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a-araiguma-a · 8 months ago

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Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 7. Easter holidays

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, drama, first love, jealous

a/n: Studying absorbed me a little and a little autumn apathy took all my time, I will try to update the story more often. Besides, I definitely uploaded this part, but for some reason it was never processed…I just realized that I threw it into another channel, oh

General summary: He was the captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team, and his quest to win the Quidditch Cup became an obsessive goal. All his thoughts revolved around tactics, training and strategies, but sometimes his own heart reminded him of another, equally important side of life. He believed that love and Quidditch could coexist in his life. He swore to himself that he would do everything possible to preserve these two treasures, even if it required the impossible from him.

Start - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

But fate decided to test her strength once again when the Easter holidays came, and many students went home. There were fewer students left in the castle, and the corridors, usually filled with noise and bustle, were quiet and almost empty. The atmosphere at this time was reminiscent of an ancient abandoned castle, where time seemed to slow down, and every sound echoed along the ancient walls.

But some decided not to waste time on leaving and returning, stayed within the walls of the school, usually studied in the library and completed assignments. This year, Margaret's parents planned a vacation, and not wanting to be the odd man out, which she is not, according to Miranda, decided to stay at Hogwarts anyway, Sophie and Emma left, as their parents insisted that they be home.

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Sophie asked, frowning a little as she packed her things.

"Yes," Margaret said, trying to sound confident, "I'll have a little discouragement, or I'll sit in the library and read something interesting, don't worry."

"I could have asked my parents, they would definitely not refuse to accept a guest," Sophie suggested with complete concern.

"Thank you, but I really want to stay."

Emma, who had been silent until now, suddenly leaned over and looked straight into Margaret's eyes.

"Be careful," her voice said quietly but seriously, "Stay in Gryffindor Tower. If something goes wrong, run right away and don't get out until it's safe," Emma warned her.

Margaret knew that the girls were worried about her, but how much longer would she be a shadow? Once she had fought back, she no longer dared to act rashly and be overconfident. Left alone, she tried to be in crowded places, but gradually there were fewer and fewer students, and she had to hide more often in the library or in her room. A familiar sense of anxiety came over her when she learned that those she had diligently avoided had also stayed at school, and the thought that they would find her again made her heart beat faster. Trying to stick to the safe routes she had developed before, but knowing that such a plan could collapse at any moment, she sat in the safe living room for hours.

One day, returning to the tower, it seemed to her that she heard footsteps behind her, but not the usual ones, these were heavy, intending to follow her. Speeding up, trying to avoid pursuit, but the footsteps also accelerated, in a panic, she turned into one of the side corridors, hoping to confuse her pursuer, but she was wrong when she realized that she was in a dead end, it was too late. Voices filled with venom rang out behind him, and several familiar figures emerged from the shadows.

"Look who we've found here," one of the Slytherins growled as they blocked the exit from the narrow corridor, "Half-blood, alone, without her protectors."

"Well, you've been avoiding us for so long, but now you can't run away," said the one who held her last time.

Margaret clenched her fists, feeling fear begin to build in her chest, there was no way to escape. She tried to remind herself that she had to be brave, but the others supported him by throwing derogatory phrases that made Margaret shake inside.

"You should have left, run away, as usual, why are you so stupid," the guys did not calm down.

"Did you think you could hide behind your friends forever?" Another added.

Before she could do anything, she was again pinned against the wall, hitting a cold rock, and her hands were once again roughly grabbed.

"Leave me alone... Please, it's the same situation again, she's surrounded by them, in the corridors and no one around. Tears came again, but they were not allowed to be shed, not to be satisfied with her weakness. She knew she had to take care of herself, but now it seemed impossible.

Their discussion of what they could do to her, and every cold, mocking laugh, cut her soul like a knife.

"No one will defend someone like you, you don't have to hope, we're alone here."

Their words hit her harder than she expected, memories began to pop up in her head, which she had been trying to suppress for a long time. Memories of how in elementary school, children who absorbed the words of their parents refused to be friends with her.

"Nobody needs you," they said then. "Neither to my mother, nor to my father, nor to us.

Those words, uttered by childish cruelty, wounded her to the core and left scars that still haven't healed, and the little child she was then just couldn't understand why she was being rejected like that. Why her existence seemed to others something shameful, unnecessary. She tried to be kind, to be helpful, hoping that if she was good enough, she would be accepted. For hours she sat alone on the playground, watching others play, laugh, but for them she was unwanted and alien.

Memories became more and more painful, resurfaced like old bleeding wounds. She remembered how once, when she was very young, she accidentally overheard a conversation between her grandparents, who were discussing events from the life of their son, and their voices sounded cold, cruel logic.

"Bennett started dating another woman, as I understand she is his colleague," my grandmother said, sighing, "If they are serious and she does not accept Margaret, then who knows what will happen to her... Maybe she will be given to an orphanage.

"Her father has long lost interest in her. I think he's already come to terms with the fact that he doesn't need her," Grandpa said with grim confidence, "Who will continue to take care of her if we are gone?

They seemed to be discussing something insignificant, as if it were an unnecessary thing, without even noticing how the child stood outside the door and listened to each of their cruel and cold forecasts. These words were then deeply imprinted in her memory, like a poisonous thorn. She was too young to understand the whole picture, but old enough to realize that there was no place for warmth or care in her life. And despite the hope that she will forget everything when she grows up.

"He will not forget," thought Margaret then, listening to their cold words, "I will not forget."

As if blow after blow, her mind was filled with memories of her father's neglect and coldness, who for a long time could not accept her as his daughter. These thoughts swirled in my head, and the fear gradually grew into something more. Her thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of negative memories, and fear began to shackle her again. She remembered her father's disdain, which for a long time could not accept her, as if she were a burden, he rarely spoke and always his every word, every gesture was devoid of warmth and love, his gaze was empty and detached, she was only a reminder of the woman he had lost.

There was only contempt around her, and she felt as lonely as she had when she was a little girl. Her confidence, which she had been trying to strengthen for so long, began to crumble under the pressure of these memories.

Margaret didn't notice how she began to tremble, and she didn't realize that her emotions were beginning to affect the magic around her. The windows in the hallway shook, the glass shook, reflecting her inner storm, as if an invisible force was trying to break out.

"What is this, what is happening?" One of them turned around in a slight confusion.

"It's her," muttered the other in disbelief.

"Look, we also have uncontrollable magic here," one of the students said with a sneer, who was bolder when he saw what was happening.

But she didn't hear, her mind was completely consumed by a whirlwind of negative thoughts that began to look for a way out. The vibration in the air intensified as she was in the dark and didn't know how to get out of the nightmare. The windows cracked as if they were about to burst, and the floor began to shake, she lost control of her emotions, and with it her magic. In this chaos, she had to pull herself together, stop before harming not only herself, but also those around her.

One of them panicked in his voice as he sensed that the situation was getting worse, "We didn't mean to...

And his heart was glowing with a tiny hope. Maybe someone will still notice its absence? Maybe someone will pay attention to strange sounds in the corridors? Though the thought was weak, it did not allow her to give up to the end. Suddenly, a tall silhouette appeared in front of her and instinctively closed her eyes and waited for a blow or worse, but nothing followed, only a voice full of determination cut through the air.

"Get out of here before I make you regret it," he appeared around the corner, quickly assessing the situation without hesitation, and stood between Margaret and the group of Slytherins.

Slytherins were stunned, confident that no one else would show up, so they acted confidently.

"It's none of your business, Wood," one of the guys tried to snap back, but his voice faltered, "She's a half-breed and shouldn't be here..."

"I said get out," Oliver interrupted, his voice firmer. "Otherwise, we'll talk to the dean." Believe me, you won't like it.

They exchanged glances, assessing the risks, and then, muttering something under their breath in displeasure, began to disperse, giving Margaret and Oliver angry glances.

When they finally disappeared around the corner, Margaret could hardly catch her breath. Only now did she realize that her whole body was trembling, and her thoughts were still immersed in chaos. The windows in the corridor stopped rattling, but small cracks could be seen on them, and silence enveloped the castle again. Still in a state of shock, but gradually realizing what had happened and what could have happened if no one had appeared. She looked at Oliver, not immediately believing that he had really come to her aid, and so decisively.

"Are you okay?" he asked, turning to her and gently touching her shoulder. There was concern and concern in his eyes. "They didn't hurt you?"

He carefully studied her face, and then began to examine her body for wounds and noticed several bruises, not only fresh, but also those that had already healed.

Margaret was still silent, not quite believing in the reality of what was happening. Then, feeling her body begin to relax, she nodded.

"Thank you, Oliver," she said quietly, trying to pull herself together. "You... You've come just in time.

The support of Emma, Sophie, and the twins had been tremendous for her, but now, standing in front of Oliver, who had protected her from a real threat, she felt something new.

"I just happened to be nearby," he said with a slight smile, but his gaze was serious. "If something like this happens again, you can always turn to me.

Margaret felt the warmth in his words. Oliver was one of those who always kept to himself, dedicating his time to Quidditch and the team, but now he showed them his care and support.

"I'll try," she replied, feeling the ice that had been accumulating there all these years melt in her chest. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't appeared.

He held out his hand to her, inviting her to follow him. Margaret hesitated, now she felt safe next to him, but what if those guys returned, gathering the rest of their strength, accepted his help. They began to move along the corridors, which now seemed a little less threatening.

As they entered the Gryffindor living room, Margaret felt the warmth of the fire in the fireplace and the familiar smell of comfort. Oliver looked at her once more, as if to make sure she was all right, before saying:

"If you want to talk about it, I'll be happy to hear from you," he suggested.

After a little hesitation before answering, but deciding that it would not get worse and that it was worth sharing at least part of what was happening.

"Yes, there is not much to talk about," she began, sighing a little, "They overheard my conversation with my friends and decided to show their nature in all its glory. A little more than six months have passed since then, at first I did not understand what was happening, then it got worse and worse, but I was good at avoiding them, until now," she shuddered, remembering the events of the past.

Oliver listened attentively, trying not to interrupt, but his face showed surprise and reparation.

"Because you're a half-breed?" Oliver asked in bewilderment, trying to realize how far some wizards could fall. He knew about prejudice and what pure-blood families could be, but he had never encountered such a thing, "So...

"Actually, I grew up among Muggles, and all of this," she looked around the room, "It's more like a fairy tale I've read before, and once here, realizing that it's all real and just... Unbelievable," she said admiringly.

Completely relaxed, she began to share the events of her life, they had never been so close, but right now this rapprochement gave a sense of calm. Since Emma and Sophie have gone home, we can use this time to make up for lost communication with Oliver Wood, since he also stayed. Despite the fact that they studied together, their paths rarely crossed. He was passionate about Quidditch, devoting almost every free minute to practicing and studying while Margaret spent time with friends, beat the twins, read in the library, and studied ancient runes with Percy.

"And how do you feel about getting acquainted with the world of magic," Oliver asked curiously.

— It was not easy, everything turned out to be a little more complicated and... more interesting than I could have imagined," she laughed, recalling the events of the early days, "When I first met Sir Nicholas, I was so frightened, Miranda, my stepmother, used to say that ghosts don't exist, when I was afraid to fall asleep, and I believed her... But she was wrong.

"Sir Nicholas, isn't he?" Oliver grinned, imagining her frightened face from meeting the translucent spirit, "Of course, he looks quite ... gloomy, especially if you don't know it's harmless.

"Yes," she smiled, her eyes glowing with a soft light as she remembered her first experience in the world of magic, "And in the Muggle world, photographs are always still, and here... I "met" my mother for the first time.

Oliver stared at her intently, and his heart involuntarily skipped a beat as she finally smiled genuinely. Her smile was so bright and beautiful that he suddenly realized how much he liked to see her happy. He quickly looked away, trying to hide his emotions.

"Well, you won't get bored with such adventures," he teased, trying to defuse the atmosphere

"But you know, despite all this, I still love Hogwarts.

— How can you not love a place where so many amazing things happen? He winked at her.

They talked a little more, and as Margaret felt better as she was about to leave, he looked at her again, making sure that she was really all right.

"If you need to talk again, or just chat about something, don't hesitate," he said, "I'm always there."

"Thank you, Oliver, I'll remember that," and again she smiled at him, feeling real concern in his words.

With that, she got up and walked towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

"You know, you're completely different when you smile," he said unexpectedly a little quieter, "That's good. This is how it should be.

Margaret turned, looking at him blushing, but her smile only widened. Oliver remained sitting by the fire, feeling something change inside him.

Now that they both had some free time, Margaret decided that this was the perfect opportunity to get to know Oliver better, she couldn't deny that she felt safe with him, after the recent events, and she wanted to spend more time with him, and when she offered to spend time together the next day, his reaction was instant and predictable.

"Of course," he said enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling like those of a child who has been offered a favorite treat, "Shall we go to the Quidditch field?" You can help me practice if you want. I need someone to throw me balls.

Margaret smiled, though she knew in her heart that Oliver could think of nothing but Quidditch and what else she was expecting. But she didn't mind—if it was his way of spending time together, then why not?

"All right," she agreed. "I'll go, change into suitable clothes and meet me on the field."

When she approached the field, Oliver was already preparing for training. He was in his uniform, with a broom in his hands and a resolute expression on his face. There seemed to be a special energy in his movements, as if the very thought of Quidditch filled his life. Margaret was a little excited, but tried not to show it, Oliver was not only a passionate player, but also demanding, even to herself.

"So," Oliver began, showing her the balls. His voice was confident but warm, "It's the quaffles." Your task is to throw them into the hoops, and I will try to beat them off. Don't worry if it doesn't work out at first, it's all about practice.

Margaret nodded, picking up one of the balls. It was heavier than she expected, but that only added to her determination. Taking off on the broom and taking the right position, she concentrated, aiming at the ring. At first, she was a little embarrassed, but Oliver encouraged and guided her.

"Relax," he said, watching her first throw. "Everything will work out, just try.

She threw the first ball, but it flew too low and did not hit the hoop. Oliver easily beat him off, and Margaret felt a little disappointed, as if she had failed to live up to his expectations.

"It's okay," he smiled. "Let's try again."

Margaret tried again, and this time the ball flew higher, but still did not reach the goal. She felt a growing desire to succeed in her. Gathering her courage, she put all her strength into the throw and sent it straight into the hoop. This time Oliver did not have time to react, and the ball went through the hoop, making him smile.

"A great shot!" He exclaimed, his voice filled with pride, "You see, you can do it!

Encouraged by her success, Margaret continued to train. The next few shots were also successful. Gradually, she began to feel her movements becoming more confident and she herself more agile. Oliver, flying around the hoops, tried to hit the balls, but each time she managed to cope with the task better and better.

"You're good for a beginner, especially in speed," Oliver remarked, when she made another accurate throw, "I remember Madam Hooch always praised you in class. If she wanted, she could try her hand at the team.

Margaret laughed, wiping the sweat from her forehead, and her eyes sparkled with physical activity.

"I think I'd rather stay on the ground," she replied with a hint of irony in her voice, "Flying on a broomstick is one thing, but chasing balls is for real athletes like you.

Oliver smiled back, clearly pleased with her words.

"You know how to cheer you up," he said, with a friendly tone, "but if you ever change your mind, I'll be glad to play with you." At least a couple of trainings. You can do it.

"And if I start winning against you," Margaret teased, narrowing her eyes, "You won't be too offended and take revenge on me, will you?"

"Well, of course it's unlikely," Oliver grinned, trying not to betray his pleasure at her teasing, "But if it happens, I'll do it." Although I will think about revenge.

As they continued their training, Margaret realized that this time with Oliver had been special for her. She learned new things, spent time in the fresh air and, most importantly, felt that their communication became closer. Oliver was not only a dedicated athlete, but also a reliable friend who could be relied on in difficult times.

When they finished their training and went back to the castle, Margaret felt pleasantly tired and satisfied. She knew that this day would be remembered for a long time.

"Thank you for training," she said as they approached the entrance to the castle. "It was fun.

"Glad to help," Oliver replied with a smile that always seemed encouraging, "and thank you for the company." I think we need to do it more often.

Margaret nodded, and the moment their eyes met, Oliver noticed her smiling again, which for a moment made it difficult to breathe. Her smile was something special, filling him with a joy that he hadn't expected to experience so suddenly.

"You know," he added, hesitating a little, as if thinking about something, "You really flew well today, maybe next time we can try something more difficult?"

"Maybe," she said, tilting her head slightly to the side as if contemplating his suggestion, "if you don't give up too quickly."

This made Oliver laugh, and the sound sounded like a promise for the future.

"I promise," he said defiantly and gladly.

They went their separate ways, each going about his business, but this day was only the beginning of something new.

When the small holidays were over, Hogwarts was once again filled with hustle and bustle, lively conversations and new stories. The castle came alive again after a brief lull, but most of all, Margaret felt a return to her normal school life. Her old days are back, more intense and fun, especially with the return of Fred and George, who wasted no time.

The twins, as always, burst into her life with such enthusiasm that she could barely keep up with their new jokes and pranks, and although she had previously been annoyed by their constant desire to make pranks, they were only finding a way to cheer everyone up. After everything that had happened, she even found it amusing and even comforting.

"Margaret!" Fred shouted one morning, popping into the Gryffindor parlor with a big smile on his face. "We have something special for you!"

Margaret, almost letting go of her textbooks, barely had time to turn when Fred and George appeared in front of her with cunning smiles on their faces and

"How about we try our new chocolate?" Fred asked, handing her a box of chocolates that gleamed suspiciously.

"No, thank you, I'm not hungry," Margaret said.

"Are you sure you want to refuse?" George added with a sly smile. "The tastes are just magical!

Margaret just smiled and shook her head.

"Thank you, but I'd rather stick to my point," she replied with a slight laugh. "I've become a little more cautious since your last jokes.

"She's getting smarter, George," Fred winked at his brother, putting the box back in his pocket. "But we'll catch her anyway.

However, despite all their attempts, Margaret no longer fell for their tricks as easily as before. Her tolerance and ability to remain calm in the face of the twins' antics only strengthened her relationship with them. The twins respected her for this, and their friendship became even stronger.

"Well, Margaret, are you ready to try out our lab's new product?" Fred asked with a smile, holding something in his hands that looked like ordinary cookies, but with a clear dash of magic, "We've been working on this for so long.

Margaret already knew that it was better to stay away from their "experiments", but this time she couldn't help but smile. She clearly became more tolerant of their jokes, realizing that the twins always tried to add a little joy and fun to her life, even if it was expressed in pranks.

"Thank you, but I think I'll abstain, as always," she answered, laughing. "But you can always try it yourself.

"Oh, what a pity! George feigned distress, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "But we don't give up, so be prepared next time."

