
The bedroom door burst open, and little Jacob Hexley ran into the room, leaping up onto the bed and landing right next to his mother.
"Careful," said Sara. "You don't want to hurt your sister."
"But I wanted a brother."
"You don't get to choose," Sara laughed. "Here. You can hold her if you like." She passed the baby to Jacob and put her arm around him, repositioning his arms with her now free hands. "Jacob, this is Artemis."
Jacob blinked at the baby Artemis in his arms. "She's so little."
"I know, that's why you have to be careful. You have to look after babies, be good to them and protect them. You can do that, can't you?"
"I think so."
"I think so, too. You're clever and strong, like a big brother should be."
The baby who would eventually become Artemis herself reached up, and Artemis watched her mother place her brother's little finger into her palm. Jacob smiled and nodded his head.
"You're right. I am both of those things," he said, and Sara laughed as she placed a kiss on both her children's heads.
Artemis stepped forward, longing to join the three of them, but as she did, the scene shifted once more. Sara held a slightly older baby Artemis on her lap, reading from an open book. From outside the room came the sound of raised voices, and she paused frowning. She closed the book, and stood up, still holding her daughter, and walked towards the study, from which Jacob ran out, his face red with anger and wet with tears.
"I hate you!" he shouted back into the room.
"Hey," said Sara, bouncing the now crying Artemis on her hip in what seemed like a pointless attempt to soothe her. "Don't say things like that."
Jacob slammed the door and ran up the stairs.
"Jacob! Come back down here and apologise to your father."
But Jacob kept running, both he and his sister clearly inconsolable.
The world shifted once more, and Artemis was no longer in the house at all, but standing on the platform of a train station. The air around her was smoky and filled with the sound of children shouting and owls screeching, and a red engine stood waiting on the tracks. Sara, Jacob, and a little dark-haired girl who looked far more like herself than the baby from the previous memories were gathered on the platform.
"I'm sorry your father couldn't come to say goodbye," Sara said as she released her son from a tight embrace. Jacob shook his head.
"I didn't want him to come anyway."
"Jacob..."
"It's true, Ma. I don't want him here, or anywhere near us." He exhaled, and looked around himself before pulling his mother back into another hug, whispering into her ear. Artemis leaned in closer to hear what he was saying. "Ma, you don't know him. You can't trust him, you mustn't trust him. Not with yourself, and definitely not with Missy."
"Honey, you're-"
"I mean it, Ma. Please, be careful," said Jacob. He bent down to hug the smaller Artemis, whose eyes were filled with tears. He ruffled her hair. "There's no point telling you to be careful, is there?" He crouched down as a tear rolled down Artemis' face. "I'll be back at Christmas, and I'll write to you every week until then."
"Why can't I come with you? I want to go, too."
"You will one day, Missy. Take care of mum while I'm gone."
With one last pointed look at his mother, Jacob stood up and walked away down the platform. As the train whistle blew, the scene in front of Artemis dissolved into the steam and faded to black. She felt herself turn in the air, and when her feet hit the ground, she was standing back in the headmaster's office, with Dumbledore at her side.
"What.. What was that?" she stammered.
"Memories," replied Dumbledore. "Your mother's memories."
"But why?"
"Clearly, she thought that you deserved to know the truth as much as I do."
"The truth about what?" Artemis looked at the pensieve, her eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Jacob... He said she couldn't trust our Dad."
"He did."
"And our dad... He'd be a direct descendant of Morgan le Fay too, wouldn't he?
"He would."
"He was the leader of R, wasn't he? Before he died?"
"He was," Dumbledore inclined his head. "However, he must have at some point discovered that he was not the heir of which the prophecy speaks. Whether that occurred before or after he journeyed to America, I am not sure. However, I suspect it was his interest in the Vaults that caused him to journey overseas. He said himself that he was researching Legilimency. It is my theory that he was looking for a way to open the Buried Vault. In doing so, he found your mother, the daughter of a natural-born Legilimens. The skill skipped a generation, as she said it often does, and so when Jacob and you were born, you both had the innate ability."
"Which meant we could open the Vaults, and not our dad," Artemis said. "That was why he used to do all those puzzles. It was practice for the Vaults. He was training us."
"That would be my suspicion."
"So it should've been Jacob. He always was good at the puzzles and riddles and things. Much better than I was."
"Perhaps, but as you just saw, Jacob did not trust your father, nor did he want anything to do with him and his plans," said Dumbledore, his face growing serious. "The prophecy tells of the person who will lead the way to the Cursed Vaults. It also speaks of a sacrifice."
"A life."
