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kquil · 10 months ago

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DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FOUR

04 : BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM. : beginning new things is always fun. getting to know your sons, them finally being able to experience having a loving mother, sirius going to school, and you planning for everything that was yet to come so that everyone gets to the happy ending they deserve.

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; orion being a bad father ; original walburga being a nuisance ; reader being an amazing mother and an amazing cook ; regulus has food preferences ; brotherhood between sirius and regulus ; marauders spotted in the wild ; sirius and regulus being precious babies ; reader disrespecting walburga ; mentions of infertility ; mentions of divorce ; lots of future planning

← PREV. 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) | SERIES M.LIST

9th August 1971

It, surprisingly, took very little to get past Orion on the topic of changing Sirius and Regulus’ private tutors. However, when you truly looked at his workaholic tendencies, your initial surprise should have been the more startling reaction — of course, he wouldn’t care, he’s too fixated on the happenings with his position on the Wizengamot to be aware of much else, discounting the protective wards he put up around the property. Nevertheless, it was good news for you and your boys. Finally, they would be getting more suitable tutors, who catered to their learning needs in a more digestible way. You had only recently sent out the notice, though, so you don’t expect many replies to be coming in soon. Your only wish was to have fallen into this universe sooner, that way you would have had more time with Sirius before he left to attend Hogwarts as a first year.

Walburga didn’t have a formal occupation other than monitor her boys so having Sirius leave for his first year would mean less work for her and, subsequently, you. However, it’s not as if she needed the money; she’s the matriarch of an incredibly privileged family, meaning that her financial worries are close to non-existent. Both, the affluent family fortune and her lack of professional ambitions have you stumped, it’s something you’re not used to at all. Perhaps that’s why she’s so obsessed with control and the activity of her two sons; it’s not healthy and you don’t even want to attempt to understand what she was thinking—

“Of course you won’t!” Walburga snarls from the depths of your consciousness, her tone dripping with malice and a hint of something sinister. “I don’t expect someone who failed at becoming a mother to understand the right and true tribulations of bringing up children,”

“…how did you know that?” you ask aloud, no longer satisfied with simply trying to call for the bitch - Walburga’s - attention in your head. She didn’t seem to want to reply, which only made your blood boil; her prolonged silence, the trigger to releasing your rapidly escalating rage. How dare she?! How dare she strike you where it hurts the most, only to turn completely unresponsive when you demand answers, “Answer me!” Thick tensions fill the room when she does not answer, the silence suffocating and poisonous. Taking a slow, deep breath, you engage control over your anxious heart and trembling hands once more.

Work. You need work. Something to focus on so that you don’t dwell on memories that will only bring you heartache. It worked before so it’ll work for you now. It had worked so well, in fact, that you were able to build an empire out of it, perhaps you could replicate the same results this time.

“Screw you then, ugly pig, I have more important matters to attend to anyway,” pulling out a drawer, you scatter your notes across the desk and move with fretful fever but, also, enthusiasm above them. No matter the change of environment, you can always trust in your habits to push you forward. Walburga mainly worked on keeping the boys in line as the official matriarch of the Black household but that’s all her world revolved around, she had no hobbies or any close friends other than her relatives whom she communicated with, somewhat, regularly. With a guilty ache in your chest, you kept a gradually growing stack of letters in the bottom-most drawer of the hard oak desk, not yet knowing how to respond to people you barely knew. However, you suppose their relations to a character like Walburaga make it slightly easier to ignore their communications. The affiliation doesn’t warrant your precious time. If you could send a passive-aggressive email, you might be more willing, but the extended process of having to write out the letters and then send them via owl wasn’t worthwhile.

The priority on your list of important affairs is ensuring your boys’ happy and safe future. Sirius will not have to choose between Regulus and his friends, he will not suffer being blasted off the family tree, he will not have to be ashamed of his family, he will not have to witness his close friend’s death through another’s betrayal, and he will not be forced to go to Azkaban. Similarly, Regulus will not have to suffer Sirius abandoning him, he will not have to face his prejudicial parents alone, he will not be forced into getting the dark mark, he will not have to make the sacrifice he had to make at such a young age, he will not die a miserable and lonely death, and he will not be forgotten! You will make sure of it.

Coming into the world as a Harry Potter and Marauders fan, you’re well-equipped with all the knowledge required to make the right decisions. The only problem is that the Marauders era has been a largely vague timeline that most of the fandom filled in for themselves so you’ll have to tread carefully. This will require meticulous planning, a steady rise to power and a conglomeration of useful allies to help set your plans into motion. Modern-day knowledge and business etiquette will serve you well here. You’ve survived toxic work environments, won in the race to riches, and dealt with all manner of manipulative, sexist swine you could ever think to encounter. If you play your cards right, you’re sure to win.

“As if a muggle like you could conquer the wizarding world!” Walburga finally makes her appearance once again. And, of course, it’s for the sake of belittling you whilst making your head throb painfully from her distasteful screeches.

“Shut up,” you hiss unapologetically, resisting the urge to smirk, “Unlike you, I know the future—” breathing the words aloud brings a blaring, singular thought to the front of your mind. The vision you witnessed at the Owl Emporium replays in your head once more…

How in the world did Walburga know about the biting habit of Sirius’ future owl?…

Several moments pass achingly slow as you anticipate the aggravating screeching of Walburga to return. When no such wailing occurs or interrupts your train of thought, your mind immediately begins to spiral.

How could Walburga remember being at the Emporium, shopping for Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts when she had yet to go shopping with him in the first place? They couldn’t have already gone, right? Orion would have said something if they were being inefficient enough to go a second time. That or the boys would have definitely made some comment…

This felt like an urgent matter that needed your immediate attention but you had to prioritise other things for now. It’s not like the original Walburga was going to give you the answers you needed so it wasn’t any use pressing on the matter. It’s best to turn your focus and efforts elsewhere. Peering back at your scattered notes, you raise your newly acquired wand and utter the crafting spell you had learned recently.

“Libeligare,” As you wave your wand over the desk, activity springs forth. In a flurry of animated pages and whistling currents in the air, your disordered notes compile themselves appropriately before binding themselves into a fresh notebook. It doesn’t have a hard cover and you debate on transfiguring a decorative letter set piece into one but think against it. This will do nicely for the moment.

Finally, all your detailed plans are in one place.

10th August 1971

With nothing better to do and desperate for a decent meal, you address the home-cooked meals situation. Every dish served at the Black household was so unappetising and bland, that you couldn’t believe that the family was one of the most influential and richest families to exist in the wizarding world. You’re beginning to believe that the Blacks were the type of family to indulge in unpalatable spreads with the reasoning that they refuse to eat the same meals as those lesser than them. How childish. Even in your city-centre penthouse, you ordered take-out frequently and ate ordinary home-cooked meals that were comforting and warm. The memories make you compare all the meals you’ve had in Grimmauld Place and blanch abhorrently. This wouldn’t do, especially for your growing boys. They need to be well-fed so that they grow up healthy and strong.

“Mistress!” Kreacher shrieks behind you, making you jump and spin around all at once. The hunched-over house elf dashes through the kitchen space clumsily and with much vigour, he pulls painfully at his drooping ears as his eyes bulge out from seeing you, his mistress, the matriarch, in the kitchen cooking! Without magic!

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kreacher,” you chuckle softly and turn back to your food prep, “I’m just trying to cook an easy breakfast for my boys,” if you could truly have it your way then you would cook enough only for you and your two darling sons to eat. Orion would have to sort his own plate. But you’re not divorced yet so you suppose this is a compromise you’ll have to make.

“I-It is not mistress’ job, let Kreacher do it—!” the house elf, reaches forward to take the kitchen utensils from you but you’re too swift.

“I want to cook the food Kreacher,” you argue and continue pottering about the kitchen as if it was just another Tuesday morning, all while Kreacher follows you around helplessly. He’s clearly stuck between letting you have your way or forcing you to let him cook instead. Both felt wrong in different ways considering his position as the house elf, and he was brought to a standstill. The poor guy looked ready to throw himself off a cliff from the indecision and panic.

Having sympathy for the elf, you call to him over your shoulder, “Kreacher can you please pass me the eggs?” this feels like a good even ground to dance on. Soon enough you’ll be teaching Kreacher how to finally relax. Kreacher appeared happy to finally be doing something but as soon as he hesitantly handed over the eggs, he was back to being anxious all over again. Even though you are the matriarch of the household, you supposed you’ll have to share the kitchen with a very distressed house elf for the foreseeable future.

For the rest of the morning, you’ve asked Kreacher to help you with crisping up the beacon, cleaning the mushrooms, opening up the can of beans, toasting the bread and laying out the table. No more tasteless, boring porridge for breakfast with no toppings, today you’re serving a Full English. Admiring the spread, you thank Kreacher for his assistance before undoing your apron and putting the finishing touches to the dining table just as the rest of the family make it down for breakfast.

“What is all this?” Orion asks in slight surprise when catching sight of breakfast for the day, “Is today very important?”

“No,” nonchalance keeps your tone controlled just as your precious babies walk through the door and hop into their designated seats at the table, one more enthusiastic than the other, “I’m just tired of plain old porridge every day,”

“Porridge is delicious,” Orion defends.

“Every day?” from the look in his eyes, you don’t know whether or not you’ve bested him so turn a serene smile his way instead, “I can always ask Kreacher to make you porridge if you really want,”

Orion takes a moment to observe the full, vibrant plate of bacon, toast, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, sausages, black pudding, scrambled eggs and beans. If he takes any longer to play indecisive, the food will get cold and your precious babies are waiting on his dainty, princess-ass to make a decision— can you hurry the fuck up?! you want to scream at him. Every meal is started after his first bite (the pretentious, narcissistic douche) so he needs to make up his mind quickly or else you’ll lose yours waiting around!

“…it’ll be a waste, this will do,” he finally picks up his knife and fork to begin eating and you have to reign yourself in before you roll your eyes too noticeably at his conceited behaviour. Your babies behave better than him. The prick!

Turning to your boys, you observe Sirius and Regulus digging into their own meals before finally taking a bite out of yours. It felt good to see their eyes light up like that, especially Sirius’ — it makes you want to giggle at how obviously he had been wanting to devour his beans and toast the instant he laid eyes on them.

Breakfast continues pleasantly as everyone enjoys their meal until you begin to notice some peculiar movement in the corner of your eye. You try to be as subtle as you can, considering the uncommon calm that has fallen over the dining table; it isn’t usually this comfortable around the table so you wanted to preserve the ambience as much as possible. The source of your curious gaze was Sirius and Regulus.

Covertly, Regulus sneaks spoonfuls of his scrambled eggs onto Sirius’ plate, who proceeds to eat up his younger brother’s share as quickly as possible. Regulus was doing this willingly despite this morning’s breakfast being the first appetising meal he’s had yet. It won’t be the last either. However, from the way Sirius is scarfing down the food whilst trying to remain as silent as possible, it wouldn’t be surprising if Sirius eventually suffers from a stomachache later on. You wonder what could be the matter with the scrambled eggs. Was the seasoning off? Kreacher helped taste test every element of the meal and gave his stellar praise for your unrealised culinary skills so you’re more than a bit confused at the scene. After swallowing all remnants of food in your mouth, you gently raise a question.

“Regulus?” your youngest freezes up immediately, making your brows furrow but still, you continue in a soft voice, “What’s wrong?” Deep in your chest, you feel your heart clench in worry at the deer-in-headlights expression plastered across Regulus’ cherubic face.

You are met with only silence, “do you not like your eggs, darling?” you try meeting your youngest’s eyes but he’s terrified to even face your direction. Instead, he’s firmly steered his gaze down to his lap and keeps it there, frozen in place.

There’s a slam of the table and everyone stiffens. At the head, Orion stares disapprovingly at Regulus, who begins to tremble like a leaf, “How rude!” the patriarch spits with such force and bite that his saliva lands halfway down the lengthy dining table. He’s so scandalised by his son’s behaviour that the cold from his freezing gaze drops the temperature in the room lower than it already is. “How many times have we talked about this Regulus? Finish your plate at once or else it’ll be the last meal you eat today!”

“He’s not being rude!” you counter, flying out of your seat and making your way to Regulus, “And he shouldn’t be forced to eat something he doesn’t like nor punished harshly for disliking something,” Crouching down, you position yourself to block Orion from Regulus’ line of sight despite his frightened doe-eyes remaining transfixed on his lap. His small hands are turned into small, knuckle-white fists, gripping fiercely at the fabric of his trousers. A paralysed statue of fear incarnate, your little boy doesn’t deserve this! If you could ‘Avada Kedavra’ Orion’s pathetic, prissy ass, you would in a heartbeat.

From your peripheral, you notice how Sirius had placed a comforting hand over one of Regulus’ closed fists and the sight made your heart bloom with pride and joy — seeing how well they take care of each other was so heartwarming. “Tell me what’s wrong, Reg…I promise I won’t get mad,” you make sure to keep your voice in a low whisper so that only your son can hear but also loud enough that Orion’s distant grumbling is disguised.

“Do you not like eggs?” your prompting remains gentle and patient, hoping for a fraction of understanding. That’s all you really want.

Sensing no antagonistic feeling in your tone, Regulus finally wills himself to speak, although barely audible from insecurity, “I….I don’t like scrambled eggs…”

“No? What about them don’t you like?”

"They feel weird in my mouth, I don’t like chewing them,” he explains shyly, his confession dripping with shame. His grey eyes look into your own remorsefully and, before he can utter an apology, he is stopped by the shaking of your head.

Smiling warmly, you pat his small hand and voice your reassurance, “That’s a reasonable preference to have. Do you not like the texture?” Regulus nods in confirmation as his small, tense shoulders slowly ease up, “Do you not like eggs at all or do you like them cooked in a particular way?”

Regulus’ eyes widen with surprise. Never before had his mother been so attentive to his preferences like this. On the contrary, His mother was always the first to make him feel embarrassed for his picky tendencies when it came to food, especially over dishes that make him lose his appetite entirely, oysters and shellfish being the main culprit. He really didn’t like them at all. Many times, they were the appetiser to multiple-course meals hosted by pureblood, elitist wizarding families so Walburga was determined to season her son’s palettes early on in life. It was good etiquette to eat such foods and to know how to eat them properly. If he didn’t display appropriate dinner etiquette at the table then he is lesser, he is unworthy of the Black family name and blood running through his veins, he is unbecoming of his heritage, he is a disgrace—

“I can cook eggs in many other ways,” you suggest thoughtfully, voice remaining soft and comforting, “I can fry them for you? Or I can boil them? Do you like your yolk runny or firm?”

Regulus, spurred on by your softly placed questions feels the corners of his lips tug upwards, “fried eggs, please…”

His innocuous answer makes you beam, “with a runny or firm yolk, darling?”

“Runny, please,” Regulus finds your bright expression infectious and begins to smile a little wider too. Over the slope of his little brother’s small shoulders, Sirius is grinning from ear to ear; finally, Regulus isn’t going to be forced to eat something he doesn’t enjoy. The elation makes Sirius’ chest swell as his heart pinches slightly at the memory of his little brother retching up the contents of his stomach in the bathroom. Those disastrous, past meals started badly and they ended badly too. Peering at you with smiling eyes, Sirius knows that he won’t need to worry about that any more.

“Of course, right away," you’re eager to leave and fix up Regulus’ plate but you also worry about leaving him with Orion at the dinner table; your husband wasn’t too pleased with Regulus having preferences — the pretentious prick could choke on his food and die for all you cared, “how about we go to the kitchen together?” you offer smoothly as you begin to stand, “that way, you can watch me cook and make sure I do them just the way you like it,” smiling brightly, Regulus nods and easily offers his hand for you to hold, “Siri, would you like to come?” if one brother was coming with you so was the other.

“Yes please!” Sirius happily walks to the kitchen, hand-in-hand with Regulus, whose other hand is fully wrapped up in your own.

From the head of the table, Orion stares with his mouth agape at what he had just been a witness to. What was happening to his wife?!

11th August 1971

Sirius and Regulus stand by the fireplace, waving off their newly appointed private tutor as they floo away before eagerly making their way to your home office. Usually, their session catch-ups would make the two freeze up and drag their feet along the plush carpets of their family’s proud home but not now. Ever since your irregular activities leading up to your fainting spell and subsequent switch in demeanour, they’ve felt safer and happier at home. But only around you, their father still frightened them. The patriarch’s grey eyes swirled with a mounting turbulence that they would greatly prefer to avoid so they quickly make themselves scarce around him but not around their mother. Not anymore.

“I can’t wait to show Mother my cursive practice,” Regulus has a skip in his step as he walks beside his older brother, who beams at him proudly.

“Yeah, you’re getting really good at that Reggie,” Sirius praises, a slightly envious tone edging into his words, but it all remained playful, “say, how do you do your swirls so good?”

“Practise!”

Sirius rolls his eyes at his younger brother’s cheek, “There has to be a secret to it that I don’t know about,” Regulus only giggles at his older brother’s shortcomings. This had been a rare happiness to experience at 12 Grimmauld Place but, gradually, it was becoming common between the two brothers. Suddenly the walls weren’t so drab, the furniture not as boring and the decorations not as hauntingly placed. The atmosphere was much brighter as sunlight always seemed to pour magnanimously in from the windows.

“Sorry Siri,” from Regulus’ free-flowing, tuneful words, he isn’t sorry at all but Sirius can never will up any hatred for his younger brother. They’ve been through it all together and now that their recent joys were also being shared, of course, they would partake in harmless teasing — teasing that was usually frowned upon by their mother but was no longer a worry. They can’t remember the last time their mother frowned — the two greatly prefer this new version of their mother’s expressions much more.

As they approach your office door, the brothers’ footfalls quicken and they barely catch themselves from bursting through the door without knocking. But not before they catch sight of your figure through the crack of the doorway. Curious about your activity, Sirius hushes his younger brother softly and holds him back so that he can lean forward to observe your figure closely. Inspired by his older brother’s nosiness, Regulus leans forward also and the two peer at you through the doorway crack.

You’re not at your desk but are, instead, seated on the plush, cushioned seats of the emerald sofa placed in front of your desk. Black robes and other familiar attire are piled up beside you on one side while the other gradually assembles the neatly folded aftermath of your sewing…embroidery? Was there even a difference? Nevertheless, you had a needle and thread in hand without your wand or the use of magic in sight!

“Mother’s sewing your name tags herself,” Regulus concludes in a whisper following a muted gasp of surprise.

Sirius’ eyes widen ever so slightly, “and she’s not using magic…” he doesn’t know how skilled you are at sewing but Sirius doesn’t care, the gesture alone is enough to make his chest swell. Even his face began to warm up from the heat climbing up his neck as it tried reaching his ears.

“…do you think she’ll sew my name tags too? When I start my first year, I mean…” Regulus asks shyly, the clear insecurity in his timid voice making Sirius slightly defensive.

“Of course, she will,” he huffs before grinning widely, “and if we tear up our uniform ‘accidentally’ I’m sure she’ll sew those up herself too!” Regulus doesn’t know whether he likes or dislikes his brother’s train of thought but smiles anyway; he’s just happy thinking about his mother paying as much attention and care to his first-year robes too. He can’t wait until he starts attending Hogwarts as well.

Finally willing themselves to stop eavesdropping and return to their earlier task, Sirius and Regulus straighten their posture before knocking on the heavy wooden door. They don’t have to wait terribly long for an answering call to grant their entrance.

“Come in,” you set your tools aside and smile when the door reveals your babies stepping into your office, “hello, my darlings,” from your periphery, you spot the time on the clock face and jump into conversation with them, “how was your tutoring session? Did you like your new tutor?”

“Yeah!” the two answer simultaneously and with the same amount of enthusiasm — it makes you smile with content. Happiness looks good on them; their characters shine brighter and their faces are more child-like. They’re honestly the cutest little boys you’ve ever seen and now they’re your sons to love and protect.

“That’s wonderful news,” you open your arms for each of them to jump into, “Tell me all about it,” you’re just about to magic away the robes and sewing equipment so that they can sit beside you but not before you spot Sirius inspecting your handiwork, “I’m afraid I’m not the best seamstress,” your confession comes out bashfully, “I should have had Madam Malkins sew the tags on for me—”

“No!—” Sirius interrupts, looking almost offended that you would consider such a thing, “I like your sewing,” you raise a brow and, together with Regulus, inspect your uneven, treasure map trail of stitches before turning to the eldest brother once more.

“Are you sure, darling?”

“Yeah, only you can do the stitching on my uniform, no one else,” his firm answer makes your embarrassed expression melt into a warm smile.

“Alright then,”

“Thank you, Mother,” he gives you another hug that you happily return.