Despite their pranks, Margaret felt more relaxed. After that incident, the Slytherins, who had previously haunted her, noticeably calmed down and everything returned to normal. She soon learned that Charlie was behind it. As the headman, he had the right to know about all the events and conflicts taking place in the school, keeping order, and he made every effort to sort out the situation.

He collected a lot of rumors and gossip, trying to put together a single picture of what was happening within the walls of Hogwarts. He knew that he couldn't ignore what had happened, and using his authority and skills, he was able to figure out who was behind these attacks. He had a strict conversation with the culprits, making it clear that such behavior was unacceptable. Then he walked over to Margaret and said with a serious expression:

"If this happens again, you'll come to me right away, I understand," he said to her seriously in the hallway. "I want you to know that I'm always on your side. I will do everything to protect you. No one has the right to treat you like that.

Margaret was touched by his care and support. She knew she could count on Charlie, and she had long since put unnecessary thoughts aside, it wasn't the main thing now.

The girls gathered again in the library at their favorite place. They discussed lessons, helped each other with homework, and just spent time in company, enjoying a cozy hideaway where they could work in peace, read, and dream about the adventures ahead.

"I think it's finally all right," Sophie said one day as she laid the textbooks on the table. "We can study safely again and enjoy our time at Hogwarts.

"Yes, I can feel it too," Emma agreed, sipping hot tea. — Recently, everything has become somehow easier and calmer.

"And no one is stopping us anymore," Sophie added, smiling. "Everything has finally returned to its place.

Margaret sat next to them, leafing through a textbook on ancient runes. She felt calm and joy gradually returning to her life. Her friendship with Oliver strengthened, Charlie was there to support her, and even the twins became not just jokers for her, but friends to endure on.

Everything really became good, Hogwarts regained for her the magic and comfort that she once felt, and that with such friends she would be able to overcome any difficulties.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #x reader #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood x reader #charlie weasley x reader #fred and goerge weasley

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a-araiguma-a · 9 months ago

Text

Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 6. The Slytherins

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, drama, first love, jealous

Summary: He was the captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team, and his quest to win the Quidditch Cup became an obsessive goal. All his thoughts revolved around tactics, training and strategies, but sometimes his own heart reminded him of another, equally important side of life. He believed that love and Quidditch could coexist in his life. He swore to himself that he would do everything possible to preserve these two treasures, even if it required the impossible from him.

Start - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4- Chapter 5- Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

It all started with small annoyances that no one would have paid much attention to—a textbook that mysteriously disappeared from her bag, a trip in the hallway that almost made her fall, or the spiteful whispers behind her back that ceased the moment she turned around.

Margaret's friends noticed how she anxiously checked her belongings but didn’t think much of it, assuming that the twins were behind it or that it was just stress from school.

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” Sophie said as the three of them discussed the missing textbook before class. “Maybe someone took it by mistake, or the twins are up to their old tricks.”

Yes, they used to enjoy hiding things, but they had since moved on to pranks involving levitating objects, and after several months, they’d lost interest in such antics, focusing instead on edible products.

“Or it’s just a bad day,” Emma added, shrugging. “Everyone has those moments when you forget something and then can’t remember if you gave it to someone.”

Margaret tried to ignore it, but the troubles continued to escalate, and it gradually became clear that these weren’t coincidences at all. The Slytherins began to act more openly, and their pranks evolved into full-fledged bullying. It soon became apparent that Margaret had become their target.

It happened repeatedly. Sometimes it was passing, venomous comments as they walked by. Other times, they deliberately bumped into her on the stairs or hid her belongings when she looked away. At first, she couldn’t understand why they hated her so much, but gradually, the words spoken by the Slytherins began to form a clear picture.

“Look who we have here,” a hoarse voice of an older Slytherin student sneered as Margaret once again walked past their group in the corridor. “A half-blood.”

The term was spoken with obvious contempt, as if it were a brand marking her as something lesser and unworthy. Margaret froze the first time she heard it. It didn’t offend her, as it was true—her mother was a witch, her father a Muggle—but hearing it day after day began to feel like a sentence, an attack on her very identity and her right to be there, studying magic. She tried not to show how the label, like a curse, affected her, and she quickened her pace to get away from them, but they wouldn’t stop. They followed her everywhere—in the corridors, in the library, in empty classrooms—continuing their barrage of derogatory comments.

“Do you think you deserve to study here, half-blood?” another Slytherin sneered mockingly.

Over the following weeks, the bullying persisted. It seemed as though their entire world revolved around making her as uncomfortable as possible, becoming a part of her daily routine. Margaret felt her heart tighten with pain and humiliation. She tried to keep her fear hidden and remain calm, knowing they were trying to break her and strip away her confidence, but it was impossible to ignore. Gradually, a small flame began to ignite inside her, growing brighter with each cruel whisper, action, and intention.

When they cornered her in the corridors again and she heard their spiteful comments, something inside her snapped. She slowly turned around, mustering all her strength, and said to them:

“Enough. I’m not going to silently endure your attacks anymore. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have anything better to do than to harass me?!”

The group paused momentarily, surprised by this turn of events. The quiet girl who had always run away from them finally spoke up. One of them smirked, breaking the brief silence.

“Ha! Look at her, thinking she can threaten us,” the voice dripped with contempt, and the whole group burst into laughter. Their laughter was loud and humiliating, as if they couldn’t even take her words seriously.

“Watch your mouth, little girl,” another voice came from beside her as they surrounded her like a pack of predators. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“I don’t care about you or your family. You’re the one who started attacking me,” she replied, holding her head high, though her voice still trembled.

Her words only fueled the fire, and the boys wasted no time. They roughly shoved her against the wall, pinning her so tightly that it took her breath away. Margaret felt her wrist being painfully squeezed, and she knew there would be bruises, but that wasn’t her immediate concern. The group stared at her with smug expressions, and each of her weak attempts to break free was met with waves of laughter. She felt utterly powerless, unable to stand up to boys who were older and stronger.

“Let go! You’re hurting me,” she whispered in a low but threatening voice, trying to wriggle free, but their grip only tightened.

In desperation, she looked around, hoping to see someone who could help, but the corridor was empty—no teachers, no students. She was alone against them, and the feeling of terror seemed to consume her entirely.

“Not so brave now, are you?” one of them hissed in her face, like a snake. He leaned in so close that she could feel his hot breath on her face. “You’re nothing, half-blood. Do you think you can just talk to us like that? Your blood is filthy, just like you.”

The words cut like a knife, and her breathing became erratic as she fought not only the physical pain but also the urge to cry, not wanting to give them even more reason to mock her. But her spirit was broken; it was evident in every part of her body. She regretted speaking up a hundred times over, wishing she had just run away like before, but what was done was done.

“Please, stop,” she whispered, barely audible, but the boys were close enough to hear her.

“Oh, so now you’re begging us? Maybe if you behave, we’ll think about it,” they said as they finally let her go. Margaret nearly collapsed to the floor, barely managing to stay on her feet. Her hands trembled as she stood there, leaning against the wall. The Slytherins turned and left, their laughter echoing off the walls of the empty corridor. Now they knew they could do anything to her, and no one would stop them.

As she slowly slid down the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees, the world around her began to crumble. What had once been a magical fairy tale was turning into a prison.

Trying to hide her distress from her friends, not wanting to worry them, she withdrew further into herself. But Emma and Sophie started noticing that something was wrong with her, though they didn’t get a chance to talk to her before the Christmas holidays began, and Margaret escaped. She knew she could trust them, but she didn’t want to tell them what had happened. Away from Hogwarts, away from those cruel stares and insults, she found temporary peace at home. But the shadow of the humiliation she had endured wouldn’t leave her, replaying in her mind over and over, dragging her into self-loathing. The thoughts burned inside her like cold fire. While trying to hide her emotions, she smiled at the dinner table and participated in conversations, but in the quiet of her room, when no one was around, she let herself release her pent-up emotions, the tears she had held back for months flowing freely, washing away the accumulated hurt and pain. However, this brief respite was only the calm before the storm. Upon returning, the attacks only intensified, as if fueled by new energy. Their cruelty now went beyond mere pranks, becoming more calculated, targeted, and destructive.

To minimize her presence, she smiled less, often staring into the void, spoke little, and tried to stay in the shadows. This became her new strategy—to avoid attention, to become a ghost of her former self, to be unnoticed. If others didn’t notice anything, her friends were certainly alarmed, and no matter how they tried to get her to talk, it was all in vain; she would only remain silent or say that everything was fine.

“Margaret, what’s going on?” Emma asked one day when they were in the library. She leaned in closer to her friend, trying to catch her eye. “You’ve been so quiet and distant lately. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, you seem to be on edge all the time,” Sophie added, her voice full of concern. “You can tell us what’s bothering you.”

But how could she tell them? They knew her only as a positive, cheerful person. What would they think of her afterward—that she was weak and being bullied, that she couldn’t stand up for herself because she was afraid of them? How she had memorized their routes and avoided places where they might see her. No. Her fear and insecurity kept her from saying anything. She feared that if she opened her mouth, even more problems would rain down on her.

“I’m fine, really,” Margaret finally said quietly, trying to smile, but the smile came out forced and unnatural.

Emma and Sophie exchanged worried looks but didn’t press any further. Deep down, they knew something was wrong, but they didn’t know how to break through the wall Margaret had built around herself.

She avoided everyone and everything, trying not to be seen by either her tormentors or those who wanted to help. She left early and returned late, sat apart in classes, and quickly disappeared. And in the silence that surrounded her, in the constant tension, she was losing herself—the light that once brightened her world was fading day by day, and magic felt foreign and distant.

But at some point, she realized that she wasn’t alone in her suffering, and the situation began to change. The boys who had once tormented her were now finding themselves in the spotlight—but not the kind they had sought.

Those who had recently plotted against her were now becoming targets of pranks that seemed random yet were so precise that they seemed specifically aimed at them. Seeing the arrogant Slytherins suddenly covered in bright colors when their clothes magically transformed into something ridiculous and laughable, or when sweets spilled out of their pockets, or their bags became impossibly heavy or completely empty, was surreal. It was like an illusion to see the once-confident boys become the victims of the Weasley twins’ tricks.

Fred and George Weasley, as always, were in top form, directing their pranks at the Slytherin students they despised, and the results were immediate. The Slytherins didn’t seem to know how to handle these unexpected attacks. They spent less time bullying Margaret and the others, focusing instead on protecting themselves from the surprises waiting for them at every turn.

For the first time in a long while, Margaret felt she could breathe freely without constantly looking over her shoulder. She was finally able to relax a bit and take a break from the constant pressure. She even began to feel grateful to those two mischievous pranksters whose antics had become her salvation. But it was so strange to realize that Fred and George, without even knowing it, had become her protectors. Every time she saw the pompous Slytherins fall victim to the twins’ pranks, it made her feel a little lighter.

But no one knew the truth. No one knew that one day, after another round of punishment, Fred and George had accidentally stumbled upon the Marauder’s Map in Filch’s office—a magical artifact that showed everything happening in Hogwarts and the location of every person in the castle. With it, they never got caught, and Filch could only grumble, knowing that the Weasleys were always to blame for the chaos. One day, while casually browsing the map and discussing who to prank next, they noticed that their good friend Margaret was constantly surrounded by Slytherins. It might have gone unnoticed a few times, but over a prolonged period, it seemed strange. Were they up to something suspicious? Following her on the map, they witnessed how the Slytherins bullied her in the corridors, taunted her, and humiliated her. Hiding behind a wall, both were in shock.

“We can’t just leave this alone,” George said, his usually cheerful voice turning serious.

“Of course not,” Fred nodded, already mentally devising a plan for revenge. “We’ll make their lives a living hell.”

Since then, the twins began their discreet campaign against the Slytherins, turning their lives into a series of chaotic mishaps. They used everything at their disposal—magical pranks, traps, and even their own inventions. And although they never spoke about it, they took the mission seriously.

The twins continued to play their roles as jokers and pranksters, and no one could suspect that such a serious reason was behind their antics. They still pretended that their pranks were just a way to entertain themselves and others, but in reality, they kept their true mission a secret.

One evening, as Margaret happened to pass by an empty classroom, she overheard familiar voices. She was about to leave so as not to intrude, but the conversation she overheard made her freeze in place.

“No one should know about this,” George said as they discussed their latest pranks that evening. “It’s our little secret.”

“Of course,” Fred agreed, winking at his brother. “We can’t let anyone think we have a heart.”

“We’ll definitely get expelled if they find out we’ve been using the Marauder’s Map to spy on everyone,” George whispered, his voice full of determination.

“No one will find out,” Fred reassured him.

Margaret quietly backed away so the twins wouldn’t notice her presence. She had felt that someone was on her side, but she never thought it could be them. Discovering what was happening, the twins had decided to act on their own, turning a difficult situation into a joke, thereby protecting her.

The answer to how they knew about it came as unexpectedly as the realization itself, and it remained in her thoughts as a small but important secret she decided not to reveal to anyone. The warmth of gratitude toward the twins grew with each new realization, but this little secret of theirs had to remain a secret. No one should know how they found out, what they decided to do, and even though their actions were motivated by good intentions, it was better to keep it under wraps.

Their plan worked. Margaret gradually found peace, and although she hadn’t fully recovered from the trials she had faced, she knew she had friends she could rely on, who would be on her side, even if they didn’t talk about it openly.

She realized that distancing herself from her friends had been a foolish move. She was a Gryffindor, after all, and that meant she had to stay brave, no matter what her friends might think of her afterward. She needed to tell them so they wouldn’t worry so much. Setting off to find Sophie and Emma, she had no trouble locating them in the common room, where they spent their evenings. When they saw her, they noticed the resolve in her eyes, though her face still showed signs of worry.

“Is everything okay?” Sophie was the first to ask, putting aside her book and looking intently at her friend. Emma sat up on the bed, watching her closely.

“It’s about the Slytherins,” Margaret quietly admitted, lowering her gaze. She finally said it out loud. “They found out I’m a half-blood, and since then, they haven’t left me alone, calling me ‘half-blood’ and constantly coming up with nasty tricks. It started after that conversation about Muggle Studies…”

Emma and Sophie exchanged quick glances, their faces hardening, and a fire of righteous indignation burning in their eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Emma asked, her voice trembling with anger.

“You should have told us—we’re your friends. We could have helped and supported you.”

Margaret felt a wave of relief as she shared her long-held worries with her friends.

“I know, but I didn’t want to involve you, make you worry… or think I’m weak,” she said, still avoiding their eyes.

“Weak? What nonsense! Margaret, weakness is hiding and staying silent,” Sophie shook her head. “Gathering the courage to share with us and tell the truth—that’s real strength.”

“And besides, we’re Gryffindors, not Slytherins,” Emma added. “We stand up for our own.”

“Thank you,” Margaret whispered, not knowing what else to say.

“Now we need to decide what to do next,” Sophie’s voice was serious. She had never imagined that the reason for Margaret’s behavior was bullying. “This can’t go unpunished.”

Margaret nodded. They spent a long time discussing the best course of action, and although they didn’t come up with a concrete plan, she now knew that her friends would be by her side, and no one would think less of her for it.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #x y/n #oliver wood imagine #x reader #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #charlie weasley x reader #percy weasley #fred and george #hogwarts

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

Text

The Last Look

Summary: He knew that his destiny was to be a great magician, to rise above everyone, and even to surpass death, but she was someone he couldn't control, which made her dangerous, and that tormented him. Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader Warnings: mentioning death, drama, love/hate, enemies (?), non-reciprocal feelings, the open final, without description of appearance and name.

1942 Hogwarts lived its quiet, detached life under the weight of centuries and secret knowledge. But he, Tom Riddle, was not part of this calm; his mind, as always, was consumed by grand schemes, which did not include friends or the simple joys of youth. He reached for greatness, craved power, and sought ways to cheat death. His interest in the Dark Arts had advanced so far that he learned of Horcruxes—the darkest magic capable of splitting the soul and granting immortality. His heart burned with fire, giving him no peace, not even at night.

But there was one thing, one mystery, that distracted him from his dark deeds – "she". A girl, a classmate, who attracted his attention not by her origin, but by the cold, detached wisdom that she kept behind her thin face.

She was not charmingly beautiful, but her strength, her ability to hold a wand in battle and to understand spells, caused him something indescribable. The more he studied her, the more he was drawn to her, not as a girl, but as some kind of mystery, unsolved, arousing his interest, and perhaps fear.

Trying to convince herself that her attitude was just a mistake that would sooner or later be corrected when she saw his greatness, she would certainly recognize his superiority, but with each passing day, her detachment became unbearable for him

"Why is she so indifferent to me?" he thought, irritated by her indifference.

He was always polite to everyone, restrained, everyone noted his beauty and thirst for knowledge, he was the best. His like-minded people trembled before him and his power, saw something special in him, but she, she showed no interest or fear in him, as if he did not exist in her world. He thought that she could be his ally, a worthy companion on the path to greatness, and perhaps it was her ability to challenge him that made her so special in his eyes.

He remembered their rare clashes, her harsh, sometimes even contemptuous glances and cold words. Trying to talk to her, she only ran her eyes over it, as if there was another garbage in front of her, and returned to her previous business. It was even worse than enmity or hatred, indifference meant that she did not consider him important, made him doubt himself, that this contempt was a hint that his greatness was not as great as he himself thought

"What's wrong with her?" he wondered, looking out of the windows of the corridor that overlooked the courtyard, where he saw her sitting on a bench with her friends, "She's nothing compared to me, pure-blooded aristocrats, only blind fools, but this one... there is something in it."

He did not understand what kind of feelings he had for her: respect, admiration, or perhaps something deeper. He could have made her his ally. But even then, in his plans, he was not sure that it was a pragmatic desire.

He sought her attention, respect, but she refused him, it was important for him that those who had exceptional abilities bowed down before him, and she was worthy of him to strive for her.

Once he caught up with her in the corridors, where she was scolding some guy for ruining the painting. In some way, all these paintings attracted her, she could look at each one for hours, she communicated with some of the portraits, observed their lives, the depth of their knowledge and the memory and character of their prototypes, they always made her stop in front of them, sometimes adjusting the frames, cleaning them of dust or dirt when they could. Tom did not understand this, could it be that in her eyes he was inferior to these canvases...

"Are you punishing someone for stupid things again?" He asked, with the best smile in his arsenal.

"Do you think that's stupid, Riddle?" She turned to him, her cold gaze meeting his, and her voice was icy.

Suppressing her disdainful attitude, he continued to speak with the same smile.

"Why don't you want to work with me?" Together, we can achieve so much more.

She laughed, and this made him even angrier.

"With you?" She looked at him with a grin, "You're just a boy, Tom. Ambitious, but stupid.

His hands clenched into fists, how dare this rascal talk to him like that, he Lord Voldemort, the future greatest wizard of his time, must hear this from her.

