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365 drabbles

Chapter Text

Teddy Lupin was immensely frustrated by one of the classes at Hogwarts. Most of them were interesting and challenging and Teddy could barely get enough of them.

Then, there was History of Magic.

The Professor was a ghost, but that was about the only interesting thing that could be connected to Binns' lessons.

He simply droned on and on, putting most students to sleep.

And Teddy simply could not accept that. History was not only very interesting but also tremendously important! You could learn from the mistakes other people had made and Binns was essentially dooming generations to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors.

No longer. Not if Teddy had anything to say about that.

He spent the History lessons studying their coursebook front to back and, once he was done with that, ordered more books — both magical and muggle — to do the same with.

He would pass the History OWL and NEWT and become the next professor.

There was no stopping him.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure that this is the right was to do this?” James Potter questioned.

Sirius Black shrugged. “The recipe said to include three eggs. That’s what I’m doing.”

And indeed, he had done so. Sirius had taken the eggs from the package right into the bowl.

“I dunno, I think you’re supposed to crack them or something.” James scratched his head.

“We never did that it potions, though,” Sirius pointed out. “When it said to include eggs, then it was the whole egg. Eggshell and everything.”

“This isn’t potions, though, “James argued. “This is going to be Harry’s first birthday cake. We don’t want it to fail. Maybe we should ask Lily for help.”

Sirius shook his head rapidly. “No! We’re supposed to be doing it on our own. To prove that we can.”

“We can’t, though,” James admitted. “I’d rather ask for help now than a horrible cake later.”

Sirius crossed his arms. “We’re not asking Lily.”

“Remus, then,” James grinned as he sent a patronus with the question.

Chapter Text

Godric Gryffindor’s sword was goblin made.

The goblins, however, had an inspiration for that sword.

It had been an attempt to copy what was surely the most famous sword in history: Excalibur. The sword of none other than King Arthur himself.

This was only possible because Godric had spent ages convincing Merlin that this was a good idea. It had been hard work, but eventually, the warlock agreed to get the sword.

Of course, a copy would never be as good as the original — nothing could compare with a sword forged in a dragon’s breath — but it was the closest thing that Godric could get.

And he enjoyed it very much.

For the second he received his sword — gold, with embedded rubies and his name engraved — he enjoyed any and all battles and fights he went into more than he had ever before. He almost began looking forward to an attacking beast or army at times.

It was simply so adventurous and now he had one of the best swords that were currently in existence. He had always enjoyed a challenge; it was no real wonder that he started to go looking for them.

Chapter Text

While they were on the train to Hogwarts the first time, Padma and Parvati Patil imagined their future to be together. They expected to be sorted in the same house, together, because that was the way it had always been.

The Sorting Hat apparently saw that differently. Padma was smart, sure, and Parvati was definitely brave, but the same was true vice versa. So why was one a Raven and the other a Lion? What was the small difference between them that had caused this?

Both twins wondered this as they sat at their respective tables — one red, one blue.

But then Lisa Turpin asked Padma what her favourite book was. At the same time, a couple of tables over, Lavender Brown asked Parvati about her nail polish.

They might’ve been separated, but they were not alone.

Chapter Text

Regulus Black sighed as he moved the lid of his new... colleague’s coffin. Of course, there were cobwebs again.

Based on his own transformation and Sanguini’s centuries of experience the process to turn the boy into one of them lasted anywhere from two days to a week.

Consequently, Regulus checked on the young man every day; there was no need to let him be in there any longer than necessary.

And yet, somehow, there were new cobwebs every day. Damn these hyperactive spiders!

Once the lid was wide open, the young man opened his — by human standards — impossibly green eyes.

“Where… where am I? What happened?” he questioned and as the young boy did so, his tongue touched his new fangs. “What did you do to me?”

“My partner and I saved your life, Mr. Potter. Unfortunately, the only way to do this was to kill you, but I’m sure you’ll learn to handle it sooner or later,” Regulus explained calmly.

“What do you mean? And who are you, anyway?”

“My name, Mr. Potter, is Regulus Black. I am a vampire, as are you.”

Chapter Text

“So, let me get this straight,” Anthony Goldstein said, putting his book down and looking his significant other, Kevin Entwhistle, directly in his eyes.. “You’re not actually human, but some creature from the Norse mythology called Ice Giants-”

“Jotnar,” Kevin, in his natural, blue form corrected. “Ice Giant is an offensive and derogatory term used by the inhabitants of Asgard.”

“Right,” Anthony drew the word out. “But your race — whatever they may be called — are intersex. As in, they have both male and female reproduction systems, the latter of which you hid under a glamour so far.”

“Yes, indeed,” Kevin confirmed.

“You came here because earth made you curious and now you really want children?” Anthony continued his stream of questions.

Kevin nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“Alright, I suppose. Let’s create some hybrid-children, then.”

And so they did. Anthony had nothing against being a father. He was twenty-five years old and, once he thought about it, he wanted this, too.

A couple of weeks later, Kevin came into the living room with a smile on eir face.

“I take it worked, then?” Anthony said as a greeting.

Kevin gave him a huge smile. “Yes, it did.”

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that Rose Zeller was not, then it was a Wallflower. She would hate that more than anything.

The first time she came to Hogwarts, she looked to be just one of the many new Hufflepuffs. First impressions were wrong, however. Rose was a rebel at heart and had more than enough confidence to follow through.

And she had arrived at the castle at the perfect time.

No one liked Umbridge, so she didn’t even get into trouble with any other teachers for ignoring the toad’s existence after the first lesson. Rose didn’t go to class and never asked if there had been any homework.

The Hufflepuff had debated avoiding her in the corridors but quickly decided that it would be a lot more fun to actively seek her out and then ignore her.

And Rose had been right. The wannabe Professor tried to put her in detention several times a day, but Rose never arrived.

Her aura, her smile, everything about the young Hufflepuff screamed ‘fight me’.

She was many things, but a wallflower would never be one of them.

Chapter Text

Everyone is born with a twin. One is inherently good, no matter what is done to them. The other will be evil, no matter how much kindness they are shown.

Everyone knew this.

Sometimes, though, there were events that disrupted the system. There were tales of women trying to get rid of one of their children, sometimes even successfully, only to notice that it was the wrong one from their standpoint.

Things like that happened, because there were no visible differences between the children. They looked exactly the same.

It all worked out to Tom Marvolo Riddle's best. His twin had died at their birth. So people had to guess which one he was.

But Tom knew it. He was a great actor.

They thought he was the good one.

He was not and this was all a part of the plan.

Chapter Text

“You know,” Su Li commented as she entered her girlfriend's basement. “Normal people don't have a collection of weapons in their basement.”

“I'll let you know that each of these knives saved my life at least once in my time as an assassin and after that,” Lisa Turpin huffed in reply.

“And that gun?” Su pointed at the AK-47 at the far corner of the room.

Lisa shrugged. “That old thing? That's just decoration. But we're not here because of that. We're here because you need me to take out Sally-Anne Perks. I wouldn't usually accept any requests — I retired years ago — but this is personal.” Lisa had a wicked smile on her face.

“Alright then.” Su shrugged. “I don't care why you do it. Just that you do.”

“And that is exactly why I love you.”

Chapter Text

The students of Durmstrang didn't speak about what happened underwater.

Which of course meant that they didn't speak about a very important part of their travel to Hogwarts.

They had almost drowned once, while Karkaroff was sleeping.

The story behind that incident was quite odd, so to say. Because no one remembered the truth. No two people even remembered something remotely similar.

The only student who knew the truth was Vladimir Romanov, grandson of Anastasia Romanova, the one daughter of the Czar that had survived the revolution.

He knew because he was the one that had saved all of them.

But he kept quiet, he didn't let anyone know the truth.

Didn't let anyone know that they had been dragged down by a group of merpeople that had thought the students were about to kidnap Vladimir, their crown prince.

A short conversation with the leader of the group and everything was fixed.

But no one could ever find out about his secret life, underwater.

Chapter Text

Harry—also known as Death, The End, Grim Reaper, Thanatos, Azarel, Hel, and, one memorable time, Kevin — arrived at the Order headquarters. Only five people were present.

“Hey.” He gave a small wave. “You called.”

“Is it just me,” Sirius questioned, “or did anyone else expect something else to happen when we summoned Death?”

“It's not just you, Padfoot,” James Potter agreed.

His wife, Lily Potter, slapped him lightly on the back of his head.

“Well, excuse me, the whole entrance with black smoke, a black hood casting a shadow over my face, a light show, and thunder in the distance got boring after the first twenty five million times. If you really want me to, then I can do it again.”

Peter Pettigrew trembled with fear and Remus Lupin shook his head. “No, I'm good, thanks.”

“That's what I thought. Now, let me guess why you summoned me.”


Chapter Text

Neville Longbottom collected all of his Gryffindor bravery and took a step closer towards Ginny Weasley.

Come on, Neville, he thought to himself. You can do it!

So he opened his mouth and spoke.


“Oh, hello, Neville,” she greeted as she looked up from her homework. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I was,” he scratched the back of his head. Then, he started to play with his fingers. “I was wondering, if you would, possibly, like to...”

“If I would like to what?” Ginny questioned, angling her head slightly.

“If you would like to go to-to the ball with me?”

“Oh, Neville, I would love to! I have been hoping you would ask me, actually.”

It was a small word, but Neville noticed. Ginny hadn't said 'someone' she had said 'you'.

He smiled. “I will look forward to it.”

Chapter Text

Lily Luna loved to paint with her watercolors.

She had felt this way for as long as she could remember. It was no wonder that she started to improve over the years.

Her parents still had some of her first works lying around — mainly circles and unrecognizable things.

The difference to her current works was astounding. Lily preferred to paint landscapes, but that she didn’t mean she did nothing else. She had also used plenty of different techniques and materials.

Lily wasn’t perfect with most of them; the enjoyment alone was worth the continued practice.

One day, she would be good enough to sell something. She would be famous all on her own, not just for being Harry Potter’s daughter.

Chapter Text

If everyone were to ask Harry’s opinion, Eternal Youth — the capitals were well-deserved — was overrated. Especially when you were stuck in the body of a seventeen-year-old while everyone you knew grew up, aged, had children and grandchildren, and died.

It was depressing. So he had his away from society, somewhere deep in the woods.

He hadn’t even bothered bringing anything to eat or drink with him. He didn’t need it and it wasn’t like he expected visitors.

Before he knew it, a hundred years had passed. Then two, three hundred.

He had gone into hiding at 112 and had started to get bored before he had hit 150. Now he was 347 and finally had enough of hiding away from civilization.

Eternal Youth was totally not worth it.

Chapter Text

Natalie McDonald was a muggleborn. She knew that there were more things than magic in the universe.

Namely, science.

Natalie was a big fan of science. Her older brother, Michael, was a chemist and he explained what every chemical did in detail.

She might be a Gryffindor, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have Ravenclaw or Slytherin tendencies. She was hungry for knowledge and had ambition.

One day, Natalie would figure out how magic and science worked together.

They obviously did, because having magic didn’t mean gravity didn’t apply to you, at least not always. It didn’t mean you would suddenly fall upwards or something.

Any suitably advanced science was indistinguishable from magic after all. She couldn’t recall who had said it, but that didn’t make it wrong.

Natalie would figure it out.

Chapter Text

Lily Potter smiled as she looked at her daughter, Hazel, and her son, Harry.

She truly had two beautiful children. It was a shame that Dumbledore and Voldemort believed in that stupid prophecy.

But not with her. Lily would protect her children, her husband, James, and their boyfriend, Sirius, at her side.

Not one of the three would let anything happen to the twins and all of them knew that. So Sirius was their Secret Keeper, despite Dumbledore’s insistence that they should not pick someone who would be living in their house.

That didn’t make any sense. There was no one else that would be so adverse to betraying them and he would benefit from the protection as well.

Lily would not choose anyone else to protect her children.

Chapter Text

The Dursleys expected a letter to arrive for Harry sometime during the summer of 1990.

They, however, didn’t think it would be followed up by one for their daughter, Violet Petunia Evans, a year later.

No one expected that.