“You’re welcome, my dear,”

Looking over your plans, you sigh in restrained frustration. This is going to be a little hard. Yes, you know what to do but it’s all about recruiting the right people, trustworthy people and ones who are right for the role you’re choosing to give them. There’s a lot on your plate too, with your most urgent goal being divorce. You’re convinced that it isn’t going to be easy, considering the controversies that will surround the separation of a prominent wizarding house. The laws surrounding marriage, divorce and custody at this time are also largely unknown to you. Thankfully, you’ve had the privilege of living in a modern ‘muggle’ society where marriage and custody laws were pretty equal and fair. Perhaps there’s a book you can read up on about these things. For now, it’s a safe bet to say that custody will favour Orion as a man in the 1970s — it’s better to over-prepare than be underprepared for any outcome.

Despite the importance of this particular undertaking, you’ll have to wait until both, Sirius and Regulus, are attending Hogwarts to commence the divorce proceedings. You don’t want your boys to be front-row witnesses nor do you want them to rollercoaster through the typical, rough emotions of children caught up in their parents’ divorce. You’ve been through that already… and you barely made it out on the other side. You’re an adult and they’re just children; if you can protect them from the brunt of it, you will.

A stray thought pushes forward into your consciousness — it would be too optimistic to confidently wager on the boys siding with you. Although under abusive parenting, children are very loyal and you’re benefiting from that loyalty now; even though Walburga was incredibly cruel to her sons, they were still eager to give you a chance as soon as you took over and began treating them kindly. You need to be cautious. The silver lining of it all is that you’ll, at least, have some time to prepare affluently before starting the separation process. That, on its own, however, will require another bout of planning.

Saving Regulus is another priority on your list. That requires getting rid of the Horcruxes and killing off snake-faced Voldy but you don’t want to be too hands-on with that, especially because you’re not very adept at casting spells yet — there’ll be more experienced and more willing people (Aurors) who would be able to handle this type of mission. All you have to do is pull the right strings and connect with the right people. Eyeing another task on your list, you spot a small connection and smirk to yourself. The nib of your quill dips into a pot of ink and bridges two of your obligations.

“This could be quite beneficial on both ends,” if you play your cards right…

Making some more careful notes, you gradually begin to piece everything together. But then there’s the issue of Sirius being sent to Azkaban. It’s healthy to have faith in yourself but if someone’s life and wellbeing are in danger, especially if it’s your son’s, you need to have a second, third and fourth plan at the ready. There needs to be a second, third and fourth plan for Regulus as well. Luck and misfortune will always have some influence on the dice you roll, there will never be an exception to that. You’ve learned this enough times in your previous life already, not just in business but everything else too.

Your quill stops and rests beside your plans as the cogs in your brain turn with more purpose. Sirius still needs to become an animagus and Regulus needs to learn how to be a strong enough swimmer so that he can cast a spell to repel the Inferi. It would be beneficial if they both become well-equipped in duelling. That’ll require your lack of interference (maybe even your support) until Sirius’ fifth year, getting Regulus sorted with swimming lessons and encouraging both on their Defence Against the Dark Arts skills. You make a quick note of both solutions and their reasoning before linking both back to your list of obligations.

The progress you’re making with these intervention plans is making headway. You just hope that you won’t tip the scales too far so that what little control you currently have slips right through your fingers and you’ll be left floundering.

20th August 1971

You’ve fully taken over the cooking for all meals and your boys are looking much healthier. It warms your heart every time you see them happily eating your cooking, it was hard work keeping up with the pantry inventory, planning meals and catering to their individual tastes but it was good work that filled your heart with so much content, you hardly felt the fatigue creeping into your bones.

Regulus isn’t a picky eater, he simply has a preference for some foods over others. He doesn’t like his eggs scrambled, only fried and with a runny yolk; he can’t stomach oysters or shellfish; he doesn’t like pulp in his juice and he’d rather eat a raw onion than have any trace of offal trimmings in his food.

Sirius can practically eat anything and does so healthily, however, he’s more of a savoury person, leaving Regulus to own the sweet tooth palette by himself. Both adore cheese and you often create mini charcuterie boards for them to snack on. It was so adorable. There was plenty of time on your schedule to assign towards aesthetic food presentation so you’ve mastered the creation of salami roses. You’ve also found that Sirius prefers caramelised onion chutney to go with his mature cheeses whilst Regulus goes for a sweeter fig chutney.

Currently, you were making them their own mini charcuterie boards. Both were displayed on a circular board with their favourite chutney at the very centre, held in a small ceramic container. And, with decorative prowess, you place their selection of meats, cheeses, crackers and grapes around it.

“Do they look good Kreacher?” the house elf peers over the countertop surface and gives an affirming nod with a barely noticeable smile.

“The young masters will be very happy, Mistress,” helpfully he suggests bringing the carefully prepared boards and crust-less finger sandwiches up to the boys’ study room for you but you shake your head.

“Thank you, Kreacher, but I think I’ll bring up the food this time,” you’ve met their new private tutor several times already but she was always so tense around you; you’re determined to improve her impression through some good old exposure therapy. “Please prepare some tea and bring it up as soon as you’re done,” with your wand and a softly uttered ‘locomotor charcuterie boards and sandwiches’, the items lift into the air just slightly and you begin to move them out of the kitchen.

“What tea should Kreacher be brewin’ this noon, Mistress?”

“Oolong would be lovely today. Be sure to brew some Earl grey for Orion too but deliver the Oolong to us first please,” Kreacher’s struggles with your utterance of the polite ‘please’ persists but he continues with his set tasks regardless. The hunched-over house elf has noticed you’ve been prioritising the young masters much more than Orion recently; whenever you want to do something thoughtful, you always think of your sons first. Only last minute do you finally remember your workaholic husband and leave the snack preparations for Kreacher to fulfil and deliver alone. It’s a peculiar shift in attention, the wrinkled elf admits, but seeing his young master Regulus so happy, he doesn’t complain. Kreacher also admits that he’s growing a slight, mutual fondness for the elder Black brother, the two share in their love for Regulus and loyalty to you; now they’ve become friendly acquaintances. The house elf is a little happier and much more willing than ever before to stay loyal to his mistress and young masters’ sides. And Master Orion too, of course.

Making your way up the stairs, the pretentious cow stuck in your head makes her presence known with inconsequential complaints.

“You’re spoiling those boys far too much!” Walburga shrieks and immediately makes your temples pound, “Sirius and Regulus don’t need this much attention, if you continue this they’re going to grow up soft and weak and unable to carry on the Black family name with the proper dignity and class!” For the sake of avoiding the horrid healing potion Kreacher’s having you consume after every fainting spell, you’ve been training yourself to build up as much resistance to her incessantly obnoxious yapping as much as possible — you’re getting there but you still need some practise. Currently, you are traversing the stairs so you’re taking every step with extra caution.

“Bitches should be seen and not heard,” her confounded gasp doesn’t escape you, “so kindly shut the fuck up,” the sarcastic cheerfulness in your tone makes her gasp once more and, like a coward, makes herself scarce. It seems as though you’ve gotten better at shutting the shrew up but she has yet to acclimatise herself to your shameless disrespect towards her. Hopefully, she never gets used to your comments; it’s always such a pleasure being able to render her utterly speechless.

With a pleased smile, you give a soft knock on the boys’ study room before entering. The boys gasp happily as soon as they see the levitating charcuterie boards and the plateful of crust-less sandwiches float closer and closer.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I think you all deserve a lunch break,” the boys cheer and happily dig in while you face their tutor with a small smile, “please feel free to have as many sandwiches as you want, we have plenty on offer,” her smile is hesitant and slightly trembles under your hold so she’s quick to look away and fix her focus onto the plate of sandwiches — her own, personal reprieve from having to interact with you.

Peony Knight. She’s an incredibly timid individual who seems to be in her element only when teaching children rather than in the company of said children’s adult parents — she has yet to look you in the eye for an extended period. Her head is an organised plight of feathery, strawberry-blonde hair and her eyes are a pair of opal pendants, so brilliantly blue but incandescent with a kaleidoscope of other jewel colours. Her resume was astounding but her family wasn’t very notable so you could only imagine her surprise when she received your response to her application with a test run of her skills. It was important to you that she comes from an uncommon house and family, you didn’t want to draw too much attention over switching tutors. At her tutoring trial run, she started very shaky but eventually found her confidence when focusing on your two boys rather than your lurking figure from the corner of the study. She was a good runner-up and quickly became the perfect choice when your boys showed favour towards her – the other candidates appeared to have been more affected by your presence in the room and taught the way they thought you wanted them to.

“She’s nice and patient,” Regulus commented when you went to him after her trial lesson.

“I like the way she explains things,” Sirius added beside him.

That was all you needed to hire her as their private tutor. Peony’s timidity of you as an authority figure played in her favour very well.

Hidden within a thick pile of stacked parchments and a small mountain of miscellaneous scrolls, you found Walburga’s carefully curated curriculum for the boys and handed it over to Peony. Walburga would know better than you what would be useful for her sons to learn. However, you were surprised at the amount of ‘muggle’ topics on her curated list. Admittedly, you were only expecting foundational wizarding lessons maybe on wands or classic pureblood etiquette so your shock was justified. Walburga’s reaction, however, wasn’t.

“I teach them proper pureblood etiquette myself, you useless girl! And how can I expect my sons to grow up well if they aren’t taught the basics?! They’ll be able to advance as better wizards of the Black family that way. Moreover, muggles stick to and remain in the basics so don’t get smug with me, you filthy mud-blood!” Walburga screeched without restraint and with much offence after your initial revelation, leading to another fainting spell — the disgusting bitch…

In addition to Peony’s private tutoring, you’ve taken to providing your own private lessons to the boys, much to their surprise and slight hesitancy. However, as soon as you began the extended lessons after their usual morning session with Peony one day, they’ve since grown to love it. This didn’t happen every time, however, only on Tuesdays and Fridays. Today was one of those days, a Friday, and you’re so excited to see their reactions to what you have planned.

Their schedules typically consist of Peony coming over a couple of hours before noon and she teaches them for two or three hours sessions every day except weekends. Mondays were for English language and literature (wizard and muggle), Tuesdays were for Economics, Numeracy and Financial literacy, Wednesdays were for French and Cursive handwriting practice, Thursdays were for muggle sciences (basic biology, physics and chemistry) and Fridays were for history and philosophy (wizard and muggle).

You reserve the fun lessons for your boys with yourself as their teacher. These were composed of lessons that typically challenged their problem-solving, creativity and other fundamental skills to set them up with a good foundation for school and life in general. This included fun puzzle-solving, art (in every medium the boys wanted), some written/scenario problem-solving and role-play scenarios. The first Friday you did this, you had the boys act out from rough, child-friendly scripts you drafted inspired by the Shakespearian play, Macbeth. It seemed like an innocuous lesson but you wanted to gauge their ethical understandings and reasonings.

Throughout the scenes, you would spontaneously make them freeze frame to ask prompting questions that typically go along the lines of, ‘what would you do in this situation?’, ‘do think that was the right thing to do?’, and ‘why did you think your character did this even though they knew it was wrong?’. Both engaged very well with their own perspectives on the situation.

At one point they got into a small argument that you needed to break up due to slightly differing standpoints on the scenario. It became slightly more heated than you expected but you were thankful for the opportunity to teach them how to communicate well with each other despite their differences. The lesson ended after that because tensions were still high and they were equally very stubborn about who should apologise first.

It was going to take more than one lesson to be able to make them understand the rules and the importance of healthy communication, but that was to be expected. This was just the beginning so you’re hoping that if you stay consistent with fostering their ethical reasoning, communication and problem-solving skills, they will be able to remain brotherly despite their opposing Hogwarts houses. In the end, you made them apologise at the same time (to the count of three) and had them hug it out before telling them to say one thing they like about the other person. Evidently, they weren’t used to your new way of doing things and making amends but they (grumpily) did as they were told — and looked absolutely adorable doing it, their pouty faces were too much to bear!

Approaching the two boys indulging in their individual charcuterie boards and occasionally exchanging bites of their share, you kneel between them and begin pleasant conversations about their current lesson.

“Are you two having fun so far?” you could practically see Peony stiffen up like cement behind you, just from the telling gasp she lets out in the background. Being so high-strung isn’t going to be good for her health so you hope she gets used to your presence soon enough. You do feel slightly apologetic for her but she needs to know that people can change no matter how drastically. Hopefully, she takes this opportunity to grow some confidence in herself too. Someone so intelligent should walk with broader shoulders and a higher chin.

“Yeah! Did you know Pythagoras had a cult?” Sirius was practically bouncing in his chair.

“No, he had a school of very intelligent mathematicians and musicians,” Regulus countered after swallowing his bite of cracker, cheese and grapes.

Sirius rolls his eyes but immediately jumps into another topic, “he discovered the theory of pitch which is surprising coming from a guy who’s scared of beans,” he cracks himself up laughing at the statement.

Again, Regulus interjects in defence of the philosopher, “he wasn’t scared of beans,” the two brothers exchange narrowed stares, “He just believed that beans were the vessels for dead people’s souls and didn’t want to disrespect them by running through a bean field,” a small argument ensues but you don’t act, instead, you watch as a bystander in the hopes that your presence alone can keep them in check. If you ever feel the need to jump in at some point, you will.

All too well, Sirius and Regulus remain aware of your lingering attendance to their quarrel and make the silent agreement to not escalate things too far. For a moment, they share a knowing look after briefly glancing your way and glaring at each other once again. You watch them huff and inhale a slow, shaky breath. They actively turn their voices down whilst continuing with their argument. It didn’t seem to go anywhere but both concluded it with less heat and more of a calm acknowledgement of each other’s differing sides.

“Two people can have different opinions and still be friends. They only need to respect that the other person holds a different view and that it doesn’t make them a bad person,” they remembered your sage advice from their first extracurricular lesson with you. It was a massive shift in perspective to their growing minds and the impact it had on both of them was enough to permanently imprint the message into their heads.

Unprompted, you lean forward and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, Sirius first and then Regulus, “I’m so proud of you two,” you watch as their cherubic cheeks flush an adorable, pink hue. Sirius scratches the back of his head bashfully whilst Regulus fiddles with his pen, both of them equally biting back a small smile from the praise, “you remembered what I taught you,” they look upon your elated smile with shy fulfilment as they nod slightly. “Another person’s opposing opinions might be something we don’t share or appreciate as much as they do but…” they lean forward ever so slightly, wanting to consciously heed your elaboration on the topic, “hearing or witnessing a different view will expand our perspective on the world and help us grow as people. We need to keep an open mind for these sorts of things because they can teach us so much. It might be hard to do sometimes, but I want to ask you two for a small favour,” they nod silently, not questioning or hesitating at your words, fully trusting in your sensible knowledge — their mother was always a brick wall when it came to the opinions of others, they couldn’t penetrate her, especially when it came to opposite views on blood purity so, to see her encouraging such undogmatic behaviour, is peculiar but in a strangely motivating way. They find that they want to do whatever it is that you want to ask them to do no matter what, “I want the two of you to try to understand the other side of any argument or opposite view. The world isn’t as black and white as we think it is. We have to try to be understanding and empathetic people. There may be reasons someone sees the world a certain way and even if we don’t agree or like their opinion, the least we can do is try to understand them. Just try. That’s all… that’s enough,”

It was a lot to take in and it was a lot to ask of such young minds that were still developing. But you weren’t asking for them to be perfect at it. All you want them to do is try.

“Alright, Mother,” Sirius nods with solid determination in his eyes.

“Whatever you wish, Mother,” Regulus says at the same time, also glowing with resolve.

Smiling happily, you bring them into a group hug, your arms easily curling around their small shoulders as you press another kiss to their temples, “you don’t have to be perfect, just try,“ you reiterate in a whisper, “I’m so proud of you, my darlings, you make mommy so happy,” you don’t see it but you feel their bright smiles press into your neck from either side as they return your embrace and nuzzle their faces into the junction of your neck and shoulders.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Their lesson ended a few minutes ago and, like routine, they wave off Peony at the living room fireplace while you set up the study with all the things you planned on having them do for the afternoon. You asked them if they wanted to take a break before your lesson but they said they were happy to begin right away. They were able to detect the sparkle of excitement in your eyes as you left after their lunch break and were now filled with the same eagerness to begin your lesson.

Setting up their table with tools, aprons and a protective mat warmed your heart. You had planned so many things to do with your future children in your original life, read so many books and attended so many talks, lectures and groups on how to be a good mother that your heart was finally able to heal the scars that resulted from the infertility diagnosis you were slammed with years ago. You felt like a failure, not only as a mother but as a woman to be told that. It wasn’t until you were able to recover from that debilitating news that you finally began to consider adoption. It took years and years and the building of a corporate empire to finally get to that point but then, you were doomed once more. At the centre of a collision in the busy city streets, you lost consciously accepting your fate only to end up here…it was all quite a blessing really. Now you have two beautiful sons to call your own and to love with all of your heart. As an added bonus, they’re also two of your favourite characters from the Harry Potter universe.

You could barely contain your excitement when you heard a small knock at the door to the study. They were here.

“Come in, darlings,”

Stepping into the room, Sirius and Regulus gasp in awe and begin jumping on the spot ever so slightly from feverish anticipation. In your outstretched hands were two small, grey aprons, one displaying Sirius’ name and the other Regulus’ along the upper seam of the apron’s breast pocket. Without being asked, they step up to their aprons and reach forward to put the article on themselves. As they do so, you announce what you will be doing for the afternoon.

“Clay sculptures?” Sirius almost squeals in excitement as Regulus bounces on the balls of his feet.

“We’ve never done that before,” Regulus chimes as you kneel behind him to help with tying up his apron, eventually moving on to redo Sirius’ clumsy knot as well.

“It’ll be fun,” you giggle, “fun and messy,” Sirius appreciates the hint of mischief in your voice and rushes to take a seat at the table with Regulus toddling along close behind him. You take a seat too and begin to talk them through the little sculpting tools they have beside them, the small mountain of clay at their disposal and the use for the bowls of water within reach.

Regulus is listening but he can’t help glimpsing down at his stitched-on name tag every few seconds or so. His chest feels warm and so so tight that he feels like he’s about to burst. You had hand-stitched his name tag onto the apron yourself. He recognised the inexperienced, inconsistent stitches but he thinks it’s the most beautiful display of embroidery he has ever seen. There’s also the revelation that Regulus didn’t need to wait to go to Hogwarts to know that you would be attentive enough to do the same thing for his clothes as you did to Sirius’. He feels special and he loves the affectionate attention you were giving him, all the motherly love he and his older brother had always dreamed of experiencing was finally happening, not only through kind words but in warm hugs, soft kisses and silent acts of service too. He feels a surge of wanting to do well in everything, from studying to writing to eating to sleeping — all of it! He’ll do well in all of it. He only wants to make you proud.

“Let’s begin with rolling out a piece of our clay,” you start, encouraging them to get messy, keep their clay hydrated and not worry about the state of their tools because you’ll all be washing them at the end together. After that, you had them make little balls using their hands and then roll out one ball into a flat sheet using their small rolling pins. With another ball, you instructed them to attempt making it flat using their hands instead, which helped you explain that moving around the clay with their hands makes the clay easier to mould.

“Have you two been learning about muggle sciences?” you gently ask as the two go about flattening their spheres a little more so that they can carve patterns into them using their small wooden tools.

“Yeah, I like the one called physics,” Sirius grins, eyes still focused on his clay.

“Me too!” Regulus chimes and the two brothers grin at each other, which makes you smile.

“That’s very good,” you nod, spotting an opportunity, “so where do you think the heat comes from when we roll out our clay?”

“From our hands,” Sirius immediately answers.

“That’s right, anything else?”

The question is open for the two of them but Regulus is the one who answers next, “From all the moving around,”

“Brilliant, my darlings,” you praise and they grin pridefully.

“Now, can you name the types of energies those are called? If you’ve learned about them, that is,” The brothers look at each other before beginning to ponder separately. The silence draws on so you decide to give them a little help, “What are all the energies called?” They do just fine with regurgitating the ten different energy types and that seems to be enough to prompt Regulus.

“The moving around is kinetic energy,”

Sirius jumps to answer as well, “and our hands transfer the thermal energy,”

“Good good!” you give them a small round of applause, which they bashfully smile at, “you two are so clever!… What did I hear about this ‘transferring’ of energy, Siri?” your question comes out in a nonchalant tone.

