#i'm obsessed with them like that time i'm obsessed with wizard guardians

[kaiserouo]

if i post like 11 ideas of kay/o/omen from a game i don't even wanna play or spend hours researching lore for will i get rekt by the whole community or what

[bunchofdoodlesinspace]

ALRIGHT. So. Idk how many people (who are not my friends/mutuals and get to hear me rant about this show every other week) are aware, but I'm slightly obsessed with Winx Club. And I've talked off and on about these Winx redesigns I'm slowly chipping away at, and how doing them has sorta led me to rewriting the show itself, since I've redone a lot of the lore around the transformations (esp the later ones).

But because I'm a full-time university student majoring in character design with an interest in Not seriously injuring my wrist/hand, it's taking me. a while to make them (as of writing this, I have rough designs for all the main 6 girls up to Enchantix. 2 of them have finished designs which I shall be posting soon :D), so in the meantime I thought it'd be kinda fun to throw down some of the overall AU headcanons I have about the world and how it works. SO. with that I present:

Cup's Winx Rewrite AU Headcanons:

-What is known as the Magic Dimension/Universe in the show, in my version, is more like the term for a collective of various worlds, united through a variety of portals and links to the distant planet, Magix, which serves as an intergalactic capital. -Part of the reason that Magix exists in the way it does (both as the capital for the universe, as well as being where all three main magic schools in the show (Alfea, Cloud Tower, and Red Fountain) are located) is in part as a means to prevent another disaster like that which occurred at the hands of the Shadow Phoenix and the Ancestral Witches, which ultimately ended in the complete destruction of the planet, Domino. -The school's themselves both function as academic places of learning as well as training grounds for new guardians to learn how to protect themselves. Each school offers a different magical path for its students: Alfea, the path of Fairy Magic. Cloud Tower, the path of Witchcraft, and Red Fountain, the path of Wizardry (those who learn it being called "Specialists"). While it's uncommon, it is possible for students to switch paths if they find they aren't gelling with the one they started with. Everyone has the potential for any kind of magic, but that doesn't mean every kind of magic works for every person. -Oh, also, there's no gender specifications for any school. Fairies, witches, and specialists of any and every identity under the sun(s) exist in this world. -Fairies, witches, and specialists are not the Only magical beings to exist in the dimension. The planet Andros, notably, is home to not only many land-dwelling beings, but also to mermaids, who live in the Infinite Ocean, a realm that connects to all other oceans in the Magic Universe via numerous underwater gates. -Earth is, or rather, was part of the Magic Universe, for a very long time. This was up until the tragedy that befell the planet's magical creatures at the hands of the Wizards of the Black Circle. This led to its link being cut off from the rest of the other magical realms, and leaving its human society to develop in a world where magic remained a mystery. -This does not mean magic on Earth died. It continued to exist in the fringes, where it was safest for it to be allowed to develop. The bulk of it was/is maintained in Tir Na Nog, the Kingdom of the Earth Fairies, due to its extreme difficulty to locate by mundane means. -Another celestial object that was one connected to this network was one of Solaria's moons: Lumenia. Solaria claims to have lost contact with them eons ago, and refuses to make attempts to reopen the connection. -Since all of this IS rooted in a redesign project, I feel like I should note that there are a multitude of forms of varying power levels open for fairies to utilize. However, only 3 forms are actually taught at Alfea: Winx, Charmix, and Enchantix, Winx being the base form every fairy has the ability to use once they figure out how to tap into their powers. -Enchantix is one of the most powerful forms to exist. Once it is acquired, it serves to be the new base form over Winx. Gaining it also opens the doors for the fairy to acquire practically any other form to exist, most of which serve more to help in certain situations (eg.: Sirenix = Underwater needs). I'll go in-depth about the lore of each form once I've finished their designs. :)

I feel like. that covers most of my bases for now. I have. so many more thoughts sitting in my brain, if anyone is curious about anything please feel free to ask. I'm basically making myself stop for now bc I do have some homework I need to work on tonight JKHFJK

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

I know that Sebastian for some reason is the most popular male character in the game now but I personally don't give a shit about him and his quest are interesting only thanks to Ominis. He's the reason I would even bother with them. A blind wizard who's descendant of slytherin that tries to cut himself from his dark legacy is more interesting from the dude that has the same story line as every "morally grey" character (family member is sick/in danger and they will do anything to save them).

It's funny you should say that, and I'm so glad to hear it. Because truly, I adore Ominis, and when I first saw him I thought he was way more compelling than Sebastian. I'm actually so glad to have this chance to talk about him, because he's great. Course, this was all before I saw Sebastian's story in full, and I like him a lot more now. But Ominis is still probably my favorite in the game. He is everything that Delphi Diggory should have been, I said what I said. The moment I learned his backstory, I was devastated for the poor guy. I want to give him a hug. Even his name is a perfect irony.

Sebastian's story is a tragedy and I think what really makes him compelling is his unhealthy (but understandable) obsession, and where it ultimately leads him. I think a lot of people were sold on him the moment he lied to the Librarian to protect The Fifth Year. It's just not the kind of loyalty one expects from a Slytherin. But when I saw how his story ended, I thought to myself...how could anyone choose to betray him at the end? And yes, I do consider it a betrayal, regardless of what he's done.

It's difficult to compare these two honestly, because Sebastian gets so much more screen time and Ominis clearly appears to be designed as a secondary character to Sebastian's story, much like Anne. In general, I also think these two are foils of each other. Sebastian's guardian is a former Auror who abhors the Dark Arts and in is generally averse to his nephew's "exploration" of more obscure magic. That makes Sebastian the total inverse of Ominis, and I think that's pretty cool. Hey, here's a thought: If my math is correct, Ominis should be in the same generation as Marvolo. Should be his brother or cousin. Does he ever mention him by name? I don't recall as much...

It's true, Sebastian's story of trying to help Anne is a story that's been told a hundred times, but particularly for this universe, I wonder if it wasn't deliberate. Perhaps meant to invoke memories of Albus and Ariana Dumbledore, or even Jacob and his Sibling. To be completely fair, I'd also point out that Ominis likewise has a story that I've seen a million times before - that of the heroic character who must live down the legacy of their villainous ancestors. Other franchises have beat this trope into the ground, but I still love it.

