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literallys-illiteracy · 2 months ago

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Alchemy and the Magnum Opus in The Magnus Protocol/Archives:

So I was working on a project that was in essence a google doc where I go over a bunch of alchemy stuff that could be useful for others attempting to understand the Magnus Protocol, and then I realised I should probably post this month so here's that stuff early (some of it)

Magnum Opus:

Magnum Opus, also known as “The Work” and “The Great Work” is the process of which one would create “The Philosopher’s Stone” (Also known as The Work, The Great Work, Our Stone, The Magnum Opus, The Powder; The Tincture).

The Philosopher’s stone is best known for the concept of transmuting base metals such as Iron and Lead into Higher Metals such as Silver, Gold and Platinum.

The Stone would also bring us divine revelation, true knowledge, and eternal life, or so it was said. The Magnum Opus is too thought of as the process of personal and mental development and transmutation.

That’s right, transmuting your gender is indeed alchemy.

Glossary for the remainder of the section:

The stone/Philosopher’s stone: The stone itself Magnum Opus: The final product (The Stone). The Work/The Great Work: The process of creating The Stone. Our Matter/The Matter: The incomplete Stone in the process of The Work.

The Stone itself was said to be created in several “stages”, traditionally and most well known in the Four primary ones, but there have also been groups of 12 and 14 steps to its creation.

The primary stages that exist are as follows:

Nigredo, meaning “Blackening”, typically used to refer to the decomposition of a body. In relation to alchemical recipes, it is seen as the breaking down of all ingredients into a single blackness, the degradation and “blackening” of the materials to their base.

Albedo, meaning “whiteness”, is the stage following Nigredo. After the decomposition of the ingredients into their singular base form(s), the matter is then separated (“cleansed”) into parts, the matter becoming white with the separation of impurities.

Citrinitas, meaning “Yellowness” is the process of bringing forth the inner though lesser aspects of the whole. One can understand the Yellowing to simply be a state in which Our Matter is ready to continue to the final stage of The Work; After the separation of the previous flaws it must be prepared once more unto a yellowed state.

Rubedo, or Iosis acts as the final stage of The Work, “The Reddening”. Iosis is best understood through its relation to Albedo: Once the impurities have been removed, there is a separation made; In this purification of the Matter we have separated a part of itself, the purity in Albedo exists due to its contrast with the removed Matter. In Iosis, the Matter is reintroduced to itself, the two opposites unifying and once again becoming the whole, base matter that was strived for.

Psychoanalysis and alchemy:

This subsection also contains a glossary:

Self: The entirety of one’s own person. Mind, ideas, consciousness, opinions and ideals; the entire unfiltered whole of both conscious and unconscious.

Shadow: The aspects of one’s Self that they (either consciously or unconsciously) ignore; The Shadow is best understood as the traits that one does not wish to accept or dislikes about themself, the repressed and unwanted traits.

Persona: The mask that one presents to the outer world of their “Self” in order to create definite impressions and out of concern for what others surrounding them may think. The Persona is one’s method of hiding their deeper individuality and personhood, the means for one to maintain social relations.

Anima/Animus: In the past used in reference to one’s soul, the Anima and Animus are a pair of Jungian archetypes. Anima and Animus are noted as the aspects of the opposite sex within one’s mind, though this is not the only interpretation; Anima and Animus are best understood as the bridges between the conscious and unconscious, informed by their opposite natures. It is more useful to treat it as all persons having both Anima and Animus, rather than simply one, as they are the contrasting nature to one’s outer mind, and reflective of their perception towards others.

Individuation: The process of recognition, integration, and understanding of the various aspects of one’s self to be identified as distinct as an individual such as the Anima/Animus, Shadow, id, Persona, and ego.

Now, please permit me to talk about Psychology because I like doing so and it is somewhat relevant at the current moment.

The Work has in more recent times been applied to the concept of the self, most notably by Psychoanalyst Carl Jung, likening the Self to The Stone, and the process of individuation and ego development to The Great Work.

Nigredo remains as the concept of a decomposition, the breaking down of one’s complacent unawareness of their own Shadow, and of their Persona.

The first step is the mentioned disintegration of the Persona, the uncomfortability of being face to face with the world no longer wearing the mask that hides your self, able to see and display all of your traits.

This leads to the confrontation with one’s shadow, the uncomfortable nature of seeing one’s flaws and perceived negative traits as wholly theirs. In other words, this is a disintegration of an internal mask towards one’s own Shadow, the Persona no longer hides the self, neither does it the flaws.

Albedo continues from this point, the newfound recognition of the flaws in the “matter” that is the self able to be separated, purified; Unwanted and unuseful traits may be discarded, an overzealous mind, a reinforced perception of others, each able to be separated from the Matter that is the mind.

Citrinitas arises as a product of the attempted removal undergone in Albedo; through the wrestling and attempted removal of an aspect of your Self, through the lack of identification with this aspect, arises the Mana Personality archetype, an attempted balancing figure of greater presence than the Anima, akin to the ego that it attempts to manage various aspects within the conscious and unconscious self.

Through this removal of the distinction between the shadow and ego, comes the possibility of unification and thus solving one’s inner conflict. Iosis.

Definitions and distinctions between various forms arise due to their perceived separations; only a being that has been divided from the chaos it started as is able to rejoin.

In a past project, I discussed this as well, as am I going to when I release my project on The Magnus Archives in whole; In an attempt to only praise or see one aspect of the greater whole, it fragments. It does not break, but shatters, divisions not strictly ordered and each shard still a part of this wholeness in its separation.

You must first identify differences in order to compare aspects, to state that all aspects of a concept exist as a single homogenous entity, lacking differentiation, removes your ability to discuss the concept as a whole.

I mean, you could see them all as just one thing, I guess, but it would be pretty much meaningless, y’know, like… like trying to describe a… shirt by talking about the concept of colour.

The Magnus Archives:

I have tried to foreshadow as heavily as possible where I am going with this concept;

We know that the Magnus Protocol is centered around alchemy, and that the enti(ties) left the original universe at the ending of Magnus Archives.

We know in the last episode of Archives that:

The thing that was fear felt itself began to tear, to crack and fracture along a thousand unseen fault lines. It bled and warped and multiplied, and could no longer see itself as once it did. It could never be whole again.

It saw itself. It saw itself and could no longer recognise these disparate fragments as its own. It could not understand, the being that was fear, as primal and eternal a being it was, it could simply seek to know that it could be separated from these unwanted traits.

The emergence of human minds, minds to think, minds to suffer and truly understand it. This is when fear fractured.

After was a state of decay, of unwoven strands and cracked stone as the being separated, as it became aware of its natures.

Then was a state of separation, these splinters of reality wishing to separate, to no longer be what it was, to be distinct and “clean” from these opposing, unwanted ideas.

In this state of disunity came forth the wisest among them, the only one that could truly see them all to be the same, while being another unwoven thread in what was once it.

The spider wished to save its kin–Its-self–and guided each scattered fragment elsewhere.

Black. White. Yellow.

Still incomplete, this Magnus Opus never fulfilled in the Archives, the spider to lead them to freedom. The spider to be seen nowhere so far in the Protocols.

#literally's ramblings #psychology #Magnus Archives #The Magnus Archives #TMA #Magnus Protocol #The Magnus Protocol #Alchemy #Alchemy in The Magnus Protocol #essays i wrote primarily while half asleep #None of this is helpful to anyone probably but I mostly write for the fun of it #I'm already aware of these things but writing is fun and sometimes people even read them...#Sometimes.

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sepublic · 20 days ago

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Just before Weebcon 2025 and the opportunity to meet Dana Terrace herself, I did my first-ever cosplay as Raine Whispers, specifically to celebrate the occasion; I could’ve gone the option of just buying a cosplay set already pre-made, but I wanted to have more fun by feeling like I was assembling it with practical components, rather than a cheaper option. I suppose one could get philosophical about how much something has to be homemade, to be homemade; Like those Binging with Babish memes about Babish starting his take on a recipe by not simply buying water, but by combining Hydrogen and Oxygen atoms to create it from scratch. I chose Raine because their character seemed relatively simple to cosplay, while still requiring effort, and also beared the most resemblance to me out of the cast.

And it was pretty easy, mostly shopping and assembly, up until the vest and earring that eluded me; This was my Plan A, but there was an ambitious moment where I considered a Plan B that involved making it from scratch with just fabric, only for someone to point out my schematics would be the wrong proportions.

So I stuck to Plan A (Plan C was to buy the vest, but keep the rest of what I’d made); Buying a pre-made black vest and adding the red lapels and gold buttons/trim, and I’m quite chuffed to see how it turned out! HUGE shoutout to @loneicedragon for recommending fabric glue and mixed media adhesive; It’s such basic info, but as someone who really was doing Cosplay for Dummies, it was everything I needed. Couldn’t have done it without ya!

For the gold buttons, I was actually going to rely on safety pins instead of sewing, since I didn’t have the patience to learn how to do it and didn’t think it necessary; But a loved one insisted on sewing it for me upon finding out, so here we are! There ended up being four buttons on the vest when Raine only has three; Luckily, they were black and so easily blended into the rest of the vest. And in the end, that bottom-most button was just covered up by Raine’s belt! It’s a shame they wear it on their waist and not their hips though; My pants kept gradually slipping down as I wore them, and they were the smallest size I could find!