“Peony says that energy is stored and transferred,” Sirius answers, “and that they sometimes turn into another type of energy,”

“I see,” you look down at your own clay spheres and sheets, “where is the thermal energy from my hands coming from?” once again, they’re silent, “I think this can link to biology, specifically our biology,” that gets the cogs in their brains turning again and you can’t help but coo at their adorable thinking faces.

“It’s from…” Regulus begins, immediately catching both yours and Sirius’ undivided attention, your eyes equally encouraging him to continue with his answer, “It’s from the energy in our food,”

Eyes sparkling with delight, you prompt him once more, “And what energy is that called?”

“…Chemical!”

“Good job!” Sirius claps for his brother’s success and reaches up for a high five that Regulus happily hits and once again, they’re grinning at each other.

“What about for the movement?” This was a trick question but your boys are clever so you have full faith in them. Regulus already answered his share so he silently backs out from the arena by looking up at Sirius who begins to ruminate. “…well the movement has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it?” you thoughtfully point out, beginning to play around with your clay and trying to look innocent about it despite it being a definite clue.

“It comes from us!” Sirius explains and looks down to play around with his clay too. You stay silent as you let him think and reach the conclusion on his own but you’re already so so proud of their intelligent displays, “…so it’s the same answer, it’s also from chemical energy…” he seems unsure from his tone but the minute he looks up to meet your eyes, the smile on your lips and the applause from you and Regulus has him beaming.

“My sons are so so clever! I’m very proud of you both!”

That was enough of that — you only remember so much from your younger science education — so you move on to teach them about hatching and being able to stick two pieces of clay together with a little bit of water in order to make a small box with no lid. Thankfully, that was the final thing you intended to teach them before letting them make their own creations.

“Now, you can make whatever you want with your clay. After this, I’ll bake them so they become solid, and then, we can paint them together. If you run out of clay, just ask and I’ll get you some more,” the two buzzed in their seats from the excitement and you were just as eager to let them loose with their creativity. “You can also make more than one thing but limit yourself to just two or three, please. Also make sure that whatever you make suits a function, it can be anything at all; you can even get some ideas from this muggle book on clay crafting,” you present them with the children’s clay craft book and place it where they can easily reach, “don’t mind getting the edges dirty, as long as the main text and pictures aren’t too muddied up by clay, it’s fine. It’s supposed to get used earnestly anyway,” they smile at your proactive reassurance but only Regulus goes for the clay book while Sirius goes about making his desired creation right away.

For a while, Sirius cannot decide what to actually make. His speediness into action makes his younger brother peer over at him anxiously quite a few times but his initial unease gradually fades when he realises his older brother keeps changing his mind, flattening a scarcely sculpted creation just as quickly as he begins a new one. You don’t want to interrupt their independent creative flows and get to work on something you’ve already planned to create, a modest gift for your darling boys.

Some time goes by in silence before you call for Kreacher to play one of the vinyls you managed to buy from a record shop when out on errands to muggle London. You had bought several along with the gramophone at the shop. When you first bought it home, the boys were eager to find out what it was and spent a lot of time happily winding it up so that you could all listen to the records together. It would have been preferable to get the electrical one but it would have been useless in the predominantly magic-operated house.

“Great choice, Kreacher,” you smile at the house elf who nods timidly by the gramophone and promptly disappears when he feels as though he is no longer needed. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album plays in the background as the soundtrack to your clay sculpting session for several songs-worth of minutes before you finally get up to independently ask the boys about what they had chosen to make. ‘Oh! Darling’ sings in the distant corner as you kneel beside Sirius and quietly ask about his creation and what its function would be. In a whisper, he replies without turning to look at you, far too focused on his creation to divert any significant attention from it.

“I’m making plant pots,” he begins, his pink tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth, “for the cooking herbs you said you wanted to grow in the kitchen, but I’m also making one for Reggie since he says he wants to grow a plant in his room,” after his nonchalant explanation, your heart soars. It would be a fair assessment to say that Regulus has spoken to him about exploring gardening. You didn’t know your youngest wanted to grow a green thumb but it was a pleasant surprise — you’ll see about taking him to a muggle plant shop soon, you don’t quite trust wizarding plants in the household. A succulent or mini cactus would be a good choice.

Pressing a kiss onto Sirius’ cheek, you whisper a soft thank you and praise his thoughtfulness before moving on to Regulus. For a moment, the elder brother wishes he could grow out his hair so that you are less likely to notice his flushed cheeks and red-tipped ears. You also kneel by Regulus’ side to whisper the same questions about his creation.

“I’m making a little jewellery dish for your rings and necklaces and earrings, Mother. And I’m also going to make one for Siri since he’ll be getting the family ring when he’s older. Sirius’ one is going to be star-shaped because he’s named after the brightest star and yours is going to be heart-shaped because…well…” Regulus can’t finish his sentence as his blush floods his entire face with heat. But he doesn’t need to finish his explanation, he’s said all you needed to hear to coo over his thoughtfulness and press a kiss to his cheek also. They’re such sweet boys. That bitch Walburga was blessed to have them and yet she mistreated them so much, they didn’t deserve any of that. Tender love and care is what they truly deserve and that will be your sole mission and life’s purpose for this existence.

“What are you making, Mother?” Regulus asks unprompted when you finally sit back down by your humble creations again. The youngest’s question makes Sirius perk up and eye you with interest, his grey eyes flicking between you and the carefully shaped clay by your hands.

“I’m making little star-shaped pendants for my little star boys,” smiling at their flustered expressions, you elaborate further, “I’m going to poke a hole near the top point so I can thread it through a chain and you can wear it as a necklace or a bracelet — you can choose,” you show them one with a carved ’S’ on it, “this one is for Siri,” next you present the one with an ‘R’ on it, “and this one is for Reggie,” they beam in happiness at the getting such a personalised gift from you and continue their clay projects with new-found vigour.

It was relatively easy to create the small star pendants so, inspired by Regulus’ creations, you proceeded to craft minimalist ring bands, one each of you. Sirius’ you carved the same sort of archaic patterns as that of his wand, for Regulus, you did simple lines with an occasional dot and for yours, evenly placed mini daisies. At first, it was purely for making sure that Regulus didn’t feel left out from Sirius getting the family ring but, looking at your modest creations, your magnate mind begins to manifest an innovative idea you’re itching to begin. Your schedule is going to fill up very quickly and soon — there isn’t a chance that you’ll wait on this.

1st September 1971

Today couldn’t have crept up on you quickly enough. One minute you were settling into a cosy routine with your darling sons and now you were sending the eldest away for wizarding boarding school. It was happening too fast and your heart was constantly breaking from being torn between freely letting him go and childishly begging him to stay so that you could spend as much time with him as possible. Even the novelty of rushing onto platform 9¾ through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10 couldn’t keep the tears from filling your eyes. However, your unhappiness and woe were quickly wiped away when Sirius expressed muted sadness at the idea that his father was too busy to see him off to Hogwarts. That morning, try as you might you couldn’t convince Orion to be there for his son. The git was lucky Sirius had interrupted your argument to express his acceptance and neutrality over the situation or else you would have clocked the pretentious asshole’s jaw. You would be surprised if the hypothetical punch landed hard enough to dislocate both of his temporomandibular joints. He would be eating through a tube if it weren’t for your little boy’s interruption but you’ll be sure to sink your teeth into your git of a husband as soon as you get home.

Regulus seems to be whispering something to his older brother as they share a hug of goodbye. There was plenty of time for Sirius to get onto the train - you made sure of that - and you promised to wave him off as the train left the station so none of you were in any rush to leave the other. You kindly smile down at their wholesome interaction, completely drawn in by their innocence and heartfelt brotherly love for each other. Their relationship was worth preserving and building up. You were once saddened by Sirius and Regulus’ torn apart brotherhood but now, you’ll be devastated if your sons ever broke their bond like in the movies and books. So distracted by your loveable sons’ endearing display, you miss the shocked looks you were receiving from fellow parents of other children who were also boarding to attend Hogwarts — they simply couldn’t believe it!

Everyone knew the matriarch of the Black family. However, the very picture of her now was not what was to be expected. Rumours of her cold and unsympathetic disposition appeared as slanderous lies when they took in your warm smile and fond stare, looking solely upon your two sons. It was well-known amongst the wizarding community that the famous Black family’s eldest son, Sirius Black, would begin attending Hogwarts this year. They expected to see a conceited and substantially reserved display of the family by the platform but not… not this! This is something for the papers! Had the matriarch of the most ancient and noble house of Black always looked this beautiful and kind? Surely not!… But their eyes weren’t being deceived, they were seeing the truth! Many gasped and openly stared, thankfully hushed down by the nosiness of the platform, whilst others didn’t know how to interpret the display and opted to avert their eyes.

Around his small wrist, Sirius keeps your clay star pendant around his wrist, which had been painted a deep black per his request while the ’S’ is marked with metallic silver paint. He has such good taste for aesthetics despite his young age. Every day there was something new to be proud of him for, no matter how little. You love being a mother!

“Oh darling, I’m going to miss you so so much. You must promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, don’t be scared about making friends,” you look him in the eye as you say so, combing your fingers through his hair and pushing away the curling locks from his forehead, “they’re going to love you just as much as I do,”

“Me too, Siri,” Regulus’ soft interjection brings out a mutual laugh from you and the eldest Black brother. Sirius brings Regulus into another hug that you are also brought into.

“And if they don’t like you then they can suffer having none of those mini pies I baked for you,” the two of you share a smirk and a wink. Sirius had requested some shelf-stable foods to bring such as his favourite chutney, jams and jerky, all homemade by you, especially for him. Of course, you didn’t say no. You even suggested bringing along something yummy for the train ride despite already providing him an allowance to spend on the trolley.

“Regulus and I will write to you as often as we can so be on the lookout for our letters, okay?” he nods, eyes already sparkling from the anticipation and thought of receiving mail by owl solely for him. A letter addressed only to him, with his name on the envelope, and meant only for him to read — his feverish anticipation was to be expected. He couldn’t wait for his first letter.

“I’ll write back just as much, promise!”

“Good because if you don’t,” you scold playfully as Sirius bites back a cheeky giggle, “I’ll go to Hogwarts and demand a written letter back myself, I’ll bring Reggie with me too so that’s twice the heat you’ll be under young man, don’t forget,”

“Never,” Sirius whispers as he throws himself into your embrace once more. There’s never going to be enough hugging to satiate your aching heart, nor squash the sadness of watching your baby grow up too fast but, knowing the mischief and fun he’ll be getting up to, makes you almost giddy with excitement. You want to read all about it in his letters home!

As much as you’d like to have said your farewells for longer, Sirius still needed to board and needed help with his luggage. Thankfully there were plenty of staff to help him lug it all around, which you smiled gratefully for. They seemed stunned by your courtesy but tipped their caps in acknowledgement and whispered a quick ‘thanks’ in return, regardless.

Stepping back from the platform with Regulus at your side, the two of you try to follow Sirius along the train compartments as closely as you can until you finally see him settling into a box by himself. You wonder if he’ll be meeting his fellow marauders soon — god! You wish you could see them as adorable 11-year-old babies like your Sirius right now.

Regulus toddles up to be closer to the window, opposed to the thought of separating from his brother and tries to hold one last conversation with Sirius as everyone waits for the train to depart. To hear him clearer, Sirius reaches up to open the window. Smiling at the pair fondly, you almost miss a heart-stopping sight. From your left peripheral, you spot an untameable mess of dark hair and round hazel eyes sparkling in jubilation, framed with an adorable pair of round glasses — you barely withhold your gasp of surprise. But all too soon, from your right, you glimpse a head of neatly trimmed but slightly grown-out brown hair, belonging to a rather spindly boy swamped under a cosy autumn-brown jumper. On his softly curving jaw is a light, nicking scar and when he turns his head ever so slightly, you see another more prominent scar marked across the pudge of his cheek. You’ve seen a wild, baby-ish James Potter and Remus Lupin. Almost all of the marauders were spotted getting onto the Hogwarts Express but do you even want to see the final member? No! Of course not! It was then that you noticed sandy-blonde hair weaving through the crowds of parents wishing their children farewell – a last-minute attempt at getting onto the train on time. Behind him, he is followed by a similarly blonde woman, his mother. Goodness, both share such startling similarities, both have curved edges to their silhouette, pink cheeks and sea-blue eyes. They looked like an adorable pair and you had to admit that Peter’s portly appearance made him incredibly endearing for his age. They looked like an ordinary, harmless mother-son pair, much like you and your boys…

A whistle pierces through the station and snaps you out of your daze. Finally turning back to your Sirius, your eyes tear up again for the umpteenth time that day. Regulus had rushed back to your side, clinging onto the long, black skirt of your dress with one hand as he used the other to wave goodbye. Silently, you mouth an ‘I love you’. He isn’t as surprised as when you whispered the same affection to him whilst still on the platform so he was able to mouth it back — ‘I love you too, Mother,’ — your heart pinches. Picking Regulus up, you sit him on the curve of your hip and wave Sirius off together. You see the slight shimmer of tears in Sirius’ eyes too just before the train moves too far and takes Sirius away with it.

You miss him already.

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY →

A/N : surprise! goodness, this was a really big chapter hehe~ i hope you darlings enjoyed the read! i also would like to gently remind everyone that i am no longer doing taglists but to be notified whenever i post something, please follow and turn on notifications for reblog side account: @thekqipond where i will be reblogging every new fic as soon as i post it! the reason i was able to post this chapter a month ahead of my official come-back in October was to test my taglist solution and the order of chapters i want to post by Christmas ;) i hope you enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

#marauders #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders era fix it fic #the marauders era #mother reader #sirius black #regulus black #the marauders #divorcing orion black #dob : series

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seriousbrat · 7 months ago

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minor death eaters active during the first wizarding war

I've created a list of my interpretations of the Death Eaters who we know participated in the First Wizarding War, specifically the ones we don’t have much canon info about because they’re very minor characters. For this reason I won’t include: Bellatrix, Lucius, Snape, Peter, Regulus, and Barty Crouch jr. (Reg and Barty are arguably minor but there’s soooo much meta on them, I can’t be fucked to add to it tbh lol)

This is loosely organised by rank or relevance to the story, which may be somewhat subjective. With each Death Eater I’ll start with what we do know or can infer from canon, then add my own personal headcanon and interpretations for each character— but I’ll still try to explain how these are based in canon. If you interpret them differently that's obviously fine haha, that's why it's an interpretation.

Quick note about Bellatrix and Lucius: I think it’s telling that they were both entrusted with Horcruxes, this points to them being very highly ranked among Death Eaters during the first war. So if they were included in this list they’d be at the top over Travers and Dolohov, for the record. I’ve also written about the fact that I think Bellatrix’s rank was unusual among female Death Eaters here.

DEATH EATER LIST -----------------------------------------

(If a first name is small and unbolded, it’s the name I’ve given them and not canon.)

JAGO TRAVERS:

I think since I just ended up liking his character, I’ve given Travers more importance than he may have actually had haha, but it is true that he addresses Bellatrix (or Hermione as Bellatrix) with familiarity and fearlessness, as an equal rather than a subordinate. He's even affronted when Hermione is rude to him, suggesting that this isn’t their typical dynamic— interesting since Bellatrix usually has no qualms being rude and impatient with other DEs.

We know he was responsible for the murders of the McKinnon family. Karkaroff names him as an important Death Eater, and he was sent to Azkaban at the end of the war.

My version of Travers is first and foremost a pragmatist. In canon he comes across as more composed, more rational than other Death Eaters. He has a "cool" "sharp" voice, he's much less emotional and more practical than Selwyn at the Lovegood house, and he displays moments of ironic, callous humour with 'Bellatrix.'

The way I see him he’s strategically-minded, cold, calculating, and intelligent; and unlike the sadistic Mulciber or self-interested Lucius, he is all about the mission, which he puts strictly before his own personal pleasure or status. He’s not motivated by passion like Bellatrix either, he simply believes Voldemort’s way is the correct way and seeks the most efficient way to achieve it.

This quality is what leads to his advancement in the ranks and makes him a very competent general. However, this also causes a rift among the higher-ranking Death Eaters; Travers and Rosier believe in a straightforward, warlike approach, whereas Lucius and Mulciber are more partial to subtlety and manipulation.

ANTONIN DOLOHOV:

Dolohov was among those sent to Azkaban after the end of the first war, a loyal supporter who didn't renounce Voldemort. Karkaroff tells the Wizengamot that he witnessed Dolohov torturing “countless Muggles and non-supporters” of Voldemort. He was involved in the murders of the Prewett brothers, along with four other Death Eaters. He's the first name given by Karkaroff.

A Dolohov is among the original Death Eaters mentioned as waiting in Hogsmeade when Voldemort interviews for the DADA post, I think it’s probable that this is the same Dolohov, so he was already serving Voldemort around the late 60s to early 70s.

His “twisted face,” proclivity for torture, glee after hurting Hermione, and particular hatred of Muggles all point to me towards a sadist who is nevertheless intelligent and competent.

‘Dolohov’ is a Russian name and it’s likely he was named after the character Dolokhov from War and Peace— which I’ve never read, but from some brief research, Tolstoy’s Dolokhov delights in causing misery in others, is clever, competent, ruthless, but reckless. I think this fits pretty well if we extrapolate these traits to Antonin Dolohov.

“…the very process of dominating another’s will was in itself a pleasure, a habit, and a necessity to Dolokhov.”

The way I’ve used Dolohov is that he’s responsible for bringing in supporters from abroad, one of these being Igor Karkaroff— in W&P Dolokhov manipulates young men into joining his gambling circle, so I see this as a fitting role for Antonin Dolohov, who I think was of Russian ancestry but born in Britain, though still able to use his connections abroad. Despite Dolohov’s sadistic nature, I also see him as strategic, pragmatic, and dedicated, and so he falls more into Travers’s camp than Lucius’s.

EVAN ROSIER:

Evan Rosier is among the younger generation of Death Eaters, because he’s mentioned by Sirius as having gone to school with Snape. However this could make him either closer to Bellatrix/Lucius in age, or closer to Snape/Avery/Mulciber. There’s also a Rosier who was one of the original Death Eaters (I’ll talk about him below) and it’s possible that this is Evan’s father. The Rosiers are part of the Sacred Twenty-eight.

As for Evan himself, he’s the second name given by Karkaroff as an “important Death Eater.” We also know that Evan Rosier “preferred to fight rather than coming quietly,” and managed to blast a chunk of Moody’s nose off in the struggle before being killed.

Building from the fact that he fought to the death rather than being imprisoned, managing to permanently injure Moody, my version of Rosier is a proud, skilled, merciless fighter. He has a single-minded commitment to his cause— the supremacy of pureblood wizards. He will stop at nothing to achieve this and is fiercely loyal to the Death Eater cause and Lord Voldemort, even over himself. He is traditionalist and reserved, but violent and remorseless.

Being that Karkaroff names him as important, I think he rose quickly through the ranks after leaving school because of his skill and dedication. His impatience with what he sees as “frivolity and mind games,” as well as his preference for straightforward violence and direct action put him at odds with Lucius Malfoy, and in allegiance with Travers.

EVELYN MULCIBER (MULCIBER JR.):

My personal favourite Death Eater after Snape, though for very different reasons lol. We know he went to school with and was friends with Snape and Avery. Curiously he’s not named by Sirius in GoF, but I think this can just be put down to Sirius listing names as they occur to him rather than being wholly accurate. Mulciber and Avery’s sense of humour is described by Lily as ‘evil,’ and she describes Mulciber himself as ‘creepy.’ He attacked Gryffindor Mary MacDonald with unknown dark magic, for “a laugh,” according to Sev.

Personally, I think this is implied to be an attempted Imperius Curse, since Karkaroff tells the Wizengamot that the Imperius Curse was Mulciber’s speciality and that he “forced countless people to do horrific things.” Mulciber is sent to Azkaban at the end of the war.

From this we can conclude that he was either notorious enough not to be given the benefit of the doubt like Avery, or that he was loyal enough to not renounce Voldemort. We also have my favourite quote of all time— jkr said in an interview that Snape “wanted Lily, but he also wanted Mulciber.”

The Mulcibers are not part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, but as I’ve said previously, there could be various explanations for this. A Mulciber is part of Voldemort’s original Death Eaters, this is possibly Mulciber jr.’s father.

I think it’s pretty easy to deduce that Mulciber was sadistic and manipulative. I’ve written a lot about my interpretation of Mulciber on here— I see him as a narcissist, an opportunist, very skilled at identifying potential assets and manipulating people to his advantage. I think that Mulciber spotted Snape’s ability and put considerable effort into securing his friendship and loyalty, positioning himself as a sympathetic, understanding figure that Snape would admire and want to be friends with. The Imperius is just a literal form of manipulation, so the fact that this is Mulciber’s speciality leads me to think that he himself was a natural manipulator. He sees people as tools but is nevertheless very adept at preying on their desires and insecurities, he’s clever and has well-developed social skills.