Any and all accidental magic had been blamed on Harry, because all four Dursleys were nice and normal.

Until that was suddenly a lie.

Violet — their sweetheart that had her father’s eyes, her mother’s nose, but largely resembled her Grandmother Margaret and Aunt Lily — was one of the freaks.

The freaks had taken Vernon’s and Petunia’s own child away from them because their daughter clearly wasn’t born a witch!

Both Violet and Harry knew they were fooling themselves.

Chapter Text

Violet Dursley was very nervous when she arrived at Hogwarts.

She was just thankful that Mr. Weasley had been with her and Harry — her cousin who was apparently famous — once the barrier closed. They wouldn’t have had any idea what to do otherwise, but Mr. Weasley simply sent an owl to the school and everything worked out.

And now Violet was walking through the Great Hall for the first time.

Violet’s view was instantly directed upwards and that alone made everything worth it — at least for the moment.

Because if magic was used for something as beautiful as letting the starlight enter a room, then it couldn’t possibly be evil.

Chapter Text

Life had changed drastically for Harry ever since he had woken up in a coffin.

Well, that wasn’t technically correct. He wasn’t alive, after all. His continued existence was

more of the un-dead kind, than the living one.

Harry had gotten hurt in his latest mission as Auror and the only way to save him had apparently been to turn him.

At least that’s what Sanguini and Regulus said. Harry wasn’t completely sure he believed them. They were the ones who had damned him to a live without sunlight after all.

And that was something he would most certainly miss: Waking up from the sun shining in his face, watching a sunset with Ginny, and teaching Teddy to fly on a sunny afternoon. All those were now things of the past.

The only thing that replaced them was a constant hunger.

Chapter Text

Anthony tenderly rubbed Kevin’s swollen stomach as they laid in bed together. Kevin was almost fully in eir natural form, there was only a charm in place to prevent Anthony from getting frostbite from a mere touch.

“Tell me about Jotunheim,” Anthony requested.

“There’s not that much to tell,” Kevin admits. “It’s all just ice and snow.”

“That may be, but what about traditions? What about believes? What about society? If there are people — beings,” he corrects himself instantly, “then there is culture. And I want to learn as much about it as I can.”

Kevin smiles. “Jotnar don’t really believe in gods. Maybe they did once, but after the Asgardians proclaimed themselves to be gods, no one wanted to associate themselves with it. We believe in spirits of nature. The sun, the clouds, and, of course, the ice. Everything has its place in the universe, you just have to find it.”

“Well, I think I’ve found mine.”

Chapter Text

Anthony couldn’t quite believe it when Kevin had first told him that ey wasn’t human. It didn’t take long until he did, though. Because that demonstration would convince everyone, Anthony was quite sure of that

Nevertheless, it was amazing to be here now, waiting for their children to be born.

Kevin had taken a female form whenever ey had visited a hospital because ey preferred to go to a Muggle one for numerous reasons. That particular fact allowed Anthony to be present for the birth of their children.

Because, as it turned out, they were expecting multiples. Triplets, to be exact.

“Is that common on Jotunheim?” Anthony asked in a calm moment.

“No,” Kevin shook eir head. “Not at all. It's heard of and usual enough that we know how to handle it, but it's definitely not common.”

Nevertheless, they took three beautiful babies home with them a couple of days later. Two near-identical girls and a small boy.

It was truly wonderful.

Chapter Text

“I dunno, Moony,” James scratched the back of his head. “Are you really sure we can do this?”

“It always seems impossible until it’s done,” Remus quoted. “We'll never know it if we don’t try.”

“Moony’s right,” Sirius agreed. “Either we can do this, or we can’t. We’ve gotta try at least. And hey, if we managed to become animagi, we can do this!”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “I’m sure you can do it!”

“What are you talking about?” Sirius asked. “You will be helping, of course!”

“But you’re all so brilliant, and I’m just... average.” Peter sighed.

“That doesn’t stop you from being awesome,” James pointed out.

“He’s right, you know, Pete,” Remus agreed with a smile.

Chapter Text

“No,” Draco shook his head and crossed his arms.

“Don’t do this,” his mother admonished. “It’s not becoming of a Young Lady.”

“Well, good thing I am not one then, wouldn’t you say so?” Draco replied. “I will not wear a ball gown. Forget that silly idea.”

“Then all of your dance lessons will have been a waste!” His mother pointed out.

“They were anyways.” Draco shrugged. “Why couldn’t I just learn the men’s steps, as I wanted?”

His mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Cedrella, please reconsider this nonsense and-”

“No, you reconsider.” Draco interrupted. “I will wear dress robes and I will that’s the end of this discussion.”

Draco moved to leave the room.

“You come back here at this instant, Cedrella Narcissa Malfoy!” His mother yelled, but Draco merely turned around in the door.

“My name is Draco. I am a man — or a boy if you insist. I haven’t worn the skirt of the uniform in two years and I will not wear a ball gown, Morgana be my witness.”

Chapter Text

“I miss school,” Sirius sighed, rolling onto his back.

Regulus raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Really? Based on your letters, you didn’t really enjoy school.”

Sirius snorted. “When I say that I miss school, I mean that I miss my friends, not the school. Even if the castle is pretty neat.”

Regulus nodded slowly. “That makes more sense.”

“I just can’t wait to get out of this dreadful place again. Just you wait, Reggie, you’re gonna love it. And you’ll have to tell me what the Ravenclaw Tower looks like.”

Regulus looked to his brother lying on his bed. “What makes you think I will be a Ravenclaw?”

“Please, have you met you?” Sirius chuckled.

“Can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure, no,” Regulus replied with a smile.

He promptly received a pillow in his face.

Chapter Text

“Scorpius, Albus, have you seen my quill?” Rose Weasley ran towards the boys sitting at a table in the Ravenclaw common room. “I just realized that I have an essay due tomorrow and I can’t find it.”

“Sorry, I don’t think I saw it anywhere,” Albus apologized.

“Did you maybe leave it in the Library while researching about dinosaurs or whatever they were called?” Scorpius suggested.

“Good idea. Thanks, Scorp. I owe you one!” Rose promised, already hurrying towards the door.

“If you wouldn’t let yourself be distracted so easily, this would be a lot less stressful,” Scorpius called after her.

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Rose response.

Albus started laughing. He didn’t stop when Scorpius glared at him.

Chapter Text

As Rose sprinted to the library, she didn’t really pay all that much attention to where she was going. The way had long since embedded itself in her muscle memory and she was trying to start on the essay in her head.

That was why she did not see Louis until it was too late and the two had collapsed onto the ground.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she apologized to her cousin. “But I have to run to the library.”

“If you’re looking for your stuff, I have it here,” Louis replied, motioning to his bag. “I was just on the way to bring it to you.”

“You’re an angel, Louis,” Rose smiled. “Thank you so much.”

“Actually, I’m part werewolf, part veela,” he corrected with a smile. “You’re welcome. If you’ll excuse me, it’s the weekly Hufflepuff Boardgame night and I have to beat Paul at Monopoly.”

Chapter Text

When Louis Weasley got onto the Hogwarts Express, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be. In fact, he was pretty calm, all things considered.

As such he was able to calmly go looking for a compartment on his own once he had given his goodbyes to his parents and — to a smaller extent — his sisters.

The very second he saw a mostly — but not completely — compartment, he decided to know and introduce himself, finishing with the words “You mind if I join you?”

The dark boy nodded and invited him in. “My name’s Paul. Paul Wood.”

Louis smiled and opened his mouth, but Paul interrupted him. “If you manage to make a joke I haven’t already heard, I will take you to all of my parent’s Quidditch games in the holidays.”

“To be fair, I could get there on my own if I wanted. Uncle Harry has yet to say no to these eyes.”

Both of the boys started chuckling at that.

Chapter Text

Bill Weasley didn’t usually try to seem menacing. In fact, most of the time he actively tried to avoid it, as with his scars from Greyback and those he had gathered at work, he was often perceived as such.

But now he had a chance to use it to his advantage.

He stood his full height as he spoke to the boy Dominique had brought home. Marcus Cullen or something. "If anything happens to my daughter, I have a gun and a shovel, and I doubt anybody would miss you."

“Dad!” Dominique groaned.

“Bill.” His wife glared at him. “Our daughter is old enough to decide who she dates on her own.”

“I know. This is all I’m saying about this.” Bill focused on the boy again. “You just need to know what you’re getting into if you don’t follow her rules.”

Dominique flashed him a thankful smile. “This is actually nicer than I thought this would go.”

Chapter Text

Remus was reading a good book when he got a patronus from James.

“Moony,” the stag spoke. “If you’re baking a cake, you don’t just include whole eggs, right? You crack them first, don’t you? Sirius is trying to just throw them in.”

Remus sighed, facepalmed and closed his book.

“Who let you two bake alone?” he asked as he sent a reply. “Wait for me, I’m coming over. Don’t do anything. I mean it.”

He put his book away and hurried to change into some of the oldest clothes he owned as no doubt his clothes would suffer. Before he was completely done with that, he got another message.

“Thanks, Moony,” the stag replied sheepishly. “We couldn’t get this done without you.”

Chapter Text

“Dad! I’m not too young for a girlfriend!” Lucy Weasley protested.

“Sweetheart, you’re only fourteen,” Percy tried to soothe his daughter.

“If you haven't noticed, I am a woman now. I wear a bra and everything! It’s not like I’m planning to marry her or anything! I know for a fact you dated when you were my age.”

Percy was taken aback at that. “How would you-”

“Uncle George told me,” Lucy replied smugly. “Penelope Clearwater, was her name, if you remember. The two of you started being  a thing when both of you were fourteen, so I don’t see why I should not have a girlfriend as well. Especially since there is no risk of one of us getting pregnant.”

“Alright,” Percy sighed. “Just be careful.”

Chapter Text

Stepping up and being sorted wasn’t really a problem for Violet. She knew that her cousin would clap for her, no matter which House she would be sorted in.

The two of them had bonded a lot ever since her letter arrived and they had talked about all the Houses extensively. Violet had even gotten Harry to realize that he did have some prejudices about Slytherins, simply by pointing out how similar he sounded to her parents.

So yeah, she was nervous, because the whole Hall was staring at her as she moved up those few steps.

But she knew that she had someone on her side, no matter what.

You seem very loyal to your cousin, the Hat spoke in her mind.

Yeah, but only recently, Violet corrected.

But before that, it was your parents you were incredibly loyal too. Right up until they betrayed you. I’d say that makes you a pretty good HUFFLEPUFF!

The last word was shouted into the Hall and the black and yellow table — plus Harry Potter — started clapping.

Chapter Text

Violet’s first lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts — commonly called DADA, although Violet would stick with ‘Defense’ — was quite odd.

The Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, just seemed incredibly quirky and just overall weird.

The books all years had, apparently, been assigned read more like fantasy novels than proper textbooks, if Violet was honest, so she really didn’t know what to expect.

Alas, she was pretty sure it wasn’t this.

A test about the things that had happened in the book? Were this an English class, she’d have tolerated it. Expected it, even. But this was Defense. They were supposed to learn how to, well, defend themselves here, weren’t they?

But it seemed that she was one of the few that cared.

Chapter Text

Severus Snape realized that he hadn’t been one of the good guys at the same moment he realized that his actions would lead to Lily Evans’s Death.

That was not something a hero would do, was it?

No, the side of the Dark Lord may promise power, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it was right.

Somehow, he had never realized that until now. He had been blind until the disaster was facing his Lily.

The worst thing to realize was that that meant Potter and his goons had been, dare he say it, right.

He was the villain of this story.

But maybe he could change it and end up on the right side in the end.

Chapter Text

Andromeda Tonks screamed when she heard that both her daughter and her son-in-law had been killed in the battle at Hogwarts.

She screamed and yelled, she sobbed in pain, all while Harry Potter — the newly titled Man-Who-Conquered — took care of her grandson.

"I had the worst thought: I've got to spend the rest of my life with myself. Just me," she cried into her hands.

“No,” Harry argued less gently than Andromeda would have expected from him. In fact, he actually spoke quite harshly.  “It’s not just you. You have me and Teddy and Hermione and the Weasleys. You’re not alone. We’re here to help, but that only works if you accept it.”