Ultimately, a lot of this is affected by not just the writing, but the depiction and performance. Both actors are superb and hearing Ominis' voice break with emotion during the Cruciatus Quest hurt my soul. I also love the detail that he's blind! In general, for as much as this game fails to offer any progress in terms of the wizarding world's problems (Oh Ranrok, you were so wasted...) I will say that it offers a great deal of "muggle" diversity. Multiple poc, a lesbian couple, a trans character, and a blind character too! That's not nothing.

[argetcross]

tav questions: 4, 14, 25, 29 🐸

4: If your Tav was a companion, where would they be found?

If you meet Keres in Baldur's Gate, she's absolutely having a throwdown with Gortash's Steel Watch because they're trying to take over her house (a house she very proudly bought with her own money, far away from her terrible, Draconic blood-obsessed extended noble family) under the pretext she's sheltering traitors.

I mean she was sheltering Harpers but that's beside the point. They want to fuck with her home with her crystal collection and her carefully curated oil paintings of her favorite adventurers? She's gonna burn them to bits.

14: What hobbies does your Tav have?

When Keres lived in Baldur's Gate, she used to go to social events hosted by the the local collective of Wizards because she really didn't want to become the snooty Sorcerer her extended family wanted her to be. However, those gatherings always turned into a bit of "I don't really understand what you're saying about the theory of the integral of the weave, however, I think if you just do this, you'll hack together this spell you're describing."

Keres no longer goes to Wizard Club.

In her spare time when not wrangling the tadpole crew, she loves writing terrible, terrible songs, drinking wine and watching the moon, and dreaming of flying all across the world.

25: What arcana major best represents your Tav?

I only really know Arcana from Persona, but I'm gonna go with the Chariot! Carrying the team's leadership mostly out of sheer, bullish determination as opposed to outright skill. She's suppressed her powers most of her life, too angry and ashamed of having her life dictated by her blood. But traveling with people like Lae'zel and Astarion, she finds that power used for certain ends and to overcome your enemies is actually extremely rewarding.

29: Does your Tav want to utilize the tadpole powers or not?

Keres has a natural aversion to authority figures (comes with the territory of being a half-elf in a family of pureblooded elves and a snooty sorc family to boot) so she was slow to trust her Guardian, let alone consume any more tadpoles.

That being said, the more desperate the journey has been, the more scared she is to lose everyone and everything she cares about, so sometimes she wonders if there would come a time when she doesn't care about the means anymore, if it means to secure the end.

(Link to the ask meme!)

[pinespittinink]

Hi! I understand the needing distractions. That was me last week. Anyways, here I am to ramble about nonsense:

I stayed up until 1:45 this morning finishing a book, which was amazing and very worth it, even if I didn't actually fall asleep until after 4:30am. (I was then woken up 2 minutes before my alarm, which was set to go off at 9:30.) (The book in question was Red Seas Under Red Skies by Scott Lynch, and it's the sequel to The Lies of Locke Lamora. I am utterly obsessed.)

In a related vein, reading those two books in quick succession has made me really, really want to write a heist story, or at the very least DM a heist-based DnD campaign/oneshot. And so with that in mind, I also got another idea from TLoLL: Bloodsucker Rose Garden.

It's a rose garden that drinks blood by stabbing you with its thorns, using them more or less like a vampire's fangs. Also, from the exterior it just looks like an expansive rose garden or series of rosebushes, but in reality it's all one large creature, connected under the ground. (A bit like those massive networks of fungi!)

I'm not sure how much you know about DnD, but I spent about an hour this evening making the stat block for the rose garden, so that I could actually use it in a DnD game someday, which was a lot of fun.

I also have an idea for a oneshot that I could DM involving said rosegarden, which is very fun. Basically, the players would be tasked with entering a Wizard's tower which is surrounded at the base by the Rose Garden. Then they have to make it up through the various floors of traps and guardians to find an artifact at the top of the tower.

It would be a great oneshot, but I would also be interested to use it as part of a larger campaign, and work the mystery of the artifact in question and who hired the party into a larger plot. But that would mean having to wait until the party is at a high enough level to take on that thing, and also actually being organized and plotting something out for once, which I never do. But I do really want to DM a game someday.

Okay, sorry for literally writing a novel in your inbox, but hey, at least it's a decent distraction, right???? Anyways, I hope your day gets better from here!

~Morri🗡 (@memento-morri-writes)

Hello hello, Lies of Locke Lamora has been recommended to me so many times by my roommate, I really do need to check it out some time. I’m loving the idea of a killer vampiric rose garden—predatory/carnivorous plants are one of my favorite things in fantasy biology, I think you’ve got so many cool options. Also the aesthetic is on point 🌹🥀🩸it’s the kind of thing I’d love to come across in a book.

Speaking of DnD, it’s been ages since I’ve played 😩 I have a tiefling criminal named Ripley I’m waiting to bust out when I get the chance eventually, but finding a group is so,,,so,,,difficult. Best of luck that you’re able to pull a party together, I think the encounters sound like a blast!

[quazarshark]

1, 2, 19

Your first OC ever?

I think her name was "dragon lady", she existed roughly from when I was 6 to when I was 10. She had long beautiful hair and armour made of scales and rode on a black unicorn with dragon wings. Y'know, the usual stuff. She was "the guardian of the dragons" or something and would speak for them in times of trouble (cuz y'know, dragons struggle to speak with humans, being dragons and all and definitely not subconscious expressions of being an autistic kid).

The oldest still-existing OC I have is Teera, who is based on the personality I gave a big tiger plushie I got when I was 9 (and still have!) :3

2. Do you have a personal favourite among your OCs?

This is a hard question!!! I think like many people I go through phases of obsessing over a small handful of blorbos. I think at the moment it's James the zombie guy, the infraflux crimers (Effa, Mr/tree, Carousel the deer guy, others I haven't drawn yet), and by necessity Quentin the centaur sorcerer, who I'm going to be playing in a D&D game starting in a few weeks so I've been rotating him in my mind like a rotisserie chicken.

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

I feel like I'm in a weird OC crisis/revolution phase rn where en masse a lot of my older OCs and the stories they connect to are starting to lose brainspace in my head, and just aren't as interesting to me any more... Of that old stuff though for some reason Looplock is still really meaningful to me??

I don't know why, honestly. He's an incredibly generic character when you get down to it; just a softboy bird wizard with a tragic backstory who tries to be kind in a harsh world. Maybe that's why he's stuck with me though: He's such a gooey soft center compared to how prickly most of my other OCs are.