His proclivity for the Imperius was no doubt incredibly useful for the Death Eaters, which is why he was given importance despite his youth, and he would have been more aligned with Lucius’s subtle, diplomatic approach rather than Travers and Rosier.

PRESTON AVERY (AVERY JR.)

My other detestable fave. Along with Mulciber, we know that Avery was friends with Snape in school, and that his sense of humour was ‘evil.’ There are a few things that distinguish Avery from Mulciber: for instance Mulciber was the instigator of the attack on Mary, not Avery, and also Avery escaped Azkaban by saying he was under the Imperius curse and did not attempt to seek Voldemort out.

In the graveyard, Avery flings himself at Voldemort’s feet and begs his forgiveness, specifically in a ‘shriek,’ before Voldemort tortures him. In OotP Avery gives Voldemort incorrect information about the prophecy in the Dept. of Mysteries, and is tortured for this mistake. Haha poor Avery never catches a break (he deserves it tho.)

An Avery is mentioned as being part of Riddle's gang in Slughorn's memory, this is possibly Avery's father. Karkaroff does not name him, meaning he was either unimportant or unknown to Karkaroff, or both.

Sirius says that Avery ‘wormed’ his way out of Azkaban, and given that Sirius knew him at school I think this is indicative of Avery’s character, as is his shrieking and flinging for Voldemort’s forgiveness. So in my mind he’s sly, devious, and self-serving, since unlike his fellows Mulciber and Rosier, he isn’t willing to die or be sent to Azkaban for Voldemort.

It's unclear why he would have told Voldemort that Bode could steal the prophecy-- perhaps he worked for the Ministry after the war.

I’ve leant quite heavily into the ‘evil sense of humour’ for Avery, and given him a very twisted, specifically misogynistic humour, as this is common in teenage boys (and I think it's a vague possibility that Mary’s attack might have been sexual in nature.) For Lily to mention him, Avery had to have pulled his own weight in the evil sense of humour department.

There’s a pathetic element to him too, he’s not quite as clever nor talented as Mulciber and Snape, though still conniving enough to avoid Azkaban. His begging for forgiveness in the graveyard suggests to me that he thought speaking up would be a strategic way to avoid Voldemort’s displeasure, and he was sadly mistaken. I think his claiming Bode could remove the prophecy was a similar, and similarly misjudged, attempt to gain favour.

AUGUSTUS ROOKWOOD

I actually think Rookwood should go above Avery, but Avery in my heart is a more relevant character, so there you are. But Rookwood is named by Karkaroff, right after Travers and Mulciber, and we know he was a spy based in the Department of Mysteries, a fact which was unknown to the Ministry until Karkaroff’s trial.

Ludo Bagman also describes “old Rookwood” as a friend of his dad’s, meaning he was probably an older gent, and Bagman also says “Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on.”

According to Karkaroff, Rookwood had a network of informants inside the Ministry and out— since we know one of these was the unwitting Bagman, it’s likely other informants were also unaware of what they were doing. Rookwood uses the promise of a Ministry job to wheedle info from Bagman, meaning he was presumably well-placed enough in the Ministry to be able to offer a job, and also clever and conniving enough to know how to manipulate people into giving him intel. (tbf Bagman was probably an easy mark, but Rookwood was able to spot that.)

Since Rookwood’s identity was unknown for so long and only given up by Karkaroff post-war, I think it’s safe to assume he was very competent as a spy, intelligent and careful. It’s likely that not many Death Eaters knew about him (as Karkaroff states, many of them didn’t know about each other) and I doubt the Order would have, either. It probably was just bad luck for Rookwood that Karkaroff somehow did find out at some point, since I think it’s most likely that Snape didn’t know— or else Dumbledore and the Wizengamot would have already been aware.

This for me means I can’t really include him much in my fic in anything other than hints and cameos. Since Bagman and his father both like him, I think his outward persona at least was probably charming and friendly. In his mugshot he's leaning against the frame and looking bored, which I think is indicative of his true personality: ruthless, cold, indifferent. The charming persona is a carefully and cleverly constructed mask.

RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE

The reason Rodolphus and his brother aren’t higher up is that I don’t think they were as nearly as important/relevant as Bellatrix. Outside of the Pensieve trial they’re barely ever mentioned, they’re present at a few battles but never given any protagonism. Tellingly, Bellatrix herself doesn’t mention or interact with her husband once. We know he was ‘tall and thickset,’ that he and his brother participated in the torture of the Longbottoms, and were among Voldemort’s loyal supporters who didn’t renounce him after the war.

A Lestrange is in Riddle's group at school- this is either the father/other relative of Rabastan and Rodolphus, since Sirius implying Rodolphus was in school with Bellatrix means it can't be Rodolphus himself.

My view of Rodolphus is that he followed his wife’s lead, as she was the dominant partner. I don’t think he was clever or talented or ambitious enough to distinguish himself as a leader in his own right, and that he was primarily useful to Bellatrix for his wealth and pureblood name. In my opinion Bellatrix didn’t really like her husband, in fact she almost just tolerated him while having affairs not only with Voldemort but other men (when Voldemort didn’t pay her attention) and Rodolphus was largely oblivious to this lol. The Lestrange brothers were decently ranked, but this is owing more to their wealth and pureblood name (and association with Bellatrix) rather than their ability.

RABASTAN LESTRANGE

A lot of what I’ve said for Rodolphus goes for Rabastan, but I'll add a few things. First is that I think Rabastan provides an explanation for why Sirius names Bellatrix and Rodolphus as part of Snape’s group in school, even though this is unlikely given their ages. Rabastan was almost certainly the younger brother since Bellatrix would have married the Lestrange heir, he’s described as thinner and more nervous than his brother in the Pensieve, which also fits with him being younger.

So, my theory is that Sirius was just describing a specific ‘group of Slytherins’ as a whole throughout the years, and that there was some overlap and changing of members as people entered the school or graduated from it. Bellatrix was perhaps the leader of that group when she was at school, which would have included the younger Rabastan— then, if either Mulciber or Avery were slightly older than Sev, they’d have potentially been in Bellatrix’s group but almost certainly in Rabastan’s.

About Rabastan himself, the description of him being thin and his “eyes darting around the room” make me think he's slyer and more unassuming than his brother, easily overshadowed by Rodolphus and certainly Bellatrix. There’s something more calculating about him too, but his subservience to his brother and sister-in-law means he stays somewhat in the background.

WALDEN MACNAIR

We’re introduced to Macnair as an executioner working in the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures— however, it’s mentioned in the graveyard that Macnair wasn’t doing this job during the first war, and Voldemort then offers him “better victims.” It’s possible to interpret that Macnair was younger, since he wasn’t yet established in his career during the first war. This isn’t necessarily the case but Macnair is also described as muscular in PoA which gives the impression of a younger, fitter man.

Macnair is one of the Death Eaters who was sent to liaise with the giants. He didn’t search for Voldemort after the downfall, and the other thing to note is that Macnair is genuinely frustrated about not being able to execute Buckbeak.

So I think we can infer that Macnair is violent and bloodthirsty, with a particular penchant for cruelty towards animals/magical creatures. A connection can be made between Macnair being an animal executioner and the fact that he was sent to the giants. Personally I’ve used Macnair in a similar way, involving him in the recruitment of Fenrir Greyback and other werewolves.

The fact he uses an axe instead of magic to execute Buckbeak is odd; either this is a very outdated, inhumane practice of the Committee itself, or Macnair's choice because idk he just loves violence. I tend to think it's the first, though I'm sure Macnair has no complaints about it.

I’ve characterised Macnair as being generally smooth and swaggering, kind of debonair and very full of himself, literally just because of his muscles and moustache lol. But he has a cruel sense of humour, liking for violence and deep disdain for non-humans especially but also Muggles and Muggleborns.

FULGENCE NOTT

Not(t) much is known about Theodore Nott’s father, who is described as a ‘stooped man,’ and this plus his single line of dialogue (‘My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful –’) paint a picture of a sycophantic, obsequious, pretentious but fairly pathetic man haha. He was likely decently ranked, like the Lestrange brothers, due to his family name. He escaped Azkaban.

Not only are the Notts part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, their ancestor Cantakerus Nott is also believed to be the author of that list. We also know that Nott Sr. was friendly with Slughorn and an old favourite of his, and that he’s a widower, having lost his wife when Theodore was young (this is probably supposed to be the death that Theodore witnessed.)

A Nott is also one of the Death Eaters waiting for Voldemort during his interview with Dumbledore, and in this case it’s likely the same Nott, meaning he was already serving Voldemort by the early 70s.

I don’t have much to add about Nott, his being an old favourite of Slughorn fits with his sycophantic personality, and with the idea that he was in Voldemort’s gang at school and part of the original Death Eaters. I've given him the unfortunate name Fulgence because he's so pathetic in such a pretentious way lol.

CORBAN YAXLEY:

I don’t think Yaxley was particularly high-ranking until around DH, when the power vacuum left by Lucius’s fall from grace provided him an opportunity. Snape names Yaxley in HBP as one of the Death Eaters who avoided Azkaban and never attempted to seek Voldemort out, and he wasn’t at the battle of the Dept. of Mysteries, but he was arrested at Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s death.

He has a 'heavy, brutal face' and 'blunt' features which I think gives a clue to his personality, but of the DEs in the Astronomy Tower he also seems to be the most sensible and focused on the mission. He also comes across as confident and self-assured when he speaks at Malfoy Manor in DH, while 'determined' to gain Voldemort's approval.

In the Astronomy Tower, he appears to be the senior Death Eater as he gives Greyback orders— however, I think it’s worth noting that the Death Eaters present on the Astronomy tower (except Snape) were not high-ranking in general. I think this is purposeful; Voldemort sent in expendable soldiers whose job it was to keep the Order busy while Draco or Snape assassinated Dumbledore, and it's also true that many high-ranking DEs were arrested at the Ministry at the end of OotP.

So, I think during the first war Yaxley was really a foot soldier, though one of the more competent ones. I think he was probably ambitious and sought to rise in the ranks, but it was the fact that he was lower-profile than someone like Mulciber or Bellatrix that allowed him to get close enough to Thicknesse to Imperiuse him in DH, then later become Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

Because of her notoriety the general public might have had a harder time accepting Bellatrix in that post, but since Yaxley was a relative unknown he was a good choice, even more so because he proved himself by Imperiusing Thicknesse. I think the same mostly holds true of the Carrows teaching at Hogwarts but I’ll get to that.

IGOR KARKAROFF

I almost didn’t include Karkaroff in this list because we do see quite a lot of him as a character, but I think there are a few things worth pointing out. First is that Karkaroff flees when the Dark Mark burns in GoF, and he gives up fellow Death Eaters to avoid Azkaban— inherently he is cowardly and disloyal, and also not wise enough to realise that he would certainly be tracked down in the end.

Second is the fact that Karkaroff is foreign. In DH before the Gringotts break-in, Travers treats ‘Dragomir Despard’ with distaste and obvious xenophobia, so I think the same would have applied to Karkaroff. On the other hand, Travers quite easily accepts the idea that they’d recruit a foreign wizard, so this is probably something they’d done in the past.

Like I said in Dolohov’s section, I think Karkaroff was recruited by Dolohov, since both names seem to be Russian. This personal connection also explains for me why Karkaroff would name Dolohov first.

Draco claims that Lucius knows Karkaroff, but this is likely Draco exaggerating his father’s importance, plus the fact that as Headmaster of Durmstrang Karkaroff would be of more relevance to Lucius than during the war.

Karkaroff doesn't name Lucius at his hearing; I think we can infer that the Death Eaters that he does name are those that he worked with, or else he would have named more people when he started getting desperate. In fact the order Karkaroff names them in (Dolohov > Rosier > Travers > Mulciber > Rookwood > Snape) might be somewhat indicative of who he knew best and considered most important. Karkaroff's testimony has been much more useful to me than it was to the Ministry haha, thanks Igor.

DEVEREUX WILKES

Pretty much nothing is known about Wilkes, other than the fact that they were a contemporary of Snape and died in the first war. Not even their gender is known.

So we’re free to do literally anything with Wilkes. I’ve chosen to interpret the fact that he died (my version is male, since there are very few female Death Eaters) as being due to incompetence rather than nobly going out fighting the way Rosier did. He’s sycophantic, entitled, and ambitious but all around rather pathetic, and not as skilled nor clever as he thinks he is. I don’t think he’d ever be more than a foot soldier. Again though, there’s no canon info to base anything off other than the fact that Wilkes was youngish and died— and also arguably the lack of information itself might imply Wilkes just wasn’t ever very important haha.

ALECTO AND AMYCUS CARROW

Lumping these guys together. The Carrows are fairly established characters so I won’t talk much about Alecto and Amycus themselves. Their speech comes across as more working-class than other Death Eaters, they’re present in the group that infiltrates Hogwarts in HBP (see Yaxley’s section for more on this) and they’re not mentioned in the graveyard despite avoiding Azkaban, so I tend to think that they were very low-ranked during the first war, basically expendable foot soldiers.

Like Yaxley, I think they were given their positions at Hogwarts because of their lack of notoriety, but unlike Yaxley I think they were relegated to a relatively easy job, under the guidance of Snape, because they weren’t useful or talented enough to be needed elsewhere.

It's also possible that Snape asked for the Carrows because they'd be easier to control than other Death Eaters.

Alecto Carrow is the only named female Death Eater apart from Bellatrix. Alecto is one of the Furies from Greek myth, vengeful goddesses who punish mortals, which I think is fitting.

JERVAISE CRABBE / TITUS GOYLE

I’m putting these together too because I’ve recently written an entire meta about Crabbe and Goyle and their dads and that’s already way too much for me. Also they’re basically indistinguishable from each other. Find that post here, the main thing is that I think they were also low-ranking foot soldiers. Beats me why Voldemort decided to specifically call them out in the graveyard.

Crabbe Sr. is present at the Department of Mysteries, Goyle Sr. is not, that's literally the only difference between them, so maybe Crabbe was a bit more important/talented/something than Goyle. Who cares, honestly.

FENRIR GREYBACK

Yes, Greyback is more relevant than many of the above. However, he’s almost certainly the lowest-ranking, as he never has a Dark Mark. In fact, I think that while he was aligned with the Death Eaters during the first war, he wasn’t actually formally recruited until around HBP, and he never had full Death Eater status. In Snape’s memory, Dumbledore comments that Voldemort has recruited Greyback, implying he hadn’t been recruited before that. Mainly I just wanted to point this out, because we do know quite a lot about Greyback as a character.

The other important thing is that Greyback is treated with contempt and revulsion by other Death Eaters, he’s generally subservient to them, even though some of them seem to fear him. My theory is that the Death Eaters were considering using Greyback during the first war but were not willing to afford him even informal Death Eater status-- they only did this later, when the reduction in ranks following the arrests at the Dept. of Mysteries necessitated more recruits. This is also why the Carrows and Yaxley would have become more important around this time.

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If you made it through all that I am very surprised. Obviously this is how these characters appear in my series The Darkest Days and in fact this list really started off as a way to organise my characters haha. But maybe it can be useful or interesting to someone, i don't know!

OTHER NOTES:

There are also Death Eaters known to have participated in the second wizarding war, but it’s never mentioned whether they participated in the first. Since I’ve already got way too many characters on my hands with the above, I’ve chosen to just not include them or bother fleshing them out lol. They may or may not have been there, in general I think it’s likely that they were.

These are: Thorfinn Rowle, Selwyn, Jugson, Gibbon. I think Jugson, given he was at the Dept. of Mysteries, and Rowle, given that characters recognise him from wanted posters, are the most likely to have participated in the first war. With the possible exception of Selwyn, all seem to be pretty low-ranking.

The Three Dads: so these are the fathers (or other relatives) of Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier, who are all part of Voldemort’s original Death Eaters. They are mentioned in Pensieve memories but never in the context of either war. My view is that in these cases (Rosier, Avery, Mulciber) the sons were more active as Death Eaters during the later years of the war, on the battlefield and otherwise, whereas the fathers acted more as shadowy benefactors/financial backers for Voldemort’s interests, using their money and social influence and sending their sons to fight for them, but also having plausible deniability if their sons got caught.

Even though they’re not very relevant themselves, I actually have fleshed them out a bit just because their sons are important characters in my fic. None of this is really directly based in canon, since there’s no info, rather I’ve built their characters around their sons. So this isn't canon, just read if you're interested:

Aymeric Rosier (Rosier Sr.): I see Rosier Sr. as cold, distant, and domineering. He is cruel to his sons and inflicts harsh punishments on them, and is also an avid Nogtail hunting enthusiast. Their house is filled with hunting trophies, dead and stuffed animals— many of them exotic animals hunted on holidays abroad, mainly to India and Kenya, where he has business interests. You can see where I’m going with this— an imperialist, basically.

Erastus Mulciber (Mulciber Sr.): I mentioned that the Mulcibers aren't part of the Sacred 28, in my mind this isn't because the Mulcibers aren't a prestigious and wealthy pureblood family, but because a specific relative ruined it for them in recent history by marrying a Muggle-born. All members of this branch of the family mysteriously disappeared on holiday in 1942. Mulciber Sr. himself is for this reason very proud, haughty, defensive of his family's superiority, and he has passed down these traits to his son.

Enoch Avery (Avery Sr.): I mentioned that I characterise Avery jr. as a misogynist, and this comes from his father, who is a known rake and frequently conducts extramarital affairs. He is distant from his family and has high, unreachable expectations of his son, who is eternally trying to please him to no avail. Unlike his son, Avery Sr. is charming, charismatic, competent. Avery jr. simultaneously resents his father and seeks his approval.

There’s also a Lestrange mentioned in Slughorn's memory, but personally I think it’s quite possible that he’s dead since Rodolphus and Bellatrix are in possession of the Lestrange vault and fortune by the time Voldemort hides the Horcrux.

#evan rosier #mulciber #avery #travers #antonin dolohov #rodolphus lestrange #rabastan lestrange #augustus rookwood #rosier #death eaters #first wizarding war #meta #this is so long sorry haha #avery is DEFINITELY in the wrong place lmao i just wanted to keep rosier avery and mulciber together #and also i personally find him relevant. and its my list #why i gave travers the name jago idk. just sounds like an asshole name. i also like cornish names haha #dolohov maybe should go above travers. idk it doesnt matter that much lol #the darkest days

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dramionestills · 9 months ago

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Dramione month day 8: marriage contract

Three sharp knocks on his office door made him lose concentration from the report he’d been trying, and failing, to complete before the end of the day.

“Come in.” He might as well see what this was about as it was evident the report would not be getting done today.

The door opened quickly and a rather nervous Hermione Granger entered. Curious.

“Granger”

“Hi. Hello. I.. umm… may i?” she gestured at the door, hoping for some privacy.

“Of course.”

She closed the door behind her and approached his desk. He nodded his head at her, inviting her to take a seat. This was clearly something important and he was becoming more intrigued by the second.

“How may I be of assistance?” his head cocked to the side, taking her in and attempting to suss out what brought the brain (and beauty, if we’re to be honest) of the Golden trio to his office.

“I have a proposal for you.” Color rose to her cheeks almost immediately upon saying this. “Of sorts.”

“Granger, if I didn’t know any better I might think you were asking me to marry you” he chuckled lightly at the absurdity of the notion, except…

“Well…” She was avoiding looking him in the eye

“Explain”

“You know what? This was a mistake, I’ll just see myself out” But as she was attempting to stand up Draco waved his wand, simultaneously locking the door and sending a gust of wind towards her which ford her to remain seated.

“Granger, now you have to tell me what this is about. Am I correct in understanding that you came up 7 floors from your department and sought me out specifically to ask me to marry you, regardless of the fact that we are barely acquaintances these days and we haven’t spoken more than three words to each other in the past month?”

Hermione, still blushing a delightful shade of pink, nodded her head. She closed her eyes and began to explain.

“Look, I understand that this is coming out of nowhere for you. I do. But it’ll make sense after I explain. I swear.”

“I’m listening.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk and intertwining his fingers together. His chin lays perfectly in the divot created between his forefingers and his thumbs. Hermione cannot help but think he looks imposing and large and were those horn-rimmed glasses he was wearing? Since when does he wear glasses?

“I started using them a few years ago, Granger. You are stalling.”

Apparently she had said that out loud, proving to be more anxious than she had originally anticipated.

“Right. Remember the Smithson case from a few weeks ago?”