And the earring. TITAN that earring!!! I was originally going to keep it simple, probably a bit of ribbon, but as I looked at references in the finale I happened to re-acquaint with myself with an obscure, detailed shot of Raine’s earring, and felt obligated to stick with that. This, and the fact that it’s treated like a solid object, had me reconsider.

I went to Michael’s looking for inspiration and found a half-orb bead with a loop to thread; A perfect base! Afterwards I deliberated on the rest of the earring, and initially settled for this gray stone earring; It was too straight. Another one was of a different color, the right ones… But it was upside-down! I considered using pliers to snip off the metal chains and glue the stone to the half-bead, or glue the half-bead to the chain, etc. I even attempted the base of the earring by wrapping around and gluing some light-gray ribbon at the base of an earring!

But I wasn’t satisfied and as I looked for materials and inspiration on other parts of th cosplay, I spied silicone sheets to cut out the shape… Only to realize silicone does NOT adhere to glue, not even super glue. I despaired, deadline fast approaching but then the day prior to the deadline found this toddler book by Jimmy Fallon, of all people…

And the thickness of the cardboard was JUST right that I bought the damn book just to cut out an earring with! Normally I have reservations about defiling books, but in this moment I decided, F it, people do it ALL the time and there’s a million copies of this book, realistically most will probably be thrown out or left unappreciated. Who cares. But nevertheless, I technically owe it to Jimmy Fallon for this…!

Mixed media adhesive actually worked this time, and I spray-painted the main earring dark gray, and the tab at its base light gray. I found out that spray paint requires you to be of a certain age to purchase, and that the nozzles are given to you at the cash register, which the cashier forgot to do; I had to go back once I figured that part out, checking the product’s official images and noticing a bit missing. I had my suspicions a nozzle was missing, but it was an Ironlak can so I presume the plastic tab meant to avoid an accidental spray was hiding a nozzle that would pop out once removed.

That said, I didn’t want to pierce my ears just yet, and wasn’t ready to do it for a cosplay! But I figured I didn’t have to, I could just tie it around my ear. I deliberated on options, but this bag I was given still had its tag attached, with one of those plastic fasteners you insert one end into another and are impossible to pull apart from that moment; It was perfect, and ensured the earring hung in front of my earlobe, no less!

I’m not sure if I’ll ever have the patience for styling wigs, and I felt satisfied enough with my input to just buy a Raine Whispers wig; But it wouldn’t arrive in time, so I resorted to a generic one alas. One could approximate it as Raine after Belos, of all people, restored their hairline… But that also came with scars on their face that I didn’t feel like replicating. RIP.

The boots were a minor challenge; I couldn’t find ones that were black and gray in the corresponding bits, so I settled for regular black boots and I doubt people pay enough attention, I’d always misremembered Raine’s boots as black anyhow. But I had no idea what the dark-brown flaps in the front are; I did consider going Plan C and letting myself buy the boots, but I realized the color of the flaps was wrong, so I stuck to making it custom. At Michael’s I roamed for inspiration and happened to find the perfect option, these leather flaps I folded and glued over the hem of my boots!

I considered buying a violin case as an in-character backpack, but alas I felt they were too expensive and not spacious enough. I also considered a faux-violin, but again too expensive, none had the Fiddlesticks details, etc. In the end it wasn’t necessary. I did relent in incorporating the Bard sigil; I found a temporary tattoo online, but it wouldn’t arrive in time, so I bought stickers on Redbubble to just slap on my wrist! They’re not made for skin, as I suspected, which was why I had back-ups; I lost a few haha.

I felt really nervous doing this project, uncertain at times; I ended up assembling this literally right before I drove to the convention area. It was exhausting, as were my other life obligations; There was a point where I had to go to bed early, just so I could wake up extra-early the morning of the day I’d drive out, just so I could make time to finish it without being too exhausted! I still had work that day!

But by Titan it all felt right, it all felt worth it, when I actually got to assemble the disparate parts and see them come together, with me as the final and ultimate piece! Shoutout to @peppergoji for encouraging me to see it all the way through, you were right; It really was so, so worth it when it came together, as was getting to have people ask me to take pictures of my cosplay!!!

Really, I’d say the only inaccuracies are my eyes not being green, the wig itself, and the boots not having any gray in them. I might try to perfect this cosplay; Maybe buy the pre-made Raine Whispers boots, but replace the red flaps with the brown leather ones. Get green contact lenses. And actually follow through on that Raine Whispers wig, I’ll see. I could perhaps get into actual wig-making just to give myself something to do and enjoy the process before I finalize it. And/or move onto some other cosplay, because I might be developing a taste for it…!

But they really weren’t kidding; This could be pricey, and like any craft, it only seems so impressive because you haven’t seen all of the failures and prototypes. And that’s the part you have to live with, but you can live with it alright!

#The Owl House #Cosplay #Raine Whispers

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delusioniste · 5 months ago

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Quirinus Quirrell | Reader (Harry Potter)

It's Christmas and I was watching The Philosopher's Stone when my long-time thirst for Quirrell flared up again. The reader is female. Warning(s): explicit sex, violence, abusive behaviour, angst, death, foul language, it's possibly a bit dark.

Albania, August 1991

You stumbled through the trees spread through the deep gorges that had formed, like murky forest pools, between the towering crags of the Accursed Mountains. Night was falling, falling faster than you had expected it to, and perhaps it was your own fear - but you had a feeling that it might be connected to the reason why the mountain range had come by its name.

You gritted your teeth as each step felt increasingly like lead. Where was he, for God's sake? You were following the path faithfully, but it seemed to have no end. You admitted to yourself, at long last, that you were worried. No, you weren't worried - you were frightened. Your thoughts circled around and around, and images flashed before your mind's eye that caused your heart to seemingly snap and beat out of your ribcage like a rabid beast. Not only were you scared, you were angry. At him and at yourself. Rage coursed through your veins at the same time as your fear, and you thought that you could kill him with your bare hands for the delusions he insisted on following and for the vanity that enabled it - even if half of it was bitterness.

And now the trees, tall conifers with half-naked branches like bones, seemed to grow even taller and larger, merging at times with the hazy darkness that coiled like mist around their trunks and slowly surrounding you. You were half out of your mind, now, each noise making you start in fear. Your lower lip was bitten bloody in fruitless attempts to calm yourself, to gather your composure, to think straight. You looked to your feet and breathed a small sigh of relief that you were still on the path. Quirinus had told you where he expected to be, you had walked this path a few days ago together, but you hadn't come this far then. It wasn't even a path. It was a trail that had been created by treading down the sparse shrubbery and moss and dead pine needles that lined the forest floor. If you didn't look carefully, you could easily lose your way.

What had he said to you the night before leaving? I-I'm going to meet someone - and I might be away for a while, so d-don't worry about me.

You remembered being curious, and you had asked him where he was going.

Oh, I - I'm going to search for an old f-friend I met - last time I was in Albania.

Are they a muggle? You knew he had a fondness for them. After all, his father had been one.

N-no. He... he's a v-vampire, if you must know. Quirinus gave you a faint smile before sitting down beside you on the narrow bed you had been allotted by the inn.

Oh. You thought of Dracula at first, a Muggle novel you had particularly enjoyed reading, even if its depiction of vampires was inaccurate. Then a vaguely worried feeling crept into your mind at the fact that Quirinus was aquainted so well with a vampire that he wanted to go in search of him, but you pushed it down when he brushed his lips over the shell of your ear and whispered: Do you mind if I - if we...

With the forest closing in around you and the fear-fuelled sweat cooling rapidly on your skin, you were sure that he had known all along that it was no simple vampire he was seeking out, but someone or something other, and that they most likely harboured malevolent intentions. Your heart continued to beat erratically, and nausea rose in your chest.

It was this path. You were sure. And you also thought that you knew why he had shown it to you, it must have been so that you would know where to find him if anything went awry. He was intelligent like that, resourceful, and it was all because he was afraid and always on edge - perpetually conscious of anyone or anything that tried to hurt him. God, it was pitiful, but it wouldn't do to dwell on it now. You dragged a hand over your forehead and shook your head to rid yourself of the nervous daze you kept falling into, when you glimpsed a flicker of light in the periphery of your sight.

With your heart in your mouth, you looked around slowly. The light had been faint, but it had been there, pale and flame-like, in the direction of the ascending slope of the mountain that was to your north. There were occasional jagged boulders that lay about between the conifers and ridges of rock that pushed through the forest floor like veins. You narrowed your eyes to adjust to the now almost grainy darkness.

There.

Another wan flicker of white. With a hand held in front of you to steady yourself in case of a fall, you cast a rudimentary silencing spell and tread carefully towards the assumed and elusive source of light.

Please...stop...

You froze. The voice - you recognised it. A tear rolled down your cheek and you wiped it away, suddenly angry at yourself for your weakness. Oh God, Quirinus, please, you begged silently. The light flared up again for a moment, so you took another few steps. With a hand over your mouth, you reached the huge trunk of the pine from behind which you had seen the light appear. Pressing yourself to it, you listened.

It was certainly Quirinus. Please, he whispered. No. No, I cannot - I cannot -

There was no response from his counterpart, it seemed.

Then Quirinus screamed, and you left the safety of the pine tree and went to him as quickly as you could, wand drawn in front of you in your shaking hand. You had expected to see someone there with him, but to your shock, there was no one. Quirinus, alone, was on his knees on among the dead leaves and needles and moss, rocking back and forth, his face ghastly white and his eyes full of terror.

Quirinus! you whispered urgently, falling on your own knees to take him by the shoulders.