He seems to be archetypal of something I see a lot of other OC creators do, where they give a character pain and trauma, which leads directly to feeling affectionate and protective of the OC, which is perfectly fine and valid but really not something I relate to EXCEPT in the case of Looplock. He's my precious little skrunkly and I just want to hold him and tell him he's doing okay.

[thewaywardbruja]

I posted 229 times in 2022

That's 229 more posts than 2021!

50 posts created (22%)

179 posts reblogged (78%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@a-witch-with-anxiety

@cajunwitch101

@crazycatsiren

@hermit-wizard

@sol-poppy

I tagged 43 of my posts in 2022

#tarot - 34 posts

#hedge witch - 34 posts

#tarot cards - 33 posts

#divination readings - 32 posts

#spirit guide - 29 posts

#wolf - 26 posts

#witchcraft - 21 posts

#white wolf - 20 posts

#beginner witch - 19 posts

#green witch - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 28 characters

#guardians of the night tarot

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

This is so important ❤️

2 notes - Posted September 18, 2022

#4

About Sigils

So, I dont know much about sigils. But I am learning and I have learned a way to make your own sigils, which I am obsessed with. Its kind of a fun game to play as well. So basically, you go 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 ------------------ A B C D E F G H I

J K L M N O P Q R

S T U V W X Y Z

---

Right, so you take a word. Also it looks better on paper, its hard to do on here I apologize. Take a word: Say -

Kindness. K I N D N E S S You cross out all the vowls. K N D N S S Cross out the dupes K N D S Then you take those numbers, and use the code up above. So 2 5 4 1 Theres two ways to do this, you can either write 1-9 in a circle like a clock, or you can do it my way and do the numbers in any order 1-9 but only the numbers that appeared in a circle. I feel like you get a better read with your intuition that way, so thats the way I do it. Either way is fine.

So that would be my sigil for kindness.

What I've learned so far about Sigils is that you can use them, in spells and other things, you can write them, on candles, brooms and stuff and they envoke the power you give them.

I've got a ton of them, I've basically decided I'm going to create an entire language thats mine xD

But the thing I love about them is that you can do whatever you want and they are yours and yours alone, there arent many "Languages" that allow you to do that.

---

So yeah, theres my study into Sigils, please be aware that I am just BEGINNER learning at them, but I love, love drawing them out. I might start working on them digitally as well.

I plan on using a journal to create a language of key words that are all mine, but sigils. :D I'm excited.

3 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#3

So, over the summer we went to Cornwall, one of our favorite places in the UK, and in a little city called Boscastle there is a very historical Witchcraft Museum. And I finally got to go! I took tons of photos and would like to share them with ya'll 🙂

It was such an amazing experiance, all of the history and knowledge that was within that place. I didnt have much time inside the building but what I did have I will cherish.

There was also a spirit following me around, that I could feel, and I even got a photo of it.

All in all it was an amazing place to see and visit and I totally recommend it, if youre in Cornwall!

I have so many more photos but these are just a few.

See the full post

3 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

#2

.: Honing My Craft .:

So I have been thinking about, like what MY witchcraft practition looks like.

What I believe, what I dont believe, to see where I stand on certian aspects of the craft.

I do not believe that Witchcraft is a religion. I believe that Wiccan and Pagan are religions based off of witchcraft. Witchcraft itself is a lifestyle and a way of life. I dont have to be either to practice it.

I changed my lifestyle and life to do witchcraft and it was one of the best decisions I ever made. Its been lifechanging.

----

This is where I am so far:

( If I miss anything please forgive me )

Beliefs:

Spirits / Ghosts

( I have seen a few and spoken to a few in my life :) I can feel them around me, thanks to my abilites :) Psychic and Clairvoyance which I've had my entire life :3 )

Spirit Guides

( Have one who I adore, who's been with me my entire life. )

Divination

( I love doing divination, and talking to my spirit guide! Its so fun! And I have learned how to do it properly! 😊 )

Tarot

( I adore! )

Runes

( Still learning! )

Sigils

( Learning and making my own )

See the full post

4 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

❤️

6 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: DHr Monsterfucking Minifest

DHr Monsterfucking Minifest 2021:

Claws Out by Palio - E, one-shot - Hermione accidentally lands herself in Hell and at the mercy of a possessive, arrogant demon that wants to keep her – and his claws are sharper than hers.

tilhørighet by vesperics - E, one-shot - She wasn’t sure if it was relief she felt, realizing that the shape of the dragon was rippling into something else. Despite how disturbed Malfoy had seemed, she would prefer to be in a secluded space with his human counterpart rather than the other one. But—still. There was something she was waiting for.

C’est Toi Pour Moi by sweetestsorrows (katschako) - E, one-shot - After tragedy strikes, a young shark-hybrid is thrust into a vast ocean where he must learn to fend for himself. Ostracised by other sea creatures, mythical beings, and humans alike, Draco resigns himself to a life of solitude. He survives by trusting no one and prioritises his own well-being above all else. Then, one small decision changes everything.

Scent of My Sanity by Pia_Bartolini - E, one-shot - When a last minute trip for the ministry goes awry, Hermione Granger is stuck balancing her penultimate legislative goal and a set of new, very inconvenient side effects. Enter Draco Malfoy, the man who has exactly the potion she needs and less discretion than she wants.

Hummingbirds and Hawthorns by trix_of_bella - E, one-shot - He stumbled upon the flower shop entirely by accident. Or so he thought. Furthermore, there was something very different about Hermione Granger now and every part of Draco was screaming to figure it out. -- A story about fate.

Hic Est Draco by sarena - E, 3 chapters - Hermione waited for him to open his eyes and slipped her fingertips between the buttons of his shirt again. The guarded expression reappeared on Draco's face. He searched hers, and when she smiled at the same time as she stroked over his scales, he exhaled heavily. "I'm—" "Half a dragon, I know." Hermione pulled his shirt out of his trousers and flicked the bottommost button open. "—not fully human." "I figured that out when I felt the scales." She looked down and opened the next button. His lower torso shimmered in the ambient lighting as he flexed his abdomen involuntarily. Her breath caught. "Beautiful." He put his fingers under her chin and tipped her head up until he caught her eyes. "I'm not fully human, Hermione." Finally, it clicked. Written for the DHr Monsterfucking Fest 2021. What it says on the tin.

