I know some people don’t like surprises so this is me saying uhhhhhhh you might get an email notification at some point this weekend. Idk when. Also, you might not. But like…probably.

you can’t be mad at me if you don’t tho, this is a binding contract and you’ve agreed by reading this thanks

“Here we are,” said James, breezing into the bookshop as merrily as the jingling bell that announced their arrival. “Hotbed of dangerous political activity, and all that.”

He peered around cheerfully. Though he, Remus, and Peter had arrived on the early side, arms laden with signs for the protest they’d crafted in the dormitory earlier, the place was already quite full of activity. He’d been inside this tiny little shop once before, and it had been utterly empty. Today, however, it was teeming with people, all students, all milling around picking up books and chatting.

“Blimey,” said James. “I guess we successfully got the word out?”

“I’d say so,” agreed Remus. “Here, give me those signs, I’ll set them up on a table over there to hand out later.”

“Right you are.” James unburdened himself of his political paraphernalia and turned back to beam around the shop, basking in the bustle of activity as one might enjoy a really sunny day. He’d been quite grumpy on the way over, to tell the truth. They’d taken that tunnel hidden behind the mirror, not wanting to draw attention to their protest signs and Muggle clothing, and James had engaged in a good sulk most of the way about the fact that Sirius had opted to stay behind to “get to know Garrett.” It didn’t take a genius to spot that Sirius was, one might say, up to no good.

Read on AO3.

Back with the first chapter of the Last Enemy: Dark Marks by CH Darling. Listen now on AO3!

“You didn’t have to sit there and watch your friend’s face as his teacher -his teacher- told him that he was going to die young and that he deserved it. So with all due respect, Professor, don’t tell me what I have to tolerate.”

Okay so I re-read TLE again. Because I have a problem. And there’s just something I really really loved about the latest chapter and I needed to share my thoughts with you.

When James wakes up and is talking to the lads about the events of the protest and Quidditch being cancelled. He was asked if he was upset over it. And his response?

“People died.”

That’s just so James. That’s the boy who became an Animagus at 15 to help a friend. That’s the boy who has a secret ambition to become a healer. The boy who welcomed his abused friend into his home. The boy who will soon fight in a war and go into hiding for his wife and son.

And that type of characterization is always on my mind, like somewhere in the back just eating away at my brain. It is so so beautiful and so well written. Despite all the Jily, that might be my favorite part of this entire series so far. That’s the character I love, and the way you showed us that significant change in him is just… I honestly don’t have words to express my awe. But gosh.

Well done Ch.

🥺❤️❤️

Thank you so much for this ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

hi! first i just wanna say how much i love TLE series, it's so well written and deep, it's a masterpiece. Now, one of the many reasons i love it it's because the whole political view that you display on it, because i see myself on many characters but mainly lily. Right now, in my country (Argentina) we have a president who is just like voldemort, a fascist idiot who despises every single person who doesn't think like him, who hates ppl that only wants to exist (like women, students and old people who only wants to live without having to work after a whole life doing it) lily reminds me sooo much of myself, feeling alone in a world that screams at you that you don't belong there because of a simple man's mind and thoughts, her rage is just like mine, having to wake up every day knowing there's something else worse than yesterday's news. But also, her willing to fight, to protest and never shut up about what's right with every single little detail that might be wrong or right and her perseverance to always stick up for ppl like her, for her own rights. so thank you so much for writing a story that i hold tight to my heart, knowing that it will live in myself as another way to fight for what's right <3

Oh, this made me emotional. 🥲 I have been reading about the protests in Buenos Aires. It’s such a scary time in the world, and I’m so so sorry you’re having to deal with this. But you sound like an incredible person, and Lily would be so proud. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for your kind words, they mean so much to me. Stay strong and stay safe. Your rage is a resource ❤️

ok I just ran the math and I published 17,502 words in January. No one gets to send me any asks in February telling me to hurry up ok?

next chapter is delayed due to my getting annoyingly sick 😔

Idk when it’s coming, will probably be after the holidays now, brain hurts too much for words 🫠

I have discovered a new Writer Struggle™ and that is having a fictional song stuck in your head and wanting to listen to it in order to get it out of your damn head, but in order to do that you have to a) write it and b) be musical so you just walk around badly singing the same verse over and over again and getting more annoyed about it 💀

….yes I am walking around my home singing “The Ballad of Farter-Biles” and no, the cats do not like it.