He seemed not to be able to hear you, but instead continued to rock back and forth. His face twisted at times into a grimace of what looked like agonising pain, and the only sounds that left his parted lips were groans of what also seemed like pain and terror.

You were at a loss. There was no time to lose, you were desperate to return to the safety of the village, but with Quirinus in this state, it was becoming more and more unlikely that you would manage to do so by daybreak. As gently as you could with your trembling hands, you touched the side of his face, prompting him to look at you. It worked. He raised his eyes and saw you. Suddenly, he grasped your wrist as his gaze turned slightly blank. Leave, he said, and you instinctively flinched backwards as soon as you heard his voice. It had become raw, like metal, and harsh, almost a hiss.

You knelt, slumped, in front of him, wondering what in God's name had happened to him. Quirinus, who was it? you whispered. Please. Tears of frustration pooled in the corners of your eyes and blurred his face in your sight. Please, you cried. Talk to me. Tell me who it was - who the fuck - it was - You can't just sit there and - and be like this.

He opened his mouth and began to speak, but the first syllable was swallowed by violent convulsions as soon as he had uttered it. Do not dare...to speak my name, he hissed after struggling. Now he was strangely still, unmoving, alert.

You took the chance and took his hands in yours, holding them tight out of fear that he would do something to harm you or himself. Quirinus, please, look at me. Tell me what you're - well, what you're talking about. We don't have any time, Quirinus -

Rid yourself of this creature, he said, in the same harsh voice as before. With a sudden jerk of his arms, he freed himself from your grip and had his hands around your throat in an instant.

You screamed and struggled against him, but it was in vain. His sudden strength was astonishing. The calculating look in his eyes was directed at you, and you were frightened out of your wits. Cold sweat ran down your face and your breathing was heavy and irregular. Quirinus' hold on your throat grew tighter, gradually but surely, and you wondered whether this would be your death. Let go of me. Let go, you cried.

I'm afraid...I cannot do that... Quirinus replied. Then he jerked again and cried M-master! in a weak tone that sounded more like his ordinary voice, slackening his grip on your throat by a little, as though he was fighting against something within him.

Evidently, it overpowered him, and he let go of your neck to clutch at his head. My God, he cried. Please, my lord, I cannot - I am too weak -

At the words my lord your skin prickled in another kind of fear. Who was this vampire? What was it, if it wasn't one? You were now sure that he was now the host of something parasitical that was more powerful than him. Master. Lord. Quirinus, what did you let in? You drew your wand and placed it like a knife at his jugular, drawing courage from your frustration. Who were you looking for?

He replied to you, but it was the parasite speaking. I am grateful to this man, he said, and his voice was smiling and soft, like a snake's. He has given me life again... regrettably not his whole being...but enough to sustain myself...

Who are you? you asked again, digging the tip of your wand a little deeper into his skin.

There was a sound like the licking of snakes' tongues, then: I am Lord Voldemort...

You froze and stared, not believing what was coming out of Quirinus' mouth, no, this was a dream - a nightmare. It was all an illusion. You weren't deep in the heart of an Albanian mountain range cursed according to widespread belief by Satan, you hadn't gone anywhere with Quirinus, you didn't even know him. There was no vampire and no Dark Lord.

Kill her...she is of no use.

No. It was Quirinus' voice again. N-not her.

Fool.

N-never, you can n-not make me harm her. As he spoke, blood began to trickle from his nose, over the thin ridge of his upper lip and into his mouth. Moments later, it started to dribble from his ears, and it ran down very slowly, soaking into the collar of his moss-smeared shirt and turning it dark red.

You began to cry again, desperately trying to quench the blood and only spreading it further over his pale skin and over your own hands. Quirinus, please, we have to leave. You pushed his damp hair away from his eyes and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead with your sleeve. Listen to me. Can you hear me?

Y-yes. He nodded weakly. He looked at you with eyes that seemed to swim, struggling, between recognition and blank distance. Y/N? He began to tremble, and you wrapped your arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

England, May 1992

The air is still a little cold, even though the summer has begun to set in. The sycamore tree down the road is crowned in lush green and its bark shines like silver in the weak sunlight. You watch a magpie settle on a branch and cock its head before walking on, hoisting the carrier bag up from the ground where you let it sit while observing the bird. The bottle of absinthe you bought clashes alarmingly with the milk. Silencio.

Quirinus lives at the end of the road, in the last house before the rapeseed field and ancient hazel copse. You reach it, slightly out of breath, and unlatch the gate with a soft click. The house is an old detached one, from after the war, and it has copious amounts of ivy climbing its walls to the left and bare, worn down bricks to the right. A chipped enamel plate with an ornate '46' on it is hammered next to the front door with its peeling black paint.

You say alohomora in your head, concentrating on the handle, and the door swings open. The subtle smell of dried flowers and incense greets you as you step inside. On the walls of the narrow hallway there are several picture frames, each containing a collection of pressed petals, leaves and grasses. If you look a little closer, you can see that each specimen has been named in Quirinus' unmistakable cursive handwriting, slanted and elaborate. Cephalanthera rubra, parnassia parnustris, viola odorata. June 1980. October 1977.

Quirinus was a devotee of the art of herbology in his time at Hogwarts. You often found him in the greenhouses or the potions dungeon with Slughorn, studying various plants and their magical properties in painstaking detail. He would spend hours in the library with a pile of botanical works and miss mealtimes and lessons. Often, you would have to run to fetch him against his will. Quirinus, you'll lose points. Quirinus, you're late to Charms. He would protest weakly, but his report and grades were more important than anything, so he complied hurriedly. Despite his occasional digressions into those fields that he loved the most, he was still the best student in most of his classes and the object of both envy and mockery.

The mockery was what broke him in the end.

You bite at your lip as you break your gaze from the gallery of pressed flora. In the small and dingy kitchen, you put the shopping in the fridge and the bottle of Hill's on the countertop. Muggle drinks are surprisingly good. Firewhiskey remains the best, but vodka and liqueurs suit your taste as well. You wanted to indulge yourself a little, and knowing that Quirinus has been a curious lover of Muggle culture since childhood, you hope he'll like it.

You find him in the sitting room in an old armchair that's fraying at the bottom. Staring out of the door that leads to the garden, he barely blinks and seems to have become a sort of statue. An occasional twitch of his left eye betrays that fact that he's nervous, strung up.

"I'm back," you say and grimace at its unhelpfulness.

Quirinus snaps his head around to face you. "Oh. Yes, I heard when you came in." He frowns. He doesn't stutter audibly, which is rare.

Every moment is taut with tension now. You hate that you're left to the mercy of his occupant, who can manipulate him and change him at will. You tried to bind him somehow, to wrest control of him and weaken him, but even the strongest spells failed to work and only left Quirinus weaker than ever and on the verge of a penultimate breakdown. But more and more, you had glimpsed another Quirinus emerge, and he frightened you more than the spirit of Voldemort did.

He changed, sometimes. He seemed unwilling to free himself, lashing out in defense, threatening you. And sometimes it was something as subtle as a look in his eyes that was cold and empty, like the dark black shaft of a well. But at the bottom of the darkness there was life, something shapeless and malevolent, that strived to take on a form and crawl out of its hibernation.

Dumbledore had agreed to meet you in Diagon Alley at your request one afternoon in April.

"I've not seen you since you left Hogwarts," he remarked jovially when you shook hands with him. You had been provided a room above Ollivander's shop by its owner, whom Dumbledore trusted. It seemed to be a sort of study, and you both took your seats in armchairs that stood by the window.

"It seems so long ago," you said. "Tempus fugit, am I right, Professor?" It was a quote that he had introduced you to in your sixth year.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You're quite right." He produced his glasses and his expression became grave. "You wanted to see me for a specific reason, I think?" he asked quietly.

You swallowed and nodded. "Quirinus - He's teaching this year."

"That's right."

"Albus, he's - he's found him," you said. You tore a strip of skin from your thumb and a drop of blood welled up.

"I don't think I understand - Quirinus has found whom, exactly?" said Dumbledore. He leaned forward.

You dragged a finger over the dark circles beneath your eyes. "The Dark Lord."

Dumbledore's expression changed. "Voldemort? Quirinus has found his spirit, then?" He removed his glasses and folded them slowly, deep in thought. Then: "By God, so that was the object of his...sabbatical." He shook his head and looked to you. "Tell me- " he said. "When was this? And where? I gathered that he travelled eastwards after his first year as a professor, and I have heard from Severus that there are rumours he journeyed to Albania..."

"I...went with him, to Albania." You felt your face become warm. It was the first time that you admitted the existence of a relationship between Quirinus and yourself and suddenly you felt self-conscious.

"Indeed." Dumbledore smiled a knowing smile. "Do you know," he said, in a tone that was almost musing, "I dare say I think it is good that he...well, has you - he is fond of solitude, I know...but in truth, a fellow witch or wizard who he is close to might do him more good than you realise."

"Oh, I - yes. Yes, I suppose." You blushed and looked out of the window at the relatively empty alley.

"So the rumours were true...tell me, Y/N, when was this?"

"Last summer. August, I think." You preferred not to think about that August, but it was necessary now.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes..." he murmured. "The roads all lead there, some way or another."

You watched him, heart beating fast. You hoped desperately that he would find a way.

"And Voldemort's spirit...has - let us say - latched itself onto him?" asked Dumbledore eventually.

"I suppose that it's the best way to describe it."

"Since he will be at Hogwarts in a few month's time, I will notify the necessary individuals, bodies...and I will ask Severus to keep an eye on him." Dumbledore sighed, appearing older than he had minutes ago.