The Guardian by TeTe91 - E, one-shot - The night magic the Dark Lord had created was incredibly scary, but remarkable at the same time. Somehow, he had managed to warp spacetime in the darkness, to create pockets in the shadows, only accessible while the sun was down. However, space was not the only thing he had forced his will onto with this new strand of magic, but also matter - magical beings - creating them from seemingly nothing. Those monsters were unlike anything they had ever seen before. Their bloodlust seemed boundless in the way they drenched the land they guarded with blood, dyeing the soil red. Like most of the abandoned Death Eater operation bases, a creature of the night protected the premises. A ferocious beast, which didn’t hesitate to tear wizards to shreds. Curses were useless against it, simply bouncing off its skin. Protective spells could only hold it at bay for so long. The creature was the perfect killer. The restriction to the grounds it protected was the sole reason any witch or wizard had escaped with their lives.

Your Witch by This_Stranger_Cyr - E, one-shot - Hermione Granger. Muggleborn. Human. And the unfortunate recipient of an incubus' obsession. Oh my.

Le Portriat de L'agonie by viridianatnight - E, one-shot - When a portrait is placed in Draco's bedroom, he finds himself falling into the depths of the beguiling art. A young woman, stuck forever in a gilded cage on a vermillion chaise with no companion but him. By the time a connection is formed, it's too little too late. Demon Hermione x Manipulated Draco

Aunt Flo's a B**** by TJ_Dubs- E, 3 chapters - 1998 had been the worst year of Hermine’s life. She’d been on the run from the government. She had lived outside, in a tent, for months. She’d been tortured by a crazy woman. She broke in, and out, of the most secure bank in the world. She had to watch as her friends, and school were blown to bits around her. That summer was full of funerals of people she had come to know and love. Oh, and she’d been bitten by a werewolf.

La Vie En Rose by rizzlewrites - E, one-shot - The unravelling of his mind, when it finally happens, is a simple matter of stepping across a line.

Serpens in Norba Sentinum by Keii_sha - E, one-shot - Hermione worries as several people in her village were found cursed to stone, finding herself in the midst of grieving families pleading for justice and protection inside the Holy Grounds of Thonusae. With the sudden disappearance of the Head Priest, it had made the people desperate enough to seek help from the mainland, with no choice but to promise an abundant share of crops as payment. A fellow nun assured her that help would arrive soon, a savior from the Kingdom, a Malfoy. Somehow, the assurance felt like a looming threat, whether for her or for the people, she doesn’t know.

Tenebrous by In_Dreams- E, one-shot - Shadows haunt his sleep and drive Draco into the forest late at night. But the air bristles with a different sort of magic, and he's not alone. Dramione. Written for the DHr Monsterfucking Fest.

The Labyrinth by AccioMjolnir - E, one-shot - After he failed in his mission from the Dark Lord to murder Dumbledore at the end of sixth year, Draco Malfoy disappeared. It was widely assumed that he was killed for his failure. However, when the war drags on and the hunt for the horcrux leads the Golden Trio to a mysterious labyrinth, they make a shocking discovery.

Ruined Potions by LadyofBoneandIvory - E, one-shot - In their Fifth Year, Hermione promised Draco that she would never tell another soul about the feather incident. That is, until many years later when Auror Hermione Granger learns about a peculiar case that only she can handle. Something about an avian-like monster occupying the halls of Malfoy Manor.

Under Your Skin by This_Stranger_Cyr - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy had travelled across space and time to have his second chance. He was finally going to have her, if only as a bloody Veela.

Deadliest Poisons by raoremrao - E, one-shot - Draco is sent to investigate claims of a Harpy prowling the forest of Dean and hunting people down on the behalf of the Care of Magical Creatures Department. A Harpy hasn't been seen for nearly a century so he has his doubts but when he steps right into her nest while looking around, he gets way more than he's paid for.

To Feel Her Teeth by DarkoftheMoon - E, one-shot - On a cold night Draco encounters something unexpected in the Forbidden Forest. What he sees consumes him, and he wants to be devoured.

Epilimnion by witchsoup - E, one-shot - The tournament was supposed to be safe. Dumbledore was a personal friend of the chieftain, spoke Mermish, commanded the waters of the Black Lake and the movements of the Giant Squid. There was nothing to be afraid of, until the others (the Delacour girl, the Ravenclaw chaser, fucking Weasley) surfaced at the end of the hour. And Granger did not.

Lonely Moments by IfBrainsWereGold - E, one-shot - Hermione swallowed visibly, her eyes straining to look at him. He looked in pain; trying so hard to control himself, to stay together. Desperately trying to hide the animal he had become. But his eyes were betraying him. Despite them being black bottomless pits, he looked feral. An animal held back by the last thin thread of its leash.

To Know You in the Dark by inred - E, WIP - Here are a handful of facts: One: Prophecies—true prophecies—exist outside of the human experience of time and hold no power over reality. They are descriptions of things, as those things are. They are never wrong. They are not subject to change. Two: Hermione Granger is a Muggle-born witch. She can use Muggle probability and statistics and advanced Arithmancy, and— She has fought and won a war centered in no small part around a prophecy, a prophecy she has helped realize. Ooa’s words are not a matter of belief, they are not something she can walk out on. Three: Agreeing has been a mistake. A moment ago she was free to fall in love—with anyone. The next, the unbreakable chains of prophecy—of what was, is, and will be—shackle her to a non-human Being. Cupid and Psyche Dramione Remix

Sex On Fire by helenaeldritch - E, one-shot - The phrase 'smoldering passion' takes on a whole new meaning.

Where Angels Fear to Tread by megsivy - E, 9 chapters - Draco Malfoy loathed Hermione Granger. He hated everything about the witch; from the prissy way she spoke at him in the monthly interdepartmental meetings, to the hideously outdated robes she wore to work every day. With everything he had, he despised her existence. Until one day...he didn’t. (In other words, the one where Draco doesn’t know he’s a Veela and finds out through a series of increasingly embarrassing events.) Veela!Draco fic <3

The Narrow Escape of Anthony Goldstein by FedonCiadale - T, 4 chapters - Veela Draco gets in real trouble and panic when his mate and wife Hermione who has been oblivious about his condition for years demands something he'd rather not do but still feels obliged to try.