(still working on the next chapter, hope to have an update soon! ❤️🎸💥🤗)

no chapter this weekend, friends. I’m focusing on some much needed self-care (scrubbing my apartment from top to bottom and rereading the Harriet Vane novels). Planning for an update next weekend, if all goes well.

If anyone wants the POV spoiled as a treat, see below :)

Lily 😌

“Monty, guess who’s come home to see you!”

A low groan, a rustle of bedsheets, a squint through the darkened room. “Who…?”

“Hi, dad.”

“Who is this? Who are you?”

“Dad, it’s me. James. Your son…?”

“I don’t have a son. Ephie, who is this?”

“Oh, dear. James, darling, come on, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Dad—”

“James,” hissed a voice, followed by the sharp nudge of an elbow to his ribcage, and James blinked back to attention. He was seated at the grand dining table in Professor Slughorn’s office, along with about eleven other students and a few guests Slughorn had brought in, all of whom were staring at him over the towering blancmange a house-elf had just delivered.

“Er…” said James awkwardly. “Sorry, spaced out a little. What was that?”

“My dear boy,” laughed Slughorn. “What were you thinking about?”

“Er…” said James again, desperately rooting around his brain for a more suitable answer than the truth. “Quidditch.”

“That’s all he ever thinks about,” said Florence, patting his arm in an affectionate-but-long-suffering sort of way.

Read on AO3.

(OK I LIED. YOU GET ONE MORE. NOW I'M ON VACATION BYEEEE)

“Dreadful, dreadful thing,” said Professor Slughorn, shaking his head sadly as he spread a great glob of clotted cream upon a scone. “There’s simply no rhyme or reason to it — especially when you add those Muggle automobiles into the mix—” “I really—” interrupted Lily, because she couldn’t bear it. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Professor Slughorn had invited her to tea in his office. She sat across from him — he in a plush armchair, she on one of the grand leather chesterfields — a spindly table set up between them, topped with a tiered tray of sweets and scones, bright and colorful as baubles in a shop. A stout silver teapot glinted in a beam of afternoon sunlight that filtered through the windows. She didn’t particularly want to be here, but she understood this was the sort of invitation a student had to accept. Professor McGonagall had summoned her for the same sort of thing a few days earlier — a handful of biscuits and the obligatory check in from which Lily desperately wanted to check out.

“I really just want to focus on school right now,” she said at last. “Catch up on what I missed and everything.”

“There’s that classic British phlegm,” said Slughorn approvingly. “I’ve always known you were made of tough stuff.”

Read on AO3.

James ran. He ran faster than he’d ever run in his whole life. He hurtled out the door of the apothecary, slamming it shut with his wand as he went, lest the others try to follow him into the fray. He weaved and dodged through spell and smoke, flinging up a shield charm just as a masked man raised his wand — the curse hit the invisible barrier in a cascade of sparks. James paid it no mind. Kept going. Distantly, he was aware of someone shouting at him through all the chaos, recognized adult figures that weren’t masked or dressed in black — he ignored them all. Only one thought filled his brain, drowning out everything else amidst this swirling hurricane — only one word, one idea, one purpose commanded his mind’s eye: Lily.

He was nearly to the bookshop, just a few more paces. The fire was growing — roaring, spitting, spreading; it circled the shop like a snake about to squeeze its prey. If he didn’t make it through, the shop would be cut off — and Lily trapped inside.

A burst of heat blossomed behind him; he pushed harder, ran faster.

Skid of heel against cobblestone; air hot with smoke and ash. He slipped through the circle of fire just as it closed upon itself, a flaming ouroboros. James paused for half a second to catch his breath, sweat pearling on his brow in the heat of the blaze. Then the fiery snake flicked its tail, and a wall of flame crashed into the shop.

