#ilvermorny sorting

[official-ilvermorny]

Tarot and the Ilvermorny Houses

In recent years, I have learned more about Divination, the art of looking into hidden parts of the past, present, and future using one’s own inner eye guided by certain magical tools. Throughout my studies, I have come to realize that there are certain parallels that can be drawn between the suits of the minor arcana in Tarot and the houses at Ilvermorny. Each of the suits – Coins, Swords, Cups, and Wands – is often associated with a different area of life, much like the four individual “parts” of a magic user often associated with each Ilvermorny House. It is from this approach that this essay will attempt to further explore the nuances of the Ilvermorny Houses and their admittees.

Wampus — Coins

Wampus is known as the House of the Body, and the tarot suit of Coins is associated with the physical realm. The Coins deal primarily with finances, work, physical health, and anything that may belong to the realm of the five senses – what we can touch and hold. Thus, if this exploration holds any merit, we may see Wampuses grounded in the physical world, concerned primarily with what is happening in real time, what they can control or influence with their direct action.

The House of the Warrior may at first glance seem tied to the classical element of fire, but instead, think of the Tarot’s way of aligning Coins with elemental Earth. After all, a warrior is perhaps the most likely to be grounded in the physical realm as one who enacts changes in their world through their physical actions. In addition, much of the imagery in the Coins represents the agricultural cycle – planting, tending, and harvesting one’s crops. Similarly, Wampuses may view the world as a fertile landscape from which abundance may spring forth with the right tools and their own hard work. This suit also contains a warning not to get too caught up in what you can perceive with your bodily senses that you fail to remember that there are things beyond that which you can see.

With this interpretation, Wampus may lend itself to literal fighting and farming, but also to nature, activism, business, public safety, law, skilled crafts, athletics — fields where people understand the value of getting their hands dirty when necessary.

Horned Serpent — Swords

It is said that Horned Serpent is the House of Scholars and the Mind, and Swords are no different — this suit represents thoughts, ideals, and rationality. Its imagery represents a mind constantly at work, healthiest when it allows itself time for rest but prone to overactivity which may lead to restlessness and anxiety. So too may Horned Serpents find themselves capable of great feats of the mind, so long as they care for themselves by allowing themselves time for recovery and rejuvenation.

Swords also represent the element of Air. This may seem counterintuitive considering the Horned Serpent is a water-dwelling creature; however, may it be remembered that Air represents not only thought but (perhaps more importantly) communication, the air that passes out of our lungs to give us voice. What drew Isolt Sayre most to the Horned Serpent was its ability to communicate with her. So too we may find those sorted into Horned Serpent House to be interested in communication, the conveyance of one’s ideas and thoughts to others through verbal, written, or visual means.

As such, we will find Horned Serpents among top academics, including theorists, historians, and other scientists, not to mention those among the greatest of communicators, such as writers, orators, politicians, linguists, and actors.

Pukwudgie — Cups

The suit of emotions and intuition seems quite fitting for the House of the Heart. Emotions are our inner reactions to what may be happening in the outer world; they are a bridge between the two realms. This is also represented in the Cups’ relation to intuition — humanity’s innate ability to understand the world around us to some level without the need for conscious thought. The Cups’ imagery is at times the most fantastical of the suits, and the subjects are sometimes depicted doing something seemingly illogical, taking a leap of faith in hopes for better things to come. Pukwudgie is also the House of Healers, which makes great sense when one considers that all wellbeing is deeply connected; when one’s emotional health is poor, their physical health will be adversely affected, and vice versa.

The Cups also represent relationships and interconnectedness of every kind through their connection to the element of Water (after all, Water is necessary for every form of life on earth, and touches sea, earth, and sky in its ever-turning cycle, bridging the gap between the three worlds). The imagery of the Cups represents how our innermost feelings and intuition may affect our bonds with those around us — romance, friendships, family, and other partnerships. This also expands beyond inter-human relationships to our bond with the Earth itself.

It should be no surprise, then, to see Pukwudgies in every area focused on relationships, intuition, and mending broken things — healthcare, psychology, counseling, environmentalism, spirituality, hospitality, and diplomacy.

Thunderbird — Wands

The suit of Wands is the suit of passion and creativity, perfect for the House of Adventurers and the Soul. One may notice that much of its imagery revolves around merchants and fighters, which could be seen as the purview of Wampus; however, one must also remember that Thunderbirds above all else are those who take risks and set off to new places in search of excitement and adventure. Thunderbirds often feel a strong need for novelty, movement, progress, and expansion.

Wands also represent the element of Fire — interesting, perhaps, for a house whose mascot spends so much of its time in the air; on the other hand, what is lightning if not fire flashing in a storm? The Soul is complex and individualistic, and it desires to be known and to make itself known; there is a flame inside that demands to be let out so that it may shine. Thunderbirds often cannot help but try to make their mark on the world, whether for good or ill. The imagery of Wands is a reminder that fire can bring warmth and safety as well as chaos and pain. Strike a match and guide it to where it should go, and you bring light and life to even the most desperate; lose control, and you and those you love will get burned.

So, Thunderbirds may find themselves leaning towards fields in which they can best make a difference, make their mark, or find the necessary dynamism: the arts, teaching, activism, philosophy, entrepreneurship, innovation, and exploration.

Final Thoughts

As the reader may have noticed, there is overlap and nuance in what I have just described, as humans cannot be divided into neat boxes. Any vocation will find a strong foothold in any house. For example, a politician should be a scholar of philosophy and history, but they should also desire to heal people through the policies they write and support. A dancer certainly has great passion and creativity, but they are also grounded in their own body and the physical world around them.

There is something to be said too, about the interconnectedness of the Houses, the Tarot, and the wholeness of a human. Just as every House has overlap with all the others, every suit of the Tarot will bleed into the other suits, and every person has a body, mind, heart, and soul. We may tend to gravitate towards one part of ourselves, but we should not do so at the expense of the others.

Above all, remember the motto of Ilvermorny School: “As a family, united we stand.” Each member of the family is unique, and together we are stronger than we could ever be apart. Grow into who you are, and find the people who will support and uplift you and have strengths where you may not, and work together to make the world a better place.

———

~ Selwyn

[hrhprincerichard]

It's fine, I don't mind, you're just speaking your mind. I wouldn't expect anything less. And it does but it is what it is too. True, you have the real deal now. Ha! That and Dead Poets Society but I don't remember those jackets in that one. You did look very cool. i was right the letter jacket suits you.

Ha! Maybe I'm just angling for you to show me again ;) Now you're just making fun

[Attached: Richard has moved his pants down a little further but is back to giving Grant the V]

Really? That's wonderful, congratulations. I hope it works out the way you want it to. I'll let you know. Yeah it would spice things up. I've got something in mind already. Not one you've heard, I don't think, at least not from me. But one I think you might find hot. Hope anyway

I swear I'll stop saying it after this, but that also sounds like it majorly sucks. Ha! Boring! But, whatever, I don't need the fake ass fact sheet anymore so I guess I don't care. Oh my God, is Grease your go-to American high school reference? But yes, like in Grease, and I looked fucking cool.

[Attached: A photo of a photo. Grant has gotten up to take a close-up picture of of photo on his corkboard that he had to move some post-its and papers to get to. It's 17-year-old Grant in jeans, a white t-shirt, and his Ilvermorny Quidditch letter jacket with a Captain's patch on the front, he's leaning on his broomstick on the quidditch pitch grinning like he's hot shit, then he starts laughing at shouting at the person behind the camera, losing all cool-guy composure (yes the person behind the camera was Logan giving him shit)].

Oh, I'm sorry, are you not already sold on how good I am? Huh. Good to know. Guess you need to be reminded ;) Ha! Hell yeah baby, there's that sweet pasty ass!

Good! That's true, it was. And actually, my mom's gonna let me take point on some Texas stuff once I'm a little more settled in on the campaign. It's kind of terrifying and exciting at the same time. I look forward to reading yours when it's finished. Good! Ha! That is a shame, that'd spice your fact sheet right up. Can't wait. I'm sure it'll be even hotter than I expect ;)

[psychedelic-charm]

Sphynxeye

Your path may pave to Sphynxeye one who's inspirited, unafraid. They are loyal and quick with wit, here lies the thrill in which you crave. Those sorted into Sphynxeye are fierce in nearly all aspects; loyalty, bravery, wit. Most witches and wizards placed here are devoted and adventurous, the warriors and the philosophers. A boil in their blood, a gleam in their eye, and still they are soft. Their personalities similar to that of their feline house name. "I'm not sure what I'll do, but - well, I want to go places and see people. I want my mind to grow. I want to live where things happen on a big scale." -F. Scott Fitzgerald

This came from McKenna Kaelin's Star-Sorting Quiz. Check out her "Ilvermorny Reimagined" video on YouTube.