Sweet Sacrifice by TheWanderersWanderingDaughter - E, one-shot - A werwolf terrorizes a small rural village. They're getting desperate. They've tried everything. It's too clever--they fear they have a demon on their hands. Hermione Granger (a muggle) wanders into its path, fights it, lives--and learns there's no escape. There was more movement then, and this time beyond a doubt it was not the wind, because it moved in the opposite direction it blew, and from between two thick bunches of tall grass, in the darkness between a yellow eye appeared and stared at her. Her knees went weak. She almost dropped her dagger. “You should not be outside, maiden,” it repeated, its delivery horrifyingly playful though the voice had gone deeper. “For now I have seen and smelled you I will not forget you.” There was the sound of a deep inhale and a slow exhale following after. A ragged sigh. The eye did not blink. It did not break its stare, and stunned, the maiden could not look away.

A Slippery Situation by peachy_V - E, one-shot - Working at the magical marine conservatory Hermione Granger never expected to be so intrigued by their newest resident.

Beyond Closed Doors by yanitaag - E, 2 chapters - “Draco, I want to be with you for eternity.” Hermione announced. His head snapped up, “You already know I can’t do this to you.” “And I’ve already made my mind up so there is nothing you can do about it. Isn’t it my choice to decide, after all? Or is it that you don’t want me anymore?” She watched him closely, paying attention to his every movement. He was nearly still, his face giving nothing away. With the speed of light he was standing in front of her and she was sitting alone on the couch glaring up at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Love Thy Neighbor by forbiddenforester - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy knew something was off with Hermione Granger...but what?

How to Tame your Draco by CarrieMaxwell - M, one-shot - Hermione is called in to assess a case involving Malfoy Manor and gets more than she bargained for...

Redemption by yanitaag - M, one-shot - His life had changed once more after a walk near the Black Lake late in the night. Greyback shouldn't have been there, how did he get through the wards? The bite was vile, bleeding unstoppably, Draco almost died that night, thank Merlin he wasn't alone.

uncoffined by malfoysbrunette - not rated, one-shot - “At that moment she hated him. She hated him for going somewhere she couldn’t follow. She hated him for promising to always be there for her, making her believe that promise and then leaving anyway. But how could she truly hate him when she loved him so much, when she feels so incomplete without him.”

[inkwardspots]

all she knows is how to survive (but, tell me, how do you die?)

summary:

Harry, it's not as bad as you think."

"Hermione,” she seethes out, hair frizzing at the output of excess magic, “I'm 20, just ended the Second Wizarding War, have absolutely no prospects about what I want to do for the rest of my life seeing as I’m still ‘mentally unstable’ by Ministry standards, and now, just when I’ve convinced Andromeda to let me have an active part in Teddy’s life, I’ve been made guardian to the daughter of bloody fucking Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange! Do you know what this means? My godfather's killer had sex with my wanna-be killer, and now, I'm left with the results - what happened to safe sex, huh? Not to mention, I might add, that both of them are involved with the death of Remus and Tonks and Sirius and Dumbledore and bloody fucking Snape! So yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm as fucked as I think it am if not more."

“When she puts it that way, Hermione…”

“Okay, yes, I get it, Ron. Harry's more fucked up than I thought, but we can work with this.

–-

Spoiler Alert: They kinda failed to work with it.

CHAPTER 3: time ends at my touch (and releases with my breath)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry takes a trip through London, ready to reclaim what was lost.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

[START BRIEF.]

BRIEF NO.: #454

DATE: 26 October, 1999

LOCATION: Grimmauld Place; Diagon Alley;

OCCASION: [CONFIDENTIAL] {CONT.}

OBJECTIVE(S): Survive [redacted]; Pick up Hermione’s book; Don’t set off Hermione’s alarm;

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Don’t get into any shit: stay inconspicuous; keep your head about you; pick up some cinnamon for Ron later; END ADDITIONAL NOTES.

{CONT. Next Page.}

…

Grimmauld Place is not a house of warmth; from the imposing exterior to the drab and decayed interior, it does not elicit a single sense of warm feeling. Yet, Harry feels more at home in this decaying place than she does in any other location. And yet, it is not the same for Ron and Hermione; they belong to open windows and warm fireplaces, the heat of the sun and softness of weathered rugs.

(The warmth of love and the bliss of being together –)

Harry wants them to move out, wants them to build a life in the sun, away from the dreariness and darkness that consume her.

They refuse.

And so, time ticks on, second after second, day after day.

(week after week, month after month, year after year, wish after wish, hope after hope – )

There is a grandfather clock on the third landing; it is weathered and worn, chiming only a few times a day, at random intervals, instead of the usual hour-chime. The arms are twisted yet still points to the allocated number, strange symbols inscribed in their gold arms, dull and shining all at once. Sometime, when her head is too full and about to explode like one of Seamus’ cauldrons, she goes up there, her back pressed against the stair rail as her eyes trace the slow travel of the minute hand obsessively, the ticking calming the thrum in her head and igniting the cool calmness in her blood. She likes the way it forges on, not a care for those who it affects; she likes the way it continues without pause, spilling blood and bringing life all the same.

She wishes – she wishes that could be her, calm and collected and forging ahead without care for those she loves. It would be so much simpler.

(It would be far more terrible, far worse than her measly, broken mind can construct or conjure.)

Still, it is a routine for her now; to watch the ticking of time obsessively, to revel in the thrum of the clock and the chime of the hour and the calmness of her mind. Time has stolen so much from her (days with Sirius, weeks and years with her parents and nights looking after Teddy when Remus and Tonks are out –) but it has also given her this: an escape from her mind and her soul, broken as it is, like a clock refusing to forge on.

Perhaps once Hermione and Ron would’ve questioned it, but now they too understand that this helps her cope; helps her stay sane, it helps her calm the torrent that is her mind.

(Perhaps this is what Snape meant when he said to clear the mind.)

When she sits, her back against the stair rail, it is only her and the ticking of time.

(It is only her and her mind and her thoughts. It is only her and all she has lost.)

She rests her head against the rail, closing her eyes and opening her senses, the tick of the clock enchanting and the thrum of the blood in her veins soothing.

She hears a creak, soft and gentle and terrifying.

“Harry?”

It’s Hermione.

Harry springs her eyes open, setting her green, green, orbs on her best friend; Hermione’s hair is in a haphazard plait, swung over her left shoulder. The blue wool jumper reminds her of Hermione’s mum whilst her feet are sockless, probably cold against the wooden floor.

“You should wear some socks, ‘Mione.”

Harry turns her head back, watching the slow, rapid, journey of the second hand. “Your feet are gonna get cold.”