Read on AO3.

Peter stared.

High above him, bright gleaming emerald stars glittered against a smoke-stained sky. They formed the shape of a skull — gaping eye sockets as dark and empty as those of Professor Carter-Myles’ several feet away. A serpent slithered through the skull’s teeth…Peter could almost hear its hiss, echoing in his own skull, slinking through his thoughts, unfurling through all the horrors that flitted about his brain. And amidst the hiss, there was a voice — his own voice — that couldn’t stop squealing: It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault!

But how could he have known this would happen? His little plot with the mirror had been completely innocent. He’d just wanted to impress his friends, to get back what was theirs, to show them that Peter Pettigrew wasn’t useless. And he’d gotten the mirror back, had it stowed safely in his trunk in the dormitory. He hadn’t told his friends about it yet — there hadn’t been time, he’d wanted it to be a moment of triumph — and he hadn’t wanted to tell them about the little incident with Snape. But he couldn’t have known this would happen! He thought at worst Snape might tell a teacher, or perhaps some of his Slytherin pals would show up and harass them…but this? This?

Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with him at all. Maybe it was all just a terrible coincidence.

“The Dark Mark,” said Sirius, and Peter wrenched his gaze back from the heavens. “That means—”

“I know what it means!” snapped Peter, and he hated the hysterical shriek in his voice but he couldn’t turn it down.

“We have to move.”

“I’ve been saying so!”

Read on AO3.

Hey guys. I’ve turned off anon indefinitely. You can still send me asks for now, but you’re going to have to use your name.

Sorry to do this, but while 99% of you are lovely and I’m so grateful for your thoughtful comments and readership, some people who frequent this website really need to reconsider boundaries and the way you talk to actual humans on the internet.

And, just as a little reminder to the aforementioned some people: this isn’t my job, I don’t get paid for this, and every time you send me rude messages about how long it takes me to write TLE, it makes me want to work on TLE less. I have a bunch of original projects demanding my attention right now too, and when I open tumblr to see several messages in a row about how I’m not doing enough fast enough for my fanfic labor of love that I am sharing for absolutely f’ing free, it makes me start to question why I’m bothering with all this and why I’m not putting this time into my other projects instead.

The answer to this question, ultimately, is because I love TLE, and that’s why I’ve written it from the start, and that’s why I expect I will feel compelled to see it through to the end, but it certainly doesn’t make me feel compelled to hurry up and hustle just so some jerk anons get off my ass about meeting their entitled expectations. That’s not how this works. I am not, actually, writing this for you, jerk anons. I’m letting you read it.

Ok, rant over. Thank you to those of you who have been so lovely in my ask box in the past. I’m not posting this in any attempt to garner sympathy or anything, so please don’t feel like you need to reblog this or defend me. I have just been frustrated and felt the need to speak into existence some firmer boundaries that I’ve been fairly lax about in the past.

Thank you ❤️

At first, the only thing that registered was the heavy thump of pain that echoed through the body like the aftershocks of a quake, each heartbeat a blast reverberating against this battered bag of flesh and bone.

Then, slowly, Sirius became conscious of the fact that the heartbeats were his own, the pain his own, and he began to make further inquiries into the status of his body. He discovered that he was lying on his stomach, cheek and palms pressed to the hot earth, and they ached. There was some sort of pressure atop him, keeping him down. He couldn’t move. After a heart-stuttering moment, he determined with relief that he could — though it was most unpleasant — feel his legs. They also ached, all the way down to his tiniest toenail. Even the gums of his teeth seemed to ache. His skull clanged like a ringing bell.

He tried to determine where he was, to remember how he got here, but he came up empty. Perhaps he’d been attacked by his cousins again. It felt about the same.

It occurred to him at this point that he might open his eyes. He tried it. It didn’t make much difference. He could only see straight ahead — all an endless, dusty grey — and of that he could only glimpse a sliver as there was most certainly something large and painfully heavy atop him. Like a wall. It was as though a wall had collapsed on him, pinning him to the ground.

That didn’t make any sense.

Read on AO3.