"Not just any life. The life of the person most dear to the one who will open the final Vault. Jacob, naturally, was not prepared to sacrifice that life. He was determined to keep the person he loved most safe."
"But the Cabal had Duncan killed anyway."
"They did. Duncan's death was an immeasurable tragedy, made even more devastating for the simple reason that it was a great waste," Dumbledore sighed sadly. "Duncan Ashe is not the person I speak of. The person Jacob loved most in the world was you." Artemis' eyes widened, and Dumbledore placed one hand on her shoulder, the other resting on the edge of the Pensieve dish. "I must warn you, Artemis, that the next memories are yours, and you will most likely be upset by them. The truth is never easy, but it is important that you know it."
Artemis shrugged. "They're just memories, Professor. I've seen them before."
"In a way, I suppose that you're right."
Before she could ask Dumbledore what he meant, the Pensieve began to swirl again, and she felt herself plummeting down through it once more. When she stopped falling, she found herself in a small, dark room with a sloping attic ceiling. Her own bedroom. In the bed, a small child was sleeping.
The door opened a little, and a narrow strip of light entered the room, shining onto the child's face. As the child squinted and rubbed her eyes, Artemis recognised her younger self. Footsteps behind her made her aware of a second person entering the room, and she turned to see her father walking across to crouch beside the bed.
"Artemis. Wake up," he said, shaking her gently. "It's time to get up."
"Is it morning already?"
"Not yet, princess. It's still night time, but I need your help with something."
"What?" asked the younger Artemis, her head tilting and nose wrinkling in the half-light.
"Oh, I can't tell you that. It's a surprise. Do you want to help?"
The darkened room swirled, and shifted into yet another. This one, too, Artemis recognised. She had been standing in it just an hour before, and not just in a memory.
She watched her father lead her younger self across the black tiled entrance chamber of the Department of Mysteries and through one of the identical black doors. She followed them through the door, and found herself in the great stone-stepped room with the central archway. This time, however, the veil in the arch was missing, and the room was eerily silent.
"I don't like it," said the smaller Artemis, staring at the archway with her hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her father chuckled softly.
"You're not scared are you?"
"No," Artemis watched herself stick her chin out stubbornly, though there was an undeniable waver in her voice. "I'm not scared of it, I just don't like it."
"That's okay, then," said Leander. He knelt down and placed his hands on his daughters shoulders. "Because this is what I need help with. I need you to run - as fast as you can - down all these steps and through that archway. Do you think you can do that?"
The younger Artemis nodded her head, and her father hugged her tight to his chest. "I knew you'd be good at helping, because you are really, really special. We all love you very much. You know that, don't you?" Another nod of the little girl's head, and Leander let go of her completely. "Good. Now, run."
Artemis' blood ran cold as she watched her own face split into a broad smile, and saw herself begin to run. Her dark hair was in disarray, her feet clad in slippers, her pyjamas partly covered by a knitted jumper adorned with a pattern of blue Kneazles. She scampered down the steps, running as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the daïs with its crumbling stone arch.
"ARTEMIS, NO!"
At first, she thought that she had shouted the words herself, but the voice that cried out was not hers. Both Artemises stopped and turned to see who the voice belonged to.
Sara Hexley, her face white and filled with horror, stood in the doorway.
But not for long. She ran straight past her husband and down the steps to her daughter, placing her palms to the smaller Artemis' face, her arms, her hands, her torso.
"Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
Sara Hexley was apparently unconvinced, for the colour did not return to her cheeks and she continued to run her eyes over her child, pushing her sleeves up and hair back from her face as if looking for signs of damage. Sighing as if bored by this display of maternal concern, Leander made his way down the stone steps towards them.
"You." Sara pushed her daughter behind her as she turned towards her approaching husband, her voice shaking with rage and disgust. "Jacob said... I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him." She blinked as if forcing back tears, and asked, "It's true, isn't it? These Cursed Vaults, these people who want them... You're one of them."
"We don't want the Vaults, Sally, we want what's inside them," said Leander. "We all have wanted it for so long, needed it, and now we finally have the key to getting it. Jacob is the key, he's the one. Our son can do what no one else has done for centuries."
"And our daughter?"
"She is important, too. She has her own part to play."
Leander's eyes drifted to the stone archway, and following them, Sara's own widened to perfect circles.
"No," she said, her voice weak. "No, you can't..."
"I have to."
"I won't let you."
"You don't have a choice," Leander sighed. "Either it happens now, like this, or later, in another way. The prophecy is very clear-"
"I don't give a damn about any prophecy," Sara snapped. "This is our daughter."