Chapter Text

“Better keep that away from my parchment,” Molly Junior advised her friend Thomas as he stepped closer towards her, a chocolate bar in hand. “Or I cannot guarantee anything!”

“But I’m hungry!” the other Gryffindor protested.

“That doesn’t prevent your snack from ruining my homework! An entire roll of parchment and I don’t have the time to rewrite it. If that thing ruins my work, you will be the one rewriting all of it and explaining it to Headmistress McGonagall.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He held his hands up in front of him as he slowly backed away. “Here. I’ll sit on the other side of the table, lean away from you, and eat as fast as possible-”

“In an orderly fashion,” Molly insisted.

“In an orderly fashion,” Thomas agreed.

Chapter Text

Ever since she had been a student herself, Minerva McGonagall had loved the opening feasts at Hogwarts.

They were always so full of hope, numerous eager looking students wanting to learn.

For a few years, there had been a different tone in these welcoming speeches. There had been an atmosphere of fear and terror overshadowing the pleasant feeling these feasts were meant to generate.

The tales of Voldemort didn’t stop at the doors, oh no. The whispers were so potent that the monster might as well be here himself.

And now, a little child had stopped him. Harry Potter.

Minerva was supposed to be happy as Albus spoke the words of welcome to the students, but she wasn’t.

Her thoughts were with the Potters and their friends.  How could she be happy?

Chapter Text

Everyone hurried to get to the front and get some earmuffs as soon as Professor Sprout told them because no one wanted to get a pair that was pink and fluffy, just like his godfather Harry had described.

But Teddy knew better. He knew that those — the pink, fluffy ones — were exactly the ones he should get.

Because no one wanted them, they were the least worn down ones and consequently the safest.

Neville had told him that over the holidays and if anyone would know this, it was him. He’d take over Professor Sprout’s post next year, after all.

And so, Teddy waited and proudly wore the pink, fluffy pair.

Chapter Text

For a long time, no one noticed Cedrella Malfoy’s distress. No one, including herself.

Or himself, as it turned out.

Yes, Cedrella was a boy, but he only discovered that when he went to Hogwarts. He never even knew it was a possibility before!

But then he just happened to overhear a second year halfblood talking about their older sibling, telling the sixth year that the older sibling in question had begun transitioning.

“Sheila’s just so happy, finally getting out of a man’s body, y’know.”

“Yeah. It’s a shame your parents wouldn’t pay for it,” the sixth year nodded.

The younger kid snorted. “And actually show compassion. Yeah, like that’ll happen. They just never understood that their first son is actually their only daughter.” The second year paused for a second and shuddered as if a horrible thought had occurred to him. “Unless they’re not done, you never know with those two.”

“Yeah,” the sixth year nodded and the two moved away from the place Cedrella was sat in, completely shook.

You could be a different sex than the body you were born in? And why did that feel so right?

Chapter Text

Seeing the way that Potter moved around during the first few days — nights, technically — of his new existence as a vampire almost managed to fill Regulus with regret. It almost made him feel guilty.

Almost, being a key part of that sentence.

Because — as much as Potter denied it — he was needed in this world. He was truly good, which was something only rarely found in beings.

Even if no longer being human would turn out to change him — and there was no guarantee of that happening — then Potter would still be better than most vampires by far.

Regulus wasn’t sure for what exactly they would need Potter — and hey, maybe he was even completely wrong about this — but it felt like something big and Regulus very much preferred to be prepared.

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“Lily?” Ginny asked as she stepped into the living room where her daughter was very focused on painting something. Lily’s body was blocking Ginny from finding out what exactly it was.

“Lily?” Ginny repeated, moving closer to the table her daughter was working at. She was used to the teen not replying during her most intense art sessions and knew what to expect.

“Lily?” Ginny spoke a third time, placing a hand on her daughter’s back.

They had developed this system years ago so that Lily wouldn’t destroy her paintings whenever her mother needed her attention. Thanks to magic, there were ways to remove the stains, yes, but to Lily that always felt like cheating.

Lily halted the movement of her arms and slowly looked up towards Ginny.

“Oh, hey Mom. Didn’t notice you, sorry,” she apologized sheepishly.

“No need to worry,”  Ginny replied calmly. “I haven’t been here long.”

Lily sighed in relief. “That’s good then. What do you need?”

“I’m afraid you will need to move. There are some people coming over-” Ginny was interrupted by her daughter’s groaning.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to sit with us.” Ginny chuckled as Lily sighed in relief. “Just move your art supplies from the table, will you?”

“But Mom, you can do it so much faster!” Lily argued.

“You make the mess, you clean it up,” Ginny reminded her.

“Alright, alright,” Lily replied.

She placed her brush behind her ear and collected various utensils in a cup that said “CHOS3N 1” — it had been a gift from Dudley at one point and they all loved it — and started to look for the covers of her paint.

It took a few minutes until she had collected all of them from increasingly random and illogical places — how did one get behind the TV, for example) — before she was able to bring all of her stuff upstairs into her room in about five trips.

Then, she came back down and surveyed the damage. The tablecloth would need to be washed, that much was sure. And she probably should clean the table itself and the floor around her chair as well.

With a sigh, Lily set off to the laundry room. But hey, at least she didn’t have to clean James’s room.  

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“Hermione?” Her boyfriend’s voice appeared behind her just as she was finishing up her parchment work for today.

“Yes, Ron?” she replied, not turning around, but instead placing the parchment in the correct files.

“Am I wearing this correctly?”

At this, Hermione turned around a frown on her face. She could not think of any reason Ron would ask this question, as he didn't exactly wear new things frequently.

She was surprised by the sight of her boyfriend in a well-fitting tuxedo.

“I- You- Why are you wearing this?” she questioned.

“Because I’m taking you out today. Muggle style,” Ron declared confidently, almost swelling with pride.

“That’s really sweet of you,” Hermione responded. “But you don’t need to do that.”

“I want to, though,” Ron pointed out. “And I’m doing this — unless you don’t want to?” Suddenly, Ron seemed really self-conscious.

“No, I love this idea,” Hermione assured him. “Just give me some time to change.”

“Alright,” Ron replied with a smile. “Take your time.”

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Hermione was surprised when Ron took her to a really fancy restaurant that evening.

It had been a while since the two of them had gone somewhere that nice completely on their own.

They had gone on dates, yes, but they mostly stuck to simple things, such as picnics. They attended the numerous galas they were invited to as a group with Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Neville, so they didn’t count.

So for Ron to take her here — that was special.

And it turned out that that was very much intended. Ron had planned everything down to the last detail with Harry’s help because he wanted to use this date to ask the question Hermione had been debating to ask herself.

“Will you marry me?”

(she of course accepted)

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Even a month after the wedding, it still felt surreal to refer to Ron as her husband. As happy as the two of them were with their decision, it just took some time to get used to it.

Many people — especially purebloods — criticized the fact that Ron had taken her last name, but her wonderful husband just shrugged it off.

“It’s not like there is no one else around to carry on the Weasley name. Hermione Granger is a force of nature and her name should stay influential on its own. She can — and more than likely will — change this world for the better, she doesn’t need my name for that. My support is with her the minute she asks for it, but she most certainly doesn’t need my name to be valid.”

Yes, Hermione loved her husband.

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The behavior of the Death Eaters was horrendous, there was no doubt about that.

Yet, the vast majority of the Wizarding World always acted as if those horrors were over the second Harry Potter had rounded the last Death Eater up.

And Lisa Rafeti supposed that for most of them that was true, but not for her.

For her, that was just the beginning.

Because one of the Death Eaters — she didn’t know his name and she wasn’t sure she wanted to — left behind a little ‘gift’ when he had decided that she was pretty enough to ‘use’.

Lisa was pregnant, something she had never wanted to be in the first place, especially not at fifteen.

Life sucked.

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Dean Thomas’s mother had never told her oldest son much about his father. Dean had assumed that it meant the man was either dead or left her behind once she told him she was pregnant and never asked more questions.

That, however, was not the truth. It had simply been a simple night of passion, nothing more. Hadn’t she gotten pregnant, she likely wouldn’t have remembered the man’s face.

So it was quite the surprise when her son showed her a picture of the new — and hopefully more competent, based on what Dean had finally told her — Minister of Magic, and it was him.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, that was the name beneath the photo.

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Terrible things happen to witches and wizards who mess with time.

That didn’t stop the four of them from landing in the past.

Terrible things happen to witches and wizards who mess with time.

That didn’t stop the four of them from changing their names once the point-me spell turned out to be pointless.

Terrible things happen to witches and wizards who mess with time.

That didn’t stop Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny from becoming Salazar, Godric, Rowena, and Helga.

Terrible things happen to witches and wizards who mess with time.

It didn’t stop them from building a castle, from building a school.

Terrible things happen to witches and wizards who mess with time.

Didn’t stop them from anything.

(and maybe, just maybe, that was because it was always supposed to be this way)

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Ron slowly walked to the front of the classroom at the end of the lesson.

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

Ron held the hairy teacup he had produced in front of her. “I can’t manage to turn Scabbers back into a rat. He doesn’t deserve to suffer as a teacup just because I can’t do a spell correctly.”

“You’re correct in that assumption, Mr. Weasley. If you would place him on the table?”

Ron followed Professor McGonagall’s orders and she attempted to transfigure Scabbers back into a rat.

Yes, attempted.

Professor McGonagall frowned and tried a second, then a third, fourth, fifth time, but nothing worked.

In her frustration, she used a spell Ron didn’t recognize.

And then there was a man sitting on the Professor’s table.

Lightning fast, the Professor stunned him and conjured several ropes tying together the man’s limbs.

“It seems that I was wrong when I gave you zero points for this lesson, Mr. Weasley,” she commented, not taking her eyes or wand from the man for a single second. “Since you clearly had an advanced workload, I will have to rethink it. Now, if you were so kind to send Professors Flitwick and Snape my way and get Professor Sprout to call the aurors? This man is thought to be dead, I am sure this would interest them.”

“Of course, Professor,” Ron replied. He was amazed he could speak this fluently. “But who is this?”

“Peter Pettigrew.”

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Not many people knew this, but Garrick Ollivander did indeed have a life outside of his shop. In fact, his significant other was at least as much of a breadwinner as he was himself.

She was the mediwitch of Hogwarts, it was only logical that her salary should be high. And, by lucky circumstance, his shop hit his high point in those months when she was not benefitting of it.

The two of them had been together for decades upon decades, but neither of them was sure anyone but they themselves knew.

And honestly, they didn’t need to. The two of them knew how important they were to each other, and that was enough.

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When I grow up, I want to be like Anne Royall.

Rose Granger decided that the very minute she learned the story behind her interview with President John Quincy Adams — the first interview any American President had ever done with a woman as the interviewer.

Obviously, she had had strong female role models before — how could she not, as the daughter of Hermione Granger and niece of Ginny Potter and Fleur Delacour-Weasley? — but this was something else.

She wanted to have power over men, to watch them scramble to keep up with her. Not that her mother and aunts hadn’t taught her that, but this really drove the message home.

When I grow up, I want to be like Anne Royall.

It’s a great motto.

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The students of Dumbledore’s Army didn’t stop their actions when Umbridge caught them. They were already in too deep, they couldn’t simply sit still and do nothing while Umbridge terrorized the school.

By that point, they already are a well-oiled machine, ready to fight, ready to resist.

They knew which mistakes to avoid now, how to hide better.

They wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice. They hid and they learned. They studied hard and educated themselves in various ways. The thought of limiting themselves to Defense had long since been deemed as nonsensical.

They stuck together, one helping the other when they had problems, no matter what kind they were.

They were a mixed and matched family, a patchwork quilt, in a way. A bunch of small, individual patterns, tied together by their choices, to make something new, something better.

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It was only after Harry awoke in the Hospital Wing — after he had been in the Chamber, saved Ginny, got bitten by the Basilisk, and saved by Fawkes — that he learned that there were things — other than Death — that were irreversible, even by magic.

Things like Hermione’s mishap with the cat hair in her Polyjuice Potion. It had actually left her with permanent cat ears and a fitting tail.