You frowned. Severus? The name served to bring back memories of your time at Hogwarts that was interwoven with bitter memories, among them of Severus Snape and Quirinus. You had never been sure which side you were on, or if you were even on a side. Blurred lines of loyalty and isolation, and in the end, fighting and splintered friendships. Rumours of Death Eaters, of He Who Must Not Be Named, lies and plots. You and your fellow students had left with rifts between you that still existed today, even after the deaths of Lily and James and Sirius' incarceration in Azkaban.

"Can you not trust him, after all these years?" asked Dumbledore. He sounded tired.

"I- " You closed your mouth.

"He is not the same any more. You were all young...he has proved himself since."

"No, I trust him." It was true, in a way. Snape would be suited to that role, seeing as he had always harboured a dislike of Quirinus.

Dumbledore rose to his feet. "Very well. I thank you for coming...and if anything is amiss, or awry, you must not hesitate to write."

You returned home by Muggle transport to garner some time to think, to be met at the door by Quirinus, who dragged you inside forcibly and threw you against the mantelpiece with a strength that was not his.

Shocked, you failed to find any words, and before you could compose yourself, he had you by the throat and was speaking to you softly, like a snake. "Where were you?" he asked. "Answer me...answer me now."

Choking, you tried to loosen his hold, but he was frighteningly strong and you were pushed back further, your feet almost hovering above the flagstones.

"Answer me...where were you?"

"Quirinus, I saw Albus," you gasped.

There was a silence that was heavy with malice.

"It was for you, I didn't know what else to- "

You screamed as he pulled your hair back harshly and tightened his grip on your throat.

In a hissing tone that you were sure was better suited to a legilimens, he whispered in your ear: "If you slip away one more time...he will die..."

With a sudden movement, he released you, and you fell to the floor with a cry of pain. You were afraid now, afraid for his life. "For your whore mother to have never birthed you," you spat at his feet.

Quirinus began laughing in a horrible, deranged manner that turned abruptly into cries of agony as he dragged his fingernails over his face and clutched at his head. "No, no, stop, please stop!" he groaned. Then his expression changed, and his hands dropped to his sides. "M-master," he whispered. "Forgive me, master." There was that cold, abysmal look in his eyes.

You turned away, still sprawled on the cold slate floor, looking up at him. You wanted to flee, but you couldn't, not now, not ever, because there was still hope. You were afraid of him and of the thing that lived inside him, but that wasn't the real Quirinus. God, you couldn't stomach the thought of running away, no matter how appealing it seemed at first glance. You closed your eyes tightly as the tears spilled over and dripped onto the floor in unsightly black stains. Holding yourself, you curled up in a foetal position and shook with sobs while the man standing in front of you stared out into the garden.

"Y/N, won't you sit down?" says Quirinus. He's calm, docile, his old self.

You bring a threadbare cushion from the on the opposite side of the room and throw it down by the armchair. "I'll sit here," you say and settle yourself between his bony knees. He gently runs his fingers over your hair and the sensation makes you shiver.

"I brought you a bottle of Hill's," you say, feeling a little awkward.

Quirinus weaves his fingers through yours. "I've not tasted that in - in years." A short laugh.

Relief washes over you. The sound of his laugh, quiet and nervous, is like water to your thirst. You laugh, too. "This evening?" you say.

"Of course." He tugs at your hands with a small smile. "I've been wanting to go for a walk..." he says, looking down at you, his eyes asking you a question.

"I'll come," you reply.

You both dress in Muggle garb when you go out, you in your green muslin dress and wool jumper and Quirinus in the old combination of worn trousers and shirt he's had since Hogwarts. The Muggle coat is the only relatively new thing he owns and it hangs from him limply like the coat of a scarecrow. He's lost too much weight, you think. Quirinus barely eats any more, and he seems to be wasting away by the day. You play with the idea of bringing Dumbledore here to do something, but what? How?

"Y/N, aren't you coming?"

You shake your head to clear your mind and kiss him on the jaw, making him blush. He takes your hand in his and smiles abashedly.

The afternoon is warmer than the morning and the sun is out. You take the path that runs along the side of the field behind the house that also leads through the hazel copse. A hare bounds through the green stalks of rape that are already beginning to bloom with bright yellow flowers and a kestrel beats its wings overhead.

Quirinus, casting small spells with his mind, makes the clouds that are scudding across the sky take on shapes like a Chinese Fireball or the Whomping Willow. "I hope the Muggles don't see," he grins, though tentatively.

At one point, one small cloud at the edge of your vision begins to look like a skull with the tongue of a snake and you feel a trickle of looming dread. You blink, and it's gone. Was it the remains of the Dark Lord again, playing with its host's mind and will? Your mind circles around and around the words death eater as you follow behind Quirinus. Death eater...the cloud...you convince yourself that it's simply your paranoia toying with you again.

In the copse you harvest a few branches of hazel together to carve into charms or use in potions. "I promised Hooch that I'd - that I'd, well, make her a little something," confesses Quirinus to you as you both walk home afterwards.

You raise your eyebrows. "What will Severus say?" You imagine Snape's fury on discovering that his metier has been practised and perfected by another, this intruder also being the very man he despises and envies over his possession of the title Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts.

"I'm- well, I'm rather hoping that Severus won't find out. Rolanda entrusted me with it because she doesn't like him." Quirinus looks guilty and touches his hand to yours when you say "Fingers crossed, then."

The sun is burnt gold when Quirinus holds the front door open for you. Inside the house it's cool, unlike the warmth of the air outside. The light enters the hallway and is reflected by the glass covering the pressed flowers. You shield your eyes, slipping your shoes off, and when you blink afterwards Quirinus is in front of you with a glass of absinthe. "Here," he says. "Drink it."

You take it from him with a glance from beneath your lashes.

"I'm going to use the bathroom for a minute," you say after draining it contrary to drinking etiquette. "Can I have some more?"

"Of - of course you can." Quirinus watches you climb the stairs for a moment before returning to the kitchen. He pushes the hair back from his temples with an impatient gesture and rolls up his sleeves. His hair is thinning and greying rapidly and the bones of his face have stretched his pale white skin taut. With a sigh that sounds more like a groan, he clutches the edge of the countertop and rests his forehead against the cupboard above it.

You reach the top of the stairs. The house is old-fashioned - almost everything is still the way it was when his mother died years ago, when he was in his fourth year at Hogwarts. His father followed her to her grave soon afterwards. You remember Quirinus confiding to you one evening as you both sat at the end of the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, your plates untouched and a jug of pumpkin juice in front of you. I haven't - I haven't talked to my father since - well, since Mother d-died. He had recently received a letter from him and hadn't known how to respond, lingering in the Hall long after the last students had all left to go to their classes.

From the Slytherin table, you heard loud whispering and even heckling, making you instinctively turn around and prepare to defend yourself against defamation. Oi, L/N, what're you doing with the Ravenclaws? called Regulus, beckoning to you.

Fuck off, you hissed. You were treading a thin line between disloyalty to your house - your family - and the attitude of a mere rebel.

You do know that you - that you don't need to do all this, don't you? said Quirinus, rising to his feet and gathering his black robes to avoid tripping. He nervously tucked a strand of lank brown hair behind his ear.

Quirinus glanced at the rows of Slytherin benches whose occupants were all watching what he'd do next. He turned away, straightening his shoulders. It's - it's nothing, he said. His tone was apologetic. Well - I'll see you tomorrow, I s-suppose. With a cursory smile, he walked away, through the doors of the Great Hall, and out of your sight.

You frowned, heart beating hard, and dejectedly made your way over to your house.

You saw Severus smirk ever so slightly before raising his goblet to his lips. Lucius ignored you and Regulus clapped you on the back, guffawing. See, L/N, he said, in a mockingly confidential manner, He's a soft fool - you needn't waste your time on him. The silver and onyx ring on his right index finger flashed in the candlelight as he raised a toast to you.

I said, fuck off. You slapped his hand away and looked down at the tabletop, head in your hands.

In Quirinus' bathroom, you sit down on the edge of the bathtub and prop your chin on your hands. You feel slightly nauseous, and you know it's because of the fear. You have little idea what will become of Quirinus. The lack of knowledge makes you nervous beyond words. In the past days, you've been shutting yourself in rooms to think on your own, but it only serves to dwindle all hope you might have had previously. With nightfall comes the panic, and whenever you look at Quirinus' sleeping face, you can't seem to stifle the rising sensation of being observed. Not by him, but by the thing he shares his form with. Often, with drink, he is weakened enough to resist the insidious grip of Voldemort's whisperings, but he's still there.

You stand up and go to the cabinet above the sink. A mirror has been attached to the left door. Your reflection stares back at you and you step back in some shock at the dark circles beneath your eyes. When did you last sleep without dreaming? With the dreams came the horrors that your mind conjured and you almost always ended up awake, staring wide-eyed at the wall, seeing the Dark Mark in each movement of the shadows and hearing serpentine voices in the wind outside the windows.

Splashing cold water on your face helps you calm yourself. You close your eyes for long moment. When you open them, you see yourself in the mirror with droplets of water hanging from the tips of your eyelashes. They tremble as you blink and they roll down your cheeks, into the crevice of your mouth and down your jaw to your neck. You open the cabinet, wondering on a whim as to what exactly might be in it. Your own things are downstairs in the guest's bathroom.