[crescenthistory]

Hello, may i request a prompt "are we friends?" between f!reader and the slytherin skittles? Where the reader used to attend Ilvermorny but had trauma from it (like bullying and fallout with friends). So she doesn’t want to intrude on the friendship that the skittles already have. Oh and they’re all in their sixth year. Thank you 🙏

hi lovely, thank you for this cute concept<33 i didn't explicitly emphasise what your past at ilvermorny was to leave it dubious and open to every reader

Prompt: F.3 "Are we friends?"

Words: 2.2k

Warnings/tags: gn!reader, use of y/n, ilvermorny!reader (no specified nationality), implied troubled background at ilvermorny, mental illness/insecurity shown through reader's pov, odd friendship dynamics, found family, intended as platonic!slytherin skittles x reader but can be read as romantic if you want<3

You weren't entirely sure what happened.

One day you were being thrown into what felt like a wild zoo filled with any and every kind of person you could possibly imagine, clad in dark robes and chattering around in hundreds of different accents, and you were decidedly determined to isolate yourself away from the masses and live a solitary life at Hogwarts.

The next, you were sitting in the library and the same group of Slytherins that sat with you yesterday – and strangely the day before that, and the day before that – plopped down around you and made themselves at home. As if this was simply the norm, as if it was a given that their seat was the one beside you.

You weren't offended or uncomfortable, necessarily, but you were certainly... confused. You didn't mind them being there, yet their presences were strange to you and you could not make sense of this disconnect in your mind.

When you arrived at Hogwarts a month ago, you had felt nothing short of publicly humiliated when you were brought up to the Sorting Hat after the ocean of 11 year-olds had been passed through it for the past hour. It was apparently not a common occurrence that students transferred in from other schools, especially not Ilvermorny, and there was no protocol for how to handle it. Instead of taking your Ilvermorny house into consideration and putting you in the Hogwarts house that most closely resembled it, Dumbledore himself had decided that this jittery 7th year student go through the same process as everyone else.

McGonnagall had pitied you enough to grab your shoulder before you went up to whisper to you, "The hat is your friend, not foe, Mx. L/N. Do not fear it."

With entirely too many eyes on you, you climbed the steps and gingerly sat down on the seat. Unlike with the kids, the Sorting Hat fit you rather snuggly, leaving you unfortunately without the much sought after shelter of the brim.

You solved the solution by looking down in your lap, trying not to visibly startle when a voice spoke in your mind.

Transfer student, huh? Haven't had one of you in a while. Most certainly interesting...

You reminded yourself friend not foe and closed your eyes, trying to will the hat to be merciful and grant you reprieve. To put you in a house where you can get what you need – solitude, privacy, quiet. It was just a year. You could go through a year if you were just left alone.

To your shock – though perhaps it shouldn't have been – the hat responded to your thoughts.

What you need, you say? Well, I do believe I can help in that regard. Keep your mind open, dear one.

The next word the hat spoke was out loud, not in your mind – it yelled out "SLYTHERIN". At the time, you didn't know whether to be relieved, confused or terrified. Unbeknownst to you, a certain group of 7th year Slytherins sitting at the end of the long table had shared curious looks and wide grins upon the announcement.

Those Slytherins were the very same strewn around you today, on various furniture all surrounding the same large oak table that was almost invisible beneath all your parchments and books.

You were sitting on one end of a settee, legs crossed and wrists resting on the table, somewhat jittery. On the other side sat Regulus Black in a similar position, his face as impassive as ever and turned down into a book that you were quite confident was not in the curriculum. Opposite you on a similar sofa, Barty Crouch Jr. laid upside down, with his legs thrown over the back of the sofa and his neck craning in a way that simply could not be comfortable where it rested on the seat. Pandora Rosier was sitting cross-legged on the ground beside Barty's head, braiding a dozen tiny braids into his hair, mixing black and acid green strands together absentmindedly. Her twin brother Evan Rosier was pretending to ignore whatever Barty was talking about as he did his homework, but you could see how his ears were perked up. Lastly, Dorcas Meadowes sat on an armchair beside the settees, twirling her wand and looking every bit like she was thinking of something she shouldn't.

You would be the first to admit that they were interesting people. In another life, perhaps you would even spend time together on purpose – but now, above all else one might want to know about them, you wanted to know why they were here.

It had started by them making space for you on the Slytherin table that first day, and afterwards they always left an open space there. Not asking, not demanding; it was as if they were just assuming you would sit there. And you didn't know where else to sit, so you did. Then the same thing happened in your classes – you sat down at an empty table, and before you knew it, one of them was taking the empty seat beside you.

There was never any proper introductory conversation, never any invitation into a friendship, yet they found you everywhere. It was not as if they didn't talk to you when they were there, though; from the very beginning, they were cracking jokes with and around you and roping you into their odd conversations. Learning more about you as you went instead of interrogating you on the spot.

It was sudden and unexpected and you didn't know what to do about it.

"Then I told him precisely where he could shove it and– are you even listening to me?" Barty cut himself off to look accusatory at Evan, whose eyebrow was now quirked up while his eyes remained trained on his parchment.

"Hm?" Evan asked absentmindedly, though you were almost entirely sure it was just to rile the other boy up.

Evan was usually successful in such endeavors, and this was no exception, judging by the shrieking gasp that escaped Barty. "You absolutely bloody wanker, how dare you– this is a good story!"

"Maybe," Evan drawled. "But it lost its charm around the third time I heard it."

Barty whipped his head sideways to stare daggers into Evan. "Salazar's soggy balls, this is a new story, I swear." He then rolled his head backwards to look at you upside down, pinning you to the seat with the same accusatory tone. "You were listening to me, right, Drâga?"

You made a reluctant face. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were talking to me."

Barty let out a theatrical huff and threw his hands up in the air for effect, nearly hitting Pandora on the way, causing Evan to give his wrist a slap, still without looking. "Of course I was talking to you – I'm talking to you all. By Merlin, you're all awful friends."

Though Barty continued on with his grumbling, you felt frozen in place by his last word. Before you could think more of it, the words tumbled out of your mouth. "We're what now?"

Dorcas tilted her head to the side, looking between you and Barty. "Oh, he didn't mean it Y/N, he's just a loudmouthed arse. You're still getting used to it."

"I resent that." Barty pointed at Dorcas as he spoke before he grabbed one of Evan's parchments, curled it up into a ball and threw it at her. "I'll have you know, I'm a fucking delight."

You were unaffected by their banter, eyes still narrowed at the lot of them, trying to decipher and understand what the hell was going on.

"You're thinking hard." Regulus remarked from your right, finally looking up from his book. At his rare contribution to conversation, Evan and Pandora seemed to perk up as well, and you suddenly felt entirely too much like you were being stared down. It was worse than the Sorting Hat.

"I–" you began, but cut yourself off and pressed your lips together with furrowed brows. "You think we're friends?"

Whatever they expected your answer to be, that did not seem to be it, based on their empty gazes. Dorcas reared her head backwards just a little, while Barty did a full body spin to land him in a mostly-upright position on the sofa – this time Evan yanked Pandora out of reach of Barty's swinging legs.

"What do you mean, do I think we’re friends?" Barty questioned then, almost offended. "Don’t pull my leg, why else would we be here? Either way, what I was trying to say–"

Barty's rant was once again cut off, this time simply by Dorcas holding up one hand in his direction while her eyes remained dutifully trained on you. "Love, did you not think we're friends?" she asked. Her voice was so painfully gentle, so caring, that you wanted to shy away from it, to pack up your bag and run and hide.

You realised that that was not a possibility. Instead, you tried to shrug as casually as you could and not let your emotions show. "Well, why would we be? We don't know each other, do we?"

You dared a glance sideways to see Regulus looking at you with a seemingly unimpressed expression, but you saw the twitch in the corner of his mouth. Evan opposite you, though, was not hiding his wide grin whatsoever. "Don't we know each other, love?" he asked then, seemingly partially smug.

"Yeah, if you don't know me, that is because you lot of wankers never listen. But I most certainly know you, L/N." Barty gestured with his finger in your general direction, as if he was preaching, which Evan yet again slapped away – though in favour of pulling Barty closer into his side.

"You don't know me," you tried, voice shaky yet growing somewhat frustrated with the situation.

"Of course we do," Dorcas intercepted. "I know you loathe breakfast but adore dinner. I know you prefer tea over coffee, I know that you like the sweets from back home better than those from Honeydukes."

"And I know that you're ridiculously patient, both with randos you're paired up with in class and with us, your friends," Barty added with a deadpan. "I know your real laughter is a very cute snort. I know you dislike being pranked but enjoy watching them play out, which is why we never play them on you but always around you."

"You're kind and you're bloody bright," Evan said with a nod, as if this was a natural conclusion. “Your best subjects are all of my worst ones, which is a joy. Watching your passion for them is the most enjoyable, though.”

"And you're peculiar just like us." Pandora finally spoke up with a smile on her lips and a glint in her eye. "That's why we go so well together – we're the same."

At some point in their conversation with you, your mouth fell open as you listened to them recount everything they had picked up about you over the past few weeks. The moment didn't feel real, it felt fabricated by some awfully optimistic and naive six year old still living in your mind, one that was readily crushed long before your transfer. You didn't realise they had noticed you so much.