There’s a gentle thud beside her; she turns her head left and studies Hermione. Her eyes are wide and bright, her lips pulled into a gentle smile as she gazes at Harry. She’s always been slightly taller than Harry, but it feels gargantuan, now – she’s probably half-a-head taller than Harry now, even taller at gala’s and events since she’s started wearing those accursed heels.

(Harry threw her pair out the rather abysmally tiny toilet window when Hermione tried to convince her to wear them; who needs Death Eaters when you’ve got stilettos?)

Hermione’s eyes are chocolate brown, tiny flecks of green and yellow in their depths. There’s a stray piece of hair escaping her plait, curling like chocolate wisps.

Harry leans forward, tucking it behind Mione's earring-adorned ear before resting her head onto the older girl’s shoulder, resting against the soft wool, hair falling like autumn branches against her face. There is a slight hum before Hermione rests her head atop Harry’s, searching for Harry’s ring-adorned fingers before tangling them together, each crevice and crook filled with each other’s pale flesh.

Hermione’s nails are painted a vibrant blue (matching her jumper, Harry silently notes) whilst Harry’s is chipped green, thin decorative lines of black and white fading away; Harry’s finger’s are adorned with various rings, some copper, others silver and gold, forged in fire and in beautiful shapes, her favourite an emerald-studded crescent moon she had found whilst cleaning the drawing room, tucked into the nook of a spare drawer. There’s a bracelet on Hermione’s wrist, thin chained silver that Harry had bought for her seventeenth birthday, her first charm given on the same day, an animated lion emblem that roared ever so fiercely. A book charm on her eighteenth, a cassette on her nineteenth, the following year a carbon copy of her wand.

(Harry plans to give a quill on her twenty-first.)

Her fingers are empty though (Harry wonders how long that’ll last with a quirk of her lips), only slightly longer than Harry’s with faint palm lines, skin smooth and slightly dry.

Harry should get her some moisturiser.

They stay simply against each other, revelling in the warmth and love they hold for each other. It is simple, this relationship of theirs.

It is forged from magic and tears and friendship, this sisterhood of theirs.

The lull of the clock would be enough to carry her to sleep, if not for Hermione’s persistence.

“Harry.”

She hums back, weariness and warmth and slumber all within her grasp.

“You know it’s time.”

Harry stills. Yes, it is time, isn’t it?

She squeezes her eyes shut, rabid panic channelling through her blood, overtaking her heart and mind, and causing a grim layer of sadness to settle like snow.

“Does it have to be?” She whispers, eyes wide like windows and now panicked, shivering like an animal in danger.

Hermione twists her lips, heart breaking at the sight of her brave, beautiful, terrified, best friend.

“Yes.”

Hermione’s heart shatters like shards of stained glass.

“It does.”

And so, the darkness settles once more, gripping her heart and her mind and always overcoming time.

***

The late October wind is brisk against Harry’s form, a chilling embrace and a warm goodbye in order to make way for the descent of colder times. Her hands, soft and scarred, are bundled within her pockets, not a pair of gloves to be seen. A Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her face, hiding her pink cheeks and pale complexion, and Harry’s mind is not focused on the cold, freezing as it is, but instead on the journey through London.

Perhaps she should apparate, but being simply a face within a sea of people is comforting, if dangerous.

Her boots thud gently across the concrete, like the beat of her heart, thudding on and on despite her wanting it to stop. Her thumb traces the grooves of her rings as she boards the bus, pulling out some spare change and moving on up the stairs. Harry chooses a seat on the upper deck, choosing a seat at the back, against the window as she leans her face against it, observing the moving traffic as her face, slowly warming due to heat of the bus, grows cool by pressing it against the window. There is a slow kerfuffle, only waiting for a pram to board the bus as she watches from above, and then they are off, zooming down the streets of London.

There is slow chatter, the cries of the child from the pram downstairs and the chattering of another one; she watches out the window, cars passing by and the odd taxi or motorcycle. Shops, one after the other, the local newsagents or even a spare furniture shop, stuffed with sofas and beds and armchairs. The traffic slows, irritated tempers rising as the child in the pram cries on and on, louder and louder as even the denizens on her floor, few and far in between on the second floor, grow irritated, the rattle having no effect as the traffic continues to trail.

There’s a slight whiff of smoke, burning her lungs as she turns her head around; she follows the smell, noticing a teen in the back, clearly bunking school guessing by the way he’s dressed. The cigarette is clearly between his fingers, tapping rhythmically against the window, bdum-bdum-bdum, like a set of drums, on and on and on. His eyes are vacant, bringing the lit cigarette to his lips familiarly, inhaling through the nose, and exhaling the smoke through the mouth, practised and disciplined. His shirt is buttoned up, the first two popped open and the third pulled straight off, a black blazer covering it with a school logo on the pocket, a handkerchief tucked in it.

Fancy.

His shoes are scuffed, not dress shoes but ordinary Nike trainers, like the ones she sees on the muggle billboards. His jaw, on the other hand, seems close to swelling, and his lip is busted, dried blood on his white collar no doubt from earlier dripping. He brings the cigarette to his lips again, they’re quite cheap nowadays, Harry knows, brings it to his chapped, blood-dried lips, pulling it away as he exhales the smoke and as his other hand seems to fiddle with his sleeve buttons, fingers rooting under and tracing something on his wrist obsessively, the very notion so familiar to her, like seeing a familiar lover with a stranger.

He brings the cigarette to his lips, placing it feather light in between, trying to inhale.

Harry tilts her head, licking her lips.

She wants it, that cigarette.

“You alright?”

His eyes widen, choking on his breath as he splutters, tiny drops of tobacco-laden dust settling on his shirt as he pulls the cigarette away.

“Shit.”

They say at the same time, Harry’s apologetic whilst the boy is frustrated, trying to dust it off but failing miserably; he gives it up as a lost cause, glaring at Harry before sitting up from his slouching posture and leaning against the window.

“I’m fine.” He says, words dragged from his mouth as he looks to the side, striped tie swinging haphazardly, right to left. He seems as if he wants to return to his business, but Harry tries to interrupt again.

“You sure? You look a little messed up.”

He glares again, brows drawn together whilst brown eyes are fierce, a dark glare sent her way. While Harry’s hair could be likened to the autumn leaves, this boy truly carries the fierceness of the vibrant colours around him, despite being coloured more like the earth, eyes a dark, fathomless brown whilst his skin is a chocolate cacao, rich and vibrant and much at home among the vibrant colours of the autumn day.