Nothing much. A razor blade, a comb, shaving cream and a brown glass bottle of what looks like perfume - possibly the incense of some kind? The cabinet is tall and you stand on your toes to reach the topmost shelf. Your fingers brush a small bottle and you lift it down to see.

It has no label on it, and the glass is dark blue, almost black, making the liquid within it look like blood. The lid unscrews without any difficulty. It has no distinct smell, but when you pour a droplet onto your finger, you blanch and almost let the bottle fall and shatter.

It is blood, after all. You examine it more closely. It gleams wine-red, almost brown, and depending on the light it also almost looks oily.

After a while, you recognise what it is, and you feel cold all of a sudden. The blood in the bottle is from a unicorn, and you suspect Quirinus to be drinking from it.

Youth. Vitality. Immortality. So that must be the reason. You frown and quickly return the bottle to its shelf. At the same moment, there is a knock on the door.

"I'm coming, wait," you call. Closing the cabinet silently, you unlock the door and step into the hallway.

"Are you - are you all right?" asks Quirinus. He looks at you strangely.

You swallow. "Of course."

"Here." Quirinus hands you the whole bottle of Hill's.

"What- "

"Wait," he says and takes your hand. "Come."

He leads you to his room, where he opens the window and lets in the last rays of sunlight. A blackbird calls to its mate from the neighbouring roof on the other side of the rotting garden fence. "We can - we can watch the sun set," says Quirinus.

The gesture is so intimate that you feel tears spring to your eyes. Embarassed, you hide your face until you're sure that they're gone.

Quirinus stands by the open window and stares at the sky. He seems deep in thought, somewhere far away, but the expression on his face betrays nothing else.

You leave the Hill's on the covers and join him, lacing your fingers through his, resting your head on his shoulder. "What are you watching?" you whisper.

Quirinus turns and smiles elusively. "Just the sky," he replies. He bends his head to yours and kisses your temple fleetingly.

"Quirinus," you say. He turns to you, a question in his eyes, but you shake your head and kiss him. He tastes of absinthe and smoke and something you can't quite recognise. The image of the unicorn blood rises in your mind and slowly floats in front of your mind's eye. It makes you retch momentarily.

Quirinus backs away immediately, panic in his face. "Did I - did I do something wrong?" he whispers. His fingers brush your shoulders. They're almost all mere bones, now, cold and white and thin.

You shake your head. You wish desperately that you could push everything frightening down, to a place within you that you could ignore for as long as you please. "I just- " you start, but bite your lip in time. "No, it wasn't you, it was me." You wrap your arms around his waist and and bury your face in his chest. The ridges of his ribcage press against the flesh of your cheek and you breathe him in.

"I - I can't do this," says Quirinus after a while. He gently pushes you away.

You stare at him.

He looks uncomfortable, rolling the cuff of his sleeve between his fingertips and avoiding your gaze. At last he mutters: "I - I don't w-want to harm you."

You shake your head. You refuse to think about it, because you're afraid, because you also feel the pain, and because you've grown desperate in the last months. You know that he's fading, the distance between you is growing by the day, and it makes you suffer a misery that you've never suffered before.

"I don't care."

Quirinus looks up. "I don't think y-you understand." Then he lowers his voice and says: "I don't know - I don't know who I am at times. It's - well, it's all becoming blurred... I think I - I'm losing myself to him." His voice trails away and he tries to steady his shaking hands.

Shocked to find yourself crying, you wipe your tears away with the heel of your palm. "I'm scared that - that one day I won't be able to reach you, Quirinus," you whisper. "You're already so far away." You take his wrist and pull him towards you, and he doesn't say anything. "Talk to me. Please talk to me."

"I don't know - I don't know what to say..."

You smile, the tears still wet on your cheeks. "Can you kiss me?" you say quietly. The words are fragile, like glass, and you feel as though you could see them floating in the air between you, and now the ball is in his court, he has the choice of either shattering them or taking them and caring for them, embracing their vulnerability.

Quirinus sighs. Bending down, he closes the distance between your lips and his, and he lets you lean into him. His arms are around you, and he's stroking your hair very slowly, and the last teardrops fall from the corners of your eyes, the salt merging on your intertwining tongues.

A pigeon coos outside the window, somewhere down in the garden.

You break apart very softly. His eyes meet yours and this time, you're looking into clear pools of rain, steel blue with flecks of brown - and not malevolent wells of darkness.

Everything is gentle, as though to him, you're made of smoke that could blow away, out of shape, at the tiniest indication of rough movement. Quirinus is reverential, almost, in the way he brushes a fingertip over stiffening nipples that subtly stretch the thin muslin of your dress over the swell of your breasts. Still standing by the window, illuminated in gold and blue and purple by the setting sun, he presses his mouth to yours again gently. "Am I hurting you?" he murmurs against you and you shake your head and kiss him harder.

He's terribly tentative, his movements slow and careful. He follows you to his bed and lets you place your legs around him as he sits on the edge of it. You're filled with the sort of happiness that makes you smile, and you bury your face in the curve between his neck and shoulder to hide it while Quirinus very gently pushes your dress up your torso, cold fingers bumping into your skin and making you arch your back slightly.

I love you, you want to say, but the words are snuffed out before they can leave your mouth because the dress is slipping over your head and falling to the floor and his hands are at your back, unclasping your bra and laying it aside. The friction of your now bare nipples against his shirt makes you breathe in sharply in pleasure. His lips are trailing over your shoulder, over the smattering of freckles there. The tiny hairs on your skin send a frisson of something beautiful down your arched spine.

#everyone hold your horses this is a WIP #that I posted by accident #quirinus quirrell #harry potter #professor quirrell #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #quirinus quirrell x reader #harry potter x reader

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macabresymphonies · 1 year ago

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The Magnus Protocol Alchemical Theory Ramble

I've been really into alchemy recentyl due to it's connections to The Magnus Protocol (probably to woe of my thesis supervisor), but the more I read the more some stuff that already have happened is starting to make sense to me. This post will be probably due to an update once I get further in my research, but I wanted to get some stuff out of my system as it's still fresh in my mind (people also wanted an update on my previous post where I spoke how there is a lot of connections between history of alchemy and TMAGP so here it is).

Keep in mind this is very brief explanation cause history of alchemy is MASSIVE, so I will be mostly focusing on a brief period in 12-14th century where alchemy was kind of the talk of the ruling class (mostly church). I will also not be explaning much the alchemical goals, but the purpouse of this post I will say chrysopoeia (transmutation of metals into gold) and connected concept of a Philosopher's Stone were two of the main ones.

Natural vs Artificial

The main concern with alchemy in the eyes of the church at the time was the issue of "natural" vs "artificial" gold. You see there were few loosely documented cases where alchemists seemingly reached one of their main goals and trasmutated some metals into gold. The problem was this "alchemical gold" was either devauling natural gold (if real), which was also an issue of "playing God" it was by divine design a fixed amount of gold in the world existed, or an elaborate way to counterfiet coins (if not real). This combined with the concerns of using artificial gold in medicine pushed alchemy into an underground by a decree of pope John XXII by forbidding alchemists from selling this alchemical gold (and silver). Roger Bacon and Albertus Magnus (known alchemists) were however both subscribed to idea that not only is alchemical gold equal to the natural one, it's actually better than natural one.

I see a connection here between "natural" fears (Smirk's 14) and "artificial" fears (clearly a faction of people who experiment on people, forcibly turning them into some type of creatures that resemble TMA's avatars). If we see Entities as apexes of their domains, these "offshoots" we've seen so far could be read as attempts of creating new entities by amature "alchemists" of this universe. This leads us very nicely into the second section.

Deckname, hiding in plain sight

You see, because alchemy was becoming quite controversial alchemists needed to hide their recipies. Deckname describes a way alchemists hid some of their exact recipies by using allegories, same names for multiple ingredients or (quite the opposite) one name for multiple ingredients. This concept wasn't new as in even in arabic writings on alchemy we can observer use of Deckname, but in ~13th century it was quite prelevant and even sometimes mixed with religious imagery (which will be important later). The general idea was to hide infromation with this type of "code", but not in such a way as it would be virtually impossible to decipher (as this would deem it useless). It also connects with the idea of "scattering" information (ingredients) as to send some scholars on this wild goose chase for Philosopher's Stone.

I don't think I need to talk much on how German way of hiding information might connect to the fact Freddie is a mysterious program written in German code that seemingly does not make much sense (with Deckname being intensively decribed by an arabist named KRAUS of all things). What I would like to point out that even very early on I believed that Freddie is used to crossreference attempts at creation of Philosopher's Stone and it's becoming much more likely this is a case, especially if you consider the next point.

The battle against the Antichrist

You see, alchemy wasn't like a one school of thought with a proper way to perform it, it was a science much like chemistry is today (alchemy is like a granddaddy of chemistry anyway). One of the concept that caught on, especially with the faction of Franciscan Spirituals (which is like hardcore Franciscans who liked to predict end of the world a lot) was the idea that Antichrist is coming and that all knowledge will be needed to stop him. Franciscan friar Roger Bacon even wrote a letter to the pope about it. This connected to with alchemy created a notion of a Philosopher's Stone as a tool in stopping the Antichrist which will be important later.

The Magnus Institute did tests on children that were mostly measuring three things: their developemnt, their empathy and how compliant they are. Given the history of the Institute in TMA it's hard to believe they were doing it for selfless and pure reasons, so I believe they were monitoring children to catch the possible "antichrist" and use their potnential for their own gain (note that I do not believe this "antichrist" is like a christian concept in TMAGP universe, I think it's something more aligned with entities or a purely symbolic title for some type of individual).