You're brought out of your stupor by Regulus' quill being poked into your side, demanding your attention. You turned your head to find the twitch of his lip had turned into a small, knowing smile. "Even if we don't know everything about where you've been, we know who you are. You don't need to tell us anything for us to understand that."

"Yeah, what he said!" Barty exclaimed with glee, kicking his feet up onto the sofa as he leaned his entire weight on Evan.

“Even before we knew anything about you, we were friends.” Pandora was looking out through a window, seemingly in thought and awfully happy at being so. “In a way, we’ve always been friends, I suppose. When it just works like this.” 

You weren’t always sure you understood what Pandora meant, but this time, you felt it in your heart.

"Sorry love, but you're kind of stuck with us now. Should have sat with someone else on your first day." Dorcas shot you a wink at that, and something in your chest seemed to snap into place.

Even when you were asking an awkward question, the atmosphere never changed – there was no pity here, no judgment, just... kinship.

Friendship.

At last, you let a smile begin to bloom from within you, one which you immediately saw reflected back at you in your five new friends.

"No, actually, I don't think I should have."

[illbegottenfaith]

world-endingly, soul-crushingly awful (a so alright, cool, whatever inspired fic)

theo doesn't realise this is NOT how best friends normally feel (bsf!theo nott x reader)

a/n - I was kind of double-minded about writing them as enemies or best friends but I decided to go for something Ive written less of so :)) this is one of my sillier ideas that I came up with on a whim but idk idk its just cute adjhcfsjdlc

tropes/warnings - bsf!theo, fluff, oblivious theo, someone hit him over the head with a frying pan level of oblivious, crack/comedy fic (very mildly tho)

word count - 2.8k

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

“You’re gonna have to send me an owl the second you reach,” Theo said, folding one of your sweaters.

“You act like Ilvermorny is on another planet,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. You tossed the folded sweater onto a pile of other clothes on your trunk. “It’s just America.”

Mattheo, sprawled on your bed, scoffed audibly.

“Just America, she says,” Mattheo muttered to Ivy, who sat cross-legged beside him. “As if that’s not an entire ocean away.”

Ivy, who had been observing Theo with sharp, knowing eyes, only sighed.

“It’s great though, isn't it? That she’s going? I mean, six months is practically nothing.”

Mattheo grunted. “Yeah. Practically nothing.” His tone made it very clear that six months was hardly nothing.

Theo, as usual, didn’t seem to pick up on any of the loaded implications lacing their words. He simply nodded, entirely absorbed in folding a long-sleeved shirt of yours.

“Yeah, it’s great. She’s been wanting this for ages.”

Ivy gave Mattheo a desperate look. He scoffed exasperatedly.

Theo had always been a quiet sort of stubborn - and not just the wilful kind. Oftentimes, he could be so utterly unaware of his own emotions that trying to drag them out would be like trying to wrought blood from a stone. But even this was stretching it.

For as long as you and Theo had been friends, it had been apparent to everyone but the two of you that there was something just a little too intense about the way you gravitated toward each other. Your conversations always held a rhythm no one else could quite fall into, one which had the two of you joined at the hip for years.

Since you were in your fifth year, it had been your dream to attend a six-month student exchange program with Ilvermony. With all the effort you had poured into your application, your acceptance came to the surprise of no one but you. Naturally, your friends were plenty happy for you, but Theo was positively ecstatic. Hardly the excitable type, Mattheo had never seen him smile that wide. Every moment since, he had been swept up in helping you prepare for your visit.

One unfortunate detail was that the exchange program spanned your final semester at Hogwarts. That was, the next time anyone would be seeing you would be at graduation. Your friends had expected him to take the news hard. After all, it wasn't every day that one of your closest friends moved halfway across the world. But he didn't. Theo had been surprisingly calm as he helped you coordinate your preparation efforts with a readiness that was hard to fake.

But that was no matter. With how involved Theo was in helping you plan your visit, the realisation would have to kick in eventually. And when it did, they would be ready to comfort him with open arms.

It was now a week away from your departure. Theo still hadn't shed a tear or said a word about how he really felt about you leaving. Your friends had spent months trying to hint to him to confess his feelings - an impossible task when he didn't seem to even be aware of them.

Mattheo swore he had tried whispering to Theo in his sleep for a couple of nights, trying to lull him with some kind of subliminal messaging, but to no avail. All he got was some bleary-eyed swearing and a pillow to the face. But that was beyond the point: desperate times called for desperate measures, and there was nothing more desperate than an intervention.

Ivy and Mattheo walked into the Slytherin common room, where Theo was flipping through a book. Next to him sat a pile of your woollens that he had been darning over the past couple of days.

Ivy elbowed Mattheo in the ribs. After some not-so-subtle glaring from her, Mattheo grudgingly asked Theo about them. From there, the conversation easily shifted to your upcoming trip. As always, Theo's voice was smooth and pleasant, as if he really couldn't be happier for you.

“Theo,” Ivy began, voice full of forced patience, “isn’t there anything you’d like to say to Y/N before she leaves?”

Theo hesitated.

“… goodbye?”

Mattheo let out a long-suffering groan.

“She’s leaving the country. The goodbye is implicit.”

Theo glanced up from his book, brow furrowed.

“Erm, okay. Have a safe trip, then?”

Ivy exchanged a pointed look with Mattheo.

“No, no. Not exactly something so...generic. Something important. Something meaningful.”

"Oh." Theo looked away from intensely scrutinising Ivy's face, his eyes dropping back to his book. "Yeah. Probably. Maybe."

"Yeah?" Ivy perked up. This had been surprisingly easy. "Like what?"

Theo thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“Dunno. Something like…you’ll be the only ever one none before you ever were. I knew you before I knew the kind of person I wanted to be. And it's a sad thing to see your favourite person leave.”

Silence.

Ivy blinked. Mattheo’s mouth fell open slightly.

“...what the fuck, mate,” Mattheo breathed.

Theo frowned. “What?”

Ivy inhaled deeply.

“Theodore. Do you think that’s a...how shall I put this - a normal thing to say about a friend?”

Theo blinked.

“I mean… yeah?”

Mattheo let out an incredulous laugh. “No. No, it’s not.”

"Let me put it this way," Ivy said. "That's the kind of thing someone might say about a partner."

"She is my partner," Theo agreed. "Partner in crime, if you will. That, and we take Potions together."

"No, as in, like a - like a romantic partner."

Theo looked between the pair, as if he was only just starting to piece together the purpose of their visit. His lips twitched.

“Let me guess. You think I’m in love with her?”

Mattheo and Ivy exchanged glances. He crossed his arms.

“Yeah, actually. We do.”

Theo scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “That’s rich.”

Ivy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Theo - ”

“No, really,” Theo cut in, still visibly amused. “That’s what this is about? You two are acting like I’m about to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower over this trip, because you think I’m in love with her?”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes. “You are upset she’s leaving.”

Theo shrugged. “I mean, sure, I’ll miss her. We'll all miss her. That’s normal.”

“Right,” Ivy said slowly, “because you’re been so normal about this."

"Haven't I?"

"You tell us, Theo. You’ve spent the last week hovering over her like a personal secretary, helping her pack, making sure she’s got every little thing - ”

“That’s called being a good friend!”

Mattheo groaned, visibly resisting the urge to thump the realisation into Theo.

“Okay. How about this - what if she started writing to some bloke at Ilvermorny instead of you?”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “She wouldn't.”

“But if she did?”

"But she wouldn't."

Theo opened his mouth, presumably to go on about what a ridiculous notion it was - then stopped. Paused. As though he was considering it. Ivy, who had been watching him testily, zeroed in on it.

“What?”

He remained silent.

"Answer the question, Nott."

Finally, Theo shook his head.

"Nothing. It'd be weird, that’s all.”

Mattheo and Ivy exchanged a knowing look.

“Right. Weird. Not world-endingly, soul-crushingly awful or anything,” Mattheo said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Theo scoffed. “Oh, come off it. Just because I don’t want to lose my best friend to some random American - ”

“You don’t want to lose her,” Ivy echoed.

Theo frowned. “Obviously not.”

Ivy leaned in slightly, voice gentler now.

“Do you ever think about her with someone else?”

Theo hesitated. His fingers curled against his knee.

Ivy tilted her head. “Do you ever imagine it?”

His mind betrayed him instantly, shaping out a scene that had yet to happen - you, laughing at someone else’s joke, standing too close to someone else, snaking your hand down to someone else's for warmth -

He shut it down. He huffed.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

"Sure, it doesn’t.”

Theo folded his arms.

“Fine. So I...like her. So what? You lot are acting like I’m going to be hopelessly lovesick with her gone.”

"Give it a week."

"Mattheo..."

"What? You know it's true."

Ivy shook her head, watching Theo’s expression closely.

“All we're saying is, you don’t have to say it’s love. But if it was, would it really be that surprising? Would it be the worst thing in the world, being in love with your best friend?”