"I'm a genius!" His voice broke into a whisper, "And you, like everyone else, are nothing!

She looked at him with interest, but without fear.

"If you are so great, why do you need me?" Her words made anger boil inside him, it was impossible to control himself.

The wand flashed in his hand, and before he knew it, he had cast a spell that he had been raving about for months. If she had voluntarily agreed, he would have felt sorry for her, but she was too stubborn, for which she paid the price, the next moment he saw her body fall on the stone slabs. The world around is frozen. He looked at her limp body, and was confident in himself and his plan - but he was wrong.

When he tried to make her his own, the magic didn't work as he intended. Her soul was stronger than he had expected, seeing her only as an object to use, part of his path to immortality, but he underestimated her, did not notice the depth that lay behind her. He only wanted to punish her for her insolence, she had to obey, to become his follower... And now it is gone.

"I killed her" - such a thought knocked in his head, but immediately supplanted by another - "No, it's her fault, she rejected me, challenged me."

Tom disappeared into the shadows, his body shaking and his heart beating nervously. He kept his men in a tight grip, not allowing them to break the school rules in public and incur the shadow of suspicion in the terrible incidents that took place at the school, but he could not restrain himself.

He only thought that no one should know about it, thinking about his actions, that he should get rid of the body, but when he returned a few hours later, she disappeared. He was seized with fear that someone had found out, preceded him, and that his life was now over, but time had passed and there was no news. Hogwarts was living its own life, but he couldn't shake the strange feeling that something was wrong. He often thought about her, but soon these thoughts turned into annoying memories.

"It's her fault for everything," he kept repeating to himself, "It's her mistake that she died, she brought trouble on herself"

But deep down he knew that losing her was his fault.

Several months had passed since that day, and the events of that night haunted him, no matter how hard he tried to get them out of his mind. He continued his research, but from time to time, when he was alone, his mind returned to her, her cold laughter, her contemptuous look, something remained unresolved for him. Why was she so indifferent? Why did she reject him? He tried to convince himself that her fate did not matter to him, that his greatness was much more important, but these thoughts did not leave him like a splinter.

In the semi-darkness of his bedroom, when everyone was asleep, he lay awake and thought, one thought seemed to slip into his head that it could simply be missed without noticing: he needed it not only as a strong ally.

If he couldn't conquer her by force or magic, then he couldn't be as great as he thought he was, so she must disappear, but by turning her into his horcrux, she really belonged to him... it's a part of himself, so why did he miss it again...?

Wandering in the dark corridors of the school in the evenings, he stopped in front of the very place where she stood in the last moments of his life, trying to understand why she had become such an important part of his thoughts, in her presence he could not control himself, she disturbed his inner harmony and caused anxiety.

Suddenly his ears caught a whisper, it seemed that the shadows of the walls were telling him something indistinct, almost calling. Feeling a strange tension at that moment, as if something or someone was watching him. He went to the nearest picture of some ancient landscape with misty mountains, looking at it, it suddenly seemed to him that a shadow flashed in the depths of the landscape, but as soon as he blinked, everything disappeared. And this tension subsided, no more whispers were heard, as if everything was an illusion of his raging mind.

Night after night he returned to this corridor, in which there were hung landscapes of nature, portraits of people who had long lived, students rarely walked along this path, but Tom did not understand what attracted him to this place so much. As time passed, he began to notice strange movements in the paintings, and the characters who had previously been animated and greeted him with nods or friendly smiles now avoided his gaze, and it was possible to notice that there was no fear or contempt in them, as if they knew something he did not know.

"She keeps walking around looking for her. But it no longer belongs to him - passing by one of the paintings, he heard their whispering. These words made him stop, turning his head in the direction where the sound was coming from, he saw a group of wizards in ancient robes depicted in the painting. One of them slowly turned to him and stared into his eyes, as if to check what he had heard.

"Who saw her?" He asked sharply, coming closer, but the figures in the painting fell silent.

The wizards went back to their conversations, ignoring his question, which made Tom even angrier, they were all nonentities like her, but something was pushing him to keep looking.

A few days later, he went to one of the oldest galleries in Hogwarts, which contained paintings with ancient magical chronicles that were rarely visited, this place had always aroused Tom's curiosity, but lately his interest had been focused on something else. As soon as he entered, it seemed to him that the air became heavier, almost tangible, all the inhabitants of the paintings turned and watched him, their insistent, invisible gaze following his every movement.

"I know you're here somewhere!" He whispered into the void, his voice echoing in the silence of the gallery. Maybe he's gone crazy and started raving about the idea that she's alive, he just can't find her. Suddenly, in one of the paintings of an empty garden, a familiar outline flashed, which made Tom tense, it was her.

"You won't hide from me," he said, squeezing his wand, ready to use it in action.

The picture slowly changed, and the garden became more and more hazy, as if the very fabric of reality inside the image was trembling, and lo and behold, her figure appeared in front of him, the one he had killed. She stood in the depths of the landscape as if she were part of a painting, her face pale but still unfailingly calm, cold as before. She looked at him with the same contempt as she had done when they had last spoken.

"You—" began Tom, but he could not find the words, his throat was dry. He felt both deceived and angry.

-What do you want? She said softly, her voice sounding from inside the picture like a distant echo, "You're looking for me, but why? You did what you wanted.

"You are mine," his voice was cold, but there was a desperate note in it, which he tried to suppress - You belong to me, you will not be able to free yourself from me.

She chuckled as if it was all some kind of joke.

-Free? She repeated, her eyes flashing with a strange fire, a new emotion she showed him, but not the one Tom wanted. Now I am part of this world. You can't take my essence away from me, no matter how hard you try.

He stepped forward, but collided with an invisible obstacle. The picture began to change, and the image of the girl began to slowly disappear into the fog, but her voice could still be distinguished.

"You can search for me as much as you like, but you will never find me. And who knows, maybe the next time you look at one of these paintings, I'll be watching you.

With these words, the painting returned to its usual state. Tom stood motionless, his fingers gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He couldn't believe that she was able to escape his power, which was impossible in his opinion, but she had always surpassed his plans, was still somewhere nearby, a part of her was here within these walls, she hadn't disappeared, but had become something else. Part of his mind knew that she had caused his plans to go wrong. Standing in front of the painting for a long time, staring into the void, he felt his rage growing inside. How dare she? How could she turn his victory into defeat?

As he left the gallery that night, he made a decision, sooner or later, to find a way to regain the control he had lost, to regain her, but deep down, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he was tormented by the realization that he had lost her forever.

Afterward, Riddle delved into his research, traveling through the archives of the library and immersing himself in forbidden books, but despite the knowledge that he collected bit by bit, the thought that she was hiding somewhere among the canvases and shadows, feeling her presence, the cold gaze that followed him, disturbed him, but most of all, the fact that she was incomprehensibly close and at the same time unreachable.

But something gnawed at him, his thoughts wandered around the same question at night: how she managed to hide in the paintings, what she had done in the time he had escaped.

When his patience ran out, he decided to take a desperate step, getting ready at night, he went to the west wing. Having once heard that in the depths of the castle were hidden the oldest paintings, which hid magical secrets, which many did not know about, but only the person depicted in one of them, could shed light on what was happening. No one remembers his name, and who he was, he was called only as the "Keeper of Secrets", but you can only meet him at night.

When Tom came to the place, the corridor was quiet and empty. The dim light of the torches cast trembling shadows on the walls. At the end of the corridor was a large painting, once with a golden frame, now it was only a canvas covered with dust and cracks, on which stood a wizard in a black robe with a hood pulled down deep.

"You've come for the answers," the mage said, without raising his head. His voice was low and booming, as if the darkness itself was speaking through him.

"You know what happened to one of the inhabitants of these paintings," Tom said coldly, trying to hide his impatience.

The figure slowly raised its head, eyes flashing from under the hood, deep as an abyss.

"You made a mistake, Tom Riddle," he said, "Your sacrifice has not just become your Horcrux, it has acquired a new essence, one that is beyond your control. You have created something that you yourself did not fully understand.

Tom clenched his fists, feeling impatient and angry.

- She's mine," he hissed, taking a step forward, "I've divided my soul, she's a part of me.

"That would have been true," the mage continued, his voice echoing through the corridor, "if it hadn't been stronger. The creation of a horcrux is an act of the deepest violence against nature and the soul itself. And the soul is not just an energy that you can tear out and share, it is much more complex, related to the personality, consciousness, and history of a person. You submit to death and try to deceive it, but it... She had already escaped it. Her soul is enclosed in the canvas, but she has found a freedom that you can never know.

Tom felt a chill tighten in his chest. He had never had to face such impotence. His dark magic was supposed to provide answers, but instead it raised even more questions.

-Where is she? He said through clenched teeth.

The Magus in the painting slowly raised his hand and pointed to the image next to him.

- It's everywhere. And nowhere. She has become part of a world that does not belong to you.

Tom's anger turned to rage, how could a witch who seemed to be nothing outwit him? He turned abruptly and walked out of the gallery, his robe fluttering behind him in the air like a dark cloud, but even as he walked, he could still hear the whispering.

- She's watching you, Tom Riddle.

From that night on, he felt her almost physically, every time he walked past the paintings, it seemed to him that she was looking at him, studying... Even on the reflected surfaces, with his peripheral vision, he saw her, but as soon as he turned his head, there was nothing, he no longer knew where reality was, and where his sick imagination played out, put her silhouettes on him.

When he came back to the place of her death, he looked at the empty garden depicted, but now instead of calm, anxiety reigned in it. Tom could feel her coming.

"You're here," he whispered, his voice quiet but firm, "Talk to me."

At that moment, the picture stirred, the garden began to change, darken, as if night had descended on the landscape. She appeared out of the mist, almost ghostly, but so familiar. Approaching the edge of the painting, I looked directly at him.

"Why do you keep looking for me?" Her voice was quiet, but there was something strange and imperceptible about it, "You got what you wanted.

"I didn't get anything," he said sharply, "You can't hide from me. You're part of me. My Horcrux.

She chuckled, but this time her laughter was sad.

"You still don't understand," she said, "I don't belong to you anymore. Yes, you tore your soul apart, but I'm not part of your world. I have found a new path, where you can never reach me.

Tom frowned, he couldn't let her slip away so easily.

"You won't be able to hide from me forever," his voice was full of rage, "I'll find a way to get you back.

"Maybe," she replied quietly, her image beginning to fade into the mist, "But perhaps in the end you will find that you will never again be able to possess what you have lost.

She left him again in the empty, cold corridor, where only the shadows seemed alive. For the first time, he felt an emptiness within himself that no amount of magic could fill.

She... she... she loved Hogwarts, she was drawn to its ancient walls, filled with the echoes of centuries and the magic that emanated from literally every stone. But most of all, she was fascinated by the paintings at every step. Hours could pass while she studied every detail on the canvas, forgetting everything in the world. For her, it was like a quiet ritual, none of the students noticed it, and she found a kind of calm in it - as if she herself was part of these old walls.

She always considered herself one of those who did not need excessive attention. She knew that she stood apart among her peers, witty, cold-blooded, confident in herself and her abilities. Her rare friends respected her for her intelligence and abilities, but none of them could fully understand her depth. Especially him. Tom Riddle.

From the very first day she knew about him, everyone talked about his genius, determination, many admired it, someone feared. But not her. She didn't think he was anything outstanding, yes, he was smart, but she saw emptiness behind his ambitions. He had no real desire for knowledge, only a thirst for power. Perhaps that was why he paid attention to her, because she was the only one who did not seek his approval.

Their intersection was inevitable, he always found a reason to talk to her, as if he was trying to test her, he wanted her attention, he wanted her to recognize his superiority, but she answered meekly and coldly, showing no interest. She didn't need him.

However, to her disappointment, every day the indifferent attitude only increased his interest. She saw him staring at her from afar, watching her, thinking she wasn't noticing. His presence was palpable, he wanted something from her, but she couldn't understand what. He seemed absorbed in his grand plans, but at the same time he was like a wolf creeping up on his prey, waiting for the moment to attack.

The moment came when she was scolding the boy who had damaged one of the paintings, an old portrait of an old wizard who was especially dear to her. The boy looked at her with fright as she explained to him how art should be respected. And then he appeared, cold eyes looking at her, and she knew at once that he was up to something. His steps were confident, and his face was not wearing the usual mask, something had changed in him.

- Why are you always like this... cold? He asked, coming too close.

"I don't have to be warm to people like you," she replied, barely turning to him. She knew he was annoyed, his whole image was built on people trembling before him, and her indifference unsettled him.

"You could work with me," his voice was low, almost in a whisper, "Together we could achieve much more.

She laughed. His offer seemed absurd, to work with him? He was blind, though clever. All he wanted was power, but power had no meaning without understanding, he didn't see the depth of magic, he didn't feel it the way it did.

"With you?" Her laughter lit a fire in his eyes, "You're just a boy playing with ambition. You think you're better than others, but in the end, you're just stupid.

His face twisted instantly with anger as he pulled out his wand, and for a moment she was pierced by a premonition of trouble, but she remained calm, believing that he would not dare.

Dare.

Before she could realize what was happening, he cast a spell. It wasn't instantaneous, as she thought, on the contrary, time seemed to stand still. She felt her body begin to collapse from the inside. At first, it was like a slight tingling in her fingers, gradually turning into something deeper, more painful, as if her vitality was slowly draining away, drop by drop, turning into emptiness. The heat inside her was replaced by an icy chill that gripped her heart, lungs, and consciousness.

This process was unbearable. She couldn't breathe, but her mind was still clinging to the last scraps of consciousness, desperately trying to understand what was happening to her. She couldn't move anymore, she couldn't speak, but in the back of her mind, she still felt alive. And this feeling was the most frightening – a slow fading, the realization that death was not quick and merciful.

Her gaze, once sharp and full of challenge, gradually became glassy, motionless, but her thoughts continued to struggle. She wanted to scream, but the air no longer passed through her lips. All she could hear was the hum of her own pulse in her ears, which slowed down until it died down completely.

At the moment when everything should have gone out, she noticed something strange. Through the mist before her eyes, she saw something thin, almost imperceptible, a thread, barely discernible, luminous, that connected her to something beyond her comprehension. She couldn't comprehend what it was, but her soul followed her. She could no longer distinguish anything, the picture froze in her eyes, which began to change, what used to be a static scene trembled, as if the colors began to shimmer coming to life, and in the distance, in this picture, she saw... themselves. The image became clearer and more saturated, as if she were part of this landscape.

But as long as her body remained lifeless, true magic was happening beyond her consciousness. Hogwarts was not just a castle, over the centuries of its existence, its walls had accumulated unimaginable power, ancient and mysterious. Streams of magic flowed through his corridors, in every stone, in every secret nook and cranny, he was alive, intelligent.

There was a legend among those who lived within its walls for a long time: Hogwarts protects its own people, those who understand and respect it can find in it more than just knowledge. When Riddle's spell struck her, something in the castle responded to this act of violence, awakening the entity that lurked in the shadows.

Her soul couldn't just leave like an ordinary mortal, she wouldn't be allowed to dissolve into nothingness. Her connection to paintings, her love for them, and her respect for their magic made her unique. The thread she saw was not illusory, it was some form of magical energy woven from the very essence of Hogwarts, which connected her soul to one of the paintings. Every time she touched the canvases, adjusted the frames, cleaned them, she unwittingly created a magical connection between herself and the world living beyond the image.

The inhabitants of these paintings, the wizards depicted in them, not only preserved the memory of their prototypes, they were parts of Hogwarts itself, absorbed magic and became its guardians. As she lay on the floor, losing her life force, the paintings seemed to come to life, activating the magical power contained within them, and the thread was not just a symbol of her connection, but a magical law that only worked under exceptional circumstances, preserving her soul. The castle itself saved her, taking her for himself, giving her a new home and taking her as her own. It was both liberation and a new birth.

The laws of magic were not written down in books, they were outdated rules that only applied in situations where the very fabric of magic was broken. Caught between life and death, her soul was wounded, now she was safe, magic hiding her within its borders, in the worlds hidden behind the canvases.

The thin thread finally broke, and she fell into the blackness.

A few minutes passed or an eternity... When everything returned, she felt light, almost weightless. Surrounded by darkness, she gradually realized that she was no longer in her body, and that she was locked in, but where? A hazy landscape opened up to her eyes. She found herself inside one of the paintings, at first she was seized with horror, but then she realized that she had been saved from oblivion when Riddle destroyed her.

She stood on the other side of reality, watching her lifeless body lie on the cold stone floor of the Hogwarts corridor. She no longer belonged to this world, but her mind was still connected to it.

Now that her consciousness had sunk into the misty, ethereal world of the painting, she had become one of its inhabitants—one who did not obey the laws of time, who lived on the edge of worlds, observing reality but not participating in it. She was different from the others.

While they were mere reflections of their former selves, trapped within magical frames, endlessly repeating scenes from the past, they existed in relative peace, occasionally interacting with external viewers, but their existence was linear and predictable.

She, however, remained alive; her existence here was not merely a continuation of life or a preservation of memory. It was something more significant, darker, and with each passing day, as she became more aware of her nature, a voice in her head echoed her realization. Horcrux. She was a vessel containing a part of his dark soul.

Something alien pulsed within her, a force imposed from the outside. His dark, twisted magic bound them in an unbreakable link. She could not see, but she felt that her existence was intertwined with his fate. His soul was like a shadow over her shoulder—always present but not controlling her. His magic could not fully subjugate her, turning her into part of the Horcrux, but not in the way he had intended. Instead, it made them interdependent. And although she now lived within the world of the paintings, she had not lost herself. It was neither liberation nor complete imprisonment.

Time flowed differently here; days melded into weeks, weeks into months, and she no longer knew how much time had passed. All the while, she watched Riddle from afar, just as he once did. He seemed to sense her, trying to find her, but could not. His magic, his Horcrux—it was powerless against the life hidden within the canvases.

She could see his despair and fury as she floated past him. Now she belonged to a world that did not obey his laws. And every time she saw him, a smile slowly spread across her face. He would never again be able to claim her. Now she belonged to Hogwarts, to its walls and its paintings.

#slytherin boys #tom marvolo riddle #x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #slytherin #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 5. Muggle Studies

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, drama, first love, jealous

Start - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

At this time, Margaret decided to immerse herself in less emotional pursuits—her studies. In her third year, she was introduced to additional subjects, and out of the entire list, she found herself particularly interested in Numerology, Divination, and the Study of Ancient Runes. She found solace in studying magical symbols, ancient languages, and numerical prophecies.

Numerology is one of the divinatory sciences, claiming that each letter corresponds to a specific number and that the sum of the numbers in each word has its own meaning. The roots of this science stretch back into deep antiquity; many ancient teachings employed the so-called "magic of numbers." Given Margaret’s inclination toward analysis and logical thinking, she eagerly delved into the world of numbers, attempting to decipher the hidden messages within them.