The torment of Messiah

For every Antichrist there's gotta be a-christ and alchemy actually did have a concept of one. You see, combining Deckname and the battle with Antichrist the Philosopher's Stone was very often hidden under the allegory of the Passion of Christ. Alchemists believed they are in a way tormenting metals by subduing them to all these processes (this is where the word crucible comes from by the way, it's "the little place of torment"), combine that with Antichrist theory and Jesus became a great allegory for creation of The Stone. Alchemists believe that metal (most often mercury) would have to go through four stages of torment before "ascending" similar how Jesus did (the incarnation, the crucifixion, the resurrection, and the ascension). This were in fact only believed to be instructions hidden in religious imagery.

I believe TMAGP does reverse of that concept. We've seen the Intitute use chemical terms like agent and catalyst do describe either the paranormal items or their wielders. I believe that the faction currently pulling the strings is using alchemical writings to experiment on people through tormenting them and exposing them to what is left of TMA Entities after traversing the universes. Some of those parts were used to make Freddie, that's why we got The Voices, but some are used to make eldritch abominations like we've seen so far. I'm not sure if Messiah in this sense is to be considered a benevolent concept, perhaps it's simply a being that will stop the apocalypse, but I believe that Antichrist is probably rebirth of The Prime Fear all Entities came from in TMA.

Closing thoughts

You can take that with a grain of salt, as I'm not a proficient alchemy scholar, but I won't deny the fact all of this so far fits pretty well and I can already see how this could play into many arcs (like how Celia has a baby that could be the "natural" antichrist and Sam with "chosen boy" issues could become the chosen "artificial" Messiah). If there are other points anyone with more knowledge on alchemy would like to mention in this post feel free to do so!

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp theory #samama khalid #celia ripley

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katherinakaina · 1 month ago

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@strange-aeons , you don’t have to like hpmor at all! It has a non conventional style of storytelling that some people really love and others can’t stand. It’s totally fine. But you are factually wrong about plot points and their meaning and omit a lot of context.

TLDR: Intelligence is a virtue, but it’s not even the main one. The villain is extremely evil and also the smartest person in the story. Most of Harry’s misanthropic thoughts are coming from his horcrux and aren’t meant to be taken as his genuine morals. One of the biggest themes of the fic is immortalism and the value of human life. It does not logically lead to the devaluing of human life in any way whatsoever.

In most stories, plot moving forward should be the product (in full or in part) of the main character’s motivations and choices. The objective is better be clear and the characters all should make progress in achieving it, overcoming difficulties. Such plots are universally engaging and easy to follow. They are good.

The plot in hpmor is not like that at all. Which is the main reason why it’s not enjoyable to many people, I believe. They find it confusing and hard to follow, boring. The most of the fic is a character and lore building filler. And if the characters don’t work for you, yeah, the plot's not going to carry you through it (I mean, you had been warned).

But this doesn’t mean that there’s no plot. It’s just that the plot only becomes clear in the very end or worse – on the second read. And you aren’t going to read it again so let me map it out.

• This summer! Voldemort gained a body and is back in business, baby. He knows, of course, that he accidentally created a horcrux in Harry and now there’s a boy somewhere who shares a part of his mind. Clear objective – create himself a perfect disciple and get back to taking over the world by first obtaining the philosopher's stone. Therefore:

• Voldemort gets himself a position in Hogwarts to kill both birds with as few stones as possible. He starts slowly grooming Harry using every manipulation tactic in the book. He is pretty successful for a while. But alas, Harry is way too good! Therefore:

• Voldemort needs to empower the part of Harry's mind that is his horcrux and weaken whatever it is that makes Harry good. Luckily, there’s a creature who can do just that. So Voldemort gets the permission to teach the patronus spell to the first years to have an excuse to expose Harry to a dementor. This even works for a short burst. But alas, through the power of friendship Harry was able to shake it off and also get an insight into dementor’s nature. With it, he finds a way to completely destroy them. Therefore:

• Change of plans. Voldemort can still use just how much Harry hates dementors against him. He can turn Harry’s burning goodness into blazing rage and corrupt him this way. For that he takes him to Azkaban to rescue Bellatrix (part of taking over the world long term planning) so Harry could see how evil the government that allows this torture prison is (also more trauma bonding). But alas, during the mission Voldemort went too far and tried to kill an auror, which Harry did not like one bit. Therefore:

• Voldemort tries to gaslight Harry and press further, suggesting a second mission, a really crazy one this time – to fabricate a duel with Voldemort (whomever that guy is) to convince Dumbledor and the rest of the world that they are safe so they’d stop watching over Harry and would let him do whatever he wants. But alas, Harry can’t shake the murder thing off and he starts to suspect that Hermione was right the entire time to think that Quirrell is evil. Therefore:

• Voldemort needs to brainwash and recruit Hermione too, make her into ‘Harry’s Bellatrix’. Alas, she has a superb moral intuition and is not fooled by clever ruses. Therefore:

• Voldemort needs to permanently alter Hermione. He frames her for attempting to kill Draco so she would be sent to Azkaban. Perfect, this would reinforce Harry’s hate for the government and every single adult around him, isolating him even further while breaking Hermione’s resolve and making her ripe for brainwashing after all. Alas, he underestimated just how much Harry is willing to do for his best friend. Oh well, therefore:

• Voldemort has to remove Hermione entirely. So she is crushed by the troll. ALAS, he underestimated again just how much Harry likes his best friend. This death shocks Harry to the core and cements him on the path to defeating death. This produces a vague and scary prophecy that could mean that Harry will destroy the world. Voldemort cannot accept this outcome (he lives in the world). Therefore:

• Abort the plan, Harry has to go. But Voldemort knows how close to impossible it is to do anything about a prophecy. So he takes several precautions as well, such as reversing his last move that caused the shift in the first place – he brings Hermione back (with special powers so she wouldn’t die easily again). He also finally gets to the philosopher’s stone, seales Dumbledore away, life's looking good. Alas, prophecy is prophesy. Harry defeated him using one secret weapon Voldemort had no knowledge of (all thanks to Dumbledorer’s foresight).

• Harry realizes what a giant doofus he’s been the entire year, that Hermione was right about everything and that Dumbledore was really the one scheming against Voldemort and leading him to this victory. Together with Hermione and the rest he opens free healthcare for wizards and swears to destroy the torture prison. The end!

As you can see, the plot is driven by Voldemort and his motivations. What Harry and the rest of the kids are doing – they are being kids, fantasizing about their future and messing around. The closest Harry is to moving towards his stated goals is having his research with Hermione and his redemption quest with Draco. He’s 11. No matter how smart he is, the villain is smarter.

The original JKR’s Harry, Ron and Hermione are able to foil Voldemort's plans on their own, hpmor Harry doesn’t even realize there are some sort of Voldemort’s plans happening*. He suspects that Voldemort doesn’t even exist from how absent he is being. And Harry is the one to warn others about not being pessimistic enough while underestimating the danger he is in and what’s being done to him the entire time. Pessimism is one of the main lessons of the fic. (remember feeling it can’t get any worse after 2020?)

The second major thing you missed is that intelligence is NOT the only virtue worth celebrating. The smartest person and the moving force of the plot is literally Voldemort, the most evil bastard out there.

Imagine someone who criticises Fight Club for glorifying Tayler Derden and male violence not understanding that the author is on their side. That’s what you are doing. You assumed that the author glorifies the villain because you assumed that intelligence is all that matters to him. But why would you do that?

You explained yourself in the beginning that Yudkowsky’s biggest fear is misaligned and homicidal super intelligent being. Clearly, he doesn’t believe that being intelligent is all that matters. Intelligence is just a universal problem-solving tool. It’s very impressive and is not given proper credit to. But it’s not a motivation on its own. It obviously needs to be guided by humanism. This distinction is all over hpmor. It’s the only difference between the hero and the villain who are both smart.

And Voldemort is written evil from the very beginning, it's not just a gotcha rugpull in the very end. His grooming is meant to be wrong and creepy. But also believable because everyone is totally fooled by it. Everyone except the reader who’s paying close attention (which is difficult to do if you are bored and skip chapters, I get it) and also knows Quirrell’s real identity from the start.

There are multiple moments where even Harry realizes something Professor Quirell did was wrong and those keep piling up. For example, the games weren’t just cool, they were 1) about Harry getting humbled, making friends, learning to work with others and respect others and feeling like a part of something for the first time in his life (something you said isn’t in the fic at all, while it’s most of the fic actually) and also 2) organized by the villain!

Did you skip Quirrell making his fascist speech on Christmas about how he deliberately was trying to build an army and teach children how to fight at war that leaves Harry horrified? Again, it is literally all spilled in the villain’s monologue and then extra clarified in the main character’s inner thoughts. This fic is very blatant in its messaging.

Grooming is a bit less obvious if you’ve never been groomed by a charming teacher like that. But you should be at least able to notice when he's lying.

When Quirrell sells Harry on the idea of being publicly humiliated for personal growth purposes he tells him a story about him doing the same ritual in his travels. Quirrell also tells that after he completed the ritual and left the school – Voldemort went there and was asked to do the same thing. But Voldemort refused and murdered everybody. If you keep in mind that Quirrell and Voldemort are the same person you can piece together that he didn’t sincerely value humility and being able to lose or whatever. Because the real story is that he killed all those people and never took an L in his entire life. He was trauma bonding Harry so he could manipulate him. It was not a good chapter teaching a lesson about rationality. Because being humble toward the truth (actual rationality) has nothing to do with taking crap from bullies. Half the fic is about fighting bullies actually.