"You cannot prevent the inevitable, Sally. It is prophecised, it will come to pass. At least this way, we can control how."
Sara Hexley stared at her husband. Her face began to soften, and her eyes glazed over, her face becoming unreadable. Slowly, she nodded and turned back to her daughter, holding her close and whispering into her hair. Watching on, Artemis heard her words as clearly as if she were the one being spoken to.
"Artemis, honey, I want you to show me how fast you can run, okay? When I let you go, you go run back to that door and back up the stairs. Go as far as you can, and if you find somewhere to hide, you hide. Understand?"
As she stood back up straight, Sara kept one hand on Artemis' shoulder, the other reaching for her wand.
"Go!"
The silent chamber became full of noise and movement. As her mother had instructed, the younger Artemis darted back up the stone steps, her father lunging to catch her. But Artemis had always been fast, and somehow, Sara was even faster. Quick as a flash, her wand was pointed at Leander, her feet springing into an offensive duelling position, her arm moving as she hurled spells at him with more feeling, force, and skill than Artemis had even known she possessed. Leander, now having to defend himself against his wife, had no choice but to let the younger Artemis run away.
Meanwhile, the older Artemis stayed put, watching the duel with her mouth half-open with shock and awe as her parents continued to fight. Her mother's technique was flawless, and every spell she cast was with furious intent. Leander, even though he was defending himself both with and without his wand, was clearly no match for her.
Artemis would have stayed and watched them duel for longer, but the chamber and the lights began to swirl, spinning around her and not stopping, even as the stone steps turned into black walls and doors. In the centre of the spinning room was her younger self, eyes screwed shut and little body trembling in her blue Kneazle jumper.
"It's okay," Artemis told herself, even though she knew that she wouldn't be able to hear. "You're going to be okay. Don't be scared."
But the younger Artemis was scared. She was terrified. Artemis tried to hug her, but her arms went straight through her.
The doors stopped spinning and one opened. Both Artemises flinched, but the person who opened the door was Sara. she wrapped her arms around the little girl the way Artemis had tried to.
"Where's Daddy? Why were you fighting?"
"We just had a bit of argument, that’s all. He'll come home later."
Sara led little Artemis away, and the room spun again, this time settling to form the hallway at Lovelace Crescent once more. Artemis was sitting with herself at the bottom of the staircase, and the door to the sitting room was ajar. Through it, she could hear a pair of voices.
"She's scared of me, Jacob," her mother was saying, her voice choked with tears. "I can see it, every time she looks at me."
"That's why we have to do it."
In the doorway, Artemis could see the back of her mother's head move from side to side. Beyond her, Jacob looked through the open door and sighed before making his way over to the stairs. He hugged the younger Artemis and lifted her up, carrying her across the hallway and into the sitting room, the older Artemis following behind her.
"We can't let her remember this, Ma," he whispered, and a single tear fell down Sara Hexley's cheek as she nodded her head, just once. Jacob placed the younger Artemis down, and removed his wand from his robes.
"Ma?" said the younger Artemis, and Sara Hexley closed her eyes. "Jacob?"
Artemis watched Jacob put the tip of his wand to her younger self's temple, and everything turned black.
#artemis hexley#hogwarts mystery#hphm fic#hphm#the hexley saga#albus dumbledore#cursed vaults#vault lore#the cabal
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Oh you want more silly Wizarding sex objects? Alright! 🤣
-a point-me clitoris spell, or charmed compass of some kind lmao
-Flaccidity-Be-Gone potion
-one of those talking mirrors that can be mounted to the ceiling, but like it criticizes/comments on anyone who has sex in view of it 💀
-peniseive (like a penseive, only u can experience sex thru the eyes of ur partner via watching a memory)
-Enchanted Dildos (again, maybe it can be quidditch themed and make bludger noises every time it moves or something 😂)
-strip wizard chess, where if u lose a piece u lose an article of clothing (also the pieces flirt or make fun of the players. Catcalling and such 😂)
Omg these are all brilliant, anon! 💖
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Basics
Name: Varian Marshall
Age: 26
Birthdate: October 25, 1960
Pronouns: He/They
Blood Status: Halfblood, Metamorphmagus
Education: Hogwarts, Slytherin
Occupation: Quidditch Referee
Allegiance: The Ministry of Magic
Magical Specialization: Potions
Face Claim: Toby Wallace
Personality
Amortentia: Nature (Trees and Dirt specifically)
Varian developed a love for nature and the outdoors from his father, who earned a living as a nature photographer. Out in nature is where Varian feels like he can be his true self, without fear of having to be what others want or need him to be. Out in nature he doesn't need to have his guard up all the time.