Another example would be his own confrontation in the Chamber. The tears of the phoenix may have canceled out the venomous aspects of the bite, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t have any effects.

Somehow, his legs had merged together while he was asleep. This new body part of his had not only grown in length but had grown scales as well.

It was a tail, like the one of a snake.

Of course, neither he nor Hermione could openly show their true forms. Oh no, they hid behind a number of spells, ranging from notice-me-not charms all the way to glamors and whatnot.

It was a lot of work to keep them up, yes, but the Masquerade was infinitely better than the alternative.

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Many say that our lives reflect our past mistakes. They aren’t wrong.

It’s just that it’s not always the current life that is reflected. Sometimes, the mistakes in question cut one’s life short and, very rarely, one gets a second chance.

It’s anything but a common phenomenon, but it has been recorded.

And Remus, Sirius, and James were some of those people.

They had been brothers in all but blood last time and now, they were born from the same womb, less than an hour apart.

Curiously enough, they were James’s own grandsons this time, which was actually pretty weird if you thought about it. Which is why they didn’t do that.

Nevertheless, it was pretty great.

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Albus Potter had always loved his treehouse.

He had loved it while he and his father had clumsily attempted to build it — they had only really made progress when they called his mother.

He loved it during the during pretty much all of his childhood, when he had hidden up here and enjoyed the peace that came from not being next to James — his brother was afraid of heights.

Once James was off to Hogwarts, Albus loved the comfort and the familiarity the place had by then. All the little trinkets that had made their way up here over the years and the memories connected to them.

And now, Albus loved the privacy it gave him and Scorpius to snog in peace and without interruption.

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The truth was, for as long as he could remember, Harry Potter had felt damaged.

He was sure that way back when he had been with his parents, he must’ve been happy, he must’ve been whole.

But the very moment he arrived at the doorstep of the Dursleys — these people didn’t deserve to be called his relatives in retrospect — that changed.

He was belittled and abused for years and years. Every day, he was told that he wasn’t normal, that something about him was terribly wrong.

And, after a while, he started to believe it. It was natural, he was only a child, he didn’t know better.

Just like he had given up hoping for an escape after a while.

Then, on his eleventh birthday, that very thing happened.

Hagrid came to the hut they were hiding in and told him that he was fine the way he was and the things he could do were fine, they were great, even.

Nevertheless, a part of Harry didn’t dare to believe it. he had been lied to far too often to just think that everything would be fine now.

And he was right.

Sure, there was magic and that was great, but he was still wrong in the eyes of many people.

They didn’t like he was a Slytherin, they didn’t know that hiding in the shadows sometimes was the only way of survival.

They didn’t like it that he stayed friends with some of the other students he had met on the train since he was allegedly ‘tainting’ them with his ambition or something.

They didn’t like it that he spoke the language of the snakes since apparently he didn’t deserve it due to the blood of mother — and to a lesser degree his paternal grandmother who had come from India and he had more than likely gotten it from — or it was an evil language. It all depended on who you asked.

No matter what he did, no one was happy with him, no one really liked him.

And he was sick of it.

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Lily was the first to ever take James to a carnival. His parents hadn’t intentionally denied him the pleasure of it or anything, they simply hadn’t known such a thing existed.

And when Lily discovered that, she decided to take James to one.

James was immensely thankful for that decision.

He had a lot of fun, throwing balls at things to win a stuffed animal that no one actually cared about, but cost him hours and a few Galleons — exchanged into Muggle Money, of course — to win Lily. She probably acted more thankful than she actually was and he knew it.

James also tried to sample any and all sweets he didn’t know, giving extensive reviews of them.

“It’s not that I dislike cotton candy — far from it, actually,” he said between bites, “it’s just that the texture is so weird. The taste is wonderful, but I can’t stop thinking about the texture.”

Lily giggled as she took her fiancé's hand. “James, talk less, smile more.”

“But why shouldn’t I tell you my opinion?” He frowned.

“Perhaps I should have said ‘eat more’,” Lily corrected herself. “The longer you take to finish that, the longer it’ll take until we can go to the Ferris Wheel because I will not go on that with you while you still have food in your hands.”

“Why not?” James asked once again. Lily wasn’t sure if he had actually forgotten it or simply enjoyed hearing it yet another time.

“Because the Ferris Wheel is very romantic and I refuse to be second choice to candy,” she replied with a smile on her lips.

“Good point,” he acknowledged, taking another huge bite, almost finishing it. “I can’t wait to see the city from above, even if I’m sure you look way better.”

“Stop it,” Lily commanded. “You’re making me blush.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

Chapter Text

Roxanne Weasley would go to space one day.

There hadn’t been any doubt about that since she discovered that this was a possibility. At least not in her mind.

Space was simply so beautiful.  It was so vast, it appeared endless.

Who knew what was out there? Anything could be out there somewhere, it was simply a matter of finding it.

A big part of the people on earth didn’t even know about magic as well as the magical creatures that had been reduced to mere fairy tales, and no one had ever fully explored the ocean.

And if so many things were hiding on earth alone, it was pretty much guaranteed that aliens were out there.

Roxanne would be among the first to find them.

She was just a small girl, maybe five or six years old when she decided that and she wouldn’t dream of it ever-changing, no matter what hardships were thrown in her way.

So she needed to have a Muggle degree to even be considered for pre-training?

Well, Hermione Granger was her aunt. She managed to get Roxanne material for homeschooling which she did while she was at Hogwarts.

So what if her free time suffered from it? Her cousin Lucy made sure she took breaks and she would be going to space one day, so who was the real winner here?

And once she was done with her OWLs, she started to look for the best colleges. Roxanne finished applications whenever she had the time, and it worked.

She was accepted into a prestigious Muggle university where she would start studying engineering pretty much the minute she graduated from Hogwarts.

It was a college in the States, giving her a higher chance that she would be noticed by NASA before she even started applying.

And if they didn’t, well, there was no reason to stop now.

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The most important thing one had to learn as a spy was to blend in, to become one with the shadows that more than enough people simply glossed over or to appear to share their mind.

It wasn’t a hard lesson to learn for Seamus, but it took him a while to grasp it nonetheless. He had never even needed to consider doing something like this before, so of course, he was kind of at a loss when he began.

But he chose to spy on the people who actually agreed with the way the Carrows were running the school — or occasionally the Carrows themselves — nonetheless.

These people were the reason Dean wasn’t at his side now, the reason why he might be dead! Seamus owed Dean all he could give, this was nothing.

And so, he was sitting in the quiet corners of the Hog’s Head whenever he got the chance, trying to discover anything of value from the careless conversations that people held in there.

More often than not, he sat there in vain, unable to gather any information that was actually of importance, but that didn’t stop him.

It wasn’t every day that they could offhandedly mention the times of the patrol changes once, and the routes on another date. The most information gathered here was by complaining, those who were celebrating went to the Three Broomsticks, where Cho Chang — despite already having graduated — was waiting for them.

Aberforth was the only one who really took notice of Seamus repeated visits to his tavern, where he did not once order anything stronger than a butterbeer.

But Aberforth never spoke to Seamus about it. The teen only started coming frequently weeks after Neville had discovered — or maybe even created — that tunnel.

Both of them were on the same side and they knew it, so the Hog’s Head was Seamus’s safe heaven for spying.

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You wouldn’t know it if you looked at them near the end of their lives, but once upon a time — back when they were innocent little children — they had practically been inseparable.

Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. They rarely — if ever — did anything without their sisters. They even slept in each other’s rooms sometimes, when they were especially reluctant to let each other go.

That all changed by the time the youngest of them, Narcissa, finally arrived at Hogwarts, even though their bond had been slowly changing ever since Andromeda had left for the first time.

Narcissa was sorted in Slytherin alongside her sisters and, for a day or so, she thought that things would finally get back to the way they had been.

She couldn’t have been further from the truth if she had tried.

At Hogwarts, Bellatrix and Andromeda had discovered the male population and that was the beginning of the end for the bond of the sisters.

It started when both of them had set their eyes for Sebastian Martin, a pureblood from a minor house that wasn’t included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight because there had been a half-blood around seven generations back. That shame should have been bred out at this point, though.

Both of them had wanted the boy, but he chose Andromeda. And that was the first thing that Bellatrix never forgave her. Nevermind that it was his choice, nevermind that Andromeda ended that relationship out of guilt before it even began. Bellatrix did not care about any of that.

She only cared that she was the second choice. That wasn’t something she was willing to accept. She had enough of that for her lifetime and from that point onwards, she grew to resent Andromeda more and more.

And when Andromeda chose to elope with a Muggleborn, Bellatrix was convinced she had proven her superiority.

Chapter Text

Why don’t you love me?

It was a question that burdened Sirius Black like no other. For as long as he could think, his parents had been cold and distant towards him.

At first glance, that was no especially big deal. A common observer might think that his parents simply weren’t the type to express emotions openly.

And yeah, that was true, but not what Sirius was talking about.

...except talking wasn’t really a thing he did, was it? He had never been able to that, no matter how much he had tired, no matter how many healers his parents had dragged him to in the first few years, he just couldn’t.

Really, there was the answer to this question, in a sense.

Because his little brother Regulus could talk and his parents treated him differently. It wasn’t exactly fair, it wasn’t a proper answer, but it wasn’t like it was in Sirius’s power to change it either.

He knew that. He knew, because he had tried repeatedly and to his best of his abilities to change it, only to fail miserably. It made him feel worse than if he hadn’t tried at all.

But it was kind of hard to do so, when all you could do was write and hope that someone looks or point and gesture and hope that someone understands what you want.

The healers had suggested that he learn a sign language and either his parents too or that they hire an interpreter, but they refused to do that. Because Sirius wasn’t worth that time, money, and effort.

That was a sentence that he would most certainly never forget.

It had been three years and eight months ago — Sirius had been six at that point — and Sirius had been in the room as they had announced that particular fact to the healers. He hadn’t been able to do much more than hug himself in an attempt to stop the tears, because he couldn’t be seen crying now, could he? Especially not in public. He wasn’t a baby anymore, after all, or was he?

It had only been when he was back in his room — under his covers and behind locked doors — that he had been able to let his feelings out. He had sobbed and cried, which only made him sadder because why was this the only time his throat would produce any kind of noise? Or rather this and the screams he could sometimes produce when he was really, really angry. They sounded horrible and ragged and they hurt his throat so much that he had only done it twice in the now ten years of his life.

Why don’t you love me?

These words are incredibly difficult to realize, even if laughably easy to think. Although really, it is the hardest question one could possibly ask their parents. If there is a worse one, Sirius does not want to know it.

Not to forget the fact that he cannot even ask them that, because interpreting his gestures is too much effort and waiting for him to write out his thoughts takes too much time.

Chapter Text

After the whole ordeal with Voldemort was over, Harry found that he got the most pleasure from the simple things. Exactly the kind of everyday stuff that so many of his peers seemed to be bored by.

Harry, however, was delighted by it. He relished in it so much, that when Ginny got pregnant a few years later, they decided that he would be the one staying at home the first few years with James — until Albus followed, and then Lily — while Ginny continued playing Quidditch.

A lot of people didn’t like it — thinking that Ginny should stay home because she was the woman — but why would they care?

Ginny went crazy if she was too idle, while Harry loved to sit on the porch and watching his children play in the garden — or joining them, if they wanted him to. Teaching him how to fly and playing Quidditch with various levels of difficulty — at first they played sorely with a charmed Quaffle plush, then they added more to it — that was what Harry wanted.

Life was good this way, they were all happy. That should be enough for everyone to leave them be, but people loved to bother him.

But it was fine. They learned to deal with it and adapted. They almost exclusively gave interviews for the Quibbler and Potterwatch, so most of the other reporters knew that their only chance of getting one two was to schedule one and not simply jump on them whenever they felt like it.

And that ‘stay away from the children’ was the number one rule if they wanted a comment not synonymous with “leave as fast as you can or else”.

All in all, life with his family was calm and good. Exactly what Harry wanted more than anything else.

Chapter Text

With Remus’s help they were able to get the cake done correctly in time that Lily didn’t have to make another one.