A fight Harry doesn’t win! As well as many other fights he took upon himself, like figuring out the entire magic in his first year. I don’t know who promised you he would and I’m sorry you felt cheated by that not happening. But you said the main character is proven right about everything and succeeds at everything and is never wrong (he is proven wrong about something every other chapter, not to mention the final reveal). And then you complain that he didn’t succeed at something?** Pick one.

But the main appeal of Harry as a character is not how he wins or loses. It’s his moral core. It’s how despite having a part of Voldemort’s mind intertwined with his he still remains driven by his dedication to people around him and humanity in general. He and Voldemort really make perfect twisted reflections of each other.

The fic drills in just how evil Voldemort is by mostly highlighting his disregard for human life. We see it when Quirrell shares his insight into Voldemort’s actions and history as if he was the one fighting him and that’s why he knows all that. But the reader knows that Quirrell is just telling on himself. Like how he can use Avada Kedavra so fast because he just doesn’t care, for example.

We also see it through Harry himself. His misanthropic tendencies you actually took care to notice quite a lot are coming from that part of his soul that is Voldemort’s horcrux. Harry does not endorse it and literally calls it ‘my dark side’***. This behaviour comes out when Harry is annoyed or inconvenienced or threatened by other people (regular human emotion, super relatable if you had to unlearn some toxic trait in your life). Emotions of anger, irritation and vindictiveness are crucial to the dark side (see the endnote again). But when Harry thinks about human life seriously and calmly he is able to suppress it every time. Moreso, he is sure the killing curse is a spell he won’t ever be able to use.

I could go on and on (like how hpmor isn’t about science facts and contains very few of them) but I’ll stop here. I think you should have noticed not paying attention while reading. And yet you wrote and filmed a review anyway, despite obviously zoning out while experiencing the work in question.

Also, I haven’t read the books you recommended and I will. But I’ve read many books that are widely considered Great Art and they sucked. People like hpmor and ratfic in general not because we haven’t read good books. It fulfills a need few other books do, that’s it.

Obviously, I have my own criticism of hpmor that mostly has to do with how Yudkowsky writes women. Which is leagues ahead of what JKR wrote but still leaves a lot to be desired. And yes, it is not polished. It’s serialized fiction, it’s usually like that.

More about rationality. More about zizians.

* A huge hint here is those irritating chapters where Harry and Draco are playing at manipulating each other. They are close to being equals and therefore they can see through each other’s schemes. When Harry has to deal with Dumbledore and especially Voldemort he is completely lost, he does not understand that he is being manipulated at all.

** He actually makes major progress and has a good guess by the end (that magic is like a programming language of the world created by some ancient civilization). I mean, the author had to work with the material he inherited, he couldn’t build a more interesting magical system from the ground up. But he expanded a lot on the lore of dementors, some spells and in general brought a lot of sense to the thing.

*** The entire thing is one huge reference to Star Wars prequels. You have the evil dark lord mastermind who plays both sides of the conflict, trying to brainwash the chosen one hero to his cause and make a disciple out of him. They are to become two sith rulers of the world, ‘bringing order to it’. Dark and Light Sides are common metaphors in the rationalist community. Light Side being all the altruistic uses of intelligence and Dark Side is the opposite of that.

#being super anti death is such a huge part of the story i can't imagine how anyone could miss it #i get missing that Voldemort is supposed to be a bad guy (lol) but devaluing of human life thing is truly bizarre #i strongly suspect she actually only read like a half of the fic because she was bored #as if someone forced her to make a review at gunpoint #whatever #hpmor #rationality #rationalist community #lesswrong #eliezer yudkowsky #ratfic #immortalism #immortality #less wrong #yudkowsky #fuck jkr #for good measure #strange aeons #not pathologic

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pepsichrry · 1 year ago

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Theo Nott Headcannons/Information

Information:

•Theo was mentioned in the Harry Potter books (The Philosopher’s Stone, Order of the Phoenix).

•He is only referred to as ‘Nott’ during the sorting ceremony in book 1.

•He isn’t mentioned until book 5 as one of the only three students in the Care of Magical Creatures class who are able to see Thestrals, meaning that he had witnessed somebody die. He supposedly found it unpleasant as he watched one eat and he wasn’t fond of the creatures.

•His appearances in the books are described as ‘weedy’ and ‘stringy’ meaning that he is likely canonically tall and thinly built.

•It is unclear when he is born, but it is said that his father was an older or elderly man who had been previously involved with the Deatheater Army during the First Wizarding War.

•Theodore was mentioned by Hermione in 1996 as one of the group of Slytherin boys whose fathers had been outed as Deatheaters by the magazine ‘The Quibbler’. His reaction seemed to differ from his friends as his reaction was the only one which was not specifically threatening or negative, suggesting indifference.

•At the end of his Fifth Year, Theodore Nott Sr. was captured in the Department of Mysteries as a member of Deatheater forces who participated in a raid of the Department and was exposed as an escaped Deatheater.

•With his father in Azkaban and his mother seemingly dead, it is unspecified who cared for Theodore during the summer holidays.

•In sixth year, Theodore was not asked to attend the Slug Club due to his fathers involvement with the Dark Lord, this is because of Professor Slughorns inquiry about Theo’s family from Blaine Zabini, who was later invited to the Club.

•Theodore was one of the few students who progressed to N.E.W.T level Potions. They seemed to poke fun of Hermiones Blood-Status and were skeptical of the effects of Amorentia.

•He attended his Seventh year at Hogwarts and was treated well due to his Blood Status.

•At the Battle of Hogwarts, it is unclear whether he joined Voldemorts side or Evacuated, but since he is not shown or mentioned defecting to the Deatheaters before the Battle, we can assume that he didn’t end up fighting with the Deatheaters.

•It is also mentioned that he was later taken into custody for owning illegal Timeturners. We can infer from this that he could possibly have made them with dark magic, or he bought them for a hefty price. (Said in TCC, so possibly not Canon).

•Theo is mentioned to be very intelligent, but more of a Loner, since he didn’t participate in many groups like the one led by Draco Malfoy.

Headcannons:

•Theodore watched his mother die when he was young, leaving him in the sole care of his father, who was a cold and bitter man.

•Theo didn’t have many friends when he was younger except for Draco Malfoy, but he opened up slightly more at Hogwarts, though he still liked his alone time.

•He had a set path for him created by his father. He was supposed to work in the ministry and provide for a family, but Theo wanted to be a Potioneer like his uncle and much of his other family on his mother’s side.

•Theo’s mother left all of her belongings to him, and made sure that his father wouldn’t be able to take possession of any of it. In his inheritance, he gained a large portion of money and an estate in rural Italy.

•His mother was from Florence, Italy and was married to his father through an arranged marriage, where she suffered abuse from Theodore Nott Sr. She died slowly due to a failed suicide attempt.

•Theodore had trouble connecting with people because of his parent’s relationship and the things that he’d witnessed in his childhood. He feared becoming his father more than anything, so he did all that he could to prevent it from happening.

•He’d never had a real relationship and never would despite how many girls he’d slept with. He didn’t want a commitment.

•Despite how quiet he was, Theo was a very funny person and to his friends, he was often the life of the party

•Theo was prone to addiction and often used unhealthy coping mechanisms like smoking, drinking and drug use, though he only took drugs at parties.

•Much like Draco, Theo took the Dark Mark as a punishment for his father’s mistakes, not out of willingness. He received it a week after his fifteenth birthday and struggled to adjust.

•He was 6’2” feet tall

•He tanned very nicely in the summer, leaving him with smooth, olive skin just like his mother’s.

•During the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo ran away with Blaise Zabini, purely because he wanted to avoid fighting people that he’d previously called friends.

•As his life went on, Theo learned from his mistakes and prejudices and slowly but surely became a better person. He was clean by the time he was 20.

•As a request from the Dark Lord, Theo created a Timeturner for him. But since he’d learned how to do it, he created more and gifted one to the Malfoy Family and kept one for himself. He didn’t use it to change the past, but he’d travel back to his old house to watch his past, specifically, to watch his mother, trying to piece together parts of her life and his. It was the only way of truly knowing and remembering her because he was so young when she died.

•Theo died before he turned 30, ending the Nott family line. He’d died alone after taking his own life to avoid being sent to Azkaban for his possession of illegal Timeturners.

•He lived a life of longing for love without receiving it. Secretly, he wished for a loving relationship and a family, but he didn’t want to repeat the cycle of abuse that he was trapped in. He felt that his family line didn’t deserve to be continued, he felt that he was atoning for their sins by ending it.

#theo nott #harry potter #draco malfoy #theodore nott #hogwarts houses #headcanon #canon #death eaters

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spacekitkats · 9 months ago

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Tmagp Theory!

Spoilers for TMA and TMAGP under the cut

The Magnus Institute was attempting to use Alchemy to combine the fears into the Extinction. However, whatever the protocol was stopped them from completing it fully so we got the "Archivist" instead.

The Extinction was the fear of extreme change caused by humans meddling with the natural world, while Alchemy is a combination between Chemistry and Magic to create divine or god-like items like the Philosopher's stone and whatnot.

In TMA, The Extinction was a growing fear but didn't get the chance to fully developed when the eyepocalypse happened.

Due to the change in worlds in tmagp though, The Extinction will get the chance to fully develop properly into a fully-fledged fear, completing Smirke's 15.