“The one who went free due to an antiquated law even though his crimes definitely meritted at least life in Azkaban?”

“Exactly. It’s been brought to my attention that this is not the first time situations like these have happened, wherein a culprit is let go because the victims of their crimes happen to be unprotected by the laws that see them as undesirables or just… less than.”

“You mean Muggleborns.”

“Yes. For the most part.”

“I still don’t understand how this means marriage.”

“Well, I was venting about this during girls night a couple of weeks ago and Pansy mentioned that the only way to actually do something about this would be to change the laws currently in the books from within the Wizengamot.”

“Ah. So you are after the Malfoy Wizengamot seat, then.” His head begins spinning with the possibilities; who would have ever thought that he would be in possession of something that not only does he have absolutely no interest in (the Malfoy seat laying abandoned in most Wizengamot hearings, wasted) but also is of vital importance to a swot like Granger?

“Yes. I know you are not currently making use of it, I presume because you’ve no interest in the more tedious aspects of legalese. I could have of course just asked you to help me and do me the favor of enacting the changes yourself, but Pansy has mentioned how much you love your job as the Ministry’s Head Potioneer and though I don’t doubt your capabilities teaching you and telling you exactly which laws and how I wish to amend them would be, frankly a waste of time. So, I thought, perhaps we could agree to marry. A.. a contract of sorts. Wherein I get to use the Malfoy seat to change things as is needed and upon completion of my, well I guess you could call it a mission? Anyways upon making sure the laws are repealed and new ones are set into place that are more in keeping with our current societal mores we could get a divorce. I expect to be done in no more than 5 years, it would be in name only you wouldn’t even have to see me, I swear and I promise I will not seek any money in the divorce, or anything of the sort. This is strictly business for me.” She was panting after her soliloquy, her hair expanding with her nerves and her flush intensifying. A very fetching look, if anyone were to ask Draco.

The silence after she finished speaking seemed to stretch unbearably. She was itching to get up and leave Malfoy’s office but the door remained locked.

After what felt like an eternity Draco nodded.

“Sounds as if you’ve given this quite a fair bit of thought. I have to say, my neglect of the Malfoy seat has been on my mind lately. You are quite right in that politics and law are not my areas of expertise. I think your… proposal has merit. But there are certain things I feel must be reviewed before I can accede to this.”

“Of course, we can definitely negotiate this to make it better suited to your needs.”

“My needs. Exactly.” There was a sudden heat in his gaze, but surely Hermione was imagining things, right?

“We will be meeting this friday to properly discuss this. 8pm. La trattoria d’il vicolo.”

“Perfect! Thank you so much for not laughing in my face and actually taking the time to consider this Malfoy. I know we don’t necessarily get along too well but well, Pansy was right, you are definitely more amenable these days. See you on friday.”

He just tilted his head as we waved his wand to unlock the door..

Hemione got up understanding it as the dismissal it was.. As she was leaving his office, her mind reeling from the possibilities that her incredibly convoluted and a little crazy idea actually coming to fruition could bring she had a thought that stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, isn’t La trattoria d’il vicolo known to be the most romantic restaurant in Diagon?”

Draco just smirked. “Yes. It is.”

The door shut as Hermione’s flush returned in full force. Just what had she gotten herself into?

#draco malfoy #fanfic #dramione art #draco x hermione #dramione #dramione month #crossposted on twitter #will post on ao3 when i figure it out

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blorger · 6 months ago

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I don't think I'm saying anything earth-shatteringly new when I state that the inner workings of the Ministry of Magic aren't exactly expanded upon in the hp books. it's safe to say that Rowling herself probably didn't think too deeply about the executive, judiciary and legislative powers of the magical government since the information we do have is scant and often contradictory; nevertheless, I have attempted to compile all the relevant facts disclosed in the books.

When researching the subject, I have not used any external material (i.e. Pottermore, JKR interviews, facts gleaned from post-7th book canon) because, having been written ex post facto, they are by nature unreliable. In the time inbetween writing the original books and the disclosure of post-canon details, jkr had time to do some revisionism and fill in existing gaps (the existence of which she may have been alerted to by others) and I'm not interested in any of jkr's attempts to rewrite history, regardless of the subject.

That said, I give you

The Definitive HP Law Compendium

a) THE MINISTRY

Our most exhaustive documentation on how the Ministry of Magic is structured comes by courtesy of the ministry elevators, which helpfully list all departments floor by floor.

on level 1: Minister of Magic and Support Staff (Umbridge's offices in DH are located here)

on level 2: Department of Magical Law Enforcement (henceforth shortened to DMLE), which includes the Improper Use of Magic offices, Auror Headquarters and the Wizengamot Administrative Services.

although not specified by the lift, this is also where the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office (where Arthur Weasley works) is located, which tells us that the lift's announcements are not necessarily exhaustive.

on level 3: Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes composed of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters and Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee

on level 4: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures which includes of the Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, the Goblin liaison Office and the Pest Advisory Bureau.

on level 5: Department for International Magical Cooperation including the International Magical Trading Standards body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the British chapter of the International Confederation of Wizards (also referred to as the "International Confederation of Warlocks")

on level 6: Department of Magical Transport which includes the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, the Portkey Office and the Apparition Test Center (considering that Hogwarts student seem to take their apparition test at school, this is likely where adult wizards take and/or retake their tests)

on level 7: Department of Magical Games and Sports, which includes the British and Irish quidditch League (is magical Ireland not divided? unclear), the Headquarters of the Official Gobstones Club and, bizarrely, the Ludicrous Patents office (I'd be inclined to think this is a sports-related patent office if it wasn't the only one mentioned in the books)

on level 8 is the atrium, which Harry describes as a "very long and splendid hall" with many gilded fireplaces on both sides (left is for arrivals and right is for departures). This is also where the Fountain of Magical Brethren and the security desk are located. At the end of the hall, golden gates lead to a smaller room where the lifts (at least 20 in number) are.

on level 9: Department of Mysteries and beyond

The lift stops here but we know from OotP that there's at least one more floor that is only accessible by stairs from level 9 (which also brings up the question: are the upper floors also connected by stairs or is it an either/or scenario?). On this additional floor is Courtroom 10, which is supposedly no longer in use as of OotP but was still being used in the immediate aftermath of the first wizarding war. The courtroom's name implies the presence of at least 9 other courtrooms and, though their location is unclear, they do not seem to be located on this floor.

b) KNOWN GOVERNING BODIES

Going purely off of the only two law-adjacent departments mentioned by the ministry lifts, there's both an international and a state law department (on level 5 and 2 respectively) but seemingly no distinction between civil and criminal law.

Besides what described above by the lift, level 2 also appears to be where some offences are judged, as Harry's trial in OotP was originally scheduled to take place here, right inside the office of the head of the DMLE.

We know that, during Harry's time, the DMLE is headed by Amelia Bones, who gets quietly offed between OotP and HBP. She is succeeded by the imperiused Pius Thicknesse (who goes on to become minister of magic during the second war), who is in turn succeeded by noted Death Eater Corban Yaxley.

We further know that, prior to Amelia's tenure (though it's unknown if directly preceding), the department used to be headed by Barty Crouch sr., who later went on to head the office for International Magical Cooperation (where he was Percy Weasley's boss). This is implied to be a lateral career move at best since Sirius describes Crouch in GoF as being "shunted sideways".

The International Federation of Warlocks (part of the Office for International Cooperation) seems to be a legislative body of sorts, as we'll see later that it originated many of the laws mentioned in the books. We know that it was established prior to the advent of the Statue of Secrecy (and the subsequent creation of the Ministry of Magic) because professor Binns mentions they convened in 1289 in one of his lectures, implying that its existence precedes that date.

The books make no mention of the presence of a parliament in the wizarding world, not even in a Chamber of Lords-type fashion.

[note that Dumbledore seems to have had high positions in both the International Federation, where he was Supreme Mugwump, and the Wizengamot, where he was Chief Warlock. It's unknown what either of these titles entail]

Moving on to the judiciary branch, we know of the existence of the Wizengamot. It's described as "the wizard high court", which (to me) implies the presence of a lower court. The Council of Magical Law may be the lower court's name, as it may be the court presiding the trials Harry witnesses in Dumbledore's pensieve

(from PoA)

As we'll see later, the postwar trials of Igor Karkaroff and Ludo Bagman, and the joint trial of Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch jr are described quite differently from Harry's trial before the Wizengamot, which is what led me to believe that they were presided by two different courts.

The magical world doesn't appear to have an appellate court although, if jkr modeled the wizarding judiciary after the ones present in British Law, the Wizengamot may be modeled after the Crown Court and thus also serve an appellate function.

Finally, the books make no mention of barristers, solicitors or any other type of lawyer. The trials we witness are not presided by judges but by government officials and there is no indication that the Wizengamot members (who serve the function of a jury) have any type of legal training.

The defendants in the trials we happen to witness don't appear to have counsel of any type. Dumbledore acts as a defense lawyer of sorts for Harry in OotP but he announces himself as a "witness for the defence". Seeing that Dumbledore appears to be a living exception to all magical laws and customs, this doesn't actually tell us much.

The government officials acting in the function of the prosecution and the judge both do exhibit some knowledge of wizarding laws, as does Dumbledore (who was at one point chief Warlock) although, since Dumbledore is Dumbledore and therefore omniscient, this may not be indicative of any skill requirement for the position he held.

c) KNOWN LAWS

1.1 legal documents referenced in the books (in tentatively chronological order)

the Statute of Secrecy, decreed by the International Confederation of Warlocks in 1689

unnamed law decreed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709: it outlaws dragon Breeding (as per Ron in PS)

The Decree for the Reasonble Restriction of Underage Sorcery (1875), which partly states in clause seven that "magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations that threaten the life of the wizard or witch himself, or witches, wizards, or Muggles present at the time of the..." (as quoted by Dumbledore in OotP)

unnamed law punishing the use of Unforgivables

the Code of Wand Use (mentioned in GoF), which states in part that "no non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand".

unnamed law delineating the purposes and limitations of the Trace

the Wizengamot charter of rights (mentioned on OotP): it partly states that an accused has the right to present defence witnesses (as stated by Dumbledore in OotP)

law fifteen B "any attack by a magical creature who is deemed to have near-human intelligence, and therefore considered responsible for its actions..." (as incompletely quoted by Dolores Umbridge in OotP)

the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation, which gives the ministry power to confiscate the contents of a will. It was created to stop wizards from passing on dark artefacts (as mentioned in DH)

the Ban on experimental Breeding (mentioned in GoF)

unnamed law written by Arthur Weasley regarding the possible legality of flying cars/ enchanted muggle vehicles (as mentioned in CoS)*

unnamed document establishing an embargo on flying carpets, implied to have been drafted by Arthur Weasley (from GoF)*

Arthur Weasley's Muggle Protection Act (proposed legislation c.a. 1992, unknown contents, unknown if put into law)*

the International Ban on Dueling, implied to be an international agreement, Transylvanians haven't signed it as of summer 1994 (from GoF)

*: it's unclear how Arthur Weasley, who is not a lawyer, an elected official or a member of the only known legislative body in the books (the International federation of wizards), is able to both draft and propose legislation

1.2 educational decrees

I am including these because they are treated like laws. They are pushed for by a minister and they need to "pass", presumably through a parliament of sorts, in order to be enacted. Prior to the events of OotP there seem to have been 21 educational decrees, the contents of which we are unaware of. The ones added in book 5 by the Fudge administration (with the help of Dolores Umbridge) are as follows:

n.22 "in the event of the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person"

n.23, creates the new position of "Hogwarts high inquisitor"

n.24:

n25:

n.26 "teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach"

n.27 "any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled"

n.28 "Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Wichcraft and Wizardry"

n.29: never enacted, concerning the use of physical punishment at Hogwarts

unnamed order for the expulsion of peeves, possibly part of decree 29, also never enacted

d) HARRY'S TRIAL

In OotP, Harry is tried for underage magic following his use of the Patronus enchantment to protect both himself and his cousin Dudley from dementors.

This is Harry's second infraction of the Decree for the Reasonble Restriction of Underage Sorcery and he is being made an example of for political reasons since, in recently claiming that Voldemort had returned, he made an enemy out of the Fudge administration. It's therefore unclear if the Decree has a two strikes and you're out policy or if Harry's prosecution is just caused by the Ministry's desire to throw the book at him. By the time Harry receives the letter informing him of this upcoming trial, he'd supposedly performed underage magic outside of Hogwarts thrice but only received a written warning once (in Cos, when said magic was actually performed by Dobby). When Harry blew up his aunt Marge in PoA, Fudge himself dismissed the event as a non-issue, claiming:

The circumstances in this case being Sirius's escape from Azkaban and his presumed intention to target Harry. Of course, Harry's notoriety may have also played a factor.

Despite being a minor, Harry doesn't seem to be allowed an escort as Arthur Weasley is unable to enter the courtroom. Harry goes in alone (as does every other defendant we meet); it also appears that the trial is closed to the public.

Harry's trial is described as a "disciplinary hearing", both before it was supposed to take place in front of the Wizengamot and after:

and

Despite this, the hearing is presided by the Minister of Magic himself, (Cornelius Fudge). A Wizengamot trial seems to be, by nature, a criminal trial and Dumbledore, in his defense of Harry, implies it is highly unusual for disciplinary hearings to be tried as such. Indeed, before the trial was moved from Amelia Bones's office to Courtroom 10, the judgement of the head of DMLE was deemed to be sufficent.

The Wizengamot members act as a jury of sort, they are described to be:

The Wizengamot appears to have elders; we are introduced to only two - Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden - so it's unclear how many there are and, furthermore, we are never informed of their function.

Wizengamot proceedings require the presence of interrogators. In Harry's trial they are Cornelius Fudge (Minister of Magic), Amelia Bones (Head of the DMLE) and Dolores Umbridge (Senior Undersecretary to the Minister).

For some reason, Percy Weasley acts as court scribe despite it not being his job title. It's unclear wether this is an extraordinary case or if stenographers really don't exist in the magical world. (also, why do they even need stenographers when wizards have quick quotes quills?)

Dumbledore describes himself as a witness for the defense, even if he takes on a role that seems more similar to that of a defense attorney. Mrs Figg is also described as a witness but, unlike Dumbledore, she was not allowed to enter the court by herself and required an escort in order to join the proceedings (Percy Weasley).

For some reason, Dumbledore was informed of the trial's change of location, which implies he was also aware of the time and location of the original hearing. At no point in time does Harry retain his services (he is in fact surprised to see Dumbledore there) despite the fact that Dumbledore speaks for Harry throughout.

Interestingly, though the trial also serves to determine wether Harry is going to be expelled from Hogwarts, Dumbledore's judgement in his role as Headmaster is not required. The Ministry, it appears, can decide to expel students without the approval of the school's headmaster (can the headmaster expel students without ministry approval? unclear).

The proceedings seem to be very formal, as Harry is being interrogated with yes and no questions and is given no time for elucidations. Despite this, Dumbledore is allowed to have multiple very informal conversations with the minister of magic himself and at no point does he use court lingo, in complete opposition to how Umbridge, an interrogator, is treated.

Harry observes that, in order to speak, she has to lean forward, at which point the Minister states

This is the only time in all of the books that this happens. The other interrogator, head of DMLE Amelia Bones, appears to speak whenever she pleases, as she interrupts Harry mid-sentence and addresses the Minister like a peer.

It's quite likely that Dumbledore was allowed free rein on account if his status and fame and his presence likely threw a wrench in what were otherwise going to be very strict bureaucratic proceedings.

Finally, Wizengamot rulings are made by show of hands and it doesn't look like they need to be initiated by the person heading the proceedings. For Harry's trial, it's Amelia Bones that calls onto the jury's decision and not Fudge.

e) OTHER TRIALS

The first trial we see in the books happens at least six months after the first wizarding war, since that's the time it took for Alastor Moody to track down the defendant, Igor Karkaroff.

What Harry witnesses (by wading through Dumbledore's pensieve memories) is not, however, Karkaroff's sentencing but a follow-up hearing to determine wether he is in possession of information that may lead to the capture of more Death Eaters. Karkaroff is taken from Azkaban in order to do so and he is accompanied/carried by dementors.

The case takes place in open court, as Harry sees that "rows and rows of witches and wizards were seated around every wall on what seemed to be benches rising in levels"; these proceedings, in stark difference to Harry's, are open to the public (possible proof n.1 that this is not taking place in front of the Wizengamot but in a different court).

At this moment in time, Dumbledore could very well be chief warlock of the wizengamot (we don't know when he was instated) but he sits among the spectators (possible proof n.2 ). Despite being a member of the public, Dumbledore is seen interrupting proceedings without permission (to defend Snape, whom Karkaroff implicates). Because it's Dumbledore doing it, it's again unclear wether this is permitted or if the court is making an exception for him.

This first trial is, like all the trials Harry witnesses indirectly, presided by Barty Crouch sr., who at this point in time heads the DMLE. (possible proof n.3, maybe all wizengamot trials are presided by the minister and all council trials are headed by the DMLE chief?)

The Second trial Harry sees in Dumbledore's memories is that of Ludo Bagman (for passing information to Rockwood, whom Karkaroff implicated in the first memory). Dumbledore is once again not there in any official capacity and is sitting among the public; the proceedings are implied to take place at a later date, as Harry remarks that Crouch's appearance has changed.

We join Ludo in his trial's sentencing phase and indeed Harry notices the presence of a jury, which is not described as having the monogrammed plum robes of Wizengamot members (possible proof n.4 although, since the events take place in GoF and Harry's trial occurs in OotP, jkr may have simply done an oopsie).

This trial seems to be more informal, as the crowd appears to behave quite rowdily (with no intervention) and a member of the jury waylays the proceedings in order to compliment Ludo's flying at his most recent Quidditch match. This is most likely because of both public sentiment and the perceived innocence of the defendant.

Notably, Ludo's trial is the only one that we know for sure was attended by the press, as Harry notices a young Rita Skeeter sitting near Dumbledore.

The final trial witnessed by Harry appears to once again be a sentencing, that of Barty Crouch jr, Bellatrix Lestrange and the brothers Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange (who were seemingly all tried together and received a single sentence). Harry once again remarks that Crouch Sr's looks have changed, helping us determine that time has passed between the memories. This sentencing is once again done through show of hands by a jury (who, again, is not described as wearing Wizengamot robes) and Dumbledore is still sitting among the public.

Despite it being another sentencing, it appears that the defendants were already being detained in Azkaban as they are accompanied by six dementors, unlike Ludo Bagman, though this may be due to the difference in the severity of their actions; Bagman was seemingly a free man when he entered the courtroom as he'd participated in a quidditch match not one week before.

It's during his trial that the Council of Magical Law is mentioned by name (the only time in the books). Since all three of the pensieve trials share multiple similarities - way more than they do with Harry's- this, together with the evidence shown above, leads me to conclude that

1 All three trials take place before the same court

2 the Council of Magical Law is not necessarily another the name for the Wizengamot and therefore

3 there's at least two different courts codified in the magical law system

Of course, these discrepancies may very well be oopsies on jkr's part. Although Dumbledore's role as chief Warlock can be ascertained as early as PS (thanks to the header on Harry's acceptance letter), the Wizengamot doesn't get mentioned by name until OotP. Furthermore, the pensieve trials and Harry's take place in different books which means jkr may have added on to the concept in the interim.

f) CONCLUSION

There is none, I have nothing else to say. Class is dismissed, I need to go have a lie-down.

#hp #hp meta #harry potter meta #this took years off my life and I didn't need to write any of it #I just noticed that Harry is being tried for improper use of magic but Mafalda Hopkirk is not present at his trial #and she's the head of that department #I don't feel like rewriting anything so this stays in the tags #the blorger special

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valentineforlemonandcherry · 1 year ago

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Joke's On You 18

When Fred Weasley carelessly bumps into you into the hallway, you decide to take him a notch down; not by berating him, but by showing him up at his own game of using your charm and intellect to get what you want. And it’s fine if the end result doesn’t leave everyone quite satisfied - in fact, that’s what you want…

[Fred Weasley x Reader.] [Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.] [Warning: Non-Consent.] [Warning: Manipulation.] [Warning: Humiliation.] [Warning: Light Bondage.]

⍟ Click Here for Joke’s On You Home Page (All Chapter Links) ⍟

All was fair in love and war. That was very much the motto that you and Fred lived by.

Even while the two of you met up everyday and did all the boyfriend-and-girlfriend things (in your own fashion) and even though the two of you still could not keep your hands off of each other, the entire time, a secret war was brewing.