Theo didn't know what to say. The longer he thought about it, the more horrifyingly obvious it became.

He thought about how his whole day felt off if he didn’t see you. How he understood your expressions like the back of his hand. How he noticed things about you that no one else did, like the way you drummed your fingers when you were thinking, or how you never remembered to bring a jacket, or how you always smelled like the same bloody soap.

And how his stomach twisted when he thought of you with someone that wasn't him.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Now that Theo had come to terms with it - now that he’d processed that yes, fine, maybe he was a little bit in love with you - he had a new problem.

He had no idea how to tell you.

Not for a lack of trying, bless him.

“I need to tell you something,” he said at breakfast one morning, voice entirely too serious for that time of day.

You blinked, mid-bite.

“Alright…?”

Theo inhaled. He could do this. He could so do this. He could totally be normal about this. He could.

“You should bring a raincoat.”

You frowned. “What?”

“For America,” he said quickly. “I read somewhere that Ilvermorny gets a lot of rain.”

You stared at him for a long second.

“You’re being weird.”

Theo sighed. “Forget it.”

He tried again a few days later, in the evening, when you were packing. He hovered awkwardly near your bed as you arranged your folded shirts in your trunk.

“You know,” he said, “there’s something I don’t think I’ve ever properly said to you.”

You grunted, continuing your attempt to compress a stack of shirts into the corner of your trunk. “Go on.”

Theo swallowed. His palms felt unreasonably clammy.

“I - ”

Say it. Just say it.

“I really think you should take that book on magical theory,” he blurted out instead.

Panting, you emerged from your trunk. You squinted up at him.

“Theo. I hate that book.”

“Oh. Right.”

You held out your hand. Like clockwork, Theo obliged, bending until his sticky forehead met the cool back of your hand.

"Warm, but not feverish," you concluded. He straightened. You were looking at him funny, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there another reason why you haven't been making much sense these past few days?"

Theo laughed weakly. "Sorry. Don't know what came over me."

You didn't look convinced. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Theo swallowed, a lump in his throat.

“Yeah. Great. Never been better.”

His last attempt came when you were going over your packing list one last time, just a couple of days before your departure.

“You know,” he tried again, as you tapped your quill down the list, “I’ll probably miss you.”

You looked up and gave a brief smile. Theo ached with the misery that he would be losing it soon. “I’ll miss you too.”

Emboldened, he pressed on.

“And I think, uh, you’ve been - you are… different. Special.”

You nodded, like that was a perfectly normal thing to say.

“You too.”

Theo exhaled in relief. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was -

“That’s what best friends are for, right?”

Theo froze.

A short scuffle sounded at the door. Mattheo, who had been eavesdropping, had hit his head on a particularly low beam.

“Merlin’s fucking beard.”

It was too late.

The platform was filled with a mist of steam and goodbyes. Your farewell party was only a foot away from the train doors. You were standing in front of him, hair littered with some stray confetti from your send-off, seconds away from boarding that train and leaving his life forever. Well, maybe not forever, but too long to ever recover from.

As you pulled him in for a last hug, Theo realised, this was it. This was what years of friendship was boiling down to. Did you even have any lasting impact on his life? Or years from now, would you unwillingly flit across his mind on the darkest, rainiest nights, a shadow of a memory of someone he knew way back when?

He wanted to tell you - really he did. But he had failed. It was all so frustratingly futile, wasn't it? He should’ve said something sooner. He should’ve made you understand. Now he had no one to blame but himself.

His grip on you tightened almost uncomfortably. You laughed, squirming in his hold, thinking it was one last inside joke for the two of you.

"Goodbye," he choked out. "Safe travels. Write, won't you?"

"'Course," you said. Or at least, tried to say through a mouthful of Theo's sweater.

As he finally pulled away, the words slipped from his lips

“You’ve ruined me, you know.”

The chatter on the platform seemed to quiet. All that Theo was aware of was the ceaseless churning of the crowds around you, the blood roaring in his ears and the curious little cleft that had appeared between your eyebrows. Ivy’s eyes widened. Mattheo held his breath.

You blinked.

“...what?”

"What?" Theo repeated back with an air of polite interest, feigning innocence.

"That thing you just said."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I've...I've what?"

Theo made a show of checking his watch as he stooped, reaching for your trunk. "You're going to miss your train."

To everyone's surprise, you yanked your trunk out of his reach. You stayed rooted in place, unmoving to Theo's attempts to cajole you onto the train.

"Nott, you tell me what you said right this instant or I'll - I'll cry. I swear, I'll start bawling on this platform in a minute if you don't hurry up and s-"

Theo’s stomach dropped.

"No, no, don't do that," he said hurriedly. “I - I just meant - ” He cast his eyes around frantically. Ivy and Mattheo were absolutely no help. “You’re, um. You’re different.”

You gave him a blank look. “Yeah. So?”

“No, I mean - really different.”

You nodded. “So are you.”

“No, but - you’re - ” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s - ”

“This is painful to watch,” Mattheo muttered.

Ivy ignored him. “What's it going to take for him to just say it already?”

Theo exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look you in the eye.

“You’re not just my best friend. I don't think you ever have been.”

You were silent for a moment, face impassive, as if deciding how to respond.

"Teddy, that's crazy talk."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, what's so crazy about it?"

"We're friends. This is just what friends do, it's normal."

Theo laughed. It was entirely inappropriate for the situation, and you frowning at him s=certainly wasn't but now that most of his nervous energy had evaporated, it was as though he couldn't bring himself to stop.

"No," he said, in a strained voice. "This isn't normal for friends. Trust me, I should know."

You looked unimpressed.

"'Cause," he continued, still chuckling weakly, "if we're only friends, why does this feel so world-endingly, soul-crushingly awful?"

The steely look in your eye faded.

"I mean," you mumbled, looking a lot less certain now. "You're my favourite friend. Sue me."

But even as your lips formed the words, Theo could see the realisation clouding over your eyes. You tilted your head.

"More than friends," you breathed.

Theo watched you uncertainly test how the words felt on your tongue.

"Yeah."

You shook your head.

"I can't believe you figured it out before me."

A corner of Theo's lip quirked upwards.

"Told you. I'm always one step ahead of you."

"Ivy put you up to this, didn't she?"

Theo grinned, and you responded in the same, infectious grin that he had. Your favourite, infectious grin.

"So, now what do we do?"

Theo held out his hand. You took it. It was the first time the familiar action registered as anything other than platonic in his head.

"I think," Theo said, "you have a train to catch."

[sarcasticsweetlara]

The House of the Warriors.

Wampus are very probably the most accepting of different kind of bodies and are body positive.

Also, let's remember not all wars are physical, many wampus fight mental and emotional wars

Wampus House

Ilvermorny Masterlist

(All photos were found on Pinterest)

____________________

Wampus House:

founded by Webster Boot

Represents the body

Favors Warriors

—————————

How I see Wampus Members:

They apply all their emotions into something physical like a sport

The people whose body reacts before their mind can process

The people who use their bodies to shield others

The people who crave physical affection and validation for their efforts

The people who like things based on the texture or sensory of it

Those who speak with a tone that makes you want to listen

Those who try to lead by example

People are easier defined by their actions than their words

The people who keep going because they don’t know how to stop

[ethereacals]

so american <3

CHAPTER ONE: ALL AMERICAN B####

summary: Remus grows attached to an American transfer student from Ilvermorny.

trope: idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine, slight fast burn

pairings: remus lupin x gryffindor!american!reader

pt; 1-?

contents; people make fun of readers accent, reader was a thunderbird but is now a gryffindor

wc; 1.9k

new part every friday

THE LONG AWAITED DAY HAD FINALLY ARRIVED

Ever since your mom and dad had let you know that they had gotten job offers with the british Ministry of Magic, you couldn’t wait to finally become a student at Hogwarts.

Sure— Ilvermorny had it’s specialties, but Hogwarts? Hogwarts was easily the best wizarding school in all of the world.

And that’s why you simply couldn’t wait to attend.

You had heard so many incredible things about the teachers, the castle, and even the students.

Though— the excitement wasn’t necessarily fending off the nerves.

You were coming in as a 5th year, a 5th year who had no friends, no house, and no grasp of any sort of british wizarding culture.

People had started their friendships as first years, and closed their inner circles off to outsiders looking in.

So that left you to try and find some sort of place in the world, and everything was new and scary.

Admittedly— it did feel a bit embarrassing as you sat on the boat took 1st years across the Black Lake.

You towered over them, but in this technicalities (except for age and height) you were the same as them.

As the boats neared the boathouse; your anxiety seemed to grow.

Again, you felt a bit silly standing amongst the young 1st years as Professor McGonagall explained the houses and their attributes to everyone before entering the infamous Great Hall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup.” McGonagall smiled warmly, as she answered a few questions from the 1st years with ease.

Allegedly, the ceiling was enchanted to look like a clear night sky.

You couldn’t wait to see it, Ilvermorny had nothing like that.