Divination represented another aspect of magical science, exploring various forms of fortune-telling and methods for interpreting different phenomena. Initially skeptical, Margaret gradually began to see something more in it. Tarot cards and palmistry particularly piqued her interest.

"I’m not sure it’s always possible to accurately predict the future," she once told Emma, sharing her thoughts. "But sometimes I think that intuition and symbols can help us better understand ourselves."

"And you know what’s most interesting?" she added. "Certain numbers have started to repeat themselves in my life since I began studying them, and I’m starting to realize they hold a deeper meaning for me."

Ancient runes, on the other hand, were a form of writing that witches and wizards had used hundreds of years ago. By studying them, one could gain insight into the magic of the ancestors. Margaret was drawn to the depth and mystery of the runes; they demanded not only knowledge but also intuitive understanding, as if they were speaking to her, revealing their secrets. She attended the classes together with Percy Weasley, who was extremely ambitious and eager to work at the Ministry of Magic, for which he needed to study everything possible.

These subjects required great concentration and perseverance, but Margaret enjoyed immersing herself in the mysteries of magical symbols, ancient languages, and numerical prophecies.

Another subject worth highlighting is Muggle Studies, where the behavior and everyday life of Muggles are studied from a wizard’s perspective. This elective was not mandatory and was intended for those who grew up in magical families and knew little about the ordinary world.

Muggle Studies was considered one of the easiest subjects, and many students chose it to lighten their academic load. But not Margaret, who had grown up in the Muggle world and knew their lifestyle and daily life well. Unlike her, her friends Sophie and Emma decided to take Muggle Studies. Sophie had grown up near Muggle villages and had some idea about the lives of ordinary people, but her knowledge was superficial. Emma, on the other hand, had lived exclusively in magical lands and had practically no contact with the Muggle world. Both were pure-blood witches and were eager to learn how people live without magic.

The girls never talked about their backgrounds—it didn’t seem necessary and never came up. Having met on September 1st after their sorting, they had always stuck together and continued to get along. But Margaret’s surprising background was accidentally revealed when Sophie and Emma once again struggled with their Muggle Studies homework.

“I don’t understand why Muggles are so fascinated by these… what do they call them… movies?” Sophie complained, pondering the latest assignment. “And what is a television? Is it like a magical mirror?”

“I thought it was some sort of device that lets you see over long distances,” added Emma, looking a bit confused. “But these instructions in the textbook are so confusing.”

Margaret, sitting with her friends in the library, noticed their confusion and decided to help. She had already explained basic things to them several times, such as how a telephone works or the significance of money in the Muggle world. But this time, her explanation truly shocked them.

“A television isn’t a magical mirror,” she began with a slight smile. “It’s a device that shows moving pictures and sounds. Muggles use it for entertainment, education, and news. Movies are stories filmed with cameras and actors. It’s like a play, but recorded on film so it can be watched anytime.”

Emma and Sophie looked at her in surprise.

“How do you know all this, Margaret?” Sophie asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Even without attending the classes, you explain things better than Professor Quirrell.”

“Well…,” Margaret replied, realizing that she would now have to tell the truth. “I grew up in the Muggle world until I was eleven and didn’t know anything about my magical heritage. My mother was a witch, but she never revealed it to anyone, and after her death… her family didn’t stay in touch with us. I was like a normal child, growing up and going to a regular school, never suspecting that one day I’d receive a letter from Hogwarts and everything would become a bit complicated.”

Her friends froze, processing what they had just heard.

“You’re… a half-blood?” Emma asked, wide-eyed with disbelief.

“You could say that,” Margaret nodded. “But when I found out about my heritage, everything changed—an intensive course on the magical world, learning all the details, and this school.”

Margaret felt the silence hanging in the air. Emma sat motionless, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, as if trying to comprehend something important. Margaret felt a slight unease, but still decided to ask the question that had been on her mind:

“Does it matter if I’m pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born?” Her voice was calm, but a note of uncertainty crept in.

Sophie immediately perked up, her eyes lighting up warmly.

“Of course not! You’re my best friend, and that doesn’t affect how I feel about you at all.” She looked at Margaret with such sincerity that Margaret immediately felt relieved.

Emma was still silent, lost in her thoughts. Her face showed concentration but not hostility.

“But how did you become the top student in our house if you didn’t know anything before?” she asked, her voice full of genuine curiosity. “You always seem to understand everything in class right away, and you have excellent grades.”

“It’s all thanks to my grandfather. He helped me adapt and understand what magic is,” Margaret explained, smiling, though her voice held a hint of sadness. “He knows a lot and loves sharing his knowledge. In the beginning, I often consulted with him, and then I grew to love reading books about magic and studying them on my own. I was very motivated to live up to his expectations and become as smart as he is.”

“That’s amazing,” Sophie finally said, her voice full of admiration. “So much has happened, yet it made you one of the strongest witches in our year.”

Sophie glanced at Emma, expecting her support, but Emma was slow to respond. Margaret began to doubt whether it was wise to continue the conversation, but when Emma finally noticed that both her friends were looking at her, she sighed and raised her eyes.

“It’s… it’s just unexpected,” she began, searching for the right words. “I never really thought about it. I knew there were many mixed-blood students, but I didn’t think it was so close. You never seemed like one of them. For me, everything related to the Muggle world seems so distant… unfamiliar.”

Emma paused as if still considering what to say next. Margaret felt her heart pound harder, fearing that this revelation might strain their friendship. But then Emma looked at her and smiled, albeit a bit tensely.

“But, if you think about it, it doesn’t change anything, right?” she said, as if convincing herself. “You’re still the same Margaret as before. We’ve already been through a lot together, and what’s the point of dwelling on where you were born or who your parents were?”

Margaret sighed in relief, feeling the tension inside her ease.

“Thank you, Emma,” she replied quietly, with sincere gratitude. “I’m glad you think that way. I don’t want this to change anything between us either.”

Sophie, always more straightforward, added, “Of course, nothing will change! We’re here to learn magic and support each other, not to discuss someone’s background. What matters is who you are, not where you came from.”

Emma nodded, her smile becoming more natural. They had always known her as a smart and determined girl, but now they understood the challenges she had faced to become that way.

Margaret felt her heart warm with gratitude. She knew there would be difficulties related to her background, especially given how some pure-blood wizards viewed Muggle-borns, so she tried not to dwell on it. But she was fortunate to have met people who would support her no matter what, and that gave her confidence in herself and her abilities. Her past was not something to be ashamed of, but a part of her life that had helped shape who she was today.

“Let’s get back to our studies,” Margaret suggested, wanting to change the subject and finally dispel the remnants of awkwardness. “You still have a lot to learn for your essays.”

“Great idea,” Sophie agreed, once again bending over her book.

A few days had passed since that conversation, but Sophie couldn’t shake the moment when Emma hesitated to respond. It left an unpleasant feeling in her heart, and something inside Sophie urged her to figure out what had happened. She felt it was important to understand why Emma had taken so long to support their friend, and whether she really wanted to.

One day, as the three of them sat by the pond, Sophie decided to take advantage of the opportunity when Margaret stepped away, leaving them alone. Emma was lying on a blanket, thoughtfully flipping through the Monster Book of Monsters, when Sophie, gathering her courage, quietly said:

“Emma, can I ask you something? It’s about that conversation in the library about Margaret’s background.”

Emma looked up, her face tensing slightly, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Of course, Sophie. Go ahead.”

Sophie hesitated, searching for the right words.

“You… you hesitated a bit when you found out Margaret is a half-blood. Why did it shake you so much? I understand it was unexpected, but it seemed to me that there was something more. Am I right?”

Emma sighed heavily and set the book aside. She knew this conversation was inevitable, and maybe it really did need to be discussed.

“Yes, you’re right,” she began quietly. “It wasn’t just a surprise. In my family, and in the society I grew up in, we were always taught that half-bloods and especially Muggle-borns were something inferior. Since childhood, I was told that Muggle-borns are almost like Muggles, and Muggles…” She paused, clenching her fists. “Muggles are stupid, disgusting creatures, unworthy of even our attention. All of this was so deeply ingrained in me that I never questioned how unfair it was and just kept carrying on with my parents’ teachings.”

Sophie listened carefully, not interrupting, but a sense of bitterness was growing in her heart. She knew prejudice was a part of the magical world, but hearing it from a close friend was painful.

Emma continued, her voice trembling slightly:

“When I found out Margaret was a half-blood, it was like a slap in the face. I couldn’t understand how someone so close to me could be someone I was taught to hate and despise. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how absurd it all was. Margaret is one of the smartest, kindest, and most talented people I know. How could I have believed, even for a moment, in the nonsense that was drilled into me from childhood?”

Sophie saw Emma’s eyes fill with tears. She realized that for Emma, this was as difficult a revelation as it had been for Margaret.

“You know,” Emma said, swallowing her tears, “this friendship with Margaret really opened my eyes to the fact that the prejudices of my elders are just lies meant to divide us. But I’m so ashamed that I could even doubt Margaret in that moment, doubt us and our friendship… I’m ashamed to admit it now.”

Sophie gently placed her hand over Emma’s, her voice full of compassion and understanding:

“Emma, I know how hard it is to overcome what’s been instilled in you since childhood. But what’s important is that you were able to recognize it and change your attitude. We all grow and learn. Now you understand that Margaret is no less than us, despite her background. That’s what true friendship is—seeing a person for who they really are, not through the lens of someone else’s prejudices.”

Emma gratefully squeezed Sophie’s hand, feeling the tension slowly dissipate.

“Thank you, Sophie. I promise I’ll fight these prejudices within myself—I truly value our friendship.”

“We all do,” Sophie said softly, smiling. “Let’s just keep supporting each other and not let these prejudices drive us apart. We’re stronger together.”

Emma nodded, feeling her heart fill with warmth and confidence. They fell silent, but the silence held no tension—only the sense that they had grown even closer.

At that moment, they had no idea that their candid conversations had sparked a new wave of trouble. The Slytherins, raised in families where only pure-bloods were valued, had found in Margaret a new target for their bullying. These students, brought up to believe that only pure-blood wizards were worthy of studying magic, saw Margaret as just another confirmation of their biased views.

“Guys, you won’t believe what I just found out,” one of them said to his group of friends, his voice hushed as if he couldn’t contain his excitement. “The Gryffindor know-it-all who’s in my History of Magic class is a half-blood.”

“Well, now that’s interesting,” sneered a tall Slytherin whom the others considered their leader, his eyes lighting up with a dangerous gleam and his lips curling into a malicious smile. “Looks like we’ve got a new target. Let’s give her a warm welcome.”

The others murmured in approval, already anticipating the trouble they would cause. Plans were already forming in their minds—from simple nasty pranks to more serious mischief. They felt that by punishing people like Margaret, they were restoring justice and defending the honor and traditions of their house.

“Just remember, everything needs to look like it’s her own fault,” the leader added, his voice low and venomous in every word.

Meanwhile, Margaret remained unaware, continuing with her usual activities.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #x y/n #oliver wood imagine #x reader #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #charlie weasley x reader #percy weasley #fred and george

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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It's summer vacation.

Autumn officially begins tomorrow and remembering the summer days. Back to studying, new assignments, and exams. I’m lucky that the schedule is arranged in such a way that I only need to come in twice a week, and there are only four subjects. However, all my free time has to be dedicated to research work.

How I wanted to spend them:

https://www.tiktok.com/@snoopy/video/7400880168673348895?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc

How did I actually spend them:

#summer #summer holidays #summer vibes #snoopy #tiktok #tumblr #twitch #spotify

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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The Crow 1994

Sarah: People once believed that, when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.

Sarah: A building gets torched; all that is left is ashes. I used to think that was true about everything: families, friends, feelings... But now I know that sometimes, if love proves real, two people who are meant to be together - nothing can keep them apart.

Sarah: If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

Eric Draven: Tell them death is coming for them tonight. Tell them Eric Draven sends his regards.

Eric Draven: It can't rain all the time.

Eric Draven: Little things used to mean so much to Shelly. I used to think they were kind of... trivial. Believe me, nothing is trivial.

Top Dollar: [Holding a graveyard snow globe] Dad said: "Childhood's over the moment you know you're going to die."

Albrecht: Police! Don't move - I said don't move! Eric: I thought the police always said "freeze". Albrecht: Well, I am the police and I say "don't move", Snow White; you move, you're dead. Eric: And I say I'm dead; and I move...

Myca: He has power, but it is power you can take from him. Top Dollar: I like him already. Myca: The crow is his link between the land of the living and the realm of the dead.

#the crow #brandon lee #eric draven #the crow 1994 #90s movies #the crow quotes #qoutes

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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From ancient Indian legends, Crow is the "killer of killers" wielding supernatural powers.

Eric Draven + Red

The Crow (1994)

#the crow #brandon lee #eric draven #the crow 1994 #90s movies

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 4. Wild Mischief

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers drama, first love, jealous

Start - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

The new school year began with an exciting blend of sorting new students, fresh starts, and returning to cozy common rooms. Everyone was immersed in the world of books and disciplines, but as always, Hogwarts remained a place full of surprises. This year, the main source of these surprises was more apparent than ever.

The culprits? Two red-haired boys who had just started their studies within the castle walls. The Weasley twins—Fred and George—born on April 1st, seemed destined to spread chaos and laughter wherever they went. It was as if they radiated an energy that made everyone around them laugh while holding their breath in anticipation of the next prank.

From the very first day, they were fully ready for mischief and provocation, effortlessly turning the mundane days into a series of entertaining (for some, at least) adventures, with something new and unusual each time. With astonishing skill, they pranked students, and even the teachers couldn’t escape their antics. No matter how many times they were punished or how many letters their mother received about their escapades, nothing could stop them from creating magical mayhem.

The one person who suffered from their tricks more than anyone else in the school was the caretaker, Filch, who was always ready to punish rule-breakers and quickly became their main enemy. Their unofficial war with him and his cat kept the old caretaker running around the castle in search of the culprits behind the latest prank. And from somewhere in the distance, you could hear Filch’s curses as he stumbled upon yet another of their tricks, whether it was a vanishing pie in the Great Hall or an enchanted staircase that suddenly changed direction.

“Blasted Weasleys!” he would always mutter, holding his ancient lantern as he made his rounds.

Yet, despite their antics, the twins were surprisingly well-liked. To the astonishment of some, their academic performance impressed even the strictest of teachers. Despite their mischievous nature, they excelled in their studies—perhaps it was a family trait, a well-developed intellect.

And what was even stranger, at some point, they seemed to be able to appear and disappear out of nowhere. Mr. Filch could no longer catch them as easily, and for Margaret, as well as many other students, it felt as though they were surrounded by ghosts—not the four house ghosts, but more like the twins, who would suddenly appear beside you, say something unexpected, and then vanish just as quickly, leaving behind only laughter and something that might explode into something unexpected.

“How do they do it?” Emma wondered, after the twins played yet another prank, leaving behind only the scent of floral candies that suddenly exploded in the Great Hall.

“It’s the Weasleys,” sighed Margaret, hiding behind Charlie’s back. “They’re unpredictable.”

Being the older brother of the twins was no easy task either. For Charlie, he could sometimes rein them in, but it never lasted long—mentioning Percy was better left alone.

“Fred, George, stop it already!” Charlie would shout in exasperation whenever he saw them launching enchanted stink bombs down the corridor, sending students running in all directions. “You don’t want someone spending a week in the hospital wing, do you?”

“Us?” the twins would ask with innocent expressions, raising their eyebrows simultaneously. “We just want to bring a little fun into the dull school life.”

Despite their jokes, the twins never put anyone in real danger or did anything that could cause serious harm. Did they have some kind of principles?

However, Margaret often found herself the target of their pranks, but much to their dismay, she managed to avoid most of their traps. Whether it was her insight, or just caution, she somehow always managed to evade their tricks, denying the twins the satisfaction of their mischief. And although they never tired of coming up with new pranks, their clever traps never went unnoticed by her.

“Margaret, wait a second!” a voice called out behind her as she hurried to class once more. “How about a pie?”

Fred and George stood in the corridor, holding a plate of appetizing pies. Their faces beamed with innocent smiles, but Margaret already knew that danger lurked behind those pies.

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry,” she politely declined, continuing on her way to the classroom.

“Pity, pity,” George said with mock disappointment. “We worked so hard!”

“Maybe next time,” Margaret winked, knowing the twins would surely come up with something new.

And while she could avoid the pranks they set up, those that involved magic were beyond her control—flying books, disappearing writing supplies, or missing desserts.

“You did well,” Charlie praised her one evening in the common room. “Not everyone can handle those two.”

“I think they just respect me,” Margaret laughed. “Or they’re afraid I’ll get back at them.”

Listening to her musings, Charlie smiled. Their conversations became a pleasant end to the day, despite the evening games and jokes echoing around them. In their little corner, an atmosphere of coziness and peace was created, the fire in the fireplace crackling and casting a warm, gentle light on the walls and furniture, lulling the mind to sleep.

“Respect is a good explanation,” Charlie replied, still smiling. “Though I’d say your attention to detail helps too. The twins are used to their traps always working. Then you come along, and their plans keep going awry.”

Margaret shrugged, a little embarrassed by his praise.

“I just try not to fall for them. Sometimes I think they enjoy the process of planning mischief more than the outcome. For them, it’s a game, and I just don’t give them a chance to win.”

Charlie laughed, imagining Fred and George, known for their inventive pranks, sitting in some hidden corner discussing how to outsmart Margaret.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said when the laughter subsided. “But even so, you keep them on their toes. They respect those who can resist their charms—if you can call it that.”

“Maybe,” Margaret agreed, thoughtfully gazing at the fire in the fireplace. “In any case, I enjoy our game. It keeps me on my toes, and I have to admit, it adds a bit of fun to my daily routine. With them, every day is new and unique.”

Though she enjoyed outwitting them and sometimes responding in kind, deep down, she felt a respect for their ingenuity and friendly nature. Every day in their company was filled with joy and laughter, but it also served as a reminder of how the magical world was full of dangers and challenges—a good training ground and foundation for the future. And one day, she would be very grateful to them, but for now, she just wanted to escape their tricks.

“Exactly right,” Charlie concluded, getting up from his chair and heading towards the dormitory stairs—the fireplace had won their little battle. “Just don’t give up and keep going strong.”

The twins, overhearing their conversation, just smirked. They had no intention of giving up either and would continue their pranks on Margaret simply because she had become a special challenge for them. When she successfully avoided their tricks, it only fueled their imagination and inspired even more elaborate ideas.

And so, the days continued: full of fun, unpredictability, and the constant anticipation of the next prank from the Weasley twins. And even the moments when they managed to catch Margaret in their traps brought laughter and joy (at least for some).