After the next Hogsmeade trip, you spotted Fred, George, and Lee smuggling a niffler into the castle. You pretended not to notice the snout poking out of Lee’s jacket since Filch was standing next to you, waving his broom threateningly at anyone who seemed suspicious. And you never mentioned it to Fred, but you were waiting for the merest hint of a plan being put into action.

So, when Fred entered your room one afternoon with a jauntier walk than usual and a particular sparkle in his eye, you knew something was up. You acted as you usually would for the entire lunch break. (You stripped off your panties, wore your little heart plug, lay on your bed, and waited for Fred while doing your homework. When Fred came in, he immediately fell forward onto your bed and split your legs apart hungrily. You scoffed and pushed him away with your foot. When Fred whimpered, you playfully crossed your feet in the air as you continued to do your homework.)

Finally, Fred, slightly sullen as you wouldn’t let him have you (“I’ve got homework, Weasley,” you snapped) left ten minutes early (to “er – grab my bookbag,” which he’d apparently forgotten), you gave him a good-bye kiss, pretended to smile and wave, and closed the door after him. However, as soon as you heard his footsteps fade away, you dressed, hurried out, and stationed yourself in front of the Transfiguration classroom, which you thought was the most likely spot that Fred, George, and Lee would pass to come down from Gryffindor Tower to wherever they planned to go.

* * * * * * * * * *

Five minutes later, Kenneth joined you. “Looking forward to Transfiguration today?”

“Mhm,” you said, while scanning the corridor like an eagle.

“You know, the Illusion Principles that we’re learning now form the basis of Human Transfiguration at N.E.W.T. level. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Oh, yes,” you agreed. “Simply fascinating.”

“Also, I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you applied for the Wizengamot junior summer internship yet?”

You nodded brightly. “Yes, I submitted my application over winter break. So did David. We reach each other’s essays before we submitted them.”

“Well, I asked Penelope when she received her response last year, and she said it was around this time.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? So we might hear back very soon?”

Kenneth nodded. He hesitated, and then he asked, “So, you’ve still got your heart set on joining the Wizengamot?”

“Yes, of course.”

Just then, you caught sight of Fred, George, and Lee sneaking stealthily through the corridor. You squinted at them and you could just make out the niffler stuffed in George’s cloak.

“Weasley! In the name of the law! Stop right there!”

“What - ?” Kenneth said, taken back.

“Hold this!” You all but threw your bookbag to Kenneth before sprinting the entire length of the fifth-floor corridor to grabFred. You meant to grab the back of his cloak, but you missed and grabbed his hair instead.

“Ow!” Fred yelled. “Get off!”

“Professor McGonagall!” you hollered.

“Let go, you hellcat!” Fred shouted at you. “Now’s not the time!”

“No!” you shouted back. “Now is the time!”

You both wrestled furiously with each other.

“God damn it, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Fred growled. “And leggo of my hair!”

“No,” you stressed, huffing heavily. “And what are you up to, hm? Why aren’t you in class, where you should be?”

“I’m going to class, if you would LET GO OF MY HAIR!” Fred burst out.

Other students stopped to watch the two of you duke it out in the middle of the hallway. Meanwhile, Lee and George placed bets on whether you or Fred would win.

Recognizing that he wouldn’t get out of your clutches quite so easily, Fred yelled, “Boys, soldier down! Go on without me!” and he motioned furiously at George and Lee to take off.

George suddenly wrapped his arm around a bulge in the side of his cloak and he began to take off.

Bollocks, George is the one that has the evidence, you realized. He’s the one actually carrying the Niffler.

Struggling absurdly hard, you finally managed to sit on top of Fred and gather his wrists together and hold them down – at this, Fred paused. Lifting his eyebrow up at you, he said suggestively, “I know you get off on riding me, but do you really wanna show all of these people how much you like me?”

You scowled at him. However, using Fred’s moment of distraction, you managed to pull your wand out of your cloak and point it at George. “Iterdum!”

“Oof!” Hit by your Trip Jinx, George fell over. To his credit, he managed to roll over so that the Niffler wouldn’t get squashed.

“Oi!” Lee cried out. “Toss him to me!”

You leapt to your feet, but Fred managed to hook his leg around yours and bring you back down to the ground.

This time, it was you who growled, “You let go of me this instant!” “Not a chance, you stupid prefect!”

You saw Fred’s gaze wander up to your hair – You gasped, “You wouldn’t!”

Fred grinned. He reached out and grabbed a handful of your hair.

“No!” you growled.

Fred laughed, mussing up your hair as much as possible while sitting on top of you.

“You’re not even grabbing my hair! You’re just messing it up!” you said indignantly.

“So? Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it, huh?” Fred said gleefully. He stuck both in his hands in your hair and roughly shook his hands.

“Aargh, no! You – You infantile pillock!” you burst out.

Fred smirked down at you, and he said, without an ounce of sincerity, "Oops."

Grabbing Fred’s hands, you seriously grappled with him. Fred’s laugh faded away, and his brow furrowed as he slipped back into focus, trying to keep you under him.

“Fred, I said let go! This is obstruction of justice!”

“You’re an obstruction of justice!”

“Grrr…!” Managing to slip your hand through Fred’s grasp, you lifted yourself as much as possible and latched onto the front of Fred’s hair again.

“You – Ow! Not the hair again! Godric,do you want a bald boyfriend?”

With one hand still tightly gripping Fred’s hair, you lifted your other hand, in which you were still holding your wand, and shouted out, “Accio Niffler!”

Everybody gasped as they saw the poor little niffler get yanked out of George’s cloak with an invisible hand and then go flying pell-mell through the air towards you –

“Damn it, no!” George shouted. “Don’t let her get it!”

Lee made a grab for the niffler, but he missed. The niffler came flying towards you. You stretched out both your arms to catch it – when Fred tackled you down entirely onto the floor. You found yourself pinned to the floor, with Fred on top of you – and then the niffler landed on top of Fred’s head. The niffler, startled, gripped onto Fred’s hair as hard as it could with its small paws.

Surprised, Fred yelled, “What the - ? Geroff me!”

Just then, Kenneth stepped in and grabbed the niffler out of harm’s way -

“BOYS!”

It was McGonagall. With a sigh of relief, you got up. As you did, you nearly stepped on Fred’s hair. You hastily put your foot down on the edge of Fred’s jacket instead.

Fred said irritably, “Could you please not trample all over me?”

Dusting yourself off neatly while leaving a firm footprint on Fred’s jacket, you replied smartly, “Well, it’s hard when your head is so big.”

Fred glowered at you.

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall began to tell the boys off.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Fred muttered, “You’re such a prat.”

You merely clasped your hands behind your back and stood proudly beside McGonagall, as she said angrily, “Fred and George Weasley, the pair of you! And Lee Jordan, I thought I told you to…” As McGonagall admonished the boys, you nodded at all of her good points and even shook her head at the boys when she did. All this time, your chest was puffed out in pride and there was a brilliant glimmer of victory in your eyes.

As McGonagall shepherded the boys into her office to hand out detentions, Fred gave you a massive stink-eye and the finger. In return, you gave him the sweetest, most kittenish smile ever before you went flouncing off to Kenneth’s side to pet the cute niffler.

* * * * * * * * * *

Five minutes later, Fred came out of McGonagall’s office, only to find you telling off a second year for flying a Fanged Frisbee in the hallway. You were holding a stern finger up as you said seriously, “You could really hurt someone, you know, or damage a painting.”

Fred rolled his eyes. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you tightly. Then, he said to the second year, “Go on, get out of here.”

“Wait – what? No, come back!” you shouted, but Fred had you all wrapped up in his arms, and you found that you couldn’t move an inch.

The second year scurried away, and you called after him, “You better be heading to class! And you make sure to turn that Fanged Frisbee in!”

Pushing his head forward onto your shoulder, Fred whispered, “If you’re done being a uselessly intense vigilante, how about we go back to yours, hm?”

“Go back to mine? For what?”

“You know for what.”

“I certainly do not.”

“Well, how about a little continuance of what you started when you tackled me onto the floor? You know, when you were sitting on top of me, and I was between your legs. Or else, when I was sitting on top of you, and you were between my legs. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m not picky.”

You finally squirmed out of his hug. Turning around, you said stolidly, “Excuse me. I did not become a prefect and get my own room to fuel your debauchery, Fred Weasley.”

Fred gently pushed you back against the wall. Then, he lifted his hand and put it up on the wall, trapping you inside of his stature again. In a low voice, he said suggestively, “Debauchery? That’s what you call our love-making?”

Scoffing, you ducked out from under his arm and began walking away. As you did, you muttered, “It’s hardly love-making.”

“Oi, you come back here,” Fred called.

When you ignored him, Fred suddenly galloped forward in a most giraffe-like manner. He caught you by the arm, but you shook him off and said, “We have class, Weasley.”

“And then detention,” said Fred.

“You have detention,” you corrected him. “I would never.”

“Except you do.” Fred grabbed your arm again and twirled you around. He held up a piece of parchment and said, “McGonagall assigned me detention with you.”

At this, you lit up. Excitedly, you said, “Really?” You snatched the parchment out of Fred’s hand and read it. Sure enough, McGonagall had filled out a detention form and given Fred detention under your supervision that evening.

“Oh,” you murmured happily, clutching the piece of parchment to your chest, “this is perfect.”

“Yeah,” Fred said. “I was thinking you could just sign it now, and I could use the evening to steal back the niffler.”

You neatly folded the piece of parchment up and slid it into your pocket. “Mm,” you said lightly, “I don’t think so, Fred. After all, you do deserve this detention.” You reached up and softly brushed at your footprint on Fred’s collar. “You know that, don’t you? And even though it gets rid of my evening, too, I’ll do it. Because I’ve got a vested interest in making sure my boyfriend turns into an upstanding citizen.”

Fred wrinkled his nose and shook his head at you. “An upstanding citizen? That’s your criteria for a boyfriend? Sheesh, you’ve got problems.”

You merely smiled at Fred, so that your eyes turned into pleased little crescents. “See you tonight.” With that, you turned away from him and entered the Transfiguration classroom, where you took your usual seat next to Kenneth.

* * * * * * * * * *

After classes and just before dinner, Fred came into the spare classroom for detention –

“Late.” You glared at him. “I can’t believe you’re late.”

Fred shrugged. Leaning against the doorway, he said briskly, “All right, I’ve showed up. Sign the form now, and let’s be on our way. I’m starving.”

In reply, you pointed to a small tin bucket and a plastic knife.

Fred frowned as he peered at the items. “What are those?”

“I seem to remember your mum telling me that you and George try to use magic for everything and that you boys don’t understand the value of doing things slowly and methodically - ”

“I’m never letting you meet my mum again,” Fred grumbled.

“- to build character,” you finished. “So, here’s what you’re going to do, Weasley. You’re going to scrape all the gum off of the desks by hand.”

Fred blinked. “What?”

You rapped the desk smartly with your wand. “Get to it. I want all of these decks spotless or else, no signature for you.”

Fred scoffed. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“It’s stupid. It’s a total waste of time. It’s useless, too, when you can vanish it all by magic.”

“Tsk,” you tutted. “You’re missing the point.”

“And it’s disgusting,” Fred said loudly. “It’s other people’s gum. They spat it out of their mouths, for Merlin’s sake.”

“If you use the knife correctly, you won’t have to touch the gum,” you pointed out.

“And it’ll hurt my knees. I’m not good on my knees - ”

“Now, now, Fred,” you said knowingly, with a sparkle in your eye, “now’s not the time for false modesty.”

Annoyed, Fred crossed his arms and said resolutely, “I’m not doing this, so you better come up with something else.”

You crossed your arms right back at him. “If you don’t, I won’t sign the form, and you’ll simply be assigned another detention with me. And guess what I’ll ask you to do?”

Fred’s eyes turned into narrow slits as he glared at you. “You wouldn’t.”

You leaned back against the desk and crossed your legs. “Try me.”

Fred growled. “You’ve got a real problem with authority, you know that?”

“Oh, I do,” you said, pleased. “But for some reason, the same stupid, lanky-looking - ”

“ – Hey - ”

“moron keeps wandering under my control.” You cocked your head at him. “Why is that, do you think? Why does he keep coming back?”

Fred said nothing, merely kept glaring at you. A muscle was jumping in his jaw.

You smiled at him. But Fred knew that your smile right now was a challenge.

Fred remained totally still, except for the fire blazing in his eyes.

You, too - even though you had a seemingly pleasant smile on your face, there was an equally intense fire glimmering in your eyes.

You both faced off, neither of you willing to back down.

Then, all of a sudden – slam! – Fred used his foot to kick the door closed behind him. He strode forward and rather roughly grabbed you by your waist. “Fred!” you cried out. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

“Shut up,” Fred growled. “You’re coming with me.”

Fred quickly dragged you into the tall wardrobe cabinet in the corner of the classroom.

“Ugh,” you complained. “It’s all dusty in here!”

Fred closed the wardrobe door, accidentally pushing you against the shelves a little.

“Ah! Don’t push me like that!” you scolded him, annoyed. “My shirt, I ironed it this morning and it’s going to get all - !”

Fred abruptly grabbed you and kissed you hard enough that you leaned backwards and Fred had to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you from falling. Breathless, you unwittingly let out a soft moan as you melted his arms.

“I said to shut up,” Fred growled at you.

You only moaned again, louder, as Fred attacked your neck with kisses.

“Fine, but you know, it is love making when you moan like that,” Fred whispered huskily. He squeezed you in his arms. “As for your stupid, clean, ironed shirt – Well, you just gave me an idea as to how to make you pay for today, you little hellcat.” His hands slipped down, grabbed onto the front of your shirt and – Rip! Pop, pop, pop!

You gasped as all of your buttons came off as Fred ripped open the front of your shirt. “Fred! My – My shirt! My buttons!” You started to get angry, but before the anger could really settle in, Fred had kissed you again. You made to claw at him, but he grabbed your hand and pinned it down against the wall behind you. You let out a muffled curse word, but Fred merely grinned into your kiss. He pushed his thigh between your legs – making you moan again – and then it was too late, too wonderfully late, for you’d fallen into his warmth, and you knew that the only way to make your anger known was to give him a hell of a scratching on his back and shoulders as he made sweet, sweet love to you in that tiny, dusty broom cupboard.

Still, even if you couldn’t focus enough to give him your anger, you did manage to communicate your irritation. As Fred kissed you and rubbed your pussy through your panties, while you pushed your hands into his pants and briefs and grasped his cock in your hand, you managed to tell him off. “Y-You’re s’psed to be scraping gum off the d-desks – ah!”

“Mm, I’ve a better use for my hands and knees,” Fred whispered, while pressing his mouth hotly against your neck.

“Like what? Ripping off my clothes like some brute?” You muttered grumpily, “First, my bra – ah, yes, there, Fred, harder – now my shirt, you’re just – ah, ah! – t-terrible. No respect, I tell you. I’ve got a problem with authority? Hmpfh. You’ve got a – ah! – a p-problem with authority, mister.”

“What the hell are you on about now?” Fred growled at you, while he peppered your throat with rough kisses and sucks.

“Ripping my n-nice clothes like that, without a s-second thought,” you replied, trying to keep your voice adamant as you complained, even as you were panting heavily because Fred was rubbing your clit so, so well. “You’ve got n-no patience, so you don’t know how to – mmm – enjoy the f-finer things in l-life.”

“Well, I said I liked you better naked,” Fred grunted. “It was a compliment, so I don’t know what you’re complaining about – uhn!” He groaned just then, however, as you fisted his cock fervently.

“Tch. I spent a ton of money on that lingerie, I’ll have you know,” you muttered. “And to have it a-all ripped open like t-that – ah – without you even appreciating it f-fully. Do you know how b-bad you made me feel? One second I was – ah, ah – feeling all cute in my little lingerie, and the next second, I was just suddenly all bare. S-Stripped of my cuteness, stripped of my fun. How would you like that, huh, Fred? Ah...!”

Fred pressed his fingers against your pussyhole and rubbed your panties against you as he pressed, “I said I liked you better than the lingerie. Isn’t that better? I told you that you were beautiful.”

“Saying pretty words doesn’t cover up the fact that you ignored my efforts – mm, yes, Fred – and t-treated my gift for you s-so disrespectfully.”

“Disrespectful? I said you were beautiful -uhhhn,” Fred moaned, closing his eyes as you yanked his pants down to be able to pump your hand up and down on his cock better.

“You didn’t even enjoy it,” you whispered beratingly, as you fell onto your knees. “I thought you’d want to lavish me with kisses and shower me with affection because of how I’d dressed up for you. But no. After I went through all that trouble, all you did was rip it off - ”

“- That was me enjoying it - ”

You looked up at Fred as you positioned yourself before his cock. “Like you’re a selfish, stupid boy.”

“That bra was – It was in the way of nicer things,” Fred huffed out. He then reached out with both of his hands and cupped the air, rather rudely explaining what those ‘nicer things’ were to him.

Your eyes narrowed. “Fred, when will you learn?” You slapped his thigh, and he suddenly jolted. Looking up at him and resting your chin on his hip, you whispered, “It’s not about fucking, it’s about the lead-up. It’s about the power and the anticipation. It’s about the feeling of sex dripping off of everything before we even touch each other. The feeling of taking off a woman’s lingerie slowly, or watching the thin fabric slip down her body, and maybe even catch a little here and there – perhaps on her nipples, or on her hips…? I mean, can you imagine that?”

Fred swallowed. “Uh… I – Yeah, I can, I s’pse.” He paused, however, before he said, “But I’d much rather enjoy the tits - ”

You cut him off. “- And I gave you the opportunity to experience that wonderful feeling of sensuality, which is what gives sexuality its body.”

Fred scrunched his nose at you. “What body?”

You ignored his question and asked him instead, while poking him in his thigh, “And what did you do?”

Fred reached down and slapped away your hand.

But you plowed on and answered for him, “That’s right. You ripped it all off in less than a second and threw it away like it was a piece of garbage.”

Fred stuck to his argument, though his voice became slightly sullen. “I… I said you were beautiful.”

“That’s true,” you relented. “I’ll give you a point for that, I suppose.” You lowered your head and began to slowly lick at his cock with your tongue, while you murmured softly, “But still, think about it and tell me. Ripping off a woman’s lingerie like that, without enjoying it, without appreciating her - is that something a man would do or a boy would do? Hm?”

Fred was slowly turning pink – whether because he was embarrassed because of what you were saying or because of the pleasure he felt at having you on his knees, before him, and licking so sweetly at his cock, even he wasn’t sure.

You sighed once more, and Fred felt your warm breath pass sweetly over his cock. He gulped again. But all you said was, “Consider my position. I mean, what am I supposed to do, hm? How can I please my boyfriend when he’s so impatient? And when I try to come up with ways to teach you patience, you ignore them all, and instead drag me into dusty wardrobes to make love to me. As if all you wanted was to fuck me.” You started to lower your head again, and Fred held his breath – but then you paused and looked up at him. "But you would never be so crude, would you, Fred?"

Fred blinked. "What?"

You were holding your hair neatly to the side with one hand, and you looked up at Fred from beneath your lashes as you suddenly whispered, as if a realization had just struck you, “Do you want me to just be a hole for you, Fred? Is that what you want? As soon as you walk into my room, I’m there, waiting for you, all undressed, completely bare, no lingerie, no nothing, legs spread, pussy wet, plug in, touching myself, maybe even moaning your name, and as soon as I see you there, I would beg for you. I would cry out, ‘Oh, Fred, I need you inside me! Please, sir, please, I’m just a hole. I’m just your hole. Take me, please, I’m yours.’ Hmm?”

You weren’t even doing anything to Fred, but Fred was suddenly panting as though he’d run a marathon. His thighs were trembling slightly, and his cock had become quite hard in your hand. You noticed the way his shoulders were rising and falling quite tensely, and how he was biting down on his lower lip hard.

You barely checked your wicked little smile as you carried on. “Because a man wouldn’t want that. Oh no, he would want his woman to be just as strong and controlling as him. He wouldn’t simply want a hole, would he? No, no. Because he would know how to appreciate his woman. Only boys would be turned on by the idea of his girl waiting for him on her bed, out of her mind with want and need to be filled by her cute little boyfriend, as if all she could think about all day was her boyfriend’s handsome, hard cock - ”

You suddenly stroked Fred’s cock with your hand, and he let out a barely audible whimper. You had to duck your head for a second to hide the tiny laugh that escaped you at his reaction.

But Fred had heard you. He fell back against the wall behind him, with his head lolling slightly against the wall, and he mumbled out desperately, while his cheeks turned pink, “Stop, you’re making me all – all confused.”