Back to the houses, you had always wondered what house you would be placed in— even before you attending Hogwarts was a blip on anyone’s radar.

You were a proud representative of Thunderbird back home, hopefully you would make them proud.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, with a swish of her wand— the doors to the Great Hall opened.

Revealing the four large tables, each seemingly representing a different house.

The stares and whispers that followed your arrival were nerve-wracking, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

“All right, will you wait along here, please? Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” Professor McGonagall explained, stepping aside so the 1st years could see.

Dumbledore rose from the main table in the center.

“I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce. The first years, please note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Moreover, swimming in the Black Lake is strictly prohibited unless you would like to become lunch for the giant squid who resides inside. Thank you.” Dumbledore seemed to smile softly at you— probably because he could sense your nerves.

Even people at Ilvermorny would boast about Dumbledore.

“When I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.” She began to call up 1st year after 1st year, as chatter rose over the students— seemingly chatting about who was getting placed where.

“Y/N L/N.”

When your name was called, the hall went silent.

You could nearly feel the prying eyes burning into your skin as you stepped up to the stool.

As she placed the hat down on your head, the battered old thing sprung to life.

“Ah… different from the rest, are we?” He inquired, shifting around on your head uncomfortably.

“Y-yes.. I suppose.” You stuttered quietly.

“A Thunderbird, were you? I believe I know where you go.” He began, the anticipation was thick in the air.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

He shouted, and cheers erupted throughout the room. Even McGonagall seemed pleased.

You stepped down from the stool, and towards the Gryffindor table when—

“Psst, Psst!” A ginger-haired girl called you over, a warm smile on her face as her two friends looked in your direction.

You walked towards them, and slid yourself down into the empty seat on the bench.

“You, you’re the new fifth year?” She questioned nicely.

“Yes, I am” You smiled, as her smile dropped— her eyes lighting up in surprise.

“Y—You’re american?!” Her blonde-haired friend exclaimed in bafflement, her hands slamming down on the table as food appeared on the table for the great feast.

“Umm, yes..?” You looked around at the three girls, and one of them gave you a smile.

“I’m Mary, Mary Macdonald. Since these two don’t seem to be giving you a proper introduction— This is Lily Evans, and That’s Marlene Mckinnon.” She stated simply.

“Oh, come on, Mars. I was just about to introduce myself.” Marlene rolled her eyes playfully, and gave Mary a small nudge.

“I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable, I mean— I’ve never met an American before.” Lily apologized, her smile returning to her freckle-stricken face.

“It’s alright, I understand.” You laughed, beaming at Lily.

“Well— This is my one of my boyfriends, Jame— James!”

Lily looked over at James disappointedly, as he was seemingly trying to steal from her plate.

“Sorry, my love.” James smiled guiltily, before turning his attention to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N” He shook your hand strongly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, James.”

His eyes widened comically in response to your response.

“Y—You’re american?” He whispered from across the table, as if he was asking something highly inappropriate.

You giggled, “Yes, I am.”

“Pads, Pads!” Sirius grabbed the shoulders of the boy next to him and jostled him around to get his attention.

“Merlin’s tits— What, Prongs?” Sirius sighed exasperatedly.

“Here— Y/N, say hello again.” James asked of you.

“…Hello.”

Sirius gasped rather dramatically, his eyes nearly widening the same as James’

“She’s… You’re.. not… british?” You bursted into a fit of laughter with Lily, and Sirius looked baffled.

“Wait— Wait— In America… What do you call it when two people snog?” He asked, as Lily shot him a glare.

“What does “snog” mean?” You asked innocently.

“It basically means when two people kiss feverishly.” Marlene explained, as Sirius playfully eyed you up and down.

“I could always… show you?” He joked flirtatiously, and earned a painful jab into the ribs by James.

“So, you mean making out?” You answered, still a bit confused.

“Making out? How uneducated.” Sirius huffed, turning back to this plate full of food.

Suddenly— You met the auburn eyes of a quiet, scarred, gentle giant whose skin was a lovely shade of olive, and littered with freckles.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m sorry about them.” He spoke, leaning over Mary to speak with you.

“It’s alright, I promise.” He didn’t seem very phased by your accent, but on the inside— it drove him crazy.

“My name is Remus, Remus Lupin.” He smiled gently, that smile must have been hand-picked by angels.

“It’s great to meet you, Remus.” You beamed at him.

“You aswell, Y/N”

And that was the day that Remus Lupin fell head over heels for the sweet American girl.

FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Remus throughly enjoyed watching you discover the abundance of magic in Hogwarts.

To you— it seemed like everything was new and exciting.

It felt like everything was new and exciting for him, too.

And for once, Remus actually cared about the place he had honestly been taking for granted for five long years.

Perhaps it was the way that your eyes lit up every time you happened upon an enchanted painting, or all of the questions you asked regarding the logistics behind the giant squid.

For whatever reason, Remus found you extremely intriguing.

Though, Remus vowed he would never tell you.

It would be his last wish in life to force anything upon someone as lovely as you.

So, he stayed quiet.

"Remus, I don't understand!” You sighed exasperatedly.

“What do you mean there’s a room that shifts itself into anything you require? How?” You pointed your finger at the door that had just appeared out of nowhere on a blank wall on the way to the Astronomy Tower.

“No one really knows, Dove. Sorry.” Remus cooed, patting your shoulder consolingly as he led you to Astronomy.

Remus was the only one of your newfound friends that had decided to take Astronomy this year, seeing as Sirius and James took it last year just to get it over with.

You quite enjoyed looking at Remus, admiring how his unexplainable scars were illuminated by the moonlight shining in from the large open walls.

Even in your few first days at Hogwarts, you could tell that you would grow to adore it.

You might have adored spending time with Remus even more, and you were especially in luck since Professor Sinistra assigned three hours of star-charting and you were to do the assignment in partners.

So, that's why you and Remus were up at the Astronomy Tower at 2am on a Friday (with a teachers excuse to be up past curfew).

"Do you ever miss your parents when your away at school?" You asked Remus.

He was certainly the quiet type, and that intrigued you.

"Sometimes, but I usually see them over Christmas break. I mainly write them letters after every full moon." He stated simply, before realizing what he accidentally slipped out.

"After every full moon?" You questioned, furrowing your brow as he seemed to quickly explain himself.

"It's a thing... my mum insists upon." He evaded any other questions regarding the matter, much to your chagrin.

He wished he could open up to you, but he still basically didn't know you.

He had no knowledge what-so-ever on your views on Werewolves.

He couldn't risk destroying a friendship that could eventually be the purest and most authentic he'd ever had.

Sure, James and Sirius were incredible mates, and so was Peter.

But for some unexplainable reason; Remus could speak to you.

He never felt uncomfortable with talking about his thoughts or feelings around you, and he only could hope that you felt the same.

You were both different, well- different but in two very significantly different ways. But you were still two individuals who didn't really fit in with the crowd.

"Have you missed Ilvermorny, yet?" Remus gazed towards you as you switched places. You on the telescope and him charting what you find.

"Same as you, really. Not much, even though I haven't been here for long yet. It feels a bit more... homely, than Ilvermorny ever did." You admitted, concentrating deeply on the assignment.

"I understand, It was probably an interesting change." Remus related deeply.

"An interesting one? Absolutely, but a welcomed change, for sure." You smiled, turning back to face him and explain to him what you had seen in the stars.

Oh, yes. This was the beginning of something truly beautiful.

[ldrfanatic]

this happens once every few lifetimes

mattheo riddle x reader

synopsis - reader transfers to hogwarts from ilvermorny. she and mattheo fall in love with each other at first sight.

warnings - none, i think?

listened to while writing - the alchemy by taylor swift

i have a clara bow theo one in the works right now that i'm excited to drop at some point. ngl this gif of benjamin in deadly class inspired this idea A LOT.

part two?

slytherin boys works

you waited with baited breath outside of the great hall.

any moment now the doors would swing open and albus dumbledore, who you knew only through legend, would announce your transfer to hogwarts.

it was terrifying honestly. leaving ilvermorny was indescribably difficult. but when your father got a job opportunity at the british ministry of magic, it was decided. already you were feeling overwhelmed. you'd done your research but hogwarts was much larger than ilvermorny. it was much older as well, and thus had gained a reputation over a thousand years of producing some of the greatest witches and wizards the world has ever seen.

the large magnificent doors opened and every pair of eyes was on you.

you walked forward with sweaty palms, subtly attempting to dry them on your plain, black hogwarts robes. another change. the wardrobe was much more strict here than back in america. and where every student at ilvermorny wore the same blue and gold, students at hogwarts wore colors representative of their house.

finally, you reached the end of the walkway and stood face to face with a dusty and rather ancient looking hat. to your light surprise, it spoke. a woman whom you'd met briefly beforehand, professor mcgonnagall, picked up the hat gently and motioned for you to sit on the stool.

it was time to be sorted into one of hogwarts four houses. you'd been in wampus, the house of the warrior, at ilvermorny, and despite hours of research, you couldn't distinguish what the hogwarts equivalent would be. all four houses seemed to be good choices but there was one in particular that stood out to you.

no shorter or longer than exactly fifteen seconds after the sorting hat touched your head, a declaration was made.