Boggart: Dog
Varian has been terrified of dogs ever since he was attacked by one as a child. This attack left permanent scars on his face and arm, which they hide in public, in part because another child screamed and called him a monster and he never wanted that to happen again.
Enneagram: Type 8
Varian isn't the type to let weaknesses show and often puts up the facade of being strong and like he is untouchable. He hates feeling like he isn't in control, something he told himself he never wanted to be again after being unable to do anything but watch as his mother died as a child. Despite being rather guarded, and sometimes coming off as intimidating he isn't anti-social, they just only let a select few into the most intimate parts of who they are. When he truly loves and cares for someone he will do anything and everything he can to protect them
Patronus: Stoat
Despite all the changes, both small and big, that Varian has gone through throughout their life, he has always found a way to adapt to them. This has also caused them to become rather resilient. Part of learning to adapt while growing up was being observant of their surroundings and finding ways to infiltrate and/or play the part that they need to.
Penseive
1960-1971:
Varian was born to a muggle father and a witch mother. The signs that Varian was a metamorphmagus came very early on in life when his mother had noticed that his eyes had changed from the shade they were born with to a purple then back moments later. This was a trait that had been passed down to him through an ancestor on their maternal grandfather's side, having skipped several generations before him.
They have always known about the wizarding world, it's hard not to when you can change your appearance in the way that he can, but his father had always known about his mother and neither wanted to deprive their son of that part of who they were. Varian's parents divorced when he was 7 years old and Varian moved to Australia (in the Wizarding World) with his mother after she received a job there.
Over the next couple of years Varian would spend their time going between living in Australia with his mother during the school year and summers divided between spending time with his muggle father in the UK and his mother's family.
At the age of 11 Varian received their letter to attend the Wizarding School in Australia, something that the boy had been looking forward to getting. However, things changed when his mother died and Varian moved back to live with his father in the muggle world.
Varian's letter from Hogwarts arrived not very long after the move back. His father agreed to let him go and made arrangements with his wife's family to act as his guardians during the school year.
1971 - 1978:
During his time at Hogwarts Varian was known to cause trouble, his intentions were never to hurt anyone, though sometimes this did happen. They were part of the Astronomy Club, his fascination with the stars coming from his mother's love for them, Potions Club, having an affinity towards that type of magic, and Dueling Club. They tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team every year, finally getting a spot on the team as the goalkeeper in his fourth year. As in many other situations in life, Varian used their ability as a metamorphmagi to his and the team's advantage in order to gain information that could assist them in winning. Some people would call it cheating, Varian would call it being resourceful.
1978 - Present;
After graduating Varian still wasn't sure what it was he wanted to do with his life. So many of the people he knew had always known what they wanted to be when they grew up, but he never did. It wasn't that he lacked ambition it was just that he lacked focus. This caused him to bounce around jobs over the next couple of years, doing everything from working as a Knight Bus driver to a bartender to a saleswizard. He was eventually drawn back to his love of Quidditch and for the past three years has served as a referee for matches.
AESTHETIC | MIXTAPE | SELF PARA
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After seeing Cody in the official The Bad Batch Season 2 trailer, I got a little scared that they might ruin him, and decided to start writing a story based on my Cody-Commander-Turned-Rebel-Spy AU.
Here's my introduction under the cut, and thank you so much to @rcfekjwtaardby-moved and @child-of-the-fandom for your words that inspired me to start this project. Each chapter is probably going to feature Rex and Cody retelling an episode of TCW, along with a screenshot of that episode, and chibi Luke, Leia, Rex, and Cody reactions.
As day broke across Endor, and a newly-freed galaxy, Luke couldn't help but smile. A tiny, nearly unnoticeable pang of sadness simultaneously stabbed his heart. Although he was happy that the Emperor had been defeated, and the Death Star destroyed, his father's final words gnawed at him. If only he had more time with him, or at least a single happy memory, Luke mused. Maybe Leia or Han would know someone who knew his father, but it felt so wrong to disturb them on such a happy occasion. Why couldn't he just bask in the joy of their hard-fought victory?
"General Skywalker," an oddly familiar voice said, slightly hesitantly.
Luke turned to see his sister, and two similar looking rebels wearing old imperial armor.
"Luke, there's someone I would like you to meet." Leia beamed. "Meet Commanders Cody and Rex. They served with your father in the Clone War."
"I prefer just Rex, in all honestly Your Highness." Rex corrected. "I'd like to think that my days as a soldier are finally over."
"I agree with the Captain, Cody is good enough for me." Cody agreed. "It's a pleasure to meet another General Skywalker."