“Oh, Fred,” you whispered sweetly. Nearly purring, you shuffled closer to Fred and hugged his waist and kissed his stomach. “You thought you were dragging me into this wardrobe to have your way with me, but there's nowhere you can take me where you'll end up in control. I will always be in control. You know that by now, don't you?"

Fred moaned out, while shifting against the wall and thrusting his hips slightly but aimlessly, as he was looking for your sweet little mouth to fuck, “No, I am in c-control - uhn - Only I can’t t-think and – and – baby, I need you, I need you, I fucking need you - ” He suddenly reached down, grasped your hair at the back tightly, and -

“Mmpfh!” You let out a startled, muffled cry as Fred abruptly pushed you down onto his cock. You felt your lips spread open as his cock thrust through into your mouth. You gasped in surprise, as you suddenly found your mouth crammed full of Fred’s hard, thick cock.

“Mmmm!” You moaned loudly, and Fred groaned as he felt the vibrations from your sweet mouth run up and down his cock.

“Oh, Merlin,” Fred breathed out harshly. He slid both of his hands into your hair and tangled his fingers with his locks. He pushed and pulled at your head, jerking you back and forth, pushing his cock repeatedly into your perfect little mouth. You let out muffled gasps as you took his cock.

Fred groaned loudly, “Baby, fuck!” – when you suddenly pushed Fred back. He fell back against the wall with a thump.

“Fred Weasley!” you growled. “What are you doing to my hair? You’ve been pulling at it all day!” You reached back and patted the back of your hair down.

“No, no,” Fred wheeled, while reaching for you to draw you back in, “it looks good a little messy, I swear.”

You shook your head, disagreeing entirely with him.

“No, really,” Fred croaked out hoarsely. “When your hair’s all – all messed-up like that, you look – you look… just swell.”

You nearly laughed at this outdated phrase. However, you held in your giggle and instead said seriously, “Fred, do you really think I’m swell?”

Fred nodded vigorously.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re absolutely desperate to have your cock in my mouth?”

Fred started to nod – then he paused, and began to shake his head – only to pause again and stop, confused.

You openly laughed.

Fred looked down at you. He meant to glare at you, but he only looked betrayed and defeated.

You debated in your head for a second, but Fred’s sweet little puppy expression was too much for you to handle. You sighed. “Oh well… Fine, I guess you can mess up my hair. It's not the first time now, is it?"

Fred reached out at once, but you grabbed his wrists and stared up at him sternly as you stated sternly, “Be nice. And you have to buy me a pretty hair accessory after this."

Fred nodded furiously, clearly not carrying about any future conditions, as long as he got to touch you as he wanted now. He immediately and roughly grasped at your hair again and he pushed his hips forward. You opened your mouth obediently, if not wantingly, and – “Mm!” You let Fred dictate the pace for a little longer, but soon, you were much greedier. You suddenly slipped away – Fred let out a confused sound, for he had closed his eyes to take in the utterly perfect feeling of your mouth on his cock – and you crawled forward quickly on your hands and knees. Then, putting your hands up on the wall on either side of Fred’s hips, you pushed yourself onto his cock even more fervently, gagging on purpose as you took in as much of Fred’s thick, handsome cock as you could into your mouth.

“Mmmphf!” you moaned happily. “Mm, mm, mmm!”

Fred gasped loudly. “Nngh! F-Fuck!” He started breathing quite hard, with his chest rising and falling and filling out his shirt entirely. He barely managed to look down and watch with blurry eyes as your head went up and down on his cock. Godric, she feels so good, taking me like that. What a fucking good girl. Uhnn!!! Fred moaned in his mind.

Gradually, your hands went from the wall to his hips and then back onto his cock, until your hands followed your mouth, and while your mouth was warm and wet on his cock, your hands were twisting and squeezing and going up and down –

“E-Enough! Fuck, you’re g-gonna make me cum,” Fred groaned, and he half-heartedly pushed you away from him.

You fell back on the floor, with a soft, indignant, “ah!”

Fred wondered if you were about to scold him for pushing you off like that, but all you did was smirk and say knowingly, “Trying to save your pride this time, Mr. Three Minutes?”

At this, Fred turned tomato red.

You burst out laughing. “See?” you said, pointing gleefully at him. “You can’t even deny it, can? Oh, poor Freddie – Ah! Fred!” You gasped as Fred suddenly came over, grabbed your arm, and yanked you up. He hurriedly pushed you up against the door. Then, he bit at your neck roughly as he growled, “I’ve had enough of you yapping away.”

Oh… Your eyes widened, and you felt your thighs shiver when you heard his deep, genuine growl. Still, you made your point known, as you protested, “I’m only saying what’s true!”

“Yeah, but it’s you who made me that way,” Fred huffed out. “It’s you who drives me fucking crazy. It’s you who… who…” His voice faded away as he abruptly realized that he was confessing to you.

Meanwhile, you had turned your head and were staring back at him with wide, curious eyes.

Fred blinked. What did I just say?

“Fred,” you whispered. “Is that the truth? Are you telling the truth?”

“I – No – Well - ” Defensive, Fred blurted out, “You know, instead of telling me off for thinking about pranks and pussy, maybe you should think more about boys and - ” Fred leaned forward and bit your ear, making you squirm against the door “ – mischief.”

“What does that even mean?” you said, annoyed. “That’s the dumbest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Well, no, that’s the dumbest thing anyone’s ever said ever.”

Meanwhile, Fred fumbled with the back of your skirt and thrust his hand into your panties, checking that you were still wet.

“Soaked,” he confirmed. “Fucking soaked through. You were just having fun with me, weren’t you? Tch.”

A small smile escaped you and you whispered, rather victoriously, “Well, shouldn’t I?”

Fred growled. At the same time, he impatiently pushed your skirt out of the way, tugged aside your panties, and pushed his aching cock into your tight little hole.

“Ah!” Your hands shot to the spot on the door directly in front of you. Pushing against that little spot, you arched your back, until your head fell back against Fred’s shoulder. Your sweet mouth was now open, letting out your arching cry as Fred finally stuffed you full in your wet cunt.

Fred growled into your ear, “You stupid prefect, it means you should think about me.” He reached over and yanked at your hair. “And only me. No more rules, no more expectations, no more acting stupidly ‘proper’ – just think about me, baby – taking you, being inside of you, making love to you. And think about the better course is to join me and help me with my pranks and to let loose your mischievous side, hm? I know how naughty you are, you little devil. I fucking know - ” he pushed into you so hard that your tummy and hips met the door for a moment, and you moaned lowly and shuddered against the door – “what a mischievous little minx you are. I mean, just fucking your little pussy and feeling how tightly you squeeze around me, like such a slut – I can tell you’re all bad inside.”

“Ah…” you breathed out as you felt your head being tugged back. “F-Fred… I do think about you…”

“Do you?” Fred whispered, softening slightly.

You smirked and finished, “…and how I’ll sabotage your next prank.”

Fred said, through gritted teeth, as he felt your pussy squeezing all over his cock, “Damn you. You just couldn’t let go today, could you? Huh? D’you know how long it took to get that niffler into the castle without Hagrid and Filch finding out?”

You whispered back, “No one told you to waste your time like – ah - that.” You closed your eyes and hummed, “Mmm… Yes, like that,” as you felt Fred’s cock sinking roughly into your pussy. You suddenly lifted your hips and bounced yourself lightly against Fred, clearly enjoying very much the position he’d put you in.

Fred sighed, both quite annoyed and yet endlessly pleased that you’d gone straight from berating him to voicing your pleasure at his being inside of you.

Only a second later, you reached back and impatiently tapped on Fred’s thigh. “Move.”

Irritated, Fred pushed back, “I’m trying to be nice to you. Let you adjust.”

“Don’t need it,” you said at once. “Move.” You wiggled your hips impatiently. “I said move.”

“Merlin, you’re bossy,” Fred said, annoyed. “Fine. You asked for it, now.” Grabbing your hips tightly, Fred thrust.

“A-Ah! Ah! F-Fred!” A burst of warmth blossomed deep in your tummy. Your eyes widened, and for a long moment, your toes curled in your sneakers.

Oh Godric, you moaned in your head. ‘S so deep, nngh…!

Fred groaned heavily and fell forward, pushing you up against the shelves. Unable to think straight, he leaned down and bit you hard on your shoulder.

“O-Ow, uhn, F-Fred, baby,” you muttered, feeling his teeth against your skin and also feeling your breasts and tummy sink into the wooden shelves.

“Uhn, fuck,” Fred breathed out. His hands fumbled all over your hips for a moment, before he managed to find your hands. Grasping your hands in his, he made you put your hands up on the shelves. Then, pinning you down like that, with his chest pressed snug against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder, Fred whispered, “You may have won the battle today, but I’ll win the war.”

Your breath caught – but you fought past it and whispered back, “I’ll never let you, Mr. Three Minutes.”

Fred slammed into you then and you cried out blissfully – “Ah!” and lost all sense of thought after that.

You vaguely remembered that when you started to cum, Fred disappeared from behind you. You let out a displeased cry, wanting him back at once and needing him to press his wonderfully warm body up against yours again. But then, you gasped as you realized that Fred had fallen to his knees and was now greedily pulling you to him. You grabbed at the shelves before you with your hands, but your feet had already slid back. Fred moaned loudly before he buried his face between your legs to lap up every bit of your cum, dripping sweetly from your flushed little pussy – and then to make you cum more.

You let out a long, low moan as you felt Fred’s tongue push greedily at your pussyhole – and then slip in. “Fred!” you breathed out loudly.

A muffled cry escaped Fred, as he was too busy tasting you and fucking you with his tongue to give much of a coherent reply.

When you came again, Fred pressed his face against you so deeply that he pushed your entire body forward, and you felt yourself sliding into the shelves.

“Fred!” you complained, but he wrapped his arms around both of your thighs and kept your anchored there.

At some point, Fred had gotten quite good at eating you out. In fact, he’d gotten much better at it than you would care to admit, and you suddenly found yourself at high risk for becoming the mindless, pathetic, whimpering puddle that you often teased Fred for becoming.

But I’m not Fred, you reminded yourself fiercely. I’m not as easily distracted, and I know how to hold onto my power and my dignity – ah! Ah, ah, ah!

You bit down hard on your lower lip to contain the feverish, wanton cries that were threatening to burst out of you as Fred, with his head buried between your legs, busily licked, kissed, sucked, and tongued your cunt to heaven.

Ohhh… you moaned in your head. I-I’m close – ah! – I’m so close… Ahhh…!

You tried to cum quietly, pressing your fist against your mouth, but it was difficult. Fred was treating you so good, like a proper queen, and whenever you came, instead of thinking it was over, Fred only seemed to be spurred on more, as he was determined to lap up every drop of your sweet cum. And whenever you pulled away be so much as an inch, to try to prolong the moment before cumming, Fred dragged you right back, sometimes pulling just your hips forward, but when you resisted at all, he pulled your entire body forward, shifting you, and he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Fred – This isn’t – I wanna – Let’s find a – a proper b-bed,” you moaned loudly, as fifteen minutes later, your elbows were rubbed raw as you kept shifting back and forth against the shelf that you were leaning over.

“Nuh,” was all Fred said, before he put his mouth back onto your pussy and at the same time, reached up to rub your clit with his slender, handsome fingers.

You cried out loudly – and your cries echoed slightly in that tiny, enclosed space. Your legs trembled all over and then, after a while, your feet began to slip over the stone floor because of how much you were shaking.

At one point, when you came, your legs buckled and your thighs bowed together. Fred had to shift back for a moment, and he whined as he realized he wouldn’t be able to have you cum on his mouth this time. But all you said was, “Shush, puppy, this is your fault, so you – you have to – to wait,” and he waited patiently for you to find your strength and open up your legs for him again.

As soon as you managed to split apart your shaking thighs away, Fred pushed his face back between your thighs. “Mine, mine, mine,” Fred growled, while biting and kissing you all over your thighs and tonguing your pussy roughly. “Mm, yes. You’re so pretty, baby. All wet and shaking…” He let out a furious, deep growl as he buried his head between your legs.

You let out a choked whimper and bowed your head to huff out heavy breaths.

And then, finally, when you were dizzy and blurry and shuddering from cumming so much, Fred stood up, grabbed your hips, and pushed his aching cock back into your aching hole – and you both gasped desperately, so terribly and wonderfully overwhelmed by how sensitive you’d made each other and how fucking much you still wanted each other.

“Nnghhh…” you bleated out tiredly.

“Baby - ” Fred began worriedly. His own voice was hoarse, as he started to say, “If you want to st - ”

But you snapped back at him, “D-Don’t you dare stop. I s-swear to Merlin, if you stop now, I will kill you, Fred Weasley.”

That was, of course, exactly what Fred wanted to hear. So, he thrust right back into you, ignoring his own burning muscles – and you moaned appropriately, taking into your pussy as much of Fred’s hard, needy cock as you possibly could. And you loved it, you fucking loved it, because it felt so good, yes, but also because it was Fred, and in your heart of hearts, you wanted and needed Fred to be as close to you as he could possibly be.

“F-Fred,” you huffed out.

“What?”

“D-D’you think it’s n-normal for two people to – ah – w-want each other so much?” you wondered aloud, even as you felt Fred’s cock pounding into you from behind and you knew you wanted more. “And a-all the time, too?”

Fred merely replied, in total honesty, “D-Don’t care, baby, I want you,” and kept going.

“But I r-really meant to give you d-detention tonight,” you stuttered out.

“You didn’t mean for this to happen?” Fred whispered hoarsely.

You shook your head.

“You didn’t mean to end up in a dusty wardrobe, with your neat shirt all ripped open, your thighs drenched with cum, and your little pussy getting fucked so hard it definitely belongs to me, your boyfriend?” Fred panted out, as he rutted into you.

You shook your head harder. "No, I even got up - ah - early to i-iron my shirt. It wasn't - I didn't think you'd r-ruin it like t-that."

"Well, you should have thought ahead, shouldn't you?" Fred said, rather meanly. "You know what happens to dictators and devils, don't you? They fall. They get their comeuppance."

"But I'm - I'm an angel," you murmured back.

"Mm, I don't think so," Fred said knowingly. "With the way your pussy gets all tight for me - no, I wouldn't ever call you an angel." He leaned over and bit your ear softly. He whispered lowly into your ear, "Hellcat" - and then he thrust into you.

"Ah!" you gasped.

"Bend over more on the shelf," Fred told you. He pushed his hands down against the arch of your back and said impatiently, "C'mon."

"Don't push, Fred," you said irritably. But even as you told him off, you dutifully leaned over, until you were nearly pressing your cheek against the shelf. In so doing, you naturally pushed your hips and pussy out slightly more.

Fred quickly grabbed your hips again and he pushed himself back into you. He groaned loudly as he felt his cock burrow deeper inside of you than before. Fuck, she's tight... Mm, she takes me so well, my girl, he moaned in his head. All tight and wet. And I'm gonna cum in her. Gonna fill her up with me. Yes... Yes, yes, yes!

Oh - oh - ohhh! Godric, he's so deep in me! you gasped in your head. A series of desperate moans fell from your lips, “Uhn… Uh… Uhn!”

Fred was now hitting you deeper and deeper, and he quickly lost himself in the utter ecstasy of pounding your sweet, warm, and tight pussy. He was holding your hips so tightly and, having pressed you up against the shelves, you had no place to go, and when Fred glanced down to see his broad hands covering your shapely hips and your shoulders shivering all over as you made every effort to hold yourself together as Fred fucked your cunt, it made his head spin with how much he wanted you.

Fred praised you breathlessly, “Mm, baby, has anyone ever told you that you look fucking perfect, taking my cock so well?”

To which you replied, irritatingly rationally, “N-No, why would anyone e-ever say that to – ah – me?”

“Well,” Fred scoffed, “they should.” And he proceeded to snap his hips forward, slamming his cock inside of you.

“Ahhh!” You moaned and arched your back – and Fred fell in love with you all over again, thinking that you looked absolutely stunning like that.

“There you go,” Fred whispered lowly. He ran his hands appreciatively all over you as he fucked you, and both of your cries became more and more hoarse and needy until –

“Uhn!”

“Mmmmm!”

Fred kissed you messily all over the back of your shoulders as he came inside of you, and you, still leaning forward onto the shelves, took it all like a champ – letting Fred lean on top of you and kiss you and at the same time, taking in every bit of his hot, white cum in your tired little pussy.

Then, Fred whispered, “Sign the form, baby. After all, you have made me work tonight. On my knees and everything…”

“W-What…?” you mumbled tiredly. Your entire body felt feverish, and your pussy was still pulsing, and you could feel Fred’s cum inside of you, filling you right up.

“Here.” You felt Fred push something into your hand. The next second, Fred pressed into you slightly, with his chest against your back, and his hand wrapped warmly around yours. You felt your hand move… You blinked your eyes open tiredly and looked to see that Fred was guiding you to sign your name on the detention form, confirming that he’d finished his detention duties.

Oh… No… you thought. I meant to hold onto this for much longer… It was my ‘call Fred in for the evening’ ticket. I didn’t want to let go of it so soon.

“Fred,” you bleated out. Only – snatch! Fred grabbed the paper out from under your hand and he stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

“Thanks, love,” he whispered. “But I’ll leave you a little ‘thank you’ gift in your pocket, all right? Open it when you can.”

“Hm?” As the buzzing slowly faded from your blushing body, you realized that Fred was fixing your clothes for you. As you watched, he took something out of his own jacket pocket and put it in yours.

Fred came over to you and helped you put on your shirt and jacket. When he helped you button up your shirt, you looked up at him. You weren’t sure what kind-of gaze you gave him, but Fred paused, leaned down, and kissed you again.

It was a long kiss, and surprisingly soft. You found yourself quite surprised at how Fred was suddenly taking his time with you, lavishing your mouth with soft, sweet kisses. His hands were at your waist, but he was holding you quite lightly. You could feel his palms grazing across your waist through your shirt… You slowly wrapped your arms around Fred’s shoulders and tilted your head slightly. Fred followed you well, still only kissing you gently, but pressing his lips to yours for a long, long time. At some point, the two of you began to breathe together, taking in air at the same time while keeping your mouths pressed together in a rather dreamy fashion.

Wow… Your head spun a little, not with how intense it was, but how intimate it was. You felt yourself getting dizzy all over again. Oh, but why…? What’s going on? Startled, your heart suddenly skipped a beat. You quickly stepped away from Fred, breaking the kiss.

Fred stood there, breathing quite heavily. He was thinking the same thing as you were: What the hell was that?

Um, it must just be the aftermath of such intense sex, you told yourself, as you quickly got dressed. But even then, you knew that that wasn’t true.

You quietly patted down your hair. “Should we – ahem – Should we go back?” you asked, trying to sound like your normal self.

“Yeah…” Fred’s voice was soft. His normally playful tone of voice had melted into a strangely patient tone. And even his tall, lanky stature seemed less arrogant, and rather quieter and more centered.

He suddenly seems... dependable. Like someone I can rely on, someone I can imagine being by my side, through thick and thin, for the rest of my – You swallowed hard, and you cut off your thoughts. No, what am I saying to myself? Godric, I can’t – I can’t seem to think straight.

All of a sudden, you blurted out (even though Fred wasn’t actually standing that close to you and wasn’t moving towards you in the slightest), “That’s enough, Fred! No more. Don’t be so pathetic.”

Fred blinked. “Huh?”

You said adamantly, “You’ve got your detention form signed, so let’s – let’s get out of here!”

You wrenched open the wardrobe door and left first.

“Hey, wait, I’ll walk you back,” Fred called after you.

But just then, you stuck your hand into the wardrobe and held up your index finger. “No! You stay there and count to one hundred before you come out of there. And next time – gum!”

Fred’s nose crinkled in total confusion. However, you were already gone, and Fred had to stay there, in that dark, musty wardrobe, and wait until you were gone. He didn’t count to one hundred, but he did think about you and by the time he was done musing over your blushing face and strange personality, it was much longer than one hundred seconds.

Reckon it could easily be a whole lifetime, Fred thought, as he finally opened the wardrobe door and stepped back out. But then, a satisfied smirk passed over his face as he realized, Well, I don’t know what the hell that was at the end, but I did get what I wanted from that. Not only did I get her to sign off on my detention form without me scraping off gum, but I wonder when’s she going to notice the other little tricks I played on her… We’ll see. The normal bounce in his step had fully returned by the time Fred left the classroom. He immediately slipped into a secret passageway, intending to meet George and Lee to steal back the niffler.

* * * * * * * * * *

You sat next to Kenneth at the dinner table.

Kenneth looked over at you. “Hello.”

You smiled pleasantly at him. “Hi, Ken.” You waited to see if he’d notice anything about you.