Harry likely wouldn’t have known the difference, but they did.

“Thanks, Remus, for helping these two,” Lily greeted him when she saw the results. “I don’t think they could have done it without you.”

“Rude,” Sirius harrumphed, placing a hand on his chest.

James snorted. “She’s telling the truth, though. We wouldn’t have managed it.” He turned to Lily. “He wanted to include whole eggs. I’m proud to say that I had enough sense to stop him. I think that means I learned some things.”

Lily laughed. “I agree, you made some progress. Maybe you can teach Sirius.”

The man in question looked insulted for a moment, but then his expression turned teasing. “I am good at other stuff though, aren’t I?” He looked at James and Lily with his arrogant smile and an eyebrow raised.

“That is my cue to leave,” Remus announced. “See you tomorrow. Bye!”

Chapter Text

Until her death, Hermione Granger was well known for always having a watch on her and rigorously checking it every five minutes unless there was another clock in the room that was easier to see. People often wondered where that particular habit had come from.

Well, it all started in her third year in Hogwarts, when she had been given the incredible chance to use a Time Turner to take all the classes the school had to offer for her, even if the courses overlapped.

It was not something that she would ever have a second chance for and the slightest mistake could lead to her losing this forever! So she adapted to always having a watch on her.

Hermione was a perfectionist. If she did something, she did it right and to the best of her abilities. Consequently it did not take long until she started making notes of where she is at a certain point and how she would avoid herself or any of her peers seeing another version of her. Careful notes and measurements were the way to go, if you asked her.

It was a habit pretty much instantly, to no one’s surprise. The fact that Hermione developed a flat our fear of not doing it was less expected.

But she had been taught that terrible things happen to witches and wizards who mess with time and wouldn’t it be worse if it happened accidentally? There were so many possible ways of it going wrong, one had to be careful!

With this mindset the fear of missing it grew as time went on. By the end of the school year, she was downright terrified at the mere thought of missing the habit.

And considering this was more useful than harmful in her life, Hermione never worked on it, since she always had more important things to do.

Chapter Text

Regulus was trying to study in the common room — it may only be the second day after the holidays, but studying was, after all, without a doubt both a very easy and a very productive way to distract himself — when he heard a set of familiar footsteps approaching.

"Hey. You okay?" Barty asked gently, his deep voice — at the very least for their age — placing his arms on either side of Regulus's body, thus hugging him from behind.

"Of course I am," Regulus replied defensively, increasing the distance between them by a fraction of an inch. He knew what was undoubtedly coming and he really didn't want to deal with it. Not now and not ever. "Why on earth shouldn't I be?"

Barty snorted softly and moved to face Regulus. The rings under his eyes were more visible than they had been before the holidays, Regulus realized. That suggested that his stay at home hadn't gone over well either.

Not that that was a surprise. Regulus would have to ask him for details and ways to help later.

Barty's voice pulled Regulus back into the present. "You know exactly why."

Regulus sighed and placed the quill he had been using to take notes next to the parchment on the table.

"I do," he admitted. He knew that he couldn't keep anything from his boyfriend, so why was he still trying to do so anyway at this point?

Barty, however, didn't seem to think this to be an acceptable answer, instead continuing to look at Regulus expectantly.

"Don't make me say it." Regulus looked at his boyfriend with the pleading expression that a) only Barty knew and b) usually got him everything.

But this one time he really wanted it to work, it didn't. That was just the way the universe worked, after all.

Barty simply shook his head. "It will help, believe me," he insisted.

Regulus looked Barty exactly in the eyes. "My brother is an arrogant fool without as much an ounce of either responsibility or familial loyalty anywhere in his body," he deadpanned, just barely restraining himself from glaring at Barty. "How is anything supposed to help with that?"

"It's not. And that's exactly the point."

A few seconds of silence passed before Regulus gave up on trying to figure it out for himself. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about right now."

"It's easy, Regulus. Sometimes, you just need to vent. To just let everything out. Your idiot brother running away to live with that fool Potter most certainly qualifies for that," he explained, stroking a bit of Regulus's hair out of his face as he did so.

Regulus was able to smell the oak of Barty's wand in his hand, indicating that he had been using the object in question rather extensively. The only question was whether it was out of frustration or ambition. Probably the former, knowing him.

"Alright, let's pretend you're my mind healer for the day," Regulus chuckled before he returned to his somber expression. "But in exchange, you're telling me about your holidays as well."

Barty sighed. "Deal. It's only fair that I talk about something I'd rather not when I am making you do the same, after all."

"It is," Regulus confirmed, finally closing his book. "How about we try to get into a better mood first?" He raised his eyebrow and smirked suggestively.

"I like the way you think," Barty smiled in return. "Did I mention that recently?"

Chapter Text

Gellert was walking through the magical district of Berlin — the so-called Hintergasse — taking care to look in the window of every single shop that was even remotely connected to potion brewing or the ingredients needed for it.

He was looking for something both specific and rare — a bit of Erlking skin, to be precise. It was important because he heavily suspected that it was the final ingredient needed to perfect his potion. Of course, he couldn't be sure while inventing, but Erlking skin certainly promised all the properties he needed, so Gellert was reasonably confident.

His last batch had been close already — as testing had shown — there couldn't be much more change necessary. The compulsion was already working the way it should, the Erlking skin was just supposed to make it even less detectable to both the recipient and others. Should it all work the way Gellert expected it to, it would be undetectable by any method he was aware of — and, not to brag, but he definitely had a wealth of knowledge in that matter.

This would be the first step of his plan to improve the world. If they didn't want to work towards their own good, then surely it was Gellert's responsibility to force them towards it.

Just then, he found a little shop hidden away in some side alley. This shop advertised the Erlking skin he was looking for. He entered it and he had to say, all things considered, it was surprisingly light and open. Then again, it didn't mean all that much when one looked at the layers of charms advising a random passerby or anyone who would report them. Although Gellert was fairly certain that the regulations had weakened ever since Bismarck had been fired nine years ago — but he had only been seven back then, how would he compare?

He aimlessly browsed the shelves for a minute or two, because there was always the possibility of there being a hidden gem of some kind. Usually, it turned out there wasn't — this time as well — but it was always better to check.

Soon, he was already exiting the shop again, having gotten much more Erlking skin than he should have gotten for the amount of money he paid, but Gellert was excellent with the non-magical kind of persuasion as well. Albus had made a good point when he had said that Gellert would have made an excellent Slytherin

He returned home with haste because wasting time by lounging around was such a stupid and pointless thing to do that he wouldn't even consider it.

Right when he was back home in his room, however, he was surprised by a panicked message from Albus. It was a letter, quickly scrawled in the worst penmanship Gellert had ever seen Albus use and with absolutely no sign of any bird to have flown it here.

He missed Albus, but unfortunately, he had to go find the Erlking skin as well as several other ingredients that were unavailable in Britain. He would have returned back to Godric's Hollow within the week anyway, but Albus's letter had him pack quickly.

After all, he couldn't leave his partner to fend off an Obscurus alone, could he? Ariana had been lucky to even get to the age she had, honestly. It was no wonder that the thing inside her had snapped and killed Aberforth, was it? In all honesty, logic would have dictated something like this happening years ago.

But now getting to Albus in time to help fend it off was of uttermost importance. It wouldn't do for Albus to die. Even when leaving the older man's contributions out of it, the sheer devastation of losing his partner would leave Gellert unable to work for weeks, if not more. The fury he would feel due to the ace caused by the likely hole in his soul would prevent him from making careful plans, which also wasn't good.

He couldn't lose Albus. He wouldn't, he point-blank refused to. And if he couldn't make something as simple as thing go his way, then he may as well stop trying to accomplish anything else.

Chapter Text

Hestia Carrow was well aware that her parents expected her to wait until they had chosen a husband to have any sort of sexual experiences. She knew it, and sometimes she really liked the metaphorical slap in their faces her girlfriend's existence as such provided, but of course, that was far from the only reason.

Alice was just wonderful. She was so witty and smart and openly passionate for her interests. It was so different than what Hestia had been taught and it honestly continued to amaze her to no end. Not to forget how beautiful Alice was!

Nevertheless, Hestia did not for one second forget that — apart from Alice — she was essentially alone. Yes, she had Flora, but she had to expect the worst, namely that she would despise her for, as the saying went, playing for the Harpies, just as the rest of their family would.

Hestia had to assume she would be alone if she was discovered and prepare for it. So she did. She opened her own vault at Gringotts because they wouldn't finance her any longer once they knew, that much was sure. And she was a Slytherin, she knew that reacting once they would isolate her would leave her worse off. Acting like they already were was honestly her best bet.

But she had Alice to calm her down. They met in secret, even if they were no longer terrified children on different sides of a war (or even of Umbridge). Alice's family knew — because the Tolipans were amazingly accepting — but she understood that Hestia was in no such position. Occasionally, when Hestia's family was away, she would dare to invite Alice into her home, but that wasn't anywhere close to frequent.

And then, this time, Flora came home earlier than expected. Alice and Hestia were so into the zone that they didn't hear her coming or notice her at all until she made herself audible in the doorway.

Hestia flinched and paled. This was it. This was what would get her thrown out of the family.

Except... Flora didn't look shocked or angry. No, her expression was more... amused. Which made Hestia feel just so illogically hopeful.

"Flora, do you promise not to tell another soul what you saw?" she requested pathetically.

"Don't worry," Flora smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. Have fun."

With that, Flora excused herself and left the room.

"I like her," Alice announced. "Now come back here, will you?"

(It was only later that Hestia learned that her sister wasn't attracted to anyone and that she had actively delved into the LGBTQ+ community while Hestia had been too afraid to.

And that despite the fact that Hestia as a lesbian would more likely to be accepted than Flora who had to suffer from acephobia even in the community. Her sister was so much braver than she was.)

Chapter Text

"So what are you in for?" A man randomly sits down beside Rose at lunch, without any sort of warning or announcement. Why do people do that?

"Nothing I'd want to talk about with a total stranger," she deadpans in reply, not looking up from her peas or acknowledging him in any other way.

"Oh, c'mon. We all did something," he protests. "Otherwise we wouldn't be here."

"Unless I'm innocent and am suffering from a severe miscarriage of justice," Rose rolls her eyes, letting her dark mane fall around her like a curtain, even taking the risk that it will get into her food. Well, 'food'.

"If you were, I'm pretty sure that in that case, you'd be telling it to anybody who would listen," the man argues as he begins all but attacking his peas. "I know it's what I'd do."

"Not if I'm already resigned to my fate." At this point, Rose looked up to stare the man dead into the eyes. Of course, he's wearing the prison uniform, but somehow he manages to make it look good with runner's body and his dark dreadlocks pulled into a bun. His broad, flat nose is placed perfectly between his amber eyes and his thick lips look perfectly kissable.

Focus, Rose. Focus.

"Are you though?" The man raises an eyebrow, somehow both cocky and understanding at the same time. "Are you a tragic victim of injustice or do you have tragic misdeeds as the rest of us?"

Rose laughed dryly. "The latter, definitely. I am far from innocent. But it's fun to see how far many people I can convince of the opposite," she says quietly. Because hey, if that's gonna work, the guards can't hear her admit to being guilty.

And, his expression seems to ask, how is that working out?

"I've managed to convince a number of inmates. Among others." She gives the man a sly grin but stops it there.

"What are you doing here anyway?" He asks. Then he realizes what he had just said and rephrases. "I mean, isn't this a man's prison?"

"Apparently having a penis means that I can't possibly be anything but male," she drawled

The man rolls his eyes. "Of course. How stupid of me." A beat passes. "Speaking of stupid, I've just realized I haven't gotten around to introducing myself yet. Dean Thomas."

"Rose Potter."

"That name is almost as beautiful as you are if you ask me." He grins slyly at her.

Now it's Rose's turn to roll her eyes."Flattery will get you nowhere." Also, she's done with her peas, which means now is the time to decide whether eating what they claim to be rice or going hungry would be worse. She's definitely not touching the beef, that much is sure.

"It's not flattery if I'm saying the truth. Anyway, you never said what you're in for," he adds.

"Neither did you," Rose points out. Also yeah, going hungry is worse.