Luke stood speechless. "How did you-"
Leia smiled. "You told me that Anakin Skywalker was your-and apparently my-father, and I assumed that you would want to know more about him, especially since he sacrificed himself to save you."
Luke could hardly hold back tears, and hugged Leia tightly. I have the best sister in the entire galaxy.
Luke, you haven't even introduced yourself. Leia said, patting Luke gently on the back.
Luke looked at the pair, with a slightly embarrased smile.
I am so sorry. I am Luke Skywalker, a Jedi like my father, Anakin Skywalker. This is my sister, Leia.
Well, you certainly don't have any of the trademark Skywalker flair-bordering-arrogance. Are you sure you're not adopted? Cody asked playfully.
I, for one, am quite glad that insanity and a blatant disregard for the rules seemed to have skipped a generation. Rex smiled.
You clearly need to become better acquainted with Luke. Leia said, crossing her arms. He disobeys rules, and occasionally even direct orders.
Both of you are far too responsible to be General Skywalker's offspring. Cody said penseively.
Rex smiled. I don't mind, as long as you're interesting in two old soldiers going on and on, about the Clone War and suffering under General Skywalker's command.
You served under my father! Luke exclaimed.
Please have a seat. Leia gestured at the assorted crates in the clearing. I am quite curious as well. My father always said that Anakin Skywalker was a rather creative leader.
Just let us know when we start boring you. Cody winked.
#sw#star wars#commander cody#tcw#the clone wars#swtcw#swtcw fanart#captain rex#commander rex#clone trooper rex#the bad batch#bad batch#cody#clone trooper cody#luke skywalker#princess leia#sw fanart#happy au#my art
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Things I have learned/noticed on a second playthrough of Stranger of Paradise (Part 12)
MAIN STORY FINALE LEZGO
Fighting while posessed by Chaos is fun as hell
FOOL'S MISSIVE 31 GIVE IT UP FOR FOOL'S MISSIVE 31!!!!!!
Heart is what defines my Jack :'))))
There is absolutely no reason whatsoever for the writers to have Astos refer to him as "my Jack" but they did that for us
GUH this whole missive with the penseive music behind it. Astos loved him and believed in him so much, for being the first one to treat him as a person. I'm not crying you're crying.
Fool's Missive 38, where he talks about the transformation into Chaos turning Jack into an inhuman monster is a hell of an idea for a fic >:)
Jack mourning his friends while fighting with that unhinged laugh when he soul bursts is coincidental but gut wrenching. It sounds like he's going mad with grief and I am Unwell
Fucking up the Lufenians' day is SO DAMN SATISFYING. From Jack's rage to the dimensional crystal matrix smashy smash. Perfection. This whole ending is SO HYPE.
FOR OUR FRIIIIIIIIIIEEEEENDS!!!!!!
The slow motion walk to the throne. It was never a mercy to forget. The way Jack pretty much addresses us, the player, directly to tell us never to give up hope. REAL TEARS.
The way Jack smiles at his friends when he sees them again :)))
On to the DLC!
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I finished the Harry Potter series last month. So much of what I read felt completely different from what I remembered. Not influenced by the films, my memory forgot how much time Harry and Dumbledore spent in the Penseive in Book 6. Those trips into the past really slowed the narrative. In Book Seven, since I knew the ending, moved faster than the previous.
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The Books on the Shelves
Th objects we keep somehow, over years, become important not in functionality but just in being.
I’m cleaning out my bookshelves and getting rid of books. Marie Kondo-ing my space and deciding what sparks joy and what does not.
Okay, maybe not completely Marie Kondo style.
I don’t think I can properly explain how difficult it is to do that. Over the years, and with the help of Amazon Prime, I have amassed an impressive collection of books. They’re everywhere, and while I like to think…
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#books#bookshelves#Childrens Literature#Harry Potter#horcrux#library#literature#marie kondo#Neil Gaiman#organizing#penseive#reading#shakespeare#sparknotes
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Fallin’
#fall#September#garden#nature#me#selfie#gpoy#ootd#girls with tattoos#green eyes#penseive#happy#autumn#good vibes
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So, when Dumbledore was explaining the Penseive to Harry, he said it was used to hold thoughts or memories, and that he put thoughts or memories into it when his brain felt too full. Could a wizard, then, remove intrusive thoughts and store them in a Penseive and not have to deal with them? If so, that would be so awesome, and I'd be really jealous of wizards being able to do that.
#harry potter#albus dumbledore#penseive#tw: negative thoughts#deep thoughts#thoughts#intrusive thoughts#intrusive thinking#ptsd#depression#anxiety
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