“Yeah? I didn’t notice.” He snarks, arms crossed. “I’m fine, lady. Leave off, yeah? Don’t let the troubled youth and the bloody hoodlum bother your day. I don’t need help from you, and I didn’t ask for it.”

He pulls the cigarette to his lips again, clearly dismissing Harry and her attempt at conversation.

It doesn’t bother her, not really, but it is fascinating, the way that he handles the cigarette so skilfully; Harry had tried it once, stealing a pack from Dudley’s friend Piers, but all she was able to do was choke on it.

She much prefers alcohol, simpler and much more refined; the ability to pick the perfect drink to get wasted with is as much of a skill as it is to smoke a cigarette carelessly refined.

She still wants it, though.

This boy hasn’t mastered the art yet but Harry’s sure the time will come, based on how he seems to be doing now.

The traffic is speeding up now, the bus finally pulling its weight.

“What’s your name?” Harry asks.

She doesn't know why she is so persistent, but this boy reminds her somewhat of herself.

(But then again, maybe all teenagers will – do.)

The boy glares mulishly before twiddling the cigarette between his fingers, answering slowly as he takes in her curious face, “Why’d you wanna know?”

Harry smiles, a tiny thing, like the lap of the wave before a storm approaches. “Fair enough.” She acquiesces, benevolent in her graciousness. “At least tell me who roughed you up?”

The kid sighs, as if tired of her confusing adult shenanigans.

(She’s barely even that – an adult, that is.)

“Listen, lady, I get you’re trying to help and all, and thanks, but no thanks.”

She draws her hands out of her pockets, swinging her arm round the chair and fiddling with a curl as she turns to speak to him, the bus finally gaining momentum.

“You sure?”

Her glasses slide down her nose, broken more than once and in sore need of a prescription change, she’s sure.

The teen sighs again, rubbing his surely aching, swollen, cheek. “I’m fine, lady, how many times do I need to –”

He cuts off midway, a strange curiosity entering his eyes.

“How did you get that?”

He’s pointing to her hand, the red scarring of ‘I will not tell lies.’, the writing stark against her porcelain skin.

She traces the slope of the letters, written in her own hand. She brushes her fingers over it, feels the grooves of the scarring despite being mostly healed by murtlap essence.

“Teacher had me do it.” She admits, a frown on her delicate features. “Bitch, that one. The old hag had me carve it into my skin in fi – er, Year 11.”

She pauses.

“Repeatedly?” He asks, eyes wide and wondering.

“Repeatedly.”

The boy frowns, deep in his concentration, cigarette burnt out and forgotten. “Must’ve been shit.” He finally says, a question in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry says, wondering what she’ll say next. “The whole year was fucked up, to be honest. Godfather died, and then a whole lot more shit later.”

The teen looks pensive, scratching his arm.

She wonders why she told this nameless child this, when even Hermione and Ron can’t get her to talk about it.

(She knows why. Talking to a stranger is easier than talking to those she knows.)

“M’name’s Dion.” The boy - Dion - says.

“Yeah?”

(Time to leave.)

“What happened to you then, kid?”

He scoffs.

“You can’t be much older than me. What are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

“Twenty.” She proclaims, proud and spiteful. “Still older than you. What are you, then? Sixteen?”

“Fifteen.” He states, voice muted.

“Hmm.” She replies. “What happened to you, then, fifteen-year-old Dion?”

He glares at her, glancing to the side and picking up his now-extinguished cigarette, fiddling with it between his fingers. “Bunch a fuck-wits called me a faggot and then decided they wanted to rough me up when I told them to piss off. I got the first punch, ‘course, but got suspended for ‘inciting violence and disruption’,” he finishes, the last few words said with mimed quotation marks.

“Is it true?” Harry asks, a rising of the brow following her question.

“What’s it to you?” He throws back, defensive.

“There’s nothing wrong with being queer.” Harry says mildly, thinking of Luna and Dean and herself.

(Thinking of Sirius.)

“There is, when they call me that.”

She snatches the cigarette from his fingers as he lets it loll, rolling it to and fro between her pointer finger and thumb.

Mission accomplished.

(He doesn’t seem to realise that he’s just given himself away.)

“What’re you gonna do then?”

“Huh?” Dion asks, a tilt of the head.

“You can’t retaliate every time someone calls you something like that. I learnt that the hard way.”

Harry lights the cigarette, a tap of her finger against the roll all that is needed.

Dion gasps, and seems a little spellbound.

He swallows, still enchanted but scuffing his trainers against the seat, narrowly missing what looks like either dried ketchup or blood.

(Could be both, either or none.)

“It’s not easy to control my temper. It just…overwhelms me.”

“I know.” Harry says, smiling softly, eyes warm and understanding.

And she does.

She really does.

“But you’ve got to try, that’s the best you can do.”

The bus halts to a stop.

“That’s my stop.” She says, making her way down the aisle and down the stairs, passing the sleeping baby, and ignoring the pointed glares at the cigarette between her fingers.

She leaves the bus, stepping under the shelter.

She brings the cigarette close to her lips, draws in an inhale, and lets out a stream of smoke, ringlets visible in the cold.

It burns down her throat, but not like alcohol, which is quick and burning and fast. No, this is slower and more cloying, leaving effects that must build up over years to cause significant, irreparable harm, symptoms visible all the same.

Alcohol does much the same too, she muses.

They are much the same, these two weapons of self-destruction, but both different in their own ways.

Dion looks through the upper window, watching her like a hawk.

She goes to the nearby litter bin, puts out the light, and leaves the cigarette butt there, kept company by only a few others like it.

She raises a hand to Dion in farewell, he blinks once, just once, and she is gone.

He goes home and wonders about that odd, odd, lady whilst his mum sighs and cleans up his shirt, her NHS lanyard left on the table as she scrubs the suspicious tobacco-smelling dust off.

(He’s having a talking too later, she’ll make sure.)

It’s only when he’s in his bedroom, doing some maths homework and trying to work out the missing angles that he wonders about the woman, young and scarred, holding herself like how he imagines a soldier does: posture straight and body open yet face and mind guarded.

He never even got her name, he realises while he presses in some digits into his calculator, that lady with green eyes like spring and red hair like autumn.

(He never even got her name, he remembers whilst eating his dinner, that lady that could ignite a fire with only a tap of her finger.)