But it wasn't just Fred and George who brought joy—one of the most eagerly anticipated events of the third year was the first trip to Hogsmeade, which was met with great excitement. For all the students, Hogsmeade was a kind of magical place where they could experience all the wonders of the wizarding world beyond the school and away from their parents.

The trip was available with a guardian’s written permission, and the students had been getting it in advance, knowing that this day would become one of the most memorable in their school lives. The first visit was supervised by professors who showed the way and explained where the various shops and establishments were located. Everyone was full of enthusiasm, especially Margaret and her friends Emma and Sophie. From the early morning, they gathered and discussed what they wanted to see together and which shops they planned to visit. The plan was simple: explore the village, try something new, and maybe buy a few magical trinkets.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for so long!” Sophie exclaimed, turning to her friends as they made their way to the village.

“We should also stop by Zonko’s,” Emma added, trying to avoid getting her boots dirty. “I’ve heard they have the latest magical jokes we can try out.”

“I wouldn’t mind visiting Honeydukes,” Margaret said with a smile. “They say you can find the rarest sweets there.”

But their plans took an unexpected turn when Charlie Weasley approached their group.

“Hi, girls!” he called out, catching their attention. “Margaret, what do you think about letting me show you around Hogsmeade? I’ve been there often and know all the best spots.”

Emma and Sophie exchanged knowing, mischievous smiles.

“Oh, of course!” Emma exclaimed as if it were the most obvious decision. “We were just about to… umm… check out ‘Tomes and Scrolls’ Percy, would you like to join us?”

Percy, who was standing nearby, looked slightly flustered but couldn’t find the strength to refuse under the pressure of the two energetic girls.

“Well… alright,” he agreed, realizing he had no other choice.

Emma and Sophie quickly grabbed Percy by the arms and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Margaret alone with Charlie. Margaret had no choice but to accept Charlie’s offer.

“Well then,” Margaret said with a slight smile, “it looks like you’re my guide for the day.”

Charlie laughed and nodded, inviting her to follow him. Hogsmeade greeted them with a welcoming atmosphere: narrow cobblestone streets, magical shops with windows filled with strange and wonderful things, and the smells wafting from cafes and sweet shops creating a festive mood.

“The first thing we should do,” Charlie said, pointing down one of the streets, “is stop by The Three Broomsticks. They serve the best butterbeer. I can’t imagine visiting Hogsmeade without trying it.”

Margaret agreed, and soon they found themselves in the cozy pub, where the air was filled with the sweet aroma of butterbeer. After ordering two mugs, they sat at one of the free tables by the window, watching the people passing by.

“What’s your first impression of Hogsmeade?” Charlie asked, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

“It’s incredible,” Margaret admitted, gazing at the shop windows outside. “I’ve dreamed of this first visit for so long, and now that I’m finally here, it’s even better than I imagined.”

“Oh, you still have much more to discover in this place. Believe me, it has its own secrets too.”

After finishing their butterbeer, they continued their walk. They stopped by Zonko’s, where Charlie showed her a few magical pranks that, as he promised, were real hits among the students.

“If you want to scare someone,” he said, showing her a set of fake spells, “these will definitely do the trick.”

Margaret smiled, though she knew such things were more suited to Fred and George. They then visited Tomes and Scrolls, where Margaret browsed through ancient books and scrolls with interest, though she didn’t see her friends—perhaps they had already finished their shopping and moved on to another place.

As they continued their mini-adventure, Margaret noticed something strange. Every now and then, it felt like someone was watching them. She caught glimpses of familiar faces quickly disappearing into the crowd but didn’t pay much attention to it—many of her acquaintances and friends were in Hogsmeade today; it could have been anyone.

At one point, she thought she saw Emma, Sophie, and a somewhat disgruntled Percy nearby. After some time, she saw them again somewhere close, as if they were following her.

“Are you looking for something?” Charlie asked, noticing Margaret glancing around once again.

“No, it’s just that I thought…” Margaret began, but at that moment, she spotted Emma and Sophie peeking around a corner.

“Ah,” Charlie chuckled, “it seems some people couldn’t resist being curious.”

Margaret quietly laughed, realizing that her friends had decided to keep an eye on her outing with Charlie. The funniest part was that they were trying to remain unnoticed but were rather clumsy about it.

“I just hope they don’t try to pull anything unexpected,” she said with a smile.

“Don’t worry,” Charlie replied. “I’ll rein them in if they try anything.”

But even with the curious onlookers, they continued to enjoy their walk. Charlie showed her what he considered the best shops, sharing stories connected to each corner of Hogsmeade, and time flew by unnoticed. At the end of the day, they decided to stop by Honeydukes, where Margaret couldn’t resist buying a few interesting sweets she’d only heard of before.

“Thanks for the tour,” she said as they were heading back to Hogwarts. “I’m really glad we spent the day together.”

“Anytime,” Charlie smiled. “You can always count on me.”

As they returned to the castle, they met Emma, Sophie, and a content Percy in the hall, who pretended they had spent the whole day peacefully browsing through Tomes and Scrolls and grabbing a bite at The Three Broomsticks.

“So, how was your walk?” Sophie asked slyly as Margaret approached them.

“Wonderful,” Margaret replied, exchanging a glance with Charlie, which was full of hidden amusement. “How about yours?”

“Very educational,” Emma answered innocently, though her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Percy, finally holding his book, looked satisfied and relaxed, even though he had spent the day in the company of two chatty girls. Under the threat of reprisal, he promised to keep quiet.

“Next time, let’s go together,” Margaret suggested, already imagining how much more there was to explore in Hogsmeade with close friends.

“Great, and hopefully, next time we won’t be interrupted,” Emma whispered the last part, but everyone got the hint.

When the girls returned to the dormitory, they all felt a light fatigue and satisfaction from the day well spent. But as soon as Margaret reached her bed, Emma and Sophie pounced on her, full of curiosity and unable to wait to hear all the details about how Margaret and Charlie spent their time together—as if they hadn't been following them and already knew everything.

“Come on, spill it! How did it go?” Sophie began excitedly, grabbing Margaret’s hand and pulling her onto the bed.

“How was Charlie as a tour guide?” added Emma, sitting down beside her and staring intently at her friend.

Margaret sighed, realizing that she wouldn't escape this interrogation until they got all the details.

“It went great,” she began, trying not to make too much of their excitement. “We just walked around Hogsmeade, visited some shops, Charlie shared some funny stories… In short, it was just a friendly outing.”

Emma and Sophie exchanged meaningful looks, their faces showing clear disagreement.

“A friendly outing?” Sophie repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yes, exactly that,” Margaret nodded, trying to ignore their doubts.

“A friendly outing is something we would do—or at most, us with Percy,” Emma chimed in with a smirk. “But when a guy, especially someone like Charlie, invites you to walk around Hogsmeade, it's definitely not just friendship.”

“You’re overthinking it; he was just being polite,” Margaret tried to argue, feeling a bit flustered. “We’ve known each other for a long time, and Charlie simply decided to show me the village.”

“Oh, come on, Margaret,” Sophie wasn’t about to give up so easily. “Can’t you see that he likes you?”

“Likes me?” Margaret blushed slightly at the suggestion. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sophie. It’s just friendship, nothing more.”

Emma crossed her arms and looked at her with clear skepticism.

“Do you really think he’d invite you somewhere just for fun? Doesn’t he have anything better to do?” she asked seriously.

Her friends’ words made her reflect on the idea that someone, especially Charlie, might see her as more than just a friend. As children, people don’t really think about these things: they befriend those they like and avoid those they don’t. But her friends spoke with such certainty that Charlie was in love with her, even though she saw him simply as an older friend with whom she could always talk about anything. He had helped and supported her—weren’t those the foundations of friendship? There hadn’t been any ambiguous words or actions from him, but now their words left her feeling slightly embarrassed and unsure. She had often been labeled a “neglected child,” which had led to societal rejection. Even as she grew older, those thoughts occasionally resurfaced, making her doubt herself and how others saw her. How could she possibly attract the attention of someone like Charlie?

“You’re just exaggerating,” she replied quietly, trying to conceal her growing doubts. “He couldn’t have invited me with those intentions. I think… we’ve always been friends.”

Sophie moved closer and sat beside her, gently taking her hand. She understood Margaret’s insecurity but knew something needed to be done.

“Margaret, you need to see yourself for who you really are,” she said softly. “You’re not just beautiful; you’re also smart, kind, and a strong witch. And that’s not just friendly talk—it’s the truth. We all see it, and maybe Charlie does too.”

Emma nodded in agreement with Sophie.

Those words touched Margaret, but at the same time, they brought back old insecurities—the doubts she had carried with her for many years. Margaret knew that her friends couldn’t be wrong; they had always been honest with her and had always supported her.

“Thank you, girls,” she finally whispered, hugging them both. “Maybe you’re right,” she said at last, looking up at them. “But I need time to figure it out… But I’m grateful for your words.”

“We’ll always be here to remind you of who you truly are,” Sophie said quietly, squeezing her hand.

“Yes,” Emma added with a smile. “And if you ever need someone to talk to about Charlie… well, you know we’re here.”

Margaret laughed, feeling some of the weight lift from her heart, though not the intrusive thoughts. That night, she had much to ponder about the day. Her friends saw more in her than she saw in herself, and that gave her mixed feelings. Old fears and doubts resurfaced, but now there was something new—an understanding that she was important to those around her, that they saw her as someone she could be if only she believed in herself.

But most of all, her thoughts revolved around Charlie. Although she had considered their relationship purely friendly, now their interactions took on new meaning—or maybe it was all just imagined, and the girls had misunderstood. What if he truly felt more than just friendship? How had she not noticed it before? She didn’t want to ruin the delicate thread of friendship that connected them, but she also needed to figure things out. Questions swirled in her mind, and the answers seemed distant, hidden in the fog of her thoughts.

After a restless night, Margaret looked exhausted and worn out the next day, with dark circles under her eyes speaking for themselves. She hadn’t found the answers she sought and now didn’t know how to face Charlie.

In the end, the only solution she could think of was to avoid Charlie for a while, to gather her thoughts and sort out her feelings. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision, but it gave her the necessary respite.

After that, Charlie only saw Margaret in passing and from a distance—she was like a shadow slipping through the castle, always a step ahead or slightly off to the side. He spotted her in the corridor, hurrying to classes or heading to the library. It didn’t seem to him that she was avoiding him, more that their paths simply didn’t cross as often as they used to. Their evening chats by the fireplace also began to dwindle—Charlie often found her spot empty when he returned to the common room. He attributed her absence to busyness—homework, preparation for exams, or simple fatigue, as he himself was absorbed in numerous tasks. Quidditch practice was more intense, demanding not only physical strength but also mental endurance. As captain, he couldn’t afford to slack off. His duties as a prefect also required his attention, and sometimes he felt like he couldn’t keep up with the pace of life. Perhaps they both needed a little rest and solitude.

However, despite this, he couldn’t help but notice that their communication had changed. Where they once could talk for hours about everything from Quidditch to old family stories, now their conversations were reduced to greetings and occasional discussions about schoolwork. His heart ached with the strange feeling that something had gone wrong, but he didn’t know how to fix it or what exactly needed to be done. He tried not to give in to the growing anxiety within him, convincing himself that things would return to normal and that this was just a temporary phase.

One evening, when he saw her about to leave the common room again, Charlie finally decided to talk.

“Margaret!” he called out, walking closer. “Hi. We haven’t talked much lately; I don’t even know how you’re doing. Is everything okay?”

Margaret froze in place, trying to quickly come up with an answer. She hadn’t expected him to catch her now, and all the excuses she could have used seemed unconvincing.

“Hi, Charlie,” she replied, trying to keep her voice calm. “Yes, everything’s fine. It’s just that there’s a lot to do—homework and all that. So much to do and not enough time.”

Charlie looked at her closely, noticing the exhaustion and worry in her eyes. He wasn’t sure, but something about her behavior troubled him.

“I get it; we all have a lot on our plates,” he said more gently. “But, you know, I miss our evenings by the fireplace.”

“So do I, Charlie, really. I hope things settle down soon, and we can get back to our evenings,” Margaret said sincerely. She truly wanted to return to those days before her friends had planted these thoughts in her mind, but she couldn’t.

In the meantime, the days passed, and Margaret felt a pang of guilt each time she avoided him, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him like she used to. However, with each passing day, the time she gave herself felt increasingly burdensome. She knew that eventually, she would have to talk to Charlie, figure out what was happening, and possibly try to find a solution. But how?

Charlie, unaware of the depth of her inner turmoil, continued with his daily routine. But the longer their distance grew, the more he felt the emptiness her absence left behind.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #x reader #x y/n #charlie weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #percy weasley #fred and george

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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Stupid Muggle books

Just any beloved boy from Hogwarts x reader Summary: it all started with a book in the living room offering dating tips, he couldn't pass by, choosing 5 ideas that interested him

It all started with a Muggle book called "Great Date Ideas". As a true wizard, he passed by such a mundane thing, and he certainly didn’t take it with him or study it. And if anyone claims otherwise, it’s all lies and provocation. Why would he need such a thing? It’s not like he can’t come up with ways to spice up dates on his own. Okay, fine, maybe he could take a quick look, just out of curiosity, to see what Muggles do on dates. But once again, it's just a thin little booklet that promised to inspire a lot of useful ideas with tips on preparation—it meant nothing to him.

Lazily flipping through a few pages, thinking he was an idiot for even picking it up—it had been lying there peacefully in the common room, but he just had to peek—he suddenly noticed an intriguing headline: “Running out of ways to surprise your partner? Here’s the solution to all your problems: 10 unforgettable ways to spend time together.” Well, curiosity finally got the better of him.

"After all," he thought, "Muggle culture can be interesting too, right? Wizards have always looked to magical creatures and potions for inspiration, but what if, just this once, I let myself dive into the world of Muggle entertainment and pick up a few useful tips?"

Amid the rather ordinary ideas, he circled the ones that caught his interest, imagining how the two of them would laugh and be amazed, discovering new horizons night after night. Closing the book, he looked at it with reverence and decided that tonight, he would suggest they dive into this experiment together.

Stargazing. If your city has an observatory, this could be the perfect date idea. If not, you can always find a quiet spot away from the city’s light pollution and simply watch the stars.

“The Astronomy Tower is perfect for this. So, what exactly needs to be done…?”

Nervously adjusting the collar of his cloak, he glanced at the Astronomy Tower rising against the evening sky. This wasn’t the first time they had met, but tonight was different; he felt the excitement building.

And then he saw her. How she enchanted him, but that wasn’t the point right now. When she approached, he couldn’t help but smile. “What are you up to?” she asked with a slight smile, noticing that he was clearly hiding something. “Patience, my lady, you’ll see soon enough,” he said, leading her to the tower’s staircase.

They climbed the spiral staircase, enjoying the quiet evening, interrupted only by their footsteps. She was greeted by the sight of a telescope set up in the middle of the platform, along with a few blankets. “We’ve been up here before, is there something special today?” “Tonight will be one of the brightest meteor showers of the year,” he hesitated for a moment, choosing his words, “and I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity to spend some time together watching it.” “A meteor shower?” Her eyes lit up with interest. “That really is something special.”

While he adjusted the telescope, she spread a blanket on the floor and invited him to sit beside her. Settling in comfortably, they both turned their gaze to the night sky, soaking in the atmosphere. “Muggles call this time ‘falling stars,’” he broke the silence, “but in reality, it’s a meteor shower. I’m not a big expert on Muggle culture, but I thought this would be interesting for both of us. The view from the Astronomy Tower is breathtaking, as you know.” “I like this idea. You must have read something from Muggle books to know such details,” she said, teasing slightly. “Well, maybe I just stumbled upon it here and there, nothing serious…” he mumbled, lowering his gaze, at which she laughed, seeing his awkwardness.

Silently watching as the first stars began to fall, leaving long trails of light, their eyes caught every meteor. “I’ve heard somewhere that you should make a wish on a falling star, and it’s sure to come true,” she said as one particularly bright “star” streaked across the sky. “Then we must make a wish to the ‘stars,’” he thought, having only one wish in mind: “I wish… to always be with her…” “This is truly beautiful, but it’s even better up close,” she said, looking through the telescope. “Thank you for bringing me here.” Time seemed to stand still, and it was just the two of them in this vast cosmos. As the meteor shower began to wane, he turned to see her sleepily leaning against his shoulder. His heart either stopped or was pounding so loudly the whole school could hear it.

“You know, I thought Muggle ideas wouldn’t be as exciting as our own… But now, I’m glad I was wrong,” he murmured softly into the void, wrapping his cloak around her and smiling gently. They spent a little more time like that, enjoying the warmth and quiet.

“A joint exploration of the night sky will create a unique atmosphere and add a touch of romance and magic to your date.”

A Moonlit Walk. A simple yet romantic idea. A walk in your favorite park or along the beach under the light of the moon can be the perfect way to end the evening.

“After stargazing, we could take a walk; there’s still time before curfew.”

After stargazing, they began to slowly descend from the Astronomy Tower. The night was clear, and the light of the full moon bathed everything around them in a soft, silvery glow. He glanced at her cautiously, noticing that her eyes were still half-closed, caught in a pleasant, drowsy state. “We could walk a bit more; we still have some time before curfew,” he suggested, hiding the slight nervousness in his voice. She looked at him and smiled. “That sounds wonderful, a nice way to end such an evening.”

They walked side by side along the narrow paths of the surrounding grounds, which looked entirely different at night. The moonlight gave the familiar trees and bushes a mysterious quality, and it seemed as if every step echoed. She gently took his arm, and his heart skipped a beat.

“You know, I didn’t expect the night sky to be so beautiful,” he began, speaking a little shyly, though he was mostly looking at her. “I was worried it was a boring idea, but with you, it became special; that’s your gift, making things amazing.”

She stopped and turned to him, and he could see her eyes sparkling and a blush on her cheeks. “Really? I love spending time with you. It’s a shame it doesn’t happen more often.”

He felt his heart swell with warmth, realizing that these moments with him mattered to her too. As they continued walking, the whole world seemed to fade away, leaving them alone with the night paths.

“Did you make a wish on a falling star?” he said, breaking the silence. “I don’t need to make wishes when I’m with you,” she whispered softly, but he heard her clearly. “Did you make one?” “Maybe…” he replied evasively. “You can’t say it out loud, or it won’t come true.”

They approached a small pond, over which tree branches hung low. The water reflected the moonlight, creating the illusion of a silver pond. “Every time I think I’ve seen everything, you always show me something new,” she said, her words warming him, pleased that he could create memorable moments for her.

They continued their walk, and he glanced up at the night sky again. “I just want us to have more nights like this.”

“Such walks will help you strengthen your relationship, enjoy each other’s company, and create unique moments that will stay in your memory forever.”