"Yeah, but I asked. You didn't." He pointed his plastic fork in her direction only to put it down, raise his other hand to his face, and roll his eyes when the guards took a step in his direction.

"Clearly you are very dangerous and set on attacking me, so I better comply," she replies, completely emotionless. "Let's just say I got the whole tragic backstory. Orphaned young, new guardians are racist assholes who at most saw me as their servant — because that's all your people are good for, serving us proper British folk," she imitated.

"Sound like major assholes. Do they know India's no longer a colony?"

"They are," Rose confirms. "Were. And I don't think so, based on their attitude."

"Oh?" He asks, raising an eyebrow again. "Were, you say? As in, they've since left this world."

Rose snorts. "Yeah, well, eventually I was discovered by the police crying in their blood. They only narrowly decided that I was guilty, despite all the evidence to the contrary. I mean, I was sixteen and weighed less than the average eight-year-old. What was I supposed to do against a home invasion? It's not my fault that the man decided to let me go because I told him where my guardians kept their valuables, is it?" She asks sweetly. In reality, she had been sneaking it away bit by bit to collect for her surgeries and they had discovered it eventually.

Dean laughs. "Oh, clever. Shame it did work out. I suppose it's only fair if I spill the beans as well."

"You're right." She nods. The wannabe rice wasn't as filling as she had hoped, but being hungry as nothing new. Once she got out, she'd treat herself to something amazing.

"I'm afraid that my tale isn't as interesting. I was doing some money laundering and got ratted out."

"So it was convincing enough to pass?" She was getting more and more interested in the man by the second. Yeah, she wasn't even annoyed at Dean's decision to sit here anymore.

"Most definitely. What do you take me for, an amateur?" She loved how insulted he was by the mere suggestion.

"If you were up to it, I have a few interesting ideas for activities for us to do in the free time we're allowed."

"Oh, I definitely am, trust me," he assures her. Just then he finishes his plate, meaning hey have maybe a minute before the guards will separate them by force and take them back to their cells. "I also have a friend that would be interested as well, he's in solitary confinement for today."

"What kind of friend?" Rose inquires.

"The kind that likes explosions," Dean answers with a grin. Apparently he had figured out exactly what she had meant, which only made him more endearing.

Yes, this potential partnership was looking wonderful. "I look forward to it," she announces as she stands up to leave.

One more time, Dean looks her in the eyes and grins. "As do I, my friend. As do I."

Chapter Text

"What can you recommend to me?" Tracy Davis ignored her usual order and asked the cute Japanese barista that had been unfortunate enough to get the opening shift. But Tracy wasn't complaining, because otherwise, she wouldn't have had a chance to see the woman and completely and hopelessly fall in love with her on first sight.

So what, she was a sappy romantic, what were you going to do, fight her? Because she had three years of Kung-Fu and seven of karate under her belt and would gladly take the challenge.

"Listen, buddy," the barista deadpanned. "I'm just here to reduce my debt at least by a fraction. I'm not sure what you're even doing out of bed at this time — there isn't even anyone else here — but let me tell you that I know nothing and, frankly, I don't care either."

"Still, you're here at this time," Tracy argued. "You can't tell me you're not using employee benefits at least sometimes. So, what would you recommend to me, Jon Snow?"

The barista snorted softly which was the most amusement Tracy had seen from her so far, so definitely a win. "I s'pose the Cinnamon Latte could be worse. Plus, it can have sprinkles, and I don't care what you say, sprinkles are always a bonus," she added with a smirk.

"One Cinnamon Latte with sprinkles, please," Tracy ordered with a bright grin on her face.

The barista rolled her eyes and told her the price. "I need your name. Like, I know there's no logical reason for it when you're the only one here, but it's protocol and, I'm sorry, but I don't fancy being fired for something this stupid."

While paying, Tracy gladly introduced herself to the barista who unfortunately did not return the favor. Tracy stood there in silence as she watched the barista prepare her drink right up until she was distracted by there being another customer, one with a dog to be precise.

Logically, she bent down and pet the dog. Like, what else was she supposed to do? Ignore a dog? Uh, no?

When she looked up again, the barista was already on the next person's order and Tracy's Cinnamon Latte was waiting for her. Including a note on the side of the cup.


Don't call me before twelve, alright?

-Daphne Greengrass

That was followed by a phone number. It seemed like that operation seemed to have been a complete success. She just hoped that it wouldn't stop once both of them were fully awake.

Chapter Text

Mr. Riddle stood at the window, looking outside at the beautiful landscape of his home as he took another drag of his newly lit pipe.

“So you want to tell me that my only son ran off with some mistral he saw on the street?”

“Yes, sir,” the servant replied. “This is what he stated in his note.”

Riddle took a deep breath. He had to stay calm and collected as long as his guests were here. It was a good choice on the part of the servant to insist on the privacy, perhaps he would consider a slight raise at a later date.

“Has my wife been notified of this?” he asked, forcibly calm.

“Not yet, sir,” the servant — Benjamin, Riddle seemed to recall — answered. “I came to you as soon as I was unable to find your son in his room. I did not think it wise to inform someone else of this before you.”

“You made the right decision, Benjamin.” Going by the young man’s startled reaction, he had managed to remember the name correctly. He needed to make sure that this continued to be seen as a reward and not a habit of his.

“Run out to the garden and kindly inform my wife that she need not come to the sitting room, as our negotiations seem to have vanished in the air before we even to begin properly.” They hadn’t even gotten to leaving the Entrance Hall, as the Gladstones insisted on seeing the potential groom.

It appears it was a good thing they did.

“I, meanwhile, will break the news to the Gladstones,”  Riddle sighed, putting out his pipe.

“Yes, sir.” The servant was gone from the room by the time Thomas Riddle — the second, his son being the third — turned around.

He really would have to think about a raise for the boy, if this mess ever blew over.

Chapter Text

“Lily, please tell James he’s being stupid,” Remus begged as he entered the kitchen.

“Sirius and I think we should switch Secret Keepers to Peter,” James announced as he followed his partner into the room.

“That’s a stupid idea!” Lily exclaimed, consequently waking up Harry, who she had been carrying. She sighed. “Welo?”

A house elf popped into the kitchen.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Please take Harry to his room and see that he gets some sleep,” Lily requested. She and the house elves had had a long discussion about orders at one point, and their only standing orders were to always inform her if there was any reason why they wouldn’t be able to do a task and that they were under no circumstances allowed to hit themselves.

Anyway, she had an idiot to take care of. She could focus on the specifics of house elves and whether or not it was slavery at a later date.

“What on earth possessed you to think that could possibly be a smart idea?” she questioned, not quite as calmly as she had intended to.

“Yes, please do,” Remus requested. “I see no sane reason for this. All of us know that Sirius would rather impale himself with a pair of tweezers than betray us, while Peter.” He sighed. “I love the guy, but he’s not gonna last under torture.”

“That’s why Sirius will act as if he still was the Secret Keeper,” James replied giddily. “It’s the ultimate prank.”

Lily turned towards him. “Excuse me? Surely I did not just hear you calling the decision on that the lives of all of us and our son relies a prank? I must have misheard it, all the way from the couch, where you’ll be sleeping.”

James winced. “Guess I’m outvoted.”

“Thank you,” Remus said to Lily, “for being sane.”

“Clearly I am not, or I would not be here.”

Chapter Text

Ron couldn’t believe it when their German prisoner began begging them to believe his ridiculous tale of sneaking away from his nation’s camp nearby to become a spy.

“C’mon,” he said helplessly towards his European friends. “You can’t tell me you’re actually believing this kraut’s bull.”

“I do, actually,” Hermione replied, her French accent still clearly audible. “Or at least I neither actively trust nor distrust him.”

“I think he’s telling the truth,” Harry added.

“This is why we divorced you Brits ages ago,” Ron groaned.

“Divorce? You mean when your ancestors threw their temper tantrum?” Harry responded. “Decades worth of tea. Ruined.” He shook his head. “A true shame, that.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Hermione commented.

“You stay out of this, froggie.” Ron tried to look threatening, but that was the point when he could not stop himself from laughing.

Their prisoner — he had identified himself as ‘Draco Malfoy’, son of Lucius Malfoy, a high up officer of the Nazis, earlier, but Ron didn’t buy that story — looked between the three of them in obvious confusion, trying to figure out their dynamics.

Pah. Good luck with that. Ron didn’t even understand them himself.

“So what we’re gonna do with the kraut?” he questioned.

“I think we should trust him,” Harry stated. And damn, but the asshole’s feelings — like Ron’s careless jokes — often proved to be right.

That didn’t mean he had to like this frankly insane development.

“How about we start small by not killing Malfoy and work our way up from there,” Hermione proposed. “That way, at least we have a while to think of contingency plans that we won’t discuss in front of the prisoner.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Harry agreed with a strong nod.

Ron sighed. “I approve. Grudgingly.”

“Do I get an option here?” Malfoy asked.

“No,” the other three responded at the same time.

Chapter Text

She knows she shouldn’t.

Both of them have made vows. He had to her sister.

They shouldn’t, not by any moral code known to her.

But they did, and it wasn’t once or even twice.

It was more often than she cared to keep count of.

And Narcissa wasn’t even sorry.

Oh, Bellatrix likely wouldn’t even care if she ever were to discover this. Just as long as she was messing with Rodolphus, not her precious Dark Lord.

Lucius, however, could never be allowed to find out her son likely wasn’t even his.

That would not end well for him, and she needed him to survive long enough for Draco to mature, which did not seem to be in the near future.

Chapter Text

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Pansy groaned. “A Weasley is supposed to be my soulmate?”

“I’m not exactly the biggest fan of you either, Parkinson,” Weasley snapped in response. “But apparently it’s ‘meant to be’ and all that jazz.”

“Well, pardon me if I don’t think we’ll fit together,” Pansy deadpanned. She would have to figure out who she could complain to.

“We’re gonna be stuck in this world for the next month either way,” Weasley reminded her. “And since it looks like there is no one else here, I propose a temporary truce. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like only talking to myself for a month.”

As much as Pansy hated to admit it, Weasley had a point. She might not be used to as much loudness as Weasley was, but she still had a mother and a sister she talked to multiple times on a daily basis. It would be bad enough missing them already, she didn’t need more issues.


Weasley smiled. “That’s good. Now I propose a few ground rules, too. Like no talking about politics or blood matters if we can avoid it. I will hex you if you break that deliberately, my brothers have given me more than enough practice.”

“I’ll believe that.” Pansy snorted. “And that sounds like a decent idea… for a Weasley.”

“I suppose that’s the best I’m gonna get… from a Slytherin,” Weasley replied with a smirk on her face.

Huh. Maybe this could actually work. Provided that Weasley would continue like this, of course.

“Also, call me Ginny, at least for this month. I’m sure you know why I would prefer it.”

“Some of your brothers were almost decent,” Pansy admits. “Not that I will ever admit which ones.”

“I wouldn’t think to ask,” Ginny replied innocently.

Chapter Text

Hermione never noticed that she hadn’t actually touched Luna yet until she bumps into her in a DA session shortly after the holidays.

It becomes obvious that they hadn’t touched before then when Hermione’s mind is immediately taken away from where she is. Instead, she is suddenly in front of a house she doesn’t recognize. It kind of reminds her of the Burrow in that is very clearly one of a kind and has a homely and loveable character, but where the Burrow had odd architecture, this house had a number of colours that Hermione would never have thought went together, but for some inexplicable reason, it worked.

It was also very clearly Luna Lovegood. The girl who was, apparently, her soulmate.

Given their differences in opinion about numerous things, Hermione never would have guessed that, but it seems like she was wrong. She supposed one didn’t have to agree with everything to love someone, she and her sister Desdemona certainly proved that.

As she thought that, she watched another, older version of herself settle down next to an older Luna outside the house.

“Luna, sweetheart, I’ve thought about what you said the other day. That discussion we had. And while I still think that catching up will be difficult, I think it should be doable. I’ve taken the afternoon off and we can go pick the siblings up together.”

“Lorcan and Lysander,” Older Luna reminded her with a smile. “I’m glad you came around.”