"slytherin!"

an older student in green robes gestured you over to the table on the far right. not wanting to sit at the very front and continue to be gawked at, you briskly walked a little further down and took a seat at the middle of the table.

once you'd taken your seat, dumbledore began to explain that hogwarts would be hosting the triwizard tournament this year. after a flashy introduction from beauxbatons and durmstrang, you effectively decided that you were not the most interesting shiny new toy at hogwarts this year and silently thanked the universe for this turn of events.

at last, it was announced that you could eat and the tables filled with food. all around you students' plates began magically creating complex dishes. there were even some dinners that held food that you were sure you couldn't see anywhere on the table.

frustrated, you stared down at your empty plate. it was a long journey to hogwarts. you were hungry and quite frankly tired of things being so different. if one more complicated situation made its appearance at this school, you were undoubtedly going to lose it.

"just think about a food you really want to eat. it can be anything."

a boy next to you with brown hair and bright blue eyes leaned over. a thick italian accent levied on his deep voice.

you closed your eyes and thought about a delicious juicy cheeseburger with golden-crisp french fries. sure enough, when you opened your eyes, your plate had filled with food.

absolutely giddy with glee, you turned to thank the mystery man.

"no problem. i'm theodore nott. this is draco malfoy next to me."

the platinum blonde boy didn't even look up to acknowledge your existence. theodore, seemingly sensing your mild displeasure, spoke up.

"don't mind him. welcome to slytherin house. riddle, say hello to our newest recruit."

the dark haired boy directly across from you who you assumed was 'riddle' did in fact look over from his conversation with a boy with a chestnut colored complexion. yet, when your eyes found his, he didn't say hello.

he didn't say anything actually. he just sort of stared. as you held eye contact, it was like lightning running through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips.

for a moment, you wondered if he'd ever seen a person before.

then, as if he'd snapped out of a daze, a gentle smile played at his lips. dark curls fell over his brown eyes that seemed to sparkle the longer you looked at them.

his large hand crept over the table until it was outstretched towards you with a kind smile.

"mattheo."

you shook his hand with a shy smile. mattheo was currently looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered. in fact, your little interaction had gone on so long that theodore and the boy mattheo had been speaking with had both strucken up conversation with other students at the table.

"y/n."

mattheo eyed your appearance. his gaze flickered across your face, then to your hair, and all over the parts of your body he could see.

"sorry if this is a little awkward, but i can't remember the last time i was this captivated by someone." mattheo finally released your hand and you had to stop yourself from begging him not to.

"welcome to slytherin house. you're in the snake's nest now, beautiful."

---

7.8.2024

[elikajinnie]

hiii I LOVED ur ni-ki hogwarts au and I wanted to request more for ni-ki in hogwarts au if that’s okay 😭😭?? I love ur writing, it’s really immersive and I’ll definitely look forward to many more of ur writings 😭🫶

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙮 𝙊𝙛 𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄𝙘𝙚 - N.R

AHH THANK UU!! I was quite unsure if you wanted part 2 from the previous one, but nahh i will give you all a new scenario :) (Big thanks to bestie @starf4lls for the help for this one!! Ily! <3 (thanks for buying me hogwarts legacy, will never forget it)

P: Slytherin!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Teasing

Synopsis: When you transfer to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny, you quickly catch the attention of Nishimura Ni-ki, a charming Slytherin.

masterlist

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement. Students filled the long, wooden tables. The Sorting Hat had just finished placing the last of the first years into their respective houses, when Professor Dumbledore stood up from his ornate chair at the staff table. He raised a hand, and the hall fell silent.

“Congratulations to all our new first years,” Dumbledore began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. “We are thrilled to have you join our Hogwarts family. But tonight, we have another special announcement. This year, we have the pleasure of welcoming a new student from one of our neighboring schools, Ilvermorny. Please join me in extending a warm welcome to Y/N.”

The massive doors at the back of the hall creaked open, and all eyes turned to see you entering, flanked by the ever-grumpy caretaker, Filch. Your plain robes set you apart from the others, and you couldn’t help but gaze around in wonder at the majestic hall, the floating candles, and the enchanted ceiling.

As you made your way to the front, the murmur of whispers followed you, a mix of curiosity and excitement. Filch gestured towards a stool where the Sorting Hat sat waiting. “Please, take a seat, Miss,” he said gruffly. You nodded, smiling nervously, and perched on the stool as Professor McGonagall approached with the Sorting Hat.

She placed the hat gently on your head, and you felt it settle over your eyes. For a moment, there was only silence, and then a voice echoed in your mind. “Ah, a transfer from Ilvermorny…interesting. Where to put you, where to put you?”

After what felt like an eternity but was merely seconds, the hat declared your house. The table erupted in cheers, and you made your way over, greeted by friendly faces and welcoming smiles.

You didn’t notice the pair of piercing eyes from the Slytherin table, watching your every move. The gaze was intense, like a predator sizing up its prey. As you took your seat among your new housemates, you felt a shiver run down your spine, unaware that someone had taken a particular interest in you from the moment you stepped into the Great Hall.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Life at Hogwarts had turned out to be both thrilling and challenging, but you adapted quickly. The first few weeks had been a whirlwind of lessons, new faces, and navigating the sprawling castle. At first glance, you might have appeared aloof, often lost in thought or daydreaming as you strolled through the corridors or took your seat in class. But in truth, you weren’t lost at all. You excelled in your studies, quickly mastering spells and absorbing knowledge at a pace that even impressed your professors. You built a tight-knit group of friends, mostly from your house but with a few from other houses as well.

Still, there were odd moments when you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. A tingling awareness would prick at the back of your neck as you walked to class or studied in the library. Yet, every time you turned to look, no one seemed to be paying you any special attention. You’d shake it off, wondering if you were just imagining things, and continue on with your day.

But today, during Charms class, that lingering feeling returned. You were sitting near the front, dutifully taking notes as Professor Flitwick explained a particularly tricky spell. As you wrote, you felt it again—that unmistakable sensation of being watched. This time, instead of turning your head sharply, you let your eyes slowly drift upward, keeping your head down and posture casual.

That’s when you saw him.

Sitting in the back row, partially obscured by a few of his Slytherin housemates, was a strikingly handsome boy. His black hair fell over the left side of his face, casting a shadow over one eye, but the other was locked on you with an intense focus that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t look away when you noticed him. In fact, he seemed amused by the fact that you had caught him staring. He tilted his head slightly, and for a brief moment, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His gaze was dark, calculating, but there was something exhilarating about having it fixed on you.

You blinked, heart racing, and quickly averted your gaze back to your notes, trying to focus on the lesson. But the curiosity gnawed at you, distracting you from the spells and incantations. With a soft hum, you scribbled a quick note in the corner of your notebook: Who’s the dark-haired Slytherin on the last row to the left?

You slid the notebook toward one of your Ravenclaw friends sitting beside you, a clever boy named Adrian. He glanced down, read your note, then discreetly lifted his gaze to the back of the class. His eyes landed on the boy before he quickly scribbled a response and slid the notebook back to you.

That’s Nishimura Riki, but he goes by Ni-ki.

You read the note and nodded lightly, casting another glance toward the back of the room. Ni-ki was still watching you, his eyes meeting yours as soon as you looked up. This time, you didn’t look away so quickly. Instead, you absently caressed the feather of your quill, feeling a rush of anticipation as his gaze lingered.

Ni-ki, huh? You thought to yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

When class ended, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. As the other students filed out of the room, you packed your things, trying to act as though your thoughts weren’t entirely preoccupied with the tall, dark-haired Slytherin.

You slipped your notebook into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Heading for the door, you kept your gaze ahead, your heart still racing slightly from the earlier encounter. As you stepped through the doorway and into the hallway, you turned to glance back, almost instinctively.

And that’s when you bumped into something solid—someone solid.

Startled, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his. It was Ni-ki, standing impossibly close, his tall frame towering over you. His presence was even more imposing now that he was right in front of you, and for a moment, you were struck speechless.

“Oh—sorry!” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks warm as you took a small step back.

Ni-ki didn’t move, but the hint of a smirk played at his lips, the same one you had seen earlier in class. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” he said, his voice smooth, rich with an underlying confidence that made your pulse quicken.

Up close, he was even more striking than you had realized. His sharp eyes were intense, framed by dark lashes that gave him an almost mysterious air. His lips, full and soft, curled slightly as he observed you, and his skin was flawless and smooth.

You blinked, trying to collect yourself, but being this close to him had thrown you off balance. He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze unwavering, as if he was reading something in you that no one else had ever seen.

“Hey you’re from Ilvermorny, right?” he asked, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah, and you're… Ni-ki?” you replied, your voice coming out steadier than you expected.

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a charming smile that made your heart skip a beat.