Kenneth only sipped his goblet of pumpkin juice.

You let out a quiet breath of relief.

But then, he said quietly, “You’re missing a button.”

You looked down – and sure enough, you could see a glimpse of your tummy due to a missing button. You quickly covered it with your hand.

“And your hair’s sticking up in the back.”

Ah! You dropped your plate and reached back over your shoulder. Fred yanked at it quite a bit today, didn’t he? you though, as you hurriedly patted down the back of your hair. He’s really bad at treating me nicely. Well, except for whatever that was at the end… When he fixed my clothes for me… And that soft kiss… Anyways.

You looked over at Kenneth and said, with a small smile, “Thanks.”

Kenneth shook his head and said something under his breath, but you didn’t quite catch it.

You started to ask him what he had said, when Kenneth held out a thick envelope to you. It was stamped with “Ministry of Magic – Official Invitation” on the front.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, Ken, it isn’t - ?”

Kenneth nodded. He held up a second, identical envelope. “Yes. I got mine, too. McGonagall left yours with me. She said you were busy supervising a detention and asked me to give – whoa!”

Kenneth started when you flung your arms around him and squeezed him in a hug. Then, you grabbed the envelope from his hand and eagerly ripped it open. “An interview! They want to interview us for possible Wizengamot internships!” You looked up at Kenneth and beamed. “We’ve got to do well! We can drill questions together and study the Wizengamot’s history, structure, and policies.”

A slow smile passed over Kenenth’s face. “Yeah,” he agreed, “that would be a smart thing to do. Let’s do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“It is kinda cute, isn’t it?” Lee was lying on the floor of his, Fred, and George’s dormitory, while dangling a piece of lettuce in front of the niffler they had managed to steal back. The niffler was decidedly uninterested. Instead, the niffler started sniffing at a small button on Fred’s desk. Fred, who was pulling out the draft order from for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes from his desk drawer, noticed.

“Oi, that isn’t yours. Paws off,” Fred muttered, shooing the niffler away.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too attached,” George cautioned. “You can’t keep it as a pet. Unless you come with Fred and me to start out shop in two months. What d’you say, Lee? You’ve helped us make all of our stuff, helped us test it, and helped us set up shop. Come with us, mate.”

At this, Lee groaned and turned over onto his back. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. My mum would kill me.”

“So? Our mum’s going to kill us and then dig us back up just to Avada Kedavra us again,” George said knowingly. “Join the club.”

Fred looked over the order form. They were nearly finished with figuring out all of the pricing again. But when he made to flip over the form, he realized that he’d also accidentally pulled out the copy of their lease agreement.

Lee was still speaking. Now having picked up the niffler and put him on his stomach, Lee complained, “Yeah, but you’ve got siblings who’ve already done good by your parents. Me, I’m all by myself, so if I don’t do things right, my parents think the world’s coming to an end and they blame themselves and, it’s just… ugh! - “

Just then, Fred interrupted, “Hey, George.”

“What?”

“This lease… It starts in two months.”

“Yeah.”

“But what if we start the lease without starting out physical store?” George paused. “What d’you mean? It’d be stupid not to use it as soon as we can. It’s too expensive to justify using it as only a storage place. And it’s not like we can rely on staff to run it when we haven’t set anything up ourselves. I mean, let’s face it, if we don’t do well, we won’t be able to afford staff beyond us two - ”

“- And me - ” Lee interjected.

“Yeah, but you’re not joining for another two years,” George said.

Lee sighed, and the niffler, who had been unable to find anything shiny in the boys’ dormitory, sighed with him.

George looked back at Fred. “Don’t you want to open our store? I mean, it’s all we’ve been waiting for for over a year. I thought you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah, of course,” Fred replied. “I do want to get the hell out of here. And it’s the dream – to have our own store and actually start selling our products.”

George nodded. He came over and clapped a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “We’re so close, Fred. We’re really almost there.”

Fred grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

“Oi, Lee,” George called.

“What?”

“Stop moping around and help finish up the prices,” George said.

Fred, who was holding the order form, tossed it at Lee.

Lee sat up, grumbling, “Don’t order me about, when I’m the only one who can manage to figure out the prices.”

Fred was now holding just the lease agreement. He stared at it, and his grin faded slightly. He slowly put down the agreement and his eyes flickered over to the drawer where he’d just put away your button.

Behind him, Lee murmured thoughtlessly, “Hm… punching telescope. How much went into making that?”

“Not much for the actual construction,” George replied. “Just crossed the blueprint of the mechanisms of a regular ol’ jack-in-the-box with the blueprint of the shell of a telescope, and there you have it.”

“How much for creating the permanent ink?” Lee asked. “I assume a lot because it’s a novelty - ”

“Nope,” Fred said lightly. “Didn’t cost a thing.”

“Really?” Lee said, surprised. “How come?”

“Because,” Fred replied, “I know someone really, really smart.”

“Did you pay this person?” Lee asked seriously.

Fred thought about it. “I deposited a bit of payment into her pocket today… But it was more of a ‘thank you’ gift than anything else.”

Lee shrugged. “Okay, then, moving on.”

Fred smiled slyly to himself. Yeah, it’s a ‘thank you gift’ all right. In truth, Fred was now secretly waiting for you to come to him, in what he hoped would be a heightened state of fury.

All’s fair in love and war. Putting his feet up on the desk, Fred whistled lowly as he thought affectionately, And with my little hellcat, I’ve somehow managed to find both.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #fanfic #fanfiction #fred weasley smut #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #joke's on you

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thebibutterflyao3 · 4 months ago

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Canon Facts About Amelia Bones

**with sources**

Biography: Amelia Susan Bones, female, witch, likely pureblood or half-blood, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, member of Wizengamot (OOTP, Ch. 7), presumably killed by Voldemort (HBP, Ch. 1)

Appearance: "A broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray hair...she wore a monocle and looked forbidding" and had "thick eyebrows" (OOTP, Ch. 7)

Relationships: Siblings - Edgar Bones (he and his family were killed by Voldemort, OOTP, Ch. 9) and an unnamed brother (father of Susan Bones), Susan Bones (Hufflepuff in Harry's year, presumably named after Amelia, TSS, Ch. 4)

Mentions: Harry's hearing on use of underage magic is scheduled to be held" in Amelia Bones’s office. She’s Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she’s the one who’ll be questioning you" (OOTP, Ch. 7)

-Auror Tonks (speaking of her boss) tells Harry, “Amelia Bones is okay, Harry. She’s fair, she’ll hear you out.” (OOTP, Ch. 7)

-Remus tells Harry the hearing will be fine, and Sirius responds, "And if it’s not, I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you . . .” (OOTP, Ch. 7)

-She presides over Harry's hearing and rebukes the interrogator, Cornelius Fudge, for saying Mrs. Figg was not a convincing witness, saying, "Oh, I don’t know,” said Madam Bones in her booming voice. “She certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t —” (OOTP, Ch. 7)

-She asks about Harry's ability to produce a patronus and comments, “Impressive,” said Madam Bones, staring down at him, “a true Patronus at that age . . . very impressive indeed.” (OOTP, Ch. 7)

-She mentions during the hearing that there is "no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging other than Harry Potter. That situation has always been closely monitored, given . . . given past events.” (OOTP, Ch. 7)

-Cornelius Fudge mentions her death, "We think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may have murdered her in person, because she was a very gifted witch and —and all the evidence was that she put up a real fight.” (HBP, Ch. 1)

Details of her death: "Amelia Bones . . . she was a middle-aged woman who lived alone. It was a — a nasty killing," "Killed in a room that was locked from the inside, wasn’t she?" (HBP, Ch. 1)

Context: Fandom presumes the Bones family is half-blood or pureblood as their entire family appears to be witches/wizards. As the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia admits to monitoring Harry Potter's location and those that live nearby, so the ministry was aware of where Dumbledore placed Harry. Killing off Wizengamot members made it difficult for the Ministry to effectively respond to Voldemort's attacks.

#canon hp profiles #amelia bones #marauders era

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starlittragedies · 9 months ago

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oh how i love the chaotic, unruly, and menace to society barty crouch jr. but how i also love the quiet yet calculated, sharp witted, teacher’s pet barty crouch jr.

the one who knew the art of manipulation while watching his father manipulate himself to the top of the wizengamot. the one who was still funny and a menace to soiety but could get away will all of the things he had done because “perfect barty crouch jr. who always gets Os in his card would never do that.”

not to mention that he would have joined the “politics” at hogwarts as well… he may hate his father to his core but at the end of the day he is still his father’s son. he does everything he can so that he can be a prefect (and hopefully become headboy) so that he can do his own biddings whenever he likes and not get any consequences for any of them because it was easier to cover up your “crimes” when you’re in a position of power.

#THIS MAN HAD GOTTEN 12 Os IN HIS OWLS L #HE IS BEYOND SMART!!!!#A PRODIGY EVEN #i truly believe that he used his smarts to his advantage #whether he would have been in ravenclaw or slytherin #marauders #marauders era #dead wizards from the 70s #marauders era slytherins #barty crouch jr.#barty crouch junior #the slytherin skittles #slytherin skittles #the pantheon #the emeralds

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smutgallore · 11 months ago

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Please Don't Prove 'em Right

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Weasley!Reader

Minors DNI

Word Count: 2500+

Inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s song “Please Please Please”

“I said I’m helping you, not Voldy-tits. If that means we have to go into hiding, so be it. But I love you and I’m not letting you go through this alone.”

Summary: You are Ron’s twin sister, in Gryffindor, and best friends with Harry and Hermione. As a Weasley, you have heard all about the Malfoy’s. But none of that stops you from falling for Draco Malfoy. Slight AU. Smut will happen in later chapters.

This has been written to where they are 18 in the 6th year.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Angst, confessions of love, bullying (sort of), mentions of blood, dread, etc.

---

Malfoy. The first time I heard that name it was followed by a grimace from my father, along with an immediate groan of dislike from my mother.

“What has Lucius Malfoy done now, dear?” My mother asked my father. Knowing that whatever it was, wasn’t good.

“He somehow managed to convince the Chief Warlock and the rest of the Wizengamot that he was under the influence of the Imperius curse while doing He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s bidding. That man is pure evil as I’m sure his son will be.”

---

“And my names’ Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” There that name was again. And I knew from what my parents had said, that name meant no good.

Ron sniggered as Malfoy introduced himself.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are.” His eyes stray over to me, his pupils dilating as soon as we make eye contact but quickly shift back to my brother. “My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” My hand balled up into a fist as he turned back to Harry.

“You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” Malfoy extended his hand out expecting Harry to shake it.

What he didn’t expect, was for my fist to make contact with his nose. And as he sat there crying, saying that ‘his father will hear about this’, I knew my parents were right. The Malfoy’s were no good.

---

And it seemed the name ‘Malfoy’ would continue to plague me for the rest of my life from that moment forward. Since I made a fool of Malfoy on the first day of school, he decided to make my life a living hell.

“Hey, Carrots. How was your summer?” Malfoy’s arm wraps around my shoulder. “Enjoy staying in that hobbit hole you call a house?” He always seems to find me as soon as I board the train.

“Shove off, Malfoy.” I bring my elbow to collide with his ribs, effectively removing his arm from my shoulder. “I’m actually trying to find my friends. I’m sure that’s a hard concept for you to grasp since nobody likes you.” His face contorts into a look of hurt; probably because of my elbow.

He opens his mouth to say something until he sees my brothers, Fred and George, heading toward us. “Whatever Weasley. You’re not worth my time anyway.” He mutters as he leaves.

“What’d Malfoy want?” Fred asked. He and George joined me as we made our way through the train.

“Do we need to prank him? Maybe turn his precious blond hair pink?” George conspired, grinning at the thought.

“As amusing as that sounds, no. He’s just being a prick as always. I can handle him.” I say as I find Ron, Harry, and Hermione in our compartment. “See you later.” I wave them off and take a seat next to Hermione.

“Malfoy already giving you issues?” Hermione asked, bringing her head from behind her book. “You’d think he would be over what happened our first year.” Shaking her head in disapproval.

“I did punch him in the nose in front of our whole class Hermione. I’d hardly think he would want to be friends after. Not that I want that bloody git as my friend.” I said a grin making its way to my face.

---

The fifth year is where it changed, where Draco changed. Around my family and friends, he was still a pompous bully and complete arse. But around me, he started to act differently.

He stopped calling me names and bullying me. Instead, he was being nice. He would joke with me, help me with schoolwork and I would help him. We started to build a friendship. A secret friendship, that is.

And eventually, it evolved into more. We were at the library, studying into the night. Everyone had already made their way to the common rooms. Everyone, except us.

“Hey what did you get for number 4 in potions?” I asked looking over my work.

“Uh… hold on, I gotta find it.” He said as he flipped through his papers, moving books and flinging things off the desk. “Here it is.” He shouts yanking the paper from underneath his open ink barrel.

In that instant, the ink went cascading to the floor, leading to a growing stain on the carpet. “Shit!” We both exclaim as we rise in a hurry to clean up the mess.

Instead of being smart and using my wand, I try to gather as much ink in my hands as I can to prevent the spread. “Y/N. Did you forget you’re a witch?” Draco smiled in amusement.

I blush as I realize what I was doing. “Oh, right.” Draco pulls his wand from his pocket and quickly casts ‘scourgify’.

I’m left staring at my now-dyed hands and knees. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Draco says grabbing my elbow to help me.

He leads me to the closest bathroom and quickly turns on the water rubbing at my hands.

“Thanks. I can’t believe I was so stupid.” I say as I look up from the black puddle in the sink. That's when I realize how close we are to each other and so does Draco.

We stare into each other's eyes, the ink long forgotten. It's as if gravity is pulling us closer until our foreheads touch. “Ca… Can I kiss you?” Draco whispers.

I don’t answer and simply bring my lips to his. In that moment everything seems to fade away. My hands meet his face as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling each other closer. Nothing has ever felt so right and so wrong at the same time.

Our foreheads meet again as we pull apart for air. “That was… wow.” I gasp out. “We should do that more often.” I giggle.

His lips meet mine again in a quick peck, leaving me wanting more. “Y/N I need to tell you something.” He says making me worry. “I… I love you.”

I’m shocked. “What?” Not sure I heard him right.

“I love you.” He repeats pulling away to look into my eyes.

“I…” I stop my reply as I notice black ink all over Draco’s face and neck. “Oh my Godric. Draco…” I’m cut off.

“It's okay if you don’t feel the same, I’d understand why you wouldn’t but I just couldn’t hide my feelings anymore. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. I’m so sorry for bullying you while I should have been loving you. Nothing will ever change how I feel for you…” As he speaks, he drags his hand across his face, creating a unibrow and beard to match out of the black ink.

I couldn’t help it, I just started laughing. As I’m struggling to catch my breath I notice the hurt look upon Draco’s face. And that immediately sobers me up.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you Draco. Well… I mean I was but not at what you were saying.” I gesture for him to look in the mirror.

As he does, he realizes what I was laughing at. His laughter cuts through the silence as he looks back at me. “Oh great Salazar Slytherin. I can’t believe I just said all of that looking like this.” His laughter bringing me warmth.

I smile, looking into his eyes. “I love you too,” I confess, bringing his laughter to an end as he realizes what I said.

“You do?” He asks, slightly unbelieving. As I nod my head yes, he closes the distance between us again and brings me into another kiss. This one was different from the last. It seemed to seal our love for each other.

---

“Don’t worry. He’ll be here in a minute.” Ron said between mouthfuls of jello. I grimaced as he shoveled another mouthful in.

“Will you stop eating?” Hermione said hitting Ron with her book, punctuating each word. “Your best friend is missing.”

“Oi. Turn around, you lunatic.” Ron said gesturing toward the doors.

“He’s covered in blood again.” I hear my sister, Ginny say. I look at the person in question and see blood pouring from his nose. “Why is it he’s always covered in blood?”

“Looks like it’s his own this time,” Ron replies, unsurprised.

“Where have you been?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“Yeah, and what the hell happened to your face?” I asked, my eyes widening. “Looks like you’ve taken a bludger to the face.”

“Later,” Harry says. “What’ve I missed?” He disregards our questions.

“Sorting Hat urged us all to be brave and strong in these troubled times.” Ron starts filling him in. “Easy for it to say, huh? It’s a hat, isn’t it?”

My attention drifts from the conversation to the Slytherin table, searching for the familiar head of blond hair. My eyes connect with his bringing a smile to my face, but he adverts his eyes.

“Very best of evenings to you all.” Dumbledore starts, bringing the hall to silence and my attention to him. “First off, let me introduce the newest member of our staff. Horace Slughorn.” A small applause arises. “Professor Slughorn, I’m happy to say, has agreed to resume his old post as Potions Master. Meanwhile, the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taken by Professor Snape.”

A confused murmur of Snape’s name spread across the hall as the Slytherins applauded their head of house.

“Now, as you know, each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight. And you have the right to know why.” An eerie feeling had settled over the hall. “Once there was a young man, who, like you, sat in this very hall, walked this castle’s corridors, slept under its roof. He seemed to all the world a student like any other. His name? Tom Riddle.”

More murmurs arose at the mention of the name.

“Today, of course, he’s known all over the world by another name. Which is why, as I stand looking out upon you all tonight, I’m reminded of a sobering fact. Every day, every hour, this very minute, perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle’s walls. But in the end, their greatest weapon is you.” I notice Dumbledore’s gaze move to Draco.

“Just something to think about. Now, off to bed. Pip-pip.” I rise from my seat on that note, hoping to catch Draco as he leaves.

“That was cheerful,” Ron mutters. I simply nod as I make my way out.

“You guys go ahead. I’ve got to speak with McGonagall.” I say, separating from them in search of Draco.

“Don’t be too late, curfew is soon,” Hermione says heading up the stairs.

I walk away heading to our designated place, the astronomy tower. As I round the corner I see him sitting with his legs dangling off the side, resting his head on the railing.

“Draco,” I whisper as I approach him. Sitting beside him. “How was your summer?” I bring my arm to bump into his side.

“We should break this off.” He mutters, sounding nothing like the Draco I know.

“What? What do you mean?” My smile falls.

“We should break this off. It’s dangerous.” He says, his voice shaking.

“I don’t care. I love you, and nothing will change that.” I bring my hand to reach for his only for him to pull back.

“You shouldn’t. I’m not good for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” His voice sounds watery. I turn him to face me and see tears trailing down his face.

“Oh, Draco. Tell me what's going on. Somethings wrong, tell me.” I say pulling him into a hug.

As my arms wrap around him, the dam breaks. His body shakes as he cries into my shoulder. I rub my hand up and down his back to calm him. His breathing evens out as he pulls away from me.

“You’ll hate me,” his voice quivers. “I didn’t want this.” Tears pour from his eyes in a steady stream.

“Draco, love, I could never hate you. Tell me what’s going on.” I reassure him. He looks at me reluctantly as he pulls his left sleeve up, revealing the dark mark. I gasp in surprise as I pull his arm toward me. A sense of dread washes over me.

“I promise I didn’t want this. I… I had no other choice. You have to believe me.” His voice pleads as I look into his eyes.

“I believe you,” I whisper bringing him into another hug. “How’d this happen though?” I question. “Your… your dad, he’s�� He couldn't have caused this.” I trailed off.

“It's because he’s in Azkaban that I have this. The Dark Lord needed somebody and because my father wasn’t there, he turned to me.” His voice shook as he began to explain. “He threatened to kill my mom and… and you.”

“What? How does he know about me?” Confused and scared, I rose to my feet. “Nobody knows. How could he…”

“Legilimency.” He looked down at his hands in regret and fear. “I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“Well, that means it's too late now. You’re not getting rid of me now. We’ll figure this out. A way to get you free from this. Your mother too.” I say as I pull him to his feet, cupping his face with my hands.

“Y/N, this is dangerous. I don’t want you involved in this.” He grabs my hands and looks pleadingly into my eyes. “Promise me you won’t get involved.”

“I can’t do that, and you know that. We will get this sorted out. Maybe we can tell Dumbledore.”

“No Dumbledore can’t know. My… my mission is to kill him.” I gasp at that.

“Well, we’ll just have to stall as long as we can. I’ll teach you occlumency so you can keep him out of your mind. And we’ll go from there, okay?” I say as I grab his face again.

“If anyone were to find out you’re helping me, you’d be considered a traitor. I can’t let that happen, you would lose your family.” He says in shock that I would offer my help.

“I said I’m helping you, not Voldy-tits. If that means we have to go into hiding, so be it. But I love you and I’m not letting you go through this alone.” I reassure him bringing my lips to his cheek.

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