***

Diagon Alley is resplendent, warm and bustling and coated in a blanket of magic, just as during the summer. Leaves cover the cobble path, and witches and wizards bustle pass, dragging children and shopping bags whilst bundled in warm cloaks and robes. Nothing like the deserted streets of war time, yet still carrying scars all the same.

The economy flourishes, yet it is not so easy to build it up to what it was pre-war times. New stalls decorate the alley, gloomy, war-mongering markets during the war disappearing. Those like Mundungus, profiting off shady dealings and dodgy traps, disappear to further corners after the DMLE cracks down on those that took advantage of the fear rampant during Voldemort's reign.

It’s only a few days till Halloween, and pumpkins litter the street, carved with spooky faces while children too young to know the true extent of war marvel at them, enchanted by how they glow. Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes is still as prosperous as ever and as much as she’d like to drop by and greet George, that’s not why she’s here.

No, that’s not it at all.

She passes Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, offering pumpkin ice cream and pumpkin-spiced tea and hot chocolate, tempted by the smell reminding her of her childhood days spent in Hogwarts and wants to make sure she’ll pick up some cups later for the three of them. She weaves past Slugs and Jiggers and past Flourish and Blotts, making a note to pick up a book for Hermione.

Harry breathes a sigh of relief when she makes it past a group of bustling adults, high off firewhisky by the looks of it, and makes her way past to her destination.

There.

Orpington & Jules Wizarding Solicitors.

The reason she is here, braving the quiet anonymity muggle London provides her and the precarious anonymity of bustling Diagon Alley, only guaranteed by her heavy scarf around her shoulders and her Notice Me Not charm, is because she is here for Tonks and Remus.

She is here because she is required, and because Andromeda Tonks is here.

She is here because Andromeda Tonks is the key to Teddy, her beloved godson.

She is here because she is Harriet Potter and whilst Harriet Potter is kind and brave and compassionate, yes, she is also simply, undeniably, wonderfully, Harry.

Harry (not Harriet, not her, the Girl-Who-Lived-Twice) is reckless and stubborn and simply far too guilty. She loves too fiercely and loses those dear to her heart too quickly and she is without a lick of common sense, always jumping head first into action, flirting with danger, and evading death only by the barest brush of her invisibility cloak.

Harry is purely Gryffindor, the best friend of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and she is an honorary Weasley, their second (or first, depending on how you look at it) daughter. She is, too, the daughter of Lily and James Potter, and she is the goddaughter of Sirius Orion Black, yes.

She is all these things, but she is also something else:

She is broken.

Harriet Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived-Twice, the Dark Lord Defeater, is sane and alive and simply undefeatable.

Harry, the girl who lived in a cupboard and fed her pet owl scraps from her own plate, the girl who cried herself to sleep when she had visions of murder and who knew she would either kill or be killed, is broken.

Harry Potter (not Harriet, the Chosen One and the Darling of the Wizarding World) has lost too much during the years she has lived; she’s lost a mother in Lily Potter and a father in James Potter and a dear friend in Fred. She’s lost a mentor in Professor Dumbledore and a hated teacher in Snape and someone she could finally call the closest thing to a parent in Sirius. She’s lost a potential friend in Cedric Diggory and a beautiful, brilliant one in Dobby. She’s lost a wonderful teacher in Remus and lost a bright bubbling confidant in Tonks.

She's lost all these wonderful, beautiful people, all out of her control, but now?

Now, with her heart fierce and bloody, with her cracked mind and soul forged together for this one tiny, important moment; now, with her determination iron strong and her magic crackling like flames, she will forge on.

She’s sacrificed her heart and her mind and her sanity for the world; she’s lost so many precious people for the lark of it, and she’ll be damned if she’s losing Teddy too, she thinks fiercely, stepping through the plain oak door and past towards a desk.

Her face is firm and her determination dogged as she lifts her Notice Me Not just as the woman looks up, enchanted by the client with piercing eyes of spring and flaming hair of autumn.

“Name?” The woman asks, eyes a pale blue and hands covered in quill callouses, moving over to write something with a black quill on a piece of formal looking parchment, most likely a register of the day's clients and visitors.

Harry blinks, startled, and smiles, radiant in her determination.

(She is lost in her grief and her rage and her guilt, yes, but for this child she will fight.)

She has a broken, bloody, soul, yes, but it is undeniably hers.

“Harriet Lily Potter,” She starts, pretty pink lips forming around her name elegantly, like fire forging a sword or a wand maker carving out a friend, “I’m here for the reading of Remus John Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks’ will.”

She is here to reclaim family.

(She is here to reclaim a fragment of herself.)

[hogwartswelcomesyou]

Hi! I'm a Slytherin with a Seal patronus. Thank you so much for doing these patronus explanations! I wish they had more detail on the Pottermore site. I don't think they understand how obsessed with this series we are, and how much detail we want about who we would be in the Wizarding World.

I wish it had as well! It would’ve helped a great deal for those of us who were disappointed or confused by the result that we got. But I suppose after how many Patronus analysis posts we’ve done, I can acknowledge it is a lot of work!! XD

Seals are mammals enamored with and bonded to the sea. The only time they spend on land is spent either breeding or giving birth. Symbolically seals are associated with dreaming, imagination, creativity, and one’s inner voice and feelings, and many legends like to connect them to humans. In Inuit mythology the goddess of the sea, Sedna, is depicted in art work as a mermaid with the tail of a seal, and European legends often feature creatures called selkies, which are women who can transform into seals. This may be due to the seal’s intelligence – when in captivity, seals have shown the ability to imitate sounds they hear, follow gestured commands, and even follow the beat of a song.

Having a Seal as your Patronus means you find comfort in dreaming – and how Slytherin is that? Our house is all about our ambition, and for you, reaching for the sky is thrilling! You may be a little more cerebral and in your head than some in our house, but that doesn’t make you any less driven and committed to making your dreams come true. You love the idea of possibility, so you are, true to your house, incredibly resourceful. You also may be a bit of a romantic and love the idea of travel. Should you ever come to a dead-end and find yourself sinking into despair, your guardian will burst from your wand in a flash of white light, swimming through air to your side. It will glide around you, white splashes of light coming off of it in waves, but instead of the waves hitting you like cold water, they will wash over a warm breeze and fill you up with hope. You are bright – you are brilliant – more than enough to overcome any shadow that lingers over you.

~Tory