Surfing Lessons. If you live somewhere where this is possible, surfing lessons can be a fun way to spend the day. The laid-back atmosphere on the beach brings a special energy to the date.

“What is surfing? ‘…a board on the water, blah-blah-blah, you balance on it, sure, sure, you need to ride a wave…’ Okay, I got it, we have broomsticks, they’ll do, right? Although it doesn’t really matter, we could fly over the lake if necessary…”

A few days later, as the sun was rising over the horizon, he brought her to the shore of the large lake, where the wind created perfect conditions for a new adventure. He stood there, holding a broomstick in one hand and a rough wooden mock-up of a board in the other, trying to look confident. She, on the other hand, waited curiously for an explanation. “So, today we’ll be… how do you say it, surfing,” he announced with a smirk. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, seeing him struggle to keep his balance on this ‘board.’ “Of course!” he declared with exaggerated confidence. “Muggles use boards to glide on water; we use broomsticks. A little magic, and voilà, perfect surfing.”

She shook her head, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “If you’re that sure, I’ll watch you handle it,” she teased, but still grabbed her broomstick.

He mounted his broom, nudging it toward the water, and lifted off. Hesitating for a moment to steady himself, he directed the broom forward, balancing as if on a surfboard. “Look, I’m almost like a Muggle surfer!” he shouted over his shoulder, flying low over the water.

She couldn’t hold back her laughter, and soon joined him, taking up her broomstick. They began racing each other across the lake, their laughter echoing over the water as they executed sharp turns and small tricks to impress each other.

With a light spell, he stirred up ripples on the water, intensifying into larger waves, and there, on the crest of a wave, he decided to perform a spin in the air. The broomstick made an elegant loop, returned to the water without losing speed. “You’re actually quite the surfer,” she applauded him, genuinely impressed by his skill. He grinned broadly, feeling pride swell within him.

Deciding to show off her own skills, she lifted her broom slightly higher, then sharply descended, grazing the water’s surface with the edge of her broom and, pushing herself upward, flipped in the air, hovering above the lake as if floating on the water. “So, what do you think?” she asked, returning to the lake’s surface. “I’m amazed. Looks like you’re ready to compete at a world-class level,” he admitted, flying closer.

Circling each other, they glided over the water’s surface, leaving ribbed trails behind them. The wind played with their hair, the sun rose higher, painting the sky in soft pastel tones.

When they finally returned to the shore, he extended his hand to help her dismount from her broomstick, and hand in hand, they walked along the sand. “I’m glad we try new things like this. Every time we do something unusual, and I treasure these moments,” he said after they had calmed down a bit. “The feeling is mutual. You know, this was one of the most fun dates,” she replied, gently squeezing his hand and smiling warmly.

As they walked further along the shore, their laughter still echoed along the calm lake. “Maybe I should check out a few more ideas from that book,” he thought, “as long as she’s happy.”

Cooking Class. Learning to cook a new dish or cuisine can be a fun experience. Plus, you’ll get to enjoy the results of your work in the end.

“We could sneak into the house-elves’ kitchen; they wouldn’t mind some company, especially since Hufflepuff students are practically family there. But what should we cook?”

Once, laughter and whispers accompanied two figures as they tried to sneak into the kitchen, trying not to make any noise, which was quite difficult. The house-elves, busy with their tasks, only glanced at them briefly, but recognizing familiar faces, continued working, already accustomed to the frequent presence of students who popped into the kitchen for a treat.

“So, today we’re going to cook. Any ideas?” he asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “Well, we could try making a pie. My mom always said that pies are a symbol of warmth and comfort at home,” she said, looking around the vast kitchen, which had everything one could wish for.

He nodded, although he had no idea where to start. “Sounds great. I love pies, especially if they’re sweet.” She laughed and led him to a table where the necessary ingredients were laid out, courtesy of the house-elves. She quickly explained how to mix the ingredients for the dough, and handing him a whisk, she took care of the flour. He watched intently, trying not to fall behind, and eagerly worked the whisk when she let him beat the eggs. “Like this?” he asked, showing her the bowl of egg foam, clearly proud of his work. “Yes, exactly,” she praised him, “now pour this into the dough.”

Carefully pouring the egg mixture, he noticed a bit of foam on the table, and as he tried to wipe it, flour somehow ended up on his sleeves. “Are you sure you’ve cooked before?” she teased, seeing his flour-covered hands and confused face. “To be honest, this is my first time,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly, “but I’m trying!”

She laughed and moved closer to knead the dough while he held the bowl and watched her nimble hands with curiosity. “My mom taught me to cook since I was a child. Our kitchen was always a fun place. I usually loved watching her work magic over the stove. And then, when I grew up, I joined her.” “I don’t have such memories, but I always thought that cooking was like magic, especially when someone does it with love. Maybe that’s why it comes so easily to you.” She paused for a moment, looking at him, and then added, “Everyone can find their place in the kitchen. You’re already getting better at this.” “That’s all thanks to you,” he replied, handing her a spatula he had been using to smooth the dough. Her hand accidentally brushed his, leaving a trace of flour on his sleeve. She laughed softly but instead of apologizing, squinted mischievously and lightly sprinkled him with flour. “Hey!” he exclaimed, pretending to be outraged, though his face glowed with delight.

“Well, it’s to make you look like a real chef!” she said, grabbing a bit more flour and bringing it closer to his face. He, not to be outdone, quickly grabbed a pinch and aimed it at her hair. “That’s not fair!” she exclaimed, brushing flour out of her hair. “Now we’ll have a kitchen battle instead of a pie!”

They both laughed infectiously, exchanging playful flour “attacks” and trying to dodge each other. Soon, the entire kitchen was enveloped in a light cloud of flour, and the house-elves, running past, chuckled as they watched them.

They returned to the pie, this time more focused, though they still chuckled occasionally at the result of their “kitchen war.”

When the pie was finally ready, and they took it out of the oven, the aroma of fresh pastry filled the kitchen. They looked at their creation with pride. “Well, shall we taste it?” she asked. “Not yet,” he replied with a conspiratorial smile, “I have a better idea.”

“Sometimes, one person in the couple is a good cook, while the other can’t even fry an egg. The beauty of it is that you’re cooking together and feeding each other tiny bites in the process.”

Picnic in the Park. A classic, yet still appealing choice. Bring your favorite snacks, a blanket, and maybe some outdoor games, and enjoy a pleasant day in the fresh air.

“After we cook, we could head out to the yard and enjoy the food there.”

She raised an eyebrow in surprise as she was already holding a knife and about to cut the pie. But he was eager to move on to the next stage of their date. Quickly grabbing a woven basket, he began to pack the pie, a few bottles of pumpkin juice, and a couple of fruits he found in the kitchen. “We can’t just eat this here,” he explained, noticing her puzzled look, “after such a fun cooking session, we need to have an equally fun meal. How about a picnic?” “A picnic? That’s a wonderful idea,” her face lit up with a smile as she immediately helped gather everything they needed.

They chose a cozy spot under the trees, laid out a blanket, and arranged the food. They cut the pie and poured the juice, proud of their work. “Now we can taste it,” he said, handing her a plate. He picked up a fork and looked at the first piece of pie. “Incredibly delicious. We’re clearly a great team in the kitchen,” he said with satisfaction. “I agree,” she said, taking a bite of her piece, “and the picnic is the perfect way to end our culinary adventure.”

They ate and enjoyed the warm sunlight and the gentle breeze playing with the leaves on the trees. The silence around them was broken only by the singing of birds, and it felt like, despite the simplicity of the moment, it would be one that would stay in their memories forever.

That evening, alone in his room, he returned to his desk. There, on the table, lay the very Muggle book with the date ideas. He picked it up and, smiling, ran his fingers over the cover, flipping through the pages again. “Who would have thought that such a simple book would turn out to be so useful,” he thought, fondly recalling every moment of their dates. Despite its simplicity, Muggle culture held quite a bit of magic—the kind created not with spells, but through sincere, simple, yet incredibly important moments.

He closed the book and carefully placed it back on the table. “There are still plenty of ideas to try,” he decided, eagerly anticipating their next dates. This book had become a real treasure trove of inspiration for him.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #x reader #x y/n #hogwarts #harry potter fandom #hp imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 3. Ups and Downs

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers drama, first love, jealous

Start - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

At the same time, Oliver Wood was full of determination and ambition, eagerly awaiting the chance to showcase his skills on the field. After making it onto the Gryffindor team, he finally felt that his dream was starting to come true.

Training became the most important part of his life at Hogwarts. Under the leadership of Captain Charlie Weasley, he learned discipline, tactics, and teamwork. Charlie was a true leader—quick, attentive, and a skilled Seeker. He always knew how to motivate the team and direct their efforts in the right way.

"Remember, we need to feel the game, anticipate the opponent's moves, and act decisively," Charlie often said during practice. "Don’t doubt your actions, and be confident in yourself."

Oliver listened to his advice with respect and tried to perform to the best of his abilities. His determination and hard work didn’t go unnoticed.

The practices were intense. Spending a lot of time in the air, perfecting his technique for defending the hoops, as well as working on endurance and speed, training early in the morning or late at night, regardless of the weather or fatigue. However, for Oliver, it wasn’t a burden—he loved Quidditch and felt alive when he was on his broom.

The first major match of the season—Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw—proved to be a real test for Oliver. The tension was palpable from the start of the game, and Oliver was determined to prove himself. But just as he was getting into the game, a Bludger, seemingly guided by ill intent, struck Oliver right in the head. Losing consciousness, he fell from his broom. Madam Hooch immediately stopped the game, and he was rushed to the hospital wing. Despite this, the match continued, but without the main Keeper, it was difficult to defend the hoops. Charlie wanted to catch the Snitch quickly and end the game, but Ravenclaw ended up winning.

Margaret, Sophie, and Emma, watching the game from the stands with the other supporters, were disappointed by the loss but also worried about their classmate, so they went straight to visit Oliver in the hospital wing after the game. He spent a week in a coma, but upon waking, he showed even more enthusiasm for training and promised that next time he would do better and be more careful.

The match against Hufflepuff went smoothly. The Hufflepuff team was known for its resilience, but under Charlie's leadership, the team confidently defended the hoops and batted away bludgers until Charlie caught the Snitch, securing Gryffindor's victory.

The stands erupted in cheers as Charlie raised his hand with the golden ball. Margaret and her friends jumped with joy, shouting along with the other supporters. For Oliver, it was his first major victory, and he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Receiving numerous praises from his teammates, he was especially pleased to hear Charlie’s words of approval.

"Great job, Oliver," Charlie said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You’re getting better and better. Keep it up."

"Thanks, Charlie. I’ll do my best," Oliver replied, his eyes shining with joy.

Soon, the games became an integral part of Oliver's life at Hogwarts. He knew this was only the beginning of his Quidditch journey, but each match, every word from Charlie, and the support from his friends strengthened his confidence in his abilities, and he was determined to reach even greater heights.

At each stage, the competition was fierce, and the games were thrilling. Slytherin, which had dominated in previous years, continued to play with intensity and confidence, once again becoming the season’s finalists. Despite their best efforts, Ravenclaw couldn’t break Slytherin’s winning streak, and they finished second. Gryffindor came in third, while Hufflepuff took fourth place.

Thus, the school year came to an end, and the atmosphere in the castle was bittersweet. Everyone knew that this time they would be saying goodbye to those who were leaving the school forever—friends they had come to know and bond with. The graduation ceremony and the farewell ritual were the most significant events at the end of the school year.

The seventh-year graduates prepared for this day with special reverence. They were not just receiving their diplomas but also symbolically saying goodbye to Hogwarts, which had been their home for so many years. This year, one of the graduates was William Arthur Weasley, known to everyone as Bill. He was one of the best students in Gryffindor, known for his intelligence, bravery, and excellent leadership as both a Prefect and Head Boy.

When the day of the ceremony arrived, the weather was perfect. The sky was clear, the sun shone brightly but not too hot, and a light breeze added freshness to the air. The students gathered in the Great Hall. The headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore, stood on the stage, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. When everyone was assembled, he raised his hand to call for silence and began his speech.

"Today, we bid farewell to our graduates," he began, his voice warm and full of pride. "They have faced many challenges and adventures, experienced the joys of victory and the hardships of defeat. And now they are ready to take the next step in their lives, leaving these walls but always remaining a part of Hogwarts."

After Dumbledore's speech, the diploma ceremony began. The graduates came to the stage one by one to receive their diplomas, each met with applause and support. When Bill Weasley received his diploma, the rest of the Gryffindor students applauded especially loudly. Bill was not just a good Head Boy—he was an example to many, inspiring them with his hard work and dedication.

After all the diplomas had been awarded, it was time for the farewell ritual. The seventh-year graduates gathered by the lake, where the enchanted boats that had brought them to Hogwarts before their first year were waiting for them. Now, they were to board these boats once again, but this time to symbolically leave the school.

The other students, including Margaret and her friends, gathered by the lakeshore to see off their older peers. There was a mix of sadness and joy in the air. It was a moment of farewell, but also a moment of embarking on a new chapter in life.

Bill, along with the other graduates, slowly stepped into one of the boats. He turned to take one last look at the castle, and a gentle smile spread across his face. He knew this day would be one he remembered for the rest of his life, as would everyone who stood on the shore watching the boats depart.

The boats began to glide across the lake, moving smoothly over the water. The students left on the shore watched them go, sending off the graduates with warm looks and quiet wishes of good luck. The lake’s water, reflecting the rays of the setting sun, shimmered with a silvery hue, and the boats soon disappeared into the light mist that enveloped the distant shore.

Margaret stood beside Emma and Sophie, feeling tears well up in her eyes. It was a touching moment that reminded her that her own time would come one day, but for now, she still had a few more years at this amazing school, and she was determined to make the most of them, enjoying every moment.

As the boats vanished from sight, the students slowly began to disperse, returning to the castle. But in the heart of each of them remained the memory of how they had bid farewell to their friends heading into adulthood, and the knowledge that one day, their path would also lead them to this shore, to take one last look at Hogwarts, their first home.

Summer holidays became a much-anticipated time for Margaret to rest and once again immerse herself in her beloved books. Though Hogwarts had become her second or third home, she still gladly returned to her family in London. But, as always, her thoughts continued to revolve around magic. Her free time flew by as she studied new topics awaiting her in the next school year. Books on Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions filled her days. Margaret enthusiastically studied spells and alchemical formulas, delving into the world of magic and discovering new facets of her abilities.

Her room, filled with books and notes, became a true sanctuary. A summer spent studying not only brought her joy but also gave her confidence that she would be ready for the new school year.

The relationship between Margaret and Miranda had noticeably improved. They spent more time together, and Miranda tried to become a real mother to the girl. They cooked meals together, took walks in the park, and discussed the books Margaret was reading. These shared moments brought them closer, and Margaret began to feel that Miranda genuinely cared about her.

"I’m glad we’ve grown closer," Miranda said one evening over tea. "I always wanted us to have this kind of relationship, and now I feel we’re becoming closer."

Margaret smiled, feeling warmth from these words. Despite all the difficulties, Miranda had indeed become an important person in her life.

However, her relationship with her father remained complicated. Bennett sincerely tried to reconnect with his daughter, but years of estrangement and accumulated resentment didn’t fade away so quickly. Their conversations were often awkward and reserved, but Bennett didn’t give up. He started inviting Margaret for walks, tried to discuss her studies with her, but often felt clumsy and didn’t know how to start a conversation.

"How’s your studying going, Margaret?" he asked one day as they sat in the garden.

"It’s going well, Dad," she replied, smiling slightly but feeling the conversation hang in the air. "I’m preparing for new lessons."

"That’s wonderful," he nodded, then fell silent, unsure how to continue.

"You… You’re a smart girl, Margaret. I’m proud of you."

These words touched Margaret, but she still felt a barrier between them. Her father was trying, but she couldn’t immediately forget all those years when he had been cold and distant.

With Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, Margaret still experienced inner turmoil. Despite their care and love, she couldn’t shake the fear that they might disappear from her life again. The closeness with them was pleasant, but at the same time, she felt uncertainty, afraid to get too attached.

"We’ll always be here for you, Margaret," Mrs. Fairchild said one day, noticing how her granddaughter had withdrawn into herself. "We won’t leave you."

"I know," Margaret replied, but deep down, she still had doubts. The fear of being alone, as had happened before, was too great.

And so, September arrived once again. Margaret found herself back on the familiar Platform 9¾, ready for a new school year. Familiar faces surrounded her as students bustled about, loading their belongings onto the Hogwarts Express, hugging parents and friends, and preparing for the journey.

Margaret looked around, and her heart filled with warmth at the sight of familiar faces.

"Margaret!" Sophie exclaimed from the crowd. "I’m so glad to see you again!"

Margaret was about to step closer when she suddenly noticed two familiar redheads. It was Charlie and his brother Percy, surrounded by their family. Beside them were two younger boys, almost copies of Charlie, only smaller. This brought a smile to Margaret’s face, and she quietly laughed, imagining the Weasleys filling up all of Hogwarts.

"Even more Weasleys," she joked as she joined her friends. "It seems their family will never end. The younger brothers’ red hair and cheerful faces were just like Charlie’s."

"And that’s great," Emma replied, laughing. "More Weasleys means more fun!" This brought a quiet laugh among them.

Charlie noticed her gaze and the smile on her face and approached her.

"Looks like our family clan is growing," he said with a grin. "These are Fred and George. They’ll be starting at Hogwarts soon too."

Margaret laughed and waved at the boys, who immediately stared at her with interest.

"It’s nice to see familiar faces," she said, feeling that everything was falling back into place. "This year is going to be even more exciting."

"No doubt," Charlie agreed. "Gryffindor awaits us."

Margaret smiled back, feeling the anticipation for the new year grow stronger.

"We have so much to do this year."

Together, they headed toward the train, ready for a new school year among friends, wondering if it would bring many new adventures and discoveries.

#oliver wood imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #x reader #x y/n #charlie weasley x reader #percy weasley

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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He loved only her

No one in particular, just an elf from the universe of J. R. R. Tolkien. Elf x f!reader

In the ancient forests of Middle-earth, where tall trees concealed the sky, there lived an elf. His people were as eternal as the forest itself, and their hearts were rarely clouded by mortal emotions. But one day, he met a woman—a simple, human, mortal woman. There was something about her that made his heart beat faster: her beauty, which could neither be captured by the finest poets nor sung by the greatest musicians, her mind, so unlike that of other humans, filled with thoughts, ideas, and philosophy, or her eyes, in which one could drown if they gazed too long. It was something he could not understand, but this only made his love grow deeper.

"Cormamin lindua ele lle"—he always wanted to tell her that his heart sang at the sight of her, but it was not the right time, not yet. From the moment of their first meeting, he sought her out and waited for her in this forest every day when the sun's rays gently touched the ground, filtering through the thick foliage.