Just then, you remembered something. “Actually, it’s Y/n,” you corrected him gently, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

His grin widened, and he leaned in slightly, the distance between you diminishing even more. “I know,” he said playfully, his tone teasing. “But I think ‘Ilvermorny’ suits you better. It has a nice ring to it.”

Your cheeks flushed at the nickname, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re really going to call me that, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’s perfect, and it’ll remind everyone that you’re something special. Plus, it’s a good conversation starter.”

“Fine,” you conceded, a smirk playing on your lips. “But only if you promise to call me by my real name sometimes too.”

“Deal,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. “But for now, I think Ilvermorny has a nice charm to it, don’t you?”

Before you could think of how to respond, he took a small step back, giving you some space but not breaking eye contact. “I’ll see you around, Ilvermorny,” Ni-ki said, his voice smooth as ever, as he turned and began walking away, his pace unhurried.

You stood there for a moment, watching him as he disappeared down the hall. The encounter left you feeling oddly exhilarated, your heart still pounding in your chest.

As you turned to head back to your common room, one thought echoed in your mind: Ni-ki is definitely someone to keep an eye on.

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Over the next few weeks, you started noticing Ni-ki’s presence more and more. It wasn’t just in passing glances during classes anymore—he seemed to be everywhere. Whether you were heading to the library, walking down the hallway, or grabbing lunch in the Great Hall, he always found a way to cross your path. And every time, he’d stop to talk, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

At first, it was subtle. He’d give a casual “Hey, Ilvermorny” as he passed by, his eyes locking onto yours for just a second longer than necessary. Then it became more frequent. You’d feel a tap on your shoulder in the corridors, turning to find him leaning casually against the wall, looking at you with that same half-smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

He wasn’t just talking, either. He started doing little things, almost without you realizing it at first. If you were carrying a stack of books that looked too heavy, he’d take them from you with a simple, “Here, let me get that.” Once, when you were balancing your bag and a few loose scrolls of parchment after class, he slid the bag off your shoulder before you even had time to protest. “I’ll carry it,” he said smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. And he did, walking beside you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t just about being helpful either. Ni-ki had a way of complimenting you that felt almost too effortless. “You look nice today,” he’d say, his voice low and smooth as he passed by, sending a shiver down your spine. Or sometimes, when you were deep in thought or stressing over an assignment, he’d lean in close and say something like, “You’re always so focused. It’s kind of impressive.” And his words stuck with you longer than you liked to admit.

The candies were a nice touch too. Out of nowhere, he started bringing you small treats from Hogsmeade—tiny, colorful sweets that were your favorite. He never made a big deal of it, just handed them to you with a casual, “Thought you might like these,” before walking off like it was no big deal. But every time you opened your hand to find another sweet, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering just how closely he was paying attention.

Yet, there was another side to Ni-ki. You started to notice the way his eyes would darken slightly whenever another guy approached you. If a boy from your house stopped to talk with you, asking about class or inviting you to study in the library, Ni-ki’s gaze would turn sharp, though he never said a word. He didn’t have to. His presence was enough to make the others hesitate, sensing the unspoken tension.

And when you’d turn back to Ni-ki, giving him your full attention again, his expression would shift instantly—back to that smug, satisfied look, as though he’d won some unspoken battle. You found it oddly cute, the way he seemed so sure of himself, yet always with that hint of playful arrogance.

One afternoon, while you were walking out of Potions class, a Gryffindor boy from your year had caught up to you, asking about a spell you’d used during the lesson. You were explaining it when you felt that familiar gaze on you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed what you already knew—Ni-ki, standing not too far away, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable but his eyes locked on you and the boy next to you.

As soon as the Gryffindor left, Ni-ki was there, falling into step beside you. “You sure have a lot of people interested in what you have to say,” he commented, his voice smooth, but there was a teasing edge to it.

You shrugged, smiling. “Maybe I’m just that interesting.”

Ni-ki smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, I already know that.” He glanced down at you, his gaze lingering in a way that made your heart skip. “But it’s nice when you remember who’s been paying attention the longest.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond, just continued walking beside you, carrying your bag without a second thought, like he always did now. You couldn’t help but find it adorable how Ni-ki never seemed to let any other guy linger too long in your space. And the way he always seemed so smug when you gave him your attention? It made you smile, even if you tried to hide it.

Ni-ki was becoming a constant presence in your life, and though he never said it outright, it was clear that he was staking his claim, in his own subtle, confident way. And somehow, you didn’t mind it at all. In fact, you found yourself looking forward to those moments more than you would ever admit.

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It was a crisp, sunny Saturday morning when Ni-ki approached you with that familiar confident smile, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. He found you in the hallway, casually leaning against the wall as though he hadn’t sought you out deliberately, though by now, you knew better. He always had a reason for being wherever you were.

“Ilvermorny,” he said, his voice smooth as ever, “you coming to the Quidditch match today?”

You looked up from your book, raising an eyebrow. “You really expect me to cheer for Quidditch?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes narrowing in that mischievous way that made your heart race. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want you there, cheering for me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Ni-ki was relentless, and somehow, you found yourself agreeing despite the obvious conflict of interest. “Alright, I’ll come,” you said, pretending to be reluctant. “But don’t expect me to be super hyped.”

He smirked, clearly pleased. “We’ll see about that.”

Later that afternoon, you found yourself seated in the stands, wrapped in your house scarf, surrounded by your friends who were all eager to cheer. Despite their enthusiasm, your eyes kept straying to the Slytherin side of the pitch, where Ni-ki and his teammates were preparing for the match.

As Madam Hooch gathered both teams in the center of the field to go over the rules, you saw Ni-ki’s head turn, his eyes scanning the crowd. You could tell he was looking for someone—looking for you. When his gaze finally found you in the stands, his expression brightened instantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He raised an eyebrow, the unspoken question in his eyes clear: You’re really here?

You smiled and waved at him, feeling the warmth spread through your chest despite the cool breeze. Ni-ki's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with that same smug confidence, as if knowing you were watching had just made his day. He nodded once, then turned back to the game with renewed energy.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

From the moment the Quaffle was released, Ni-ki was in his element. He moved with a grace and agility that made it impossible to tear your eyes away from him. He darted through the air with incredible speed, dodging Bludgers and weaving around the other players with ease. As a Chaser, he was relentless, racking up goal after goal for Slytherin. Every time he scored, the crowd would erupt, but you couldn’t help but feel like his victories were just as much for you as they were for his team.

It wasn’t long before your friends started to notice your divided attention. “Who are you actually cheering for?” one of them teased, nudging you with a playful grin. “Your eyes have been on the Slytherin side for most of the match.”

You laughed, trying to play it off, but there was no denying it. “Maybe I’m just appreciating good Quidditch,” you replied, but the look in your eyes gave you away.

As the game went on, Ni-ki continued to dominate, his skill on full display. And every now and then, between plays, you’d catch him glancing toward the stands, searching for you again. Each time, his smirk would reappear, as if knowing you were watching him gave him even more confidence. You’d wave or give him a small nod, and he’d flash that cocky smile before diving back into the game with even more intensity.

Your friends started giving you a few suspicious looks, but they were too absorbed in the match to question it too much. And besides, it was hard not to be impressed by Ni-ki’s performance—he was a natural on the pitch, and it was clear that he knew it.

By the time the match ended, Slytherin had won, and Ni-ki was at the center of the victory celebration, his teammates patting him on the back and cheering his name. But even in the midst of the chaos, his eyes sought yours once again. And when he found you, standing and clapping in the stands, he shot you a triumphant look, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever.

You couldn’t help but smile back, shaking your head at how effortlessly he had won both the match and your attention.

As the crowd began to disperse, Ni-ki flew toward the stands, clearly intent on finding you. Your heart sped up as he approached, his hair slightly tousled from the wind and the exertion of the game, but his sharp eyes still gleaming with that playful arrogance.

“So,” he said when he finally reached you, his voice low and teasing, “did I live up to your expectations?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to think it over. “I suppose you weren’t terrible.”

He chuckled, leaning in just slightly, his eyes locked on yours. “I saw you cheering for me,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a thrill through you. “You couldn’t hide it, Y/N.”

You blushed but held his gaze. “Maybe you earned it,” you replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Ni-ki’s smirk deepened, and he straightened up, clearly pleased with himself. “Good,” he said, his tone soft but confident. “Because I expect you to be at every game from now on.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but there was no denying the excitement building inside you. “We’ll see,” you said playfully, though you already knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.

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Before you knew it, you had developed a little crush on Ni-ki. It crept up on you quietly, sneaking into your thoughts during class and fluttering in your stomach whenever he came around. And as your feelings deepened, you started to tease him back whenever you had the chance, finding joy in turning the tables on the boy who had so effortlessly captured your attention.

You quickly learned that bantering with him was just as entertaining as watching him play Quidditch. Ni-ki would lean down, getting uncomfortably close, pretending not to hear you whenever you asked him something in a crowded corridor. He would arch an eyebrow, a teasing smile dancing on his lips as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks from the closeness. You could see how much he enjoyed it, but what made it even more satisfying was the way a faint pink hue would tint his cheeks when he turned his head, as if he was trying to laugh off the effect you had on him.