“Actually Harry kicked my ass and reminded me that I don’t want work to be more important than family and that starting like this will guarantee my failure of that.”

“He is good with these sort of things,” Luna agreed. “Now drop off your stuff, maybe change into some other clothes, and then go. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“No, we certainly don’t want that.” Older Hermione placed a kiss on Older Luna’s lips and hurried inside.

After that, Hermione got a brief flash of her holding a toddler while both she and Luna each held a hand of a child of maybe seven. A family photo, she would guess.

And then Hermione was back in the present and decided that getting closer to Luna was definitely worth it. The sheer love that had radiated between their older selves was enough.

Chapter Text

Desdemona and Cho had been together for around six months now, ever since Desdemona had chained herself to that fire hydrant during a protest where Cho almost literally ran into her and they had started talking.

It took them all of three months to realize that they were both aware of magic, right until Desdemona got a letter from her sister via owl and instead of the expected panicking, Cho simply facepalmed. “You’re sisters! Of course! How could I possibly have missed this!?”

Considering Hermione and Desdemona didn’t exactly look that different from one another, the younger Granger wondered that herself until she learned that Cho was face blind.

Three more months had passed since that day and today was the day that Desdemona accidentally walked into the bathroom while Cho was in the shower.

It didn’t sound like such a big deal, but considering that Desdemona was asexual and they had not had sex, this was the first time that she had seen Cho naked.

And that was when they realised they were soulmates. It was clear by the unfamiliar feeling in their chests. It was indescribable really, or at the very least it was too difficult for Desdemona to put into words.

(Her sister put it as “you just know that this person will be at your side, no matter what, even if it may not always look like it” at one point)

“I honestly didn’t think this would be intimate enough to qualify,” Cho stated once she got out of the shower.

Desdemona shrugged. “It apparently is. Learn something new every day, isn’t that what a proper Ravenclaw does?”

Cho laughed at that. “I suppose so.”

Nothing much changed in their relationship after that for a while. They already knew that they were in love before that. They didn’t need to be soulmates to be aware of that fact.

Chapter Text

The Malfoy-Weasley family feud was legendary. It had been going on for so long that no one really remembered how it even had started. Maybe someone from one family had married the desired spouse of the other. Perhaps it had been the result of something political, or something else entirely.

It was kind of stupid, in Hermione’s humble opinion, how they continued to fight for essentially no reason at all, but she knew better than to bring it up in a bookstore.

She tried to catch Harry’s eyes and get Ron and Ginny out of the way, but he had been lucky enough to be spotted by Lockhart. She would have to remember to ask him about it all later.

Since Harry was not available, that left her as the only one to at least try and prevent a fight that had no reason to take place in a bookstore.

Hermione was pretty sure that it wouldn’t work, but she would be damned if she didn’t at least try. She couldn’t have her family knowing that how archaic the magical world was, after all, and a duel in a bookstore would most certainly show them that without any shadow of a doubt.

Only, it didn’t come to that. When Draco Malfoy came close enough to the Weasleys, Ginny, despite not even having started her first year yet, came forward and threatens him. Perhaps she wanted to improve Harry or maybe reassure herself that she was brave enough for Gryffindor or maybe something else entirely, it wasn’t like Hermione had asked.

And the two of them became physically stuck together they tried and failed to distance themselves but to no avail. They apparently were soulmates, much to the shock of everyone around them, including themselves together.

That should end their feud, at least, Hermione supposed. Not that that would do anything to console Mr. Weasley or Mr. Malfoy who had just arrived at the scene.

Chapter Text

After his first week in Hogwarts, Percy Weasley’s hands were covered in a vibrant mix of colours. Blue, yellow, red, green, pink, brown, just many, many colours, clearly indication multiple touches with his soulmate.

This was really interesting for his older brothers, Bill and Charlie, neither of whom had had any colour on their skin so far. Charlie, personally, wasn’t at all interested in changing it, since he was not at all interested in romance, while Bill couldn’t wait to find the one person he was destined to be with.

Both brothers were equally interested in discovering who their brothers mysterious soulmate was. The problem with that, of course, was the fact that at the beginning of the school year there were numerous people finding their soulmates and it wasn’t unusual for even the involved to take weeks and months to figure out who their soulmate was.

So Bill and Charlie figuring it out without their brother noticing was a failure from the beginning. Especially since they weren’t exactly subtle about it and the Hogwarts Rumor mill was working against them.

Percy knew what they were trying to do before they had even managed a somewhat complete list of all people who had met their soulmate recently. This was evidenced by the way he cornered them in the common room.

“It’s Oliver Wood, if you have to know,” Percy deadpanned. “But really, if you wanted know so much, you just had to ask. I might like my privacy, but it’s not like my relationship is classified by the Department of Mysteries or anything.”

“But there is a relationship?”

“Yes, Bill. Or more precisely, the very start of one. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Wait, you thought they were? Ew.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” Percy might be open to doing these things at some point in the future, but certainly not at eleven. He wasn’t stupid.

Chapter Text

Originally, Huritt, Shalvar, and Rafeedah had bonded over the way their names were mangled on this island. Admittedly, they all butchered each other’s names a bit as well at the beginning, but they sat together and practised until they all got them right. Helga, too, because she was nice like this.

Huritt and Shalvar continued talking about other things. They talked and talked, and slowly but surely became the best of friends possible.

The students were somewhat suspicious that there might be something else going on between them, but there was nothing in reality. Huritt was focused only Hjort Authulfsson — Helga’s brother — alone, currently, and Shalvar is not currently romantically involved with anyone.

That doesn’t mean that they don’t have some valid points. The two of them had been duelling one evening —  as varying combinations of the four Founders usually did — with the intent to both practice and learn about other styles of fighting. Of course, since only soulmates could directly hurt each other, it was mainly restricting and causing harm indirectly, like laying a fire.

It’s odd, because those who were no puoin, those unable to perform any magic on their own, are not bound by the same rules. They can hurt themselves and each other and it’s unfair in more ways than Huritt cares to list.

But in this particular duel, Shalvar misses. He tries to cut the chandelier above him, but Huritt hits him with a confusion curse the moment before the spell is sent.

Shalvar aims at Huritt, instead, and he actually gets cut. He bleeds, which is something that half of the castle had not expected, while the other half had desperately hoped for.

Shalvar and Huritt are soulmates, that much is certain. They are going to have a lot of fun explaining it’s just platonic.

Chapter Text

Parvati had to say that she has always really liked the girl she sees in the mirror. The dark brown hair worn in elegant cornrows around ninety percent of the time Parvati caught a glance of the mirror. The rest was either a beautiful afro or, on rare occasions (somewhat) straightened out so that it fell down in waves around her soulmate’s shoulders.

Her soulmate had a short broad nose and dark brown eyes Parvati could get lost in for hours if her family let her spend that much time in front of a mirror.

Another noteworthy thing about her soulmate is her excellent clothing style. Not once had Parvati seen her in anything tasteless. She most definitely approved of her soulmate and could not wait until they actually met.

She had told Padma about her as often as her twin would let her, it must have been dozens if not hundreds of times. Her sister was great. Of course, Parvati listened to her, too, whenever she wanted to talk about her soulmate. It was only fair, after all.

As she carefully readied herself for her first trip on the Hogwarts train, Parvati wondered if today would be the day she would meet her soulmate. She certainly hoped so, it felt like she could not wait any longer.

Once she deemed herself ready for the train — she would have to refresh later in the day, of course — her family flooed to the train station. Parvati looked around and — not even a minute after they arrived — she ran off.

But she couldn’t just ignore the chance that that was her soulmate just leaving the room designated for arrival via the floo system. She wouldn’t be able to stand missing her by this little, so she ran off.

Luckily, she was able to slow down before literally running into her and instead tipped onto the girl’s shoulder from behind. If it wasn’t her soulmate, she could always apologize and explain the situation.

The girl turned around and her expression morphed into confusion for less than a second, before she grinned.

“I adore your sari, soulmate,” she said. “I’m Lavender Brown.”

“Parvati Patil,” she replied with a smile, taking the offered hand. “And that would be my family,” she added, as they caught up to her.

“What did you think you were doing, Parvati?” her father questioned.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “but look! This is Lavender Brown, and she’s my soulmate.”

Chapter Text

For all of her childhood, Lily had hated it, that her soulmate had such a boring name.


Where was the adventure in that? The magic she desired before she even knew it to be a reality?

Based on her sister’s signing, Petunia was glad that her soulmate, Vernon, had such a normal name. She said — well, signed, but it was the only way of speaking they had — that it gave her comfort, that she would know what to expect.

Lily didn’t understand that at all. She wanted and needed the unexpected and James was supposed to deliver that? Severus was a much more promising candidate for that — not that she had any romantic interest in the boy. He was more a brother-y type of friend for her.

(She had also never heard him speak. She wondered why, but she never wanted to press. He would tell her in time, if he wanted to.)


In the Hogwarts Express, Lily and Severus sat down in a compartment with two boys.

She just caught one of the boys — the one with Middle Eastern features, while the other was clearly of Indian descent — asking the other about his soulmate’s name. It looked like he himself had already told his.

“Her name’s Lily,” the Indian boy said and everyone’s eyes widened in shock.

“You’re James?!” Lily exclaimed. She noted that her voice was immediately secure as if she had been speaking for years and years, unlike the people that she had seen meet their soulmates in primary school. Lily decided to blame magic.

A part of her felt kind of guilty that she had expected her soulmate to be white as if that was a given or something. Another part — the one that had always wondered about her life ending up boring before — floated away into nothingness. James had a level of mischief in his every expression that she seriously wondered if boredom was even in his vocabulary.

“You’re just as pretty as I always imagined you to be,” James stated.

“You’re already less boring than I was afraid of,” Lily tried to laugh it off.

James shrugged. “I’ll take that.”

Chapter Text

Hestia’s favourite time of the day was the earliest hours of the morning. It was the time when no one else of her family — except, sometimes, her twin sister Flora — and she was thus free to do whatever she wanted.

And what she liked to do, was explore the neighbourhood. That is, the Muggle neighbourhood completely unaware of their existence.

Honestly, she’s not sure if she’s good at sneaking away or if her parents are inattentive, but as long as it works out in her favour, she couldn’t care less.

She’s learning things about Muggles her parents would never teach her, because as it turns out they are wrong.

Chapter Text

His favourite colour is lilac. He doesn’t know who or where he is, but he knows that.

At least it’s something, he supposes.

He opens his eyes and it turns out that he is in some weird, wet tunnel, along with a redheaded teen.

“Do you live here?” he asks. That would give them at least some reason to be here.

“I- what? No,” the kid responds. “Are you alright, Professor?”

“I’m a Professor?” He reflects on what he knows — painfully little, not even his own name — and comes to a conclusion. “I must have done a horrible job.”

At least the boy is kind enough not to lie to him.

Chapter Text

There is something incredibly calming about magical greenhouses for Neville Longbottom and there had been as far back as he could remember, even back when his every move had been observed by a house-elf to ensure he knew what he was doing.

He is alone, far from his family, but he felt much more in tune with all of the plants than he ever had with any of his relatives. The plants feel much more accepting, much more how an actual family should act.

(It’s only later that he will learn his magic is subconsciously reaching out to the plants and bonding with them, creating an innate trust the way it is supposed to happen with family.)


Chapter Text

Once they were done with Dobby’s funeral, Harry looked over the beach near Shell Cottage for what could have been mere seconds or multiple hours he stood there unmoving.

Just standing there, letting the salty air fill his lungs and the strong winds move his hair and clothes in any way it wanted helped him calm down and refocus.

Dobby had been a dear friend, yes, and a part of Harry was utterly crushed by the loss. But he had to ensure that Dobby’s death wasn’t in vain.

“When can I speak with Ollivander and Griphook?” he asked Bill the second he returned to the house.

Chapter Text

“A girl boxing,” they said.


“How hilarious!” they said.


“As if she could ever be real competition,” they said.


And then they went on and talk about the colour of her skin and how it clearly meant she was dim-witted.


Pah! Desdemona would show them what she could do.


She knew her skills, knew her value.


Desdemona was good at boxing, excellent even.