She told him about her world, about the brief lives of humans, about how they lived and died, dreaming and suffering.

"Lle naa vanima,"—he blurted out one day, not even realizing when he had said it: "You are beautiful." "What did you say?"—fortunately, she didn't understand his words, and that saddened him. It was not enough for him to meet her in the evenings; he longed to extend their conversations, to stretch them out for an hour, two, or forever. He listened to her stories, captivated not by the words themselves but by how her voice filled the emptiness in his soul. Without her, he would never have known the need to fill it.

"Tua amin!"—But did he need help? Did he need to be saved from her? Honestly, no, he was ready to drown in her eyes, ready to die if only to meet her once more. He was ready for anything...

But the Elf did not know how to tell her about his feelings. He understood that the time she gave him was limited, and each moment with her was precious. But how could he explain this? How could he tell her that his heart, which had always been eternal and free, now belonged to her? "The more you love someone," he thought, "the harder it is to tell them." "Nin lithiach, Meleth nín"—she truly enchanted him every time he saw her, even in his thoughts. His beloved. "Guren mil gaim lín"—his heart was in her hands—"Tessa sina ten’ amin"—he asked her to keep it, but in truth, she was free to do with it as she wished, as long as it was her.

And she accepted him. She had loved him too, ever since then, but she understood that it would be difficult for him; her life was short, and what would happen afterward, when she left him? She was ready to weep over such a truth. "Amin uuma malia, Arwen en amin"—it didn't concern him. Being with her and having her even for a moment was already enough. The chance to call her his—that was his happiness. His Lady, who ruled his heart and mind.

As the years passed, she began to talk more often about parting, though it pained the elf to hear it, he couldn't disagree. "When the day comes that we part," she said quietly, "if my last words aren't 'Amin mela lle,' you'll know it's because I didn't have time." In those moments, he remained silent, lost in thought, unable to find the words to express that his love knew no bounds of time. "Meleth e-guilen, my love is selfish. I can't breathe without you,"—she was the love of his life. How could she speak of them parting, not seeing her, not inhaling her scent in the mornings, no more afternoon conversations about books, about how Ellen had messed up her work again, no more seeing her smile, or those gentle eyes full of love for him... "Aa’ lasser en he coia orn n' omenta gurtha!"—Let the leaves of her tree of life never wither, he prayed. Just a little longer, he wasn't ready yet, but how could he stretch this time?

But when the fog enveloped the forest, and the cold wind brought with it a premonition of farewell, the elf finally spoke what was in his heart. He took her hand and said: "I was destined to live a thousand years, and I belong only to you for all those years. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want you to be mine in every one of them." She looked at him, and a tear glistened in her eye. She knew their time was running out, but these were the words she believed in more than anything in the world.

For the elf's love was as eternal as the forest itself, and he continued to love, despite their parting, carrying his feelings for her through the years and ages of his life.

"Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au’"—My heart will wait until it sees you again. "Le me ithon anuir"—I will love you forever. "Quel kaima"—Rest well.

#the hobbit #the lord of the rings #the silmarillion #x reader #x y/n #the silmarillion x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #legolas x reader #haldir x reader #elrond x reader #lindir x reader #thranduil x reader #lotr imagines #elrohir x reader #elladan x reader

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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love

Today, I'm feeling a bit melancholically in love, so I've decided to share some of my favorite quotes about love:

"All people, no matter who they are or how much they are loved, always lack love. A good book should fill that gap." — Astrid Lindgren

"Love is the only feeling that grows by being shared with others." — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

"The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves." — Victor Hugo

"Love is a gross exaggeration of the difference between one person and everybody else." — Bernard Shaw

"Think of me, and I will be with you, for we loved each other for only a moment, but forever." — Alexander Kuprin

"Love doesn't tolerate explanations. It needs actions." — Erich Maria Remarque, *Arch of Triumph*

"I am so proud that I will never allow myself to love a person who doesn't love me." — Leo Tolstoy, *Anna Karenina*

"A woman is sacred; a woman you love is sacred twice over." — Alexandre Dumas, *The Count of Monte Cristo*

"We all fall in love easily — a small preference is quite natural; however, only a few of us have the courage to truly love without encouragement." — Jane Austen, *Pride and Prejudice*

"I 'did not allow my love to express itself aloud'; but if looks can speak, even a fool would know that I am head over heels in love." — Emily Brontë, *Wuthering Heights*

"Alas, love, though it is blind, finds ways without eyes to reach us and rule over us." — William Shakespeare, *Romeo and Juliet*

#love quotes #relationship #love #quotes #quote #literature #russia literature

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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The Lost Potions Lesson

Something simple to relax and relieve anxiety. Have fun reading! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o Go back to the past parts - 1 - 2 #deadpool and wolverine # Hogwarts

One sunny day at Hogwarts, during the height of the school year, Deadpool and Wolverine found themselves in an unfamiliar situation—they had to attend a Potions class. While for Wolverine it was just another day (albeit without much enthusiasm), for Deadpool, it was yet another opportunity for some fun.

The lesson began as Professor Slughorn, as always, entered the classroom full of students with slow, majestic strides. His quiet voice echoed through the stone chamber as he explained the intricacies of brewing the complex "Ivy Love Potion." The students listened intently—except for Deadpool, of course, who had already pulled out a pack of cards featuring lemur pictures and began distributing them to the students around him.

Professor Slughorn (in a displeased tone): "Mr. Wilson, if you think your... lemurs... will help you brew this potion, you are gravely mistaken."

Deadpool (with a serious face): "Professor, lemurs are sources of wisdom and eternal fun. Maybe if I add a bit of their energy to the potion, something magical will happen!"

Wolverine (whispering, trying not to laugh): "Wade, let’s just brew the potion this time. I don’t want to end the day in the hospital wing."

Deadpool (smirking): "Alright, Logan, but if our potion turns out too boring, remember, I warned you!"

As the professor began explaining how to properly mix the ingredients, Wade decided to add a bit of "his magic." He grabbed a strangely labeled jar with mysterious contents and discreetly added it to the cauldron. Soon, strange pink smoke began to rise from the cauldron.

Wolverine (panicking): "Wade, what did you put in there?!"

Deadpool (nonchalantly): "A bit of creativity! Honestly, I don’t even know what it is, but isn’t it fun?"

The classroom quickly filled with a sweet strawberry aroma, and the smoke turned out to be far from ordinary—it began forming heart shapes and showering everyone with confetti.

Professor Slughorn (turning red with anger): "Mr. Wilson! What have you done?! This is... this is..."

Deadpool (gleefully): "A celebration of love and friendship, Professor! My talent even shines in potion-making. How about I put on a show for the next class?"

The pink smoke thickened, and the hearts began turning into tiny cupids with little bows and arrows. They flew around the classroom, shooting at students, and soon chaos erupted. Some began falling in love with their cauldrons, others started writing love notes, and someone even tried to hug Wolverine.

Wolverine (fending off a Ravenclaw student): "Wilson, I wasn’t planning on spending my day dodging affection! Stop this!"

Deadpool (even more amused): "Logan, they’re just jealous! Look how popular you are!"

Professor Slughorn, desperately trying to restore order, waved his wand to disperse the smoke and cupids. But the potion was too unstable—it even started affecting magic. Suddenly, one of the cupids, hit by a spell, grew to enormous size and began chasing the students.

Wolverine (seriously): "Enough. I’ll handle this."

Logan unsheathed his claws and prepared to take down the giant cupid. However, Deadpool intervened with his typical flair.

Deadpool (pulling out a music box from his pocket): "Wait, wait, Logan! I’ve got a better idea! Let’s use music! As a great philosopher once said, 'When words fail, dance!'"

He wound up the music box, and a playful melody filled the room. The giant cupid suddenly froze and began dancing to the music, forgetting its aggression. The students, too, gradually started dancing, softened by the rhythm.

Wolverine (holding back laughter): "Only you, Wade, could turn a Potions class into a dance party."

Deadpool (proudly): "And that’s not all! Next step—a Hogwarts-wide flash mob! Come on, Logan, dance!"

After the situation with the cupids and dancing was brought under control, and Professor Slughorn finally managed to return everyone to their normal state, the lesson came to an end. The students, exhausted but amused, began to disperse.

Professor Slughorn (wearily): "Mr. Wilson... for the next class, you will sit in the corner and just watch. And no lemurs."

Deadpool (cheerfully): "I promise, Professor! But if you ever need ideas for a party, I’m always here to help!"

Wolverine (as they left the classroom): "So, Wade, how did you like today’s 'learning'?"

Deadpool (grinning): "Fantastic! Next time, let’s turn Defense Against the Dark Arts into a magical circus!"

Wolverine (laughing): "You’re impossible, Wilson."

And so ended another day at Hogwarts for Deadpool and Wolverine—filled with chaos, jokes, and unexpected adventures.

#logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #poolverine #wolverine #x men movies #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fandom #deadpool imagine #deadpool 3 #headcanon deadpool #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool movie #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #headcanon #hugh jackman #ryan reynolds #marvel

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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When a Boy Falls in Love

No one in particular, just a boy from Hogwarts.

Summary: When a man pretends to be in love, he tries to be cheerful, gallant, and attentive. But if he is truly in love, he resembles a sheep.

At Hogwarts, among ancient castles, spells, and magical creatures, there was one such boy. He was in his fifth year and had already mastered many complex spells. Yet, no spell could help him in one tricky situation — when he realized he had fallen in love.

He first noticed her during Potions class. Her hair was always slightly tousled, and she often bit her lip when she was deep in thought. With each lesson, he noticed her more and more, until one day, he realized that his heart started beating faster whenever she was near.

At first, he tried to hide his feelings. Whenever she appeared, he tried to seem cheerful and carefree. But soon, it turned into a real comedy of errors. During one Potions class, when the professor asked the students to brew a complex potion, he decided to help her.

"Hi!" he tried to speak calmly, but his voice trembled slightly. "Need help with... um... weighing the ingredients?"

"Thanks," she replied with a smile. "That’s kind of you."

He nodded and began helping, but his hands betrayed him by shaking. As he weighed the powdered mandrake root, his hand slipped, and most of the powder spilled straight into the cauldron.

"Oops!" he exclaimed, trying to fix the situation. But instead, he only stirred the potion more, causing it to hiss and bubble violently.

"Oh no, be careful!" she stepped back, but her voice remained kind.

"Sorry," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

After that incident, he resolved to be more careful. But every time he was near her, something went wrong. During one meal in the Great Hall, he decided to sit next to her. He spent a long time trying to find the right words to start a conversation, but when he finally gathered his thoughts and opened his mouth, what came out was:

"Do you... do you like... uh... do you like owls?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Owls? Well, yeah, they’re cute," she replied, laughing. "And you?"

He blushed even more and felt embarrassed, wondering how that sentence had slipped out of his mouth.

Sometimes he tried to be gallant, like in the novels he secretly read. Once, when they were heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he decided to open the door for her but awkwardly got stuck in the doorway, and the door almost slammed shut on his fingers.

"Are you okay?" she asked, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, all good," he replied, quickly pulling his hand away and pretending nothing had happened.

This went on for weeks. He stuttered, tripped, dropped his textbooks, and even once knocked over an ornate vase in the corridor while trying to catch a parchment that had accidentally slipped from her hand.

Throughout all of this, she looked at him with warmth and understanding, though she couldn’t help but smile at times. She saw how hard he was trying, and she even found it endearing, though she didn’t show it immediately.

During a Herbology lesson, they were working together in the greenhouse, repotting mandrakes. He decided to take the initiative and help her dig up the plant.

"I’ll help you with this," he said, bending over the pot.

But as soon as he picked up the trowel, his hand shook, and the soil from the pot spilled all over her. Her robe and hair were covered in clumps of earth.

"Oh, sorry!" he rushed to brush the dirt off her shoulders.

At first, she stood there, surprised, but then she burst into laughter. "It’s okay! It’s just dirt."

However, he continued to apologize throughout the lesson, blushing every time their eyes met.

Another time, they decided to prepare for exams together in the library. He wanted to impress her with his knowledge, but instead, everything went awry.

When she asked him about a spell, he started explaining, but he got tangled up in the terminology and accidentally said the wrong spell out loud. As a result, his quill suddenly shot into the air, scattering ink all over the library.

She tried to suppress her laughter as ink splattered onto her nose.

"Oh, sorry, sorry!" he quickly pulled out his wand and tried to fix it. But now, the ink ended up not only on her but also on the nearby books.

One day after class, they decided to take a walk through the Forbidden Forest to get some fresh air. He, gathering his courage, offered to hold her hand so she wouldn’t trip over the tree roots. But instead, he tripped himself and nearly fell, struggling to keep his balance.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he almost toppled onto her.

She caught his hand and, laughing, said, "Looks like you’re the one who needs help, not me."

They both laughed, and she held his hand tighter, now supporting him.

Despite all his mistakes and awkwardness, he gradually realized that she liked his sincerity. She didn’t laugh at him, but with him, supported him in difficult moments, and never scolded him for his mistakes. And every time he did something wrong, her warm smile helped him regain his confidence.

One day, after class, he gathered all his courage and approached her.

Feeling his voice tremble again, he said, "I... I need to tell you something."

She stopped and looked at him, tilting her head slightly.

"I... I’ve wanted to say this for a while..." He took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. "I like you. A lot."

She paused for a moment, and then her face lit up with a warm smile.

"I like you too," she said softly.

His heart leaped when she stepped closer and gently kissed him on the cheek. It was a light, almost imperceptible kiss, but to him, it meant the world.

"Maybe we can go to the next Quidditch practice together?" she suggested, smiling.

"Yes, of course!" he replied, his face breaking into a wide grin.

Now, as they walked through the corridors of Hogwarts together, he no longer felt awkward. He no longer stumbled or stuttered. Everything had fallen into place.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #x y/n #x reader #hp imagine

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a-araiguma-a · 10 months ago

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Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 2. From Muggles to Wizards: Between Studies and Dreams

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers drama, first love, jealous

Start - Prolog (Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3 - Episode 4 - Episode 5) - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Everyday life at Hogwarts quickly settled into a familiar routine. Each day was filled with lessons, new knowledge, and magical discoveries. Gradually, Margaret began to feel more confident. She became better at understanding magical subjects and spells. She often thought back with gratitude to her lessons with her grandfather, which were now paying off. Thanks to their practice sessions, she found Charms and Potions classes much easier. She quickly mastered many basic spells and even helped her friends with their assignments.

“How do you manage so well?” Emma asked in surprise when Margaret once again effortlessly performed a spell in Professor Flitwick’s class.

“My grandfather helped me prepare,” Margaret replied, slightly embarrassed. “We practiced a lot before I came here.”

“Lucky you,” Sophie said with a smile. “I’m finding this all a bit more difficult.”

Her favorite class turned out to be Transfiguration, where she learned to turn matchsticks into needles, and she couldn’t believe that her own hands could perform such magic. She would hold the needle in her hands, marveling at the magic she could feel at her fingertips.

In Potions, she was particularly amazed by the ingredients, which seemed incredible compared to the ordinary spices and herbs used by Muggles. For example, the first time she used unicorn horn in a potion, she felt a deep reverence for magical creatures. Over time, she learned to handle these ingredients, understanding how they interacted with each other. One of the highlights was when she brewed a Sleeping Draught for the first time, and her partner, after trying it, immediately fell asleep for a few minutes, causing everyone to laugh and feel relieved.

In Charms class, it was an incredible feeling—realizing that words could bring magic to life.

Hogwarts itself was one big mystery for Margaret. Her Muggle fairy tales gradually faded into the background, giving way to real magic. One day, she accidentally stumbled upon a secret passage in one of the castle corridors. The passage led her to an abandoned wing where she found ancient paintings, books, and even some magical objects that, as she later discovered, had belonged to students from a century ago.

In the evenings, Margaret often talked with Charlie Weasley in the common room. He was older than her but always found time to chat about life at Hogwarts and his large family.

“I have six brothers and sisters,” he once said with a laugh one evening. “A big family is pure chaos, but it’s fun. Speaking of brothers, one of them, Percy, is studying with you. He’s a bit of a stickler, but only at first glance. Maybe you’ll become friends? I think you’d like our family.”

“That sounds amazing,” Margaret smiled. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

Thus, six months passed at Hogwarts. Margaret had grown accustomed to her new rhythm of life, finding joy in each day spent among friends and books. Studying came easily to her, and Hogwarts felt more and more like home. But despite everything, by Christmas, she started to miss home deeply.

Christmas at Hogwarts was a magical time. The castle was decorated with hundreds of garlands, a giant tree towered in the Great Hall, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and gingerbread. But Margaret knew that soon she would be going home to see her family, something she had been dreaming of for weeks.

Mr. and Mrs. Denning, Bennett’s parents, also promised to visit for the holidays. The magical heritage was hidden from them, and Margaret couldn’t wait to finally return home and spend time with those she cared about.

On the last night before her departure, Margaret stood by the window of her room, gazing at the snow-covered slopes and the castle glowing in the moonlight. Her heart was filled with warmth at the thought of returning home, but she knew that Hogwarts would always be a special place for her, a place she would gladly return to after the holidays.

After spending long months at Hogwarts, Margaret finally returned home for Christmas, eagerly anticipating her reunion with her parents. Platform 9¾ was once again bustling with activity as students said their goodbyes to friends and prepared for their journey home. Margaret, having gathered her belongings, hurried to the station, where her mom and dad were already waiting for her. Seeing them, she couldn’t hold back her smile and ran toward them.

“Mom! Dad!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around their necks.

“Margaret, darling, we’ve missed you so much,” Miranda said, hugging her daughter tightly.

“You’ve grown up so much,” Bennett added, looking at her with pride. “How’s school? Is everything going well?”

“Everything is wonderful,” Margaret replied, beaming with happiness. “I have so much to tell you!”

When they returned home, Margaret savored the familiar, comforting atmosphere. The house was decorated for the holiday, and it smelled of pine branches and freshly baked goods. That evening, at the festive table, they were joined by her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Denning, who had also missed their granddaughter dearly. They believed she was studying at a school for young ladies, only returning home during the winter and summer holidays. They were strict but kind-hearted people.

“Margaret, dear, you’ve grown so much,” her grandfather said with a smile as he hugged her.

“We’re so glad you’re home,” her grandmother added, her eyes sparkling with joy.

During the holiday dinner, decorated with Christmas ornaments and a sparkling tree, Margaret shared her academic achievements.

She also began to open up more to Miranda, telling her how much her grandfather’s lessons had helped her before the school year started and how they had made her assignments easier. Many of the spells and potions were already familiar, making her studies much more manageable. Sometimes, she was even asked to help with homework. She talked about her new friends and funny situations. Perhaps her heart softened toward Miranda, and she began to reciprocate her feelings.