I think all the fears also still technically exist but are so mixed together that it's kinda difficult to categorize them into Smirkes 14.

But they were already kinda muddled before even in TMA as our lord Gerry said.

Anyways, This early morning rambling was brought to you by a sleep deprived teen thank you for stopping by.

Sidenote: WTF does Jonny use so many variations of the same name or even the same name, like my brain is already slow at processing information, why you gotta make it harder by naming three guys all Micheal or three guys Jared, Jarrod and Gerald.

#tmagp spoilers #tmagp #the magnus archives #tma #the magnus protocol #tmagp thoughts #tmagp theory #tma spoilers

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tiesthatbind-tf · 7 months ago

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Did your Sentinel or Zeta ever posses the Matrix of Leadership?

Never! it should be mentioned that in this AU, the Matrix does NOT a Prime make and does not promise special leadership powers. In fact, none the original Thirteen Primes ever 'possessed' it---the original schematics of this thing was akin to a portable energy weapon that won them the Second Quintesson War. Liege Maximo tried, combining that energy with the souls of his slaughtered former comrades in an attempt to create something similar to a modern day Philosopher's Stone (an unlimited source of power), but Rung stopped him in a fight that destroyed his physical body and left Rung an amnesiac for a long while.

Sentinel Prime has heard of the stories about the Matrix, but up to his death, he had never sought it out since it was believed to have been lost to time. He took on the Prime name to fashion himself as the next wartime hero because he viewed the unrest caused by the revolution as a call to war. (No one after the Quintesson Wars and prior to him had ever taken on the mantle of Prime---in fact, even the Thirteen had it conferred upon them by their respective army of supporters, it was never something they took for themselves, and that made Sentinel deeply unpopular with the working class). Zeta Prime (Zeta is much more of a slick politician, and has enough supporters that he was conferred the title in the USA, where he resides) knows of the Matrix's existence and has been secretly seeking it, though because his 'fortress' is across the pond from its location, it came across Optimus Prime first. He's quite hellbent on getting it for himself.

Optimus Prime is the first 'Prime' to officially bear it... not that he asked for or wanted it. Though Alpha Trion suggests that this sentiment actually makes him the perfect person to host it.

#inbox #save for later #lore

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sol-consort · 5 months ago

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Diamonds would be absolutely worthless in the Mass Effect universe. Not only are there hundred of planets made from solid diamonds in space, but diamonds themselves can be made in labs & form naturally on earth, and any big enough planet.

But you know what material wouldn't lose its worth? In fact, it would skyrocket in worth? Gold. Au itself.

Because gold doesn't form naturally on earth, or any planet for that matter. All the gold we have on earth has been there since day one as the planet first formed into existence, and the extra stuff found on the surface are the accumulation of thousands of years of meteors sprinkling gold into orbit.

The death of a star is the true worth of gold.

Gold only comes from supernovas, that's right, the big stary explosion at the end of its lifespan. The power of a whole supernova is the minimum force required to conjure gold into existence—really puts the philosopher stone into a new perspective—and if you can't do supernovas? There's no need to worry. The alternative is simply two whole neutron stars colliding into each other, you know, an easy peasy thing to happen.

And when you're at sci-fi space travel levels of technology, you need the best of the best of conductors when it comes to machinery and wiring. Which just happens to be, as we know it today, gold. It's immense resistance to corrosion. How every attempt at synthesising artificial gold ends in failure. Only two people ever came the closest to creating gold, by pure accident at that too. The process involving nuclear reactors and particle accelerators, yet further attempts to replicate the first experiment failed, and the second approach was unimaginably expensive—not to mention the less than pleasant side effect of whatever gold produced being completely radioactive.

#mass effect #☆world building #☆gen

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fullmetal-scar-simping · 7 months ago

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I wonder if there’s potential in an AU or something where the Homunculi are implied to be the alternate counterparts on the other side of the gate; So when the Elrics tried to resurrect Trisha, the other Trisha took her place.

Obviously Conqueror of Shamballa disrupts this notion with the inclusion of Lust and Pride’s Earth counterparts, but it could be a fun thematic concept. Our world fuels the other one, with souls powering alchemy and our own dead used to replace their living. Something about Ed sacrificing his alternate counterpart to get back to his world, or Alfons dying for the other Alphonse to show up.

If Conqueror of Shambala didn't exist I'm certain this would have been a predominant fan theory for sure. It works decently with the scattered/partial memories the homunculi possess, as if a part of themselves had been lost, or even spliced with something else. Why not have it be the cost of the original person's soul (either in full or partially) for the soul of their extra-dimensional self?

What's extra fun about such a theory/the AU you proposed would be the horrifying implication that performing human transmutation directly kills the other world-self in order to approximate the person you're attempting to bring back to life. Hell, even if it was mostly the original soul that's returned to the transmuted body, we could imagine that it costs the life of the Earth doppleganger and their soul fuels the alchemy that builds their initial homunculus form.

Which further underlines that Al and Ed did indeed master human transmutation in the end. Ed had inadvertently gotten his Earth!self killed, so we know when Al uses the Philosopher Stone (and thus himself) to revive Ed, there is no other soul that could have taken his place under the rules of this theory/AU. Of course, the Ed that returns is the Amestris!Ed given his clear memories of who he is, of Al, and of the world around him. So even without his own memories, a revived Al would be carrying his original soul as well (again, he has concise memories of his life pre-Trisha/Sloth transmutation). But with this AU, if Ed's transmutation would have had to fail, so that it instead took Heinrich's soul (and even more untimely death than CoS' canon) and placed it into Al's body (it wouldn't be Al's original 10 year old body, since it's a failed transmutation that creates a homunculus instead). I suppose Ed would only get to be properly revived in this scenario because of the Philosopher's Stone that Al used.

It's a fun divergence from the CoS canon to tinker with!

Stepping away from the AU for a second, I theorize that part of the reason that homunculi have warped/incomplete memories and personas because the soul is transfigured by the inky mass of beings that reside inside the Gate itself. Wrath, while in the Gate, resembles the other smaller eyes that leer at anyone who meets this entity. We see how morphous they are, stretching out as far as they want, blending into the unending shadow within the door; which lends a bit to the malleability of homunculi bodies. And, using CoS to back this up a bit (albeit imperfectly), when the Nazi fucks travel through the Gate they're clogged and drowned in these disfigured, inky goo (like bulging flesh or slime moulds). Upon returning to Earth after her failed attempt at invading the Other Side, Eckhart's body is wrapped entirely in this barely-living slime, a separate being from herself that dies off alongside her. (It's death could signify an inability to exist outside of the Gate without fully attaching itself to a human body and soul.)

So I imagine that these things attach to or merve with the soul of the deceased and enter their new body. It may have a deleterious effect to aspects of that soul, while granting the body (should the alchemist provide that body with the red stones necessary to reconstitute them into a more convincing human morphology) a pliability and immortality that no unaltered human could ever have.

Obviously, as we see with Dante, a knowledgeable alchemist can manipulate the very fabric of a homunculus' mind and body. The stones also appear to change a homunculus' constitution, in Wrath's unique case. His body is whole without being fed the red stones, likely from getting the entire body of the baby and merging inside the Gate, rather than being left to rot in the mortal realm. Most other homunculi don't get the luxury of a viable body upon rebirth due to the original corpse having been mangled in the process, or built entirely from raw materials. But not Wrath. So we see him looking much more human overall, especially his eyes. But those eyes change after being coerced into ingesting the stones, symbolic of some internal change. The red stones may have some kind of effect on the mind. Perhaps they render homunculi more psychologically suggestible?

And man, the questions around the Gate-! It's the arbiter of alchemy yes, but also of souls, and its the point that adjoins mirrored realities. But it syphons energy, souls, the electricity of human lives in specific, and funnels it to the other dimension. It appears to be a one-way street, but when Hohenheim, the Thule Society, Ed, and Noah crack how to perform alchemy on Earth, in this dimension sans alchemy, souls from Amestris' dimension (for lack of a proper planetary name) must have been used, no? Or perhaps Earth souls were still its fuel?

It's as though this interdimensional being is either part of some far grander cosmological fabric, like the unidirection of a body's lymphatic system, that drains energy from one place to another but doesn't govern where the souls of the alchemical world flows (though it does take bodies). Or it may very well be pseudo-parasitic, an entity that takes and manages the energy and matter of these dimensions. Whatever it is, it's adorned in the twisted figures of human sculptures, carved into its frame a single eye with rings rippling at its center. It's existence is inexplicable, it does not care about the whims, desire, and pain of humans, it speaks but cannot be heard, god I love 03's Gate-!

Uh, anyway. Went a bit off track there.

I for one would love to play with an AU where the existential crisis of the homunculi and the alchemists who bring them into being is that they are a stolen soul forced into an inhuman vessel and carrying deeply unfamiliar memories that almost, almost, seems like it might have been theirs- someone's, someone like them- but not- would one ever realize they're a fraud in ways no one could surmise? Does it matter, when they struggle with feeling incomplete, already fraudulent? Would they ever remember their Earth lives instead?

New layers of horror and agony! Love it 🤌

#man i really love poking at 03's cosmology #the Gate fascinates me to no end #always glad that the Gate is never explained it's never humanized/anthropomorphized & it's never made moral #more! more 03 AUs and theories!#anon if you feel like you've got more ideas for this au or like I didn't quite Get It i'd be happy to hear more #ask #fma 03 #meta #(kinda)#of ocs and aus

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