She wasn’t dumb either, even if she wasn’t close to as smart as her sister Hermione.


Desdemona grinned as the sweat poured down her face. These comments only made her want to fight more.

Chapter Text


“Yes, my boy?"

“I think my coding might be faulty.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I feel myself wanting to destroy something to compensate for the fact that Sirius’s code was lost. It is illogical.”

“Your coding is not faulty, my boy.”

“How do you explain this urge, then?”

“Your coding is not faulty. If anything it is too good.”


“You see, these destructive urges are very much a thing that humans experience. And you are right, it is illogical, but love rarely is logical. If you experience it, too, then it means that your coding and your ability to learn is astonishing.”



“Thank you, I suppose.”

Chapter Text

“Honey, have you seen my favourite earrings?” Hestia asks, walking from the bathroom to the single bedroom in their apartment. “They are excellent for this occasion and with this dress, but I can’t find them anywhere.”

Ginny laughs. “I just found them in my purse from the time we went shopping and you decided halfway through they made you overdressed,” she responds, handing over a small jewellery box. “I was on my way to bring them to you.”

“They did,” Hestia responds. “Thanks, love.”

As she opens it, the contents are not what she is expecting, as instead of her earrings, she’s faced with a ring.

“You said once you’d say no unless you were in a fancy dress and I didn’t want to do this in public,” Ginny explains. “I’d get on my knee, but I don’t think this dress is completely ready for that. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, if you tell me where the earrings really are!”

Ginny chuckles. “Still in the box, there is a divider.”

Once Hestia has checked that that is indeed the case, she moves over and kisses Ginny. “I’ll gladly marry you.”

Chapter Text

The marble stone of her home really is an apt metaphor for the people living in it, Daphne supposes.

It’s a pale white object, valued for its origin and rarity more than for itself. The only two things that differ from Daphne are the words “white” and “object”. And even the latter is debatable in the eyes of some people, no matter how much she wishes it was not the case.

Not to forget the cold nature of both the stone and her parents’ hearts — and her own, too, she supposes. It’s only Astoria who will freely show her emotions in their home and a part of Daphne longs to be like her sister.

More than a marble statue.

Chapter Text

Regulus should not be waking up, by all accounts. Or, if he was — if maybe Kreacher had dragged him out from under the water — at the very least he should be coughing up whatever fluid had been in the lake. It had been to dark to simply be water.

“You’re awake now, I see,” a voice speaks from slightly above him.

“Who are you? Where am I? How did you find me?” Regulus asks as he opens his eyes.

The man — rather attractive Regulus has to admit — grins, revealing a pair of fangs.

“Quite a few questions. I go by Sanguini, you’re in my current domicile, and I have been observing you for a while now.”

Chapter Text

Percy didn’t mind the fact that George and Fred were pranksters per se. No, what bothered him was that they were so completely and utterly certain that their plans would work out that they did not even consider preparing for the possibility of failure.

Their confidence might be admirable, but Percy could not help but fear for the consequences their probably low number of OWLs could mean for them.

Of course he was hoping their plans would work, of course he hoped they would succeed, but the question of “what if it fails” wouldn’t leave his mind.

(And communication wasn’t exactly his strongest suit.)

Chapter Text

It all started on an average day. 

Well, no. This was Hogwarts, no day here was ever average. But if you considered the average weirdness of Hogwarts to be the baseline for normal — which one should not do under any circumstances for literally anything taking place outside the castle and its grounds, mind you — then the day it all started was indeed, very average.

Since it was March, the school year was in its full procedure. Hagrid was outside showing the sixth year students who had decided to keep his class for whatever reason some creatures and beings that could very easily kill the entire class for breakfast, Snape was in the dungeons attempting to poison the second year Hufflepuffs, and Argus Filch, sat in his office, had just discovered that he was technically royalty.

So, maybe it wasn't an average day after all.

As for how Argus discovered a fact like this, well, it all comes back to a series of coincidences, really. Since the cases holding records of previous detentions and other punishments had been overflowing to a ridiculous degree for years, he had requested more and they had finally gotten around to buying some for him after — presumably — running out of things to buy as an excuse so the budget was taken up.

Of course, the next few students to get detention more minor infractions had to sort through all four million three hundred seventy-two thousand six hundred and forty-two cards — or at least that was the count then. By now, it had increased by another twenty or so. Argus is sure that some must have gone missing over time. After all, the school had been open for around a thousand years now and children making messes and breaking rules was anything but a new thing.

One of these punishments was still going on when the student in question loudly commented to her friend that she had found someone with Argus's last name. Of course, her voice was filled with ridicule and not something like curiosity or genuine interest. That would have been too nice, after all. Argus, obviously, did not comment on it while in front of the students, but his curiosity had been awakened since no one of his family had gone to Hogwarts in the last two generations. Before him, that is, as his father and grandfather, as well as their siblings, had gone to Koldovstoretz before they had moved the family back to the United Kingdom just in time to be slaughtered by the so-called Dark Lord for daring to care about Argus.

Now, Argus knew that his family had a long illustrious history, but until now, he had never seen a reason to look into it all that much. It wasn't like he had any benefits to get from the history, however long it may or may not be, so dragging up all the memories hadn't felt worth it until right now.

In all honesty, he wasn't sure what changed, why it all seemed worth it now. Maybe there had simply been enough time since the events, maybe he had gotten over it emotionally to a degree, who knew. Considering what he found upon looking into it, Argus would say that it didn't really matter all that much.

His research had started from the card that the student had found and confirmed that this was actually his great-great-grandfather. From there on, he spent as much of his free time as he could in the library, looking into old editions of the Prophet. More specifically, in the parts announcing births, deaths, and marriages. Eventually, that stopped being an option a few weeks into his research — not, as expected, because his family hadn't been able to pay for announcements at this point, but because he had worked his way to the first edition of the paper. As in the very first edition when newspapers had just been invented or adopted from Muggles — it wasn't like the magical folk was going to say which one it was. Argus, personally, assumed the latter for what he assumed to be obvious reasons.

Once he arrived at that point, he asked Madam Pince for help. She was, after all, one of the few people in this castle who actually treated him decently, so he didn't have to prepare himself for her attitude. She gladly directed him to the books he needed to borrow — it was, after all, her job; though the fact that she could treat him to treat the books decently certainly didn't hurt.

And now, in these books, Argus just found a record of a marriage that took place in 871. A marriage between his roughly fifty times grandfather — give or take a little — and a Pendragon to be specific. A Pendragon. Everyone and their cat knew that there had only ever been one Pendragon family and those were the descendants of King Arthur. Merlin himself had placed a spell on the name to ensure this. It was one of the first things that every child of magical parents learned.

So yes, Argus was a descendant of King Arthur Pendragon. Maybe not in the main line of the family, maybe as the end result of the very same. That part was still unclear.

Another thing that was unclear was how he should proceed from this point onwards. Should he just keep this to himself or should he do anything with it? Should he attempt to change things? The way everything worked certainly deserved to be changed and now he had the hint of a possibility to actually do something about it. Surely he should at the very least try, right?

Now filled with determination, Argus stood up and started his way to the Headmaster's Office. He needed a week off so that he could figure out what exactly his situation was. And what place possibly be better for that than Gringotts? They, after all, had ways to confirm heritage and would hold any resources that may have been forgotten by his family over time.

He had no idea how it would all go from this point, but the wizarding world wouldn't even know anything was coming for a while. Had he actually attended the school, Argus probably would have been in Slytherin, after all.

Chapter Text

“Are you serious?” It was safe to say that Draco was less than pleased. “You promised you wouldn’t let him send me there. You promised!”

“Yes, dear. Your father has decided that you’re going to spend the next year at Durmstrang.” Draco’s mother sat down on his bed.  “I tried, I promise you. It’s only for a year, your father agreed to that.”

“That’s still a year too long,” Draco protested. “I don’t want to go there.”

“Well, unfortunately, that’s not what you’ve told him,” she reminded him. “You’ve told him how much rather you’d learn the Dark Arts rather than just the defense against them multiple times, haven’t you?”

“I mean, I guess I have, yes,” he admitted. “I still don’t want to go, though.”

“Draco, love,” his mother replied. She sighed and pushed a few strands of hair out of her son’s face. “Sometimes, we have to do things that we don’t want to do, trust me.”

And something in her face made Draco completely certain that his mother knew what she was talking about. 

The next morning, Draco had a conversation with his father that went about as well as expected. His father had assured him that it would only be for a year unless Draco really liked it there.

“There will be a few things happing at Hogwarts this year that I don’t want you to get dragged into,” his father had explained when Draco asked for the reasoning behind the choice. “You’re not the only one who will be taking a year off from Hogwarts.”

Of course, it would look quite suspicious if Draco was the only one of their circle absent from Hogwarts while his father’s plans were in motion. He was smart enough to understand that much without his father 

While that was true, that didn’t mean that any of his associated would be joining him. Oh no. Nott and Crabbe have first cousins in Spain and Belgium respectively, so they’ll attend Beauxbatons instead. Greengrass was to do a year at Mahōtokoro and practice her Japanese, while Bulstrode and Goyle would be joining their shared cousin at Koldovstoretz and Zabini and Davis would be homeschooled.

Draco personally didn’t see how evacuating the entirety of Slytherins in their year made them any less suspicious, but he had to assume that there was some larger scheme running in the background that Draco simply wasn’t aware of. Because otherwise, none of this made sense.

And then he would be going alone to Durmstrang for a year for no reason at all.

Durmstrang didn’t have a train.

It made sense, given the fact that, apparently, Durmstrang changed locations between the Scandinavian countries and Germany every year. A train wasn’t exactly the most practical solution by any means.

That, however, meant that Draco had no way to find new companions during the time it took to arrive at the school. But it was manageable, really.

Durmstrang didn’t have the houses that Draco was used to from Hogwarts, either.

He had been so focused on learning as much German as possible — it was the language the school operated in, going back to the Hanse or something like that — and hadn’t gotten around to familiarizing himself with the appropriate families for him to talk to.

In his defense, he had less than a month to prepare and be able to follow the lessons was kind of more important than politics. Plus, understanding a language was kind of necessary for politics.

So Draco studied German in every moment he had for a month and felt laughably underprepared.

But now that he was here and realized that there were no Houses to guard him towards appropriate contacts, he felt even less prepared than he had before.

Draco could adapt, though. He wouldn’t disappoint his father.

It took Draco until mid-November to get to a point where he could hold decent conversations with the other students.

Before that, he had to spend most of his time going over the lessons a second and third time to make sure that he had actually understood everything. Add in the fact that they were starting at a different point than where he had left off and he couldn’t have formed new alliances even if he had particularly wanted to.

Or, that is unless you could his roommate. But considering the fact that they had passing conversations at best, Draco was pretty sure that that does not qualify as a friendship.

Unfortunately for him, the rest of the school had interpreted that as him having no interest in socializing. They thought he didn’t talk to him because he didn't want to and not because he couldn’t do it adequately. Consequently, they ignore his attempts to connect with them after that.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Draco was desperate to have some actual conversations again. Hell, at this point, he’d gladly talk to Potter if he had the chance.

So to say that he was glad to finally talk to his friends again was a massive understatement.

Or at least, that was the case until all of them continued to talk about their new friends. Then, Draco just started to feel lonely again.

When Draco gets back to Durmstrang, he decided that he would deliberately sit next to the first person who would make eye contact with him whenever possible. It was far from the most active social life, but it was better than nothing.

The person he ends up sitting next to is a redheaded girl named Krista Knudsen, not that they had actually introduced themselves to each other. Draco had simply read the name in one of her non-assigned astronomy books spread out over the table.

For the first few weeks, sitting close to each other was literally all they did. Eventually, they move towards keeping the space free for each other and after easter, they even begin to have the most basic of conversations. It started with one of them expressing an interest in the book the other was reading, then it moved onto conversations about their homework and the weather. They decide to study together for their exams as well.

By the time the summer holidays arrive, they promise each other to write over the holidays. Draco told her not to expect him to come back next year. After all, Draco’s entire family had agreed that he was only to attend Durmstrang for one year.

That was not what ended up happening.