“You’re doing great,” Miranda praised her, proud of her daughter’s achievements. “We knew you would succeed.”

The Christmas holidays passed quickly, and soon it was time to return to Hogwarts. Margaret spent the last few days at home relaxing and enjoying the warmth of her family.

Returning to her studies went smoothly, and she continued to excel. In the Gryffindor common room, Margaret spent more time talking with Charlie Weasley, who shared funny and awkward stories about his younger siblings and his love for magical creatures, especially dragons.

One day, she found Oliver Wood in the common room, reading a book about Quidditch, and he told her about his dream of joining the Quidditch team.

“I really want to try out for Quidditch,” he said, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “But unfortunately, they only accept second-years. I can’t wait to give it a shot.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Margaret replied with a smile, encouraging him.

Spring passed quickly, and soon it was time for the summer holidays. Margaret said goodbye to Hogwarts with a hint of sadness but comforted herself with the promise of staying in touch with Emma and Sophie through letters. That summer, she resumed her lessons with her grandfather, studying literature and the origins of magic. Now, with her newfound knowledge, she could engage in discussions with him.

“You’ve become a real witch,” her grandfather once said, looking at her with pride as they discussed ancient spells. “I never thought I’d be discussing such complex topics with you so soon.”

“I’m really interested in this,” Margaret replied, feeling her confidence grow with each passing day.

However, her grandmother insisted that Margaret spend more time relaxing.

“Once you return to Hogwarts, you won’t have as much free time,” she reminded her. “Enjoy the summer while you can.”

The family supported this idea, and one day they even went to an amusement park. It was Margaret’s first time in such a place and the first time she had spent so much time with her father. She rode the rides, ate cotton candy, and enjoyed every moment.

Autumn arrived, and Margaret once again found herself on Platform 9¾. She looked around for familiar faces and soon spotted Emma and Sophie, who were waving at her excitedly. They met and hugged, not hiding their joy.

“I missed you so much!” Margaret exclaimed with a smile. “How were your holidays?”

“We missed you too,” Sophie replied. “The holidays were great, but I’m glad to be back—there will be even more adventures this year!”

The second year at Hogwarts began with the usual hustle and bustle: classes, homework, and discussions of upcoming events. One of the most exciting moments of the year was the Quidditch team tryouts. Oliver Wood, with whom Margaret had become friends the previous year, was obsessed with the idea of making the team. Quidditch wasn’t just a game for him; it was a true passion.

Charlie Weasley, the Gryffindor team captain, was also eagerly awaiting the event. The excitement within the team was building, and as captain, he was eager to see who would join their ranks.

On the day of the tryouts, Margaret, Emma, and Sophie decided to head to the stands to watch the trials. Grabbing their scarves and cloaks, they made their way to the stadium, where students were already gathering. The field was bathed in light, the stands gradually filled with spectators, and the air was thick with anticipation.

“I think Oliver is definitely going to make the team,” Emma said as she settled onto a bench, glancing around. “He trained so much over the summer.”

“He’s got a good chance,” Margaret agreed. “I’ve seen him fly. He’s a natural-born Quidditch player.”

As the trials began, the spectators in the stands watched the action on the field closely. The players demonstrated their agility, speed, and broom-handling skills. Oliver, as always, was focused and determined, trying to showcase everything he could do.

“He’s relentless,” Sophie marveled, watching as Oliver skillfully maneuvered on his broom, dodging Bludgers. “He’d be perfect for the team.”

After a while, as the trials quieted down a bit, Sophie suddenly turned to Margaret with a mischievous smile.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” she suggested, her eyes gleaming with sudden inspiration. “You’re a great flyer! I saw you fly last year.”

Margaret thought about it for a moment. The idea of participating in the tryouts had crossed her mind, but she quickly realized it wasn’t for her.

“I love flying,” she replied, smiling slightly. “But chasing after balls is a whole different story. Quidditch requires a special kind of concentration and strategy. I enjoy the freedom of flying, the feeling of being in the air. I don’t think being on the team is for me.”

Sophie pondered this for a moment, then nodded, agreeing with her reasoning.

“You’re right,” she said. “Flying for fun is one thing, but playing Quidditch is something else entirely. But still, it would’ve been interesting to see you on the field.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that she had made the right choice. She knew that Quidditch wasn’t her calling, but it was nice to think that her flying skills had been noticed by her friends. Together, they continued to watch the trials, cheering on their friends.

When the tryouts were over, Oliver, exhausted but satisfied, climbed up to the stands to join Margaret, Emma, and Sophie.

“How’d I do?” he asked, catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You were amazing!” Emma exclaimed, genuinely impressed by his determination.

“Charlie is sure to pick you,” Sophie added with a smile.

Margaret, offering him a reassuring smile, said, “You did everything you could. Now it’s up to the captain.”

Oliver nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He had dreamed of becoming part of the team, and now, finally, he had a chance to make that dream a reality. The results didn’t take long to arrive—Oliver was finally accepted into the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Just as Margaret had predicted, Charlie chose him as the team’s Keeper, and Oliver couldn’t have been happier. Now he could proudly wear the team uniform and participate in the matches he had longed for.

The second year flew by unnoticed. Margaret focused on her studies and continued to excel. Potions classes took place in the cold dungeons of Hogwarts. The stone walls, low ceilings, and flickering candlelight created an atmosphere of mystery. The students sat at long wooden tables, on which cauldrons, flasks, and jars of various ingredients were arranged. Professor Snape, dressed in a black robe, glided between the rows like a shadow, watching every move of the students.

“Today, you will be brewing the Polyjuice Potion,” Snape announced in a cold voice that carried a hint of menace. “If any of you feel the urge to mess up, be warned: the consequences will be most unpleasant.”

Margaret, like the others, held her breath. She knew that Potions required concentration and precision, and under Snape’s watchful gaze, any mistake could be fatal. He was a strict and demanding teacher who tolerated no negligence.

Each lesson began with an explanation of the theory and a description of the ingredients, followed by the practical part. Snape rarely praised the students, but his silent approval was often the highest reward.

“Margaret,” Emma whispered beside her as they began adding mandrake root to their cauldron. “Are you sure we need to do this slowly?”

“Yes,” Margaret nodded, carefully monitoring the process. “If you add it too quickly, the potion might explode.” She had barely finished the sentence when a loud bang shattered the silence of the dungeon, like thunder on a clear day. Margaret and Emma simultaneously jumped back as the explosive wave swept through the room, engulfing them in heat and showering them with tiny drops of potion. Several students screamed, and others quickly backed away from their cauldrons, fearing their mixtures might also spiral out of control.

“Silence!” Snape’s commanding voice cut through the noise in the class. His dark eyes narrowed as he swiftly assessed the situation. He strode toward the source of the explosion, and the students hurriedly made way for him.

Margaret watched the scene, her heart pounding in her chest. Where there had been a whole cauldron just moments ago, now there was a wreck. Snape silently bent over the shattered cauldron, then his cold gaze turned to the culprit. His face remained impassive, but tension hung in the air, as if the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for his reaction.

“Perhaps, Mr. Howard,” he began in a quiet but menacing tone, “you should pay more attention to instructions before attempting to prove you can improvise.”

Eric Howard, shocked and bewildered, could only nod, not daring to protest.

“The rest of you,” Snape continued, slowly surveying the class, “take note of this lesson. Alchemy does not forgive mistakes and carelessness. One wrong move can lead to catastrophic consequences.”

Margaret felt her hands tremble slightly from the tension. She knew how dangerous potion-making could be, but now it felt even more real. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Emma, who stood beside her, equally shaken by what had just happened.

“You were right,” Emma whispered, afraid to attract the professor’s attention. “We need to be even more careful.”

Margaret nodded, trying to regain her composure. They returned to their cauldron, even more cautious and slow in adding the mandrake root. Snape’s eyes remained watchful, scrutinizing every move, but eventually, he returned to his desk, leaving the students to stew in their thoughts.

When the lesson finally ended, Margaret allowed herself to relax. She looked at her potion—the thick mixture in the cauldron was slowly bubbling, its color even and stable.

“You’ve done well,” a low voice suddenly said behind her. Margaret turned and saw Snape standing right next to her table. He nodded slightly, which for him was almost a sign of approval. “Next time, be even more attentive, Miss Denning.”

Margaret felt her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t exactly praise, but it was close. She nodded quietly, feeling both relieved and slightly apprehensive.

As Snape walked away, Emma quietly exhaled, “Well, if that wasn’t praise, I don’t know what is…”

Margaret smiled, feeling the tension gradually fade. This lesson had been a real test for her, but she had passed it, and the moment had bolstered her confidence—if she could endure Snape’s silent approval, she could handle much more.

Professor Snape often assigned complex homework that required not only theoretical knowledge but also the ability to apply it in practice. Essays spanning several feet of parchment on the use of rare ingredients, research on the history of potion-making, and detailed reports on experiments became an integral part of the learning process. These assignments demanded perseverance and attention to detail, and Margaret, like her friends, strove to complete them with the utmost responsibility.

Sometimes, she was asked to help with homework, and she was always happy to share her knowledge with those who needed assistance. Her successes at Hogwarts brought her great satisfaction.

The Hogwarts library was one of Margaret’s favorite places. Time in the library flew by unnoticed. The spacious halls with high ceilings and rows of bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and modern textbooks created an atmosphere of comfort and peace. Here, among thousands of books, one could find answers to any questions and delve into the study of the magical world.

In this library, among ancient tomes and mysterious books, she felt truly at home, as if her soul had found what it had been searching for—a place to explore, learn, and grow stronger, seeing how the knowledge they acquired began to come together into a complete picture.

Margaret smiled, bending over her notebook, where she carefully wrote down her thoughts on what she had read.

“I found something interesting about protective spells,” Sophie said, pulling a thick book from the shelf and sitting down at the table.

“Let’s take a look,” Margaret responded, sitting down next to her and opening her notebook.

Emma, sitting across from them, was rummaging through her notes, trying to figure out the structure of the essay they had been assigned for Potions.

“Snape certainly doesn’t go easy on us,” she sighed as she scanned the text. “But it’s interesting. I had no idea such complex potions existed.”

“He demands a lot,” Margaret agreed, looking up at Emma. “But maybe that’s how we’ll truly learn to understand potions. If Snape can teach us anything, it’s how to be precise and attentive.”

Emma nodded, setting her notes aside. “Yeah, you’re right. Sometimes it feels like he makes the assignments harder just to test us.”

Sophie, still flipping through the pages of the book she had just pulled out, raised her eyebrows.

“Have you seen this?” she asked, drawing her friends’ attention. “It talks about protective spells that were used during the First Wizarding War. Some of them are so complex that they require incredible concentration and willpower.”

Margaret and Emma leaned in closer to get a better look at the page. Before them was an entire chapter dedicated to rare and ancient protective spells, many of which had long been forgotten or replaced by more modern versions. Margaret felt her curiosity growing.

“This could be useful,” Margaret noted, quickly scanning the text. “You never know when knowledge like this might come in handy. Especially in a world where things are constantly happening.”

Sophie nodded, noticing the spark of interest in her friend’s eyes.

“I thought it might be worth delving deeper into this topic. Maybe we can find something truly unique that could be useful in Defense Against the Dark Arts or just expand our horizons.”

“I’m with you,” Margaret replied, already thinking about how this information could be used. “Let’s try to understand these spells and how they work. If we can figure them out, it will be a serious advantage.”

Emma, lifting her head from her notes, looked at her friends with newfound interest.

“You know, maybe this could even help us with our Potions essay. Some protective potions have properties that could be compared to spells. If we can link the two, Snape will definitely be impressed.”

“Good idea,” Margaret agreed, feeling her inspiration grow with every new thought. “Let’s analyze these spells and then try to find parallels with potions. It could be both interesting and useful.”

They once again immersed themselves in their reading, flipping through pages and discussing the complex spells, their applications, and possible consequences.

Classes, homework, time spent in the library, and conversations with friends filled Margaret’s days. But, as Charlie had suggested, she decided to try and find common ground with his younger brother. As she walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, Margaret began to notice Percy Weasley more often, but unlike Charlie, Percy was a very different kind of person. He was diligent, hardworking, and extremely serious about his studies and the school rules. He always had his nose in a book during his free time, his robes were always spotless, and his tie was always knotted precisely according to the rules.

Percy was tall and slender, with bright red hair and glasses perched on his nose, which gave him an even more serious and responsible appearance. He constantly carried a stack of books, always meticulously prepared for classes, and followed the school’s regulations to the letter.

“Percy?” Margaret had said in surprise when Charlie first mentioned his brother. “He’s always so serious. I’m not sure I can find common ground with him.” “Yes, he’s strict with himself and others,” Charlie admitted with a slight smile. “But he has a kind heart. If you can connect with him, he’ll be a good friend. Try talking to him about something you both care about—like studies. He’s a real workaholic.”

At first, it wasn’t easy for Margaret to establish contact with Percy. Her attempts were met with cold indifference. He was focused on his studies and didn’t like to be distracted by conversations that he considered pointless.

“It seems like he doesn’t want to talk at all,” Margaret complained to Emma and Sophie during one of their meetings in the library.

“That’s just how he is,” Emma noted with a shrug. “Percy is always serious and focused on results. It’s hard for him to relax.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t gotten used to you yet,” Sophie suggested.

One evening, after they had finished their tasks in the library, they noticed Percy sitting at a distant table, deeply engrossed in a book on magical history. Margaret gathered her courage and approached him.

“Hi, Percy,” she said quietly, careful not to disturb the library’s silence.

Percy looked up from his book, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to recall who was in front of him.

“Hello, Margaret,” he replied with a brief nod. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve noticed that you’re very serious about your studies,” she began, her voice trembling slightly with nervousness. “I try to be diligent too, and I’m curious about how you manage all your work. Do you have any tips?”

Percy seemed to relax a bit, intrigued by her question. He put his book down and looked at her more attentively.

“Well, I just try to organize my time as efficiently as possible,” he replied. “The key is not to procrastinate and not to let yourself get distracted. I always plan my day in advance and stick to the plan. That helps me stay on top of everything and keep focused.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that the ice had begun to break. They continued talking, discussing different study approaches, memory techniques, and effective ways to prepare for exams. Percy turned out not to be as distant and cold as he initially seemed. His passion for learning was contagious, and soon they found they had a lot in common.

One day after class, when everyone else had already left, Margaret approached Percy, who was meticulously rewriting his notes.

“Hi, Percy,” she began, coming up to his desk. “I was wondering if you’d like to study together for the next Potions class? Snape’s program is tough, and I’ve heard you’re really good with ingredients.”

Percy looked up from his notes and considered her offer. He was known for his love of order and precision, and Margaret knew that this approach might catch his attention.

“It’s important,” she continued. “I try not to miss any details myself. Maybe if we combine our efforts, we can achieve even better results.”

This time, Percy thought more seriously. He clearly appreciated her diligence and eagerness to learn.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let’s meet in the library after dinner. I have some ideas for the essay Snape assigned. We can discuss them together.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that this was a chance to get closer to Percy. They arranged to meet in the evening, and Margaret eagerly anticipated the meeting.

That evening in the library, Margaret and Percy met at one of the back tables, secluded from the rest of the hall. Books, parchment, and ink were spread out in front of them. Percy, as always, was deeply focused on his work, but now he was more willing to share his thoughts.

“I think the key difficulty with the potion lies in getting the proportions of the ingredients just right,” Percy said, carefully reviewing the textbook. “Many mistakes can be avoided by preparing the components in advance and strictly following the recipe. Snape emphasized that in the last lesson.”

“I agree,” Margaret nodded, jotting down his words in her notebook. “And it’s also important to maintain the correct temperature. If it’s not kept at the right level, the potion could lose its properties. I have some ideas, but I’m not sure if I’ve explained them correctly.”

Percy looked at her thoughtfully, then put down his quill and took her notebook, carefully reading what she had written.

“You’ve done well, but this could be refined a bit,” he said. “For example, when discussing the process of adding mandrake root to the potion, it’s crucial to understand the reaction of the ingredients.”

Margaret listened to his explanations with interest. His knowledge and attention to detail were truly impressive. They dove into the discussion, making notes and comparing their ideas. This marked the beginning of their collaboration. Margaret and Percy often met in the library, discussing various topics and helping each other with their studies. Gradually, they began to find common ground. Margaret grew to appreciate his love for order and pursuit of perfection, while Percy valued her ability to simplify complex ideas and get to the heart of any subject.

Their interactions, at first, were somewhat formal, but slowly, a genuine friendship began to develop between them, built on mutual respect and a shared interest in learning.

One day, as they were working on an essay for Professor Rakepick, Percy suddenly said, “You know, Margaret, I’m glad we started talking. I usually prefer working alone, but with you, it feels… easier. You help me see things from a different perspective.”

Margaret smiled, sensing their friendship growing.

“I’m glad too, Percy. You’re really smart and dedicated. I think we can learn a lot from each other.”

Over time, their conversations became more personal. Percy opened up to Margaret about his family, how seriously he took his responsibilities toward them, especially his younger brothers and sister, and how hard he tried to live up to the high expectations he set for himself. He was ambitious and wanted to achieve great things in the magical world, but he also felt a strong sense of responsibility toward his siblings.

“I feel like it’s important to be the best at whatever you do,” Percy confided one day, setting his quill aside. “I want people to be able to rely on me. It’s my duty to do things right and set an example.”

Margaret saw in Percy not just a strict and reserved student, but a person driven by deep internal motivation. He was devoted to his ideals and worked hard to achieve perfection in everything, which required great effort from him.

Margaret felt that their collaboration not only benefited her studies but also gave her the chance to understand Percy better as a person. They discussed not only school assignments but also the broader questions that concerned them, both within and outside of Hogwarts.

“Sometimes I think I’m too hard on myself,” Percy admitted one evening when they were talking about their future plans. “But I just want to make my family proud and be a role model for my brothers and sister.”

“I’m sure you’ll succeed,” Margaret said with a smile. “You’re already a role model for many here at Hogwarts. I believe that discipline and perseverance will lead you to great achievements.”

Percy nodded, feeling grateful for her words. Their friendship gradually strengthened, and Margaret was glad she had found common ground with him. They continued to support each other in their studies, helping each other understand complex topics and sharing their thoughts.

Margaret saw how Percy slowly began to trust her more and even smiled when they solved a problem together.

This friendship became important to both of them. Percy learned to relax a bit and see the world beyond rules and regulations, while Margaret grew to appreciate the discipline and pursuit of excellence that were so important to Percy.

Margaret, Emma, Sophie, and Percy often spent their evenings in the library, discussing lessons and working on homework together. They became a team that could always rely on each other, making their school life even more enriching and enjoyable.

#harry potter #oliver wood #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #x reader #x y/n #charlie weasley x reader #percy weasly x reader

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