One afternoon, as you sat together in the courtyard, discussing your assignments, you decided it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Ni-ki was animatedly explaining something, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. You feigned interest, letting your gaze drift as you formulated your plan.

When he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone, you took the opportunity. With a sudden tug, you grabbed his tie, pulling him down to your level. “What did you say?” you asked, your tone innocent, even as you played with the soft fabric in your hands.

Ni-ki’s eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of awe and disbelief flickering across his face. For a split second, he seemed completely speechless, caught off guard by your boldness. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he registered what had just happened. But then, as if recalling himself, he looked away, trying to appear stern but failing miserably. You caught the slight tremor in his voice when he responded, though. “You know, you’re really pushing your luck, Ilvermorny.”

You only smiled, relishing the moment as you leaned in slightly, maintaining the playful banter. “Am I? I thought you liked it when I paid attention to you,” you shot back, your heart racing at the playful challenge in your tone.

His gaze flickered back to yours, surprise still evident in his features. But then he huffed, a smile breaking through the façade. “You’re really something else, you know?” he said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

His reaction was everything you had hoped for, the way he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and amusement, his voice softening as he spoke. It was as if you had pulled back a layer, revealing a side of him that he didn’t often show to others.

“Maybe I am,” you teased, the corners of your mouth curling into a smirk. “But that’s what keeps you coming back, isn’t it?”

Ni-ki chuckled, leaning back just a fraction, his expression smug once more. “You really think you’re that special, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face. “I’m just saying, you wouldn’t want anyone else getting this kind of attention, would you?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, a look of genuine thought crossing his features before he leaned closer again, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “No, I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t tell anyone that. They might get jealous.”

The way he said it made you feel giddy, a combination of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As the weeks went by, you and Ni-ki fell into a comfortable rhythm, filled with playful banter and flirtation that seemed to grow bolder with each interaction. It became a part of your daily routine, whether you were in class, studying in the library, or wandering the Hogwarts grounds.

One chilly afternoon, you and Ni-ki decided to take a walk around the Black Lake, the air crisp and refreshing. The leaves had started to change colors, and the scenery was breathtaking. As you strolled along the water’s edge, the conversation flowed easily, with both of you exchanging light-hearted jabs.

“Bet I could skip this stone further than you,” Ni-ki challenged, picking up a smooth rock and tossing it expertly across the surface. It skipped three times before sinking.

“Please, that was barely a throw,” you laughed, picking up a stone of your own. You focused on your technique, channeling all the concentration you could muster. With a flick of your wrist, the stone flew across the water, skipping six times before finally disappearing. You turned to him triumphantly. “How’s that for a throw?”

Ni-ki feigned a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on his chest. “I am in the presence of a stone-skipping champion,” he said with a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Don’t get too cocky; you’ll never beat me,” you teased back, reveling in the thrill of competition.

Another afternoon, you found yourself in the library studying for an upcoming exam. As you sat at a table, trying to focus, you felt Ni-ki slide into the seat next to you. “Mind if I join?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Sure, as long as you’re quiet,” you replied, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I can be quiet,” he said dramatically, pressing a finger to his lips. “But only if you promise to let me steal some of your notes later.”

“Nice try,” you said, shaking your head. “You’ll have to earn those.”

For the next few minutes, you both pretended to study, though you were acutely aware of the way he kept glancing over at you, a playful smile lurking on his lips. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you looked up. “What’s so funny?”

Ni-ki leaned in closer, his voice low. “I just can’t believe you’re actually studying. It’s not like you need to, with how smart you are.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Are you trying to butter me up for my notes?”

“Maybe,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eye. “Or maybe I just genuinely enjoy watching you work. It’s kind of cute.”

You felt your heart flutter, and you struggled to maintain your composure. “Cute, huh? That’s not exactly the word I’d use to describe my study habits.”

“No, but it’s definitely how I’d describe you,” he said, his tone sincere now.

You could feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks again, but instead of shying away, you leaned in slightly, enjoying the closeness. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.”

Ni-ki chuckled softly. “Oh, I know.”

As the days turned into weeks, you found countless moments to continue your playful interactions. Whether it was competing over who could create the best potion in Professor Snape's class or seeing who could guess the most spells correctly in Charms, your friendship flourished, and the teasing evolved into something deeper.

One evening, as you both wandered through the castle after dinner, Ni-ki grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you. “Hey, I have a question for you,” he said, his tone suddenly serious.

You looked up, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes as if weighing his words. “What’s your favorite thing about Hogwarts?”

You thought for a moment, your heart racing slightly. “I’d have to say… the magic. It’s all around us, in everything we do. But you know what? The people make it even better.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting into one of playful suspicion. “Are you talking about me?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Good choice,” he replied, smirking. “Because I was going to say my favorite thing is how you make it feel less lonely here.”

You stopped, surprised by his sincerity, and for a moment, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, replaced by something more profound. But before you could respond, he playfully nudged you with his shoulder, breaking the tension. “But really, we both know I’m the best part of your Hogwarts experience.”

“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” you replied, shaking your head, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As you sat in the bustling Great Hall, the chatter of students mingling with the clinking of cutlery filled the air. Plates were piled high with food, laughter echoed around you, and you were enjoying the lively atmosphere when a flurry of movement caught your eye. The owlery was busy today; several owls swooped in and out, delivering letters and packages to their respective owners.

You watched as your owl flew in front of you, dropping a letter and a small, beautifully wrapped gift. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught them both expertly, the soft rustle of parchment against your fingertips bringing a sense of nostalgia. You recognized the wrapping immediately—it was covered in shimmering blue paper, a telltale sign of a certain someone from Ilvermorny.

You scrunched your nose in distaste, knowing exactly who had sent it. A gift from Harrison, who had developed a notorious reputation for his over-the-top romantic gestures. You set the gift aside, hoping to forget about it for now, and turned your attention to the letter.

Unfolding it, you smiled as you recognized the handwriting of your friends back at Ilvermorny. As you read through the familiar banter and inside jokes, a warm feeling spread through you. Each message carried a piece of home, reminiscing about shared memories and moments.

The letter read:

Dear Y/N, We miss you like crazy! It’s just not the same without you here, especially during the big Quidditch matches. Everyone keeps asking where you are, and we have to remind them that you’re off being a star at Hogwarts. We can’t wait to hear all about your adventures, so make sure to write back! P.S. Harrison still hasn’t gotten over you. You know how he is with those ridiculous gifts. We tried to tell him to stop, but he thinks you’ll finally notice him this way. Good luck!

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the antics of your friends. Just then, one of your housemates, Clara, leaned over, pointing her turkey leg at the gift you had set aside. “Aren’t you going to open that?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“No,” you replied, glancing at the box with mild annoyance.

“Oh well, don’t mind if I do,” she declared, snatching the present before you could stop her.

“Wait, Clara—!” you started, but it was too late. She ripped open the wrapping, revealing a heart-shaped chocolate box adorned with a delicate ribbon.

“Ooh!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. “This looks amazing!”

“I wouldn’t eat those if I were you.”

“Why not?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion as she pried the box open, the rich smell of chocolate wafting toward you.

“They probably have Amortentia in them,” you replied matter-of-factly, your expression serious.

Clara raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but skeptical. “How do you know?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Because the guy who sent that has put the potion in the treats before. I wouldn’t trust it if I were you.”

She paused, glancing at the chocolates, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, crossing your arms.

You watched as Clara set the box down, a look of mild disgust replacing her earlier enthusiasm. “Thanks for the heads up,” she said, chuckling nervously. “I was really going to eat one of those.”

“No problem,” you said, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having saved her from a potentially embarrassing situation. “Harrison’s just trying too hard to win me over.”

“Sounds like he’s got it bad,” Clara commented, glancing at the letter in your hands. “What else did your friends say?”

You chuckled, holding the letter up. “Just the usual. They miss me, and they’re trying to keep me updated on the drama back home. It’s nice to hear from them.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It started gradually—first a few letters, then more frequent parcels from Harrison, each one wrapped with a level of detail that made it clear he was still determined to win you over. Every time an owl dropped something in front of you, your frustration grew. You had hoped that your move to Hogwarts would finally make him understand that you weren’t interested, but apparently, Harrison hadn’t taken the hint. Not after countless rejections, nor after the awkward conversations where you’d tried to make it clear that you weren’t interested in him romantically.

Now, each letter and gift felt like a weight, dragging your mood down. Every time a package arrived, your heart sank. Today, in the courtyard, the annoyance had finally reached a boiling point.

Another letter had come—this time with a box of enchanted roses that sang love songs in annoying, high-pitched voices. You barely glanced at it before casting Incendio, watching the parchment curl and burn in your hand, the flames crackling as they consumed the letter. You stood there, arms crossed, muttering under your breath about how thick-headed Harrison must be.

"Another one, huh?" came a voice behind you.

You turned around quickly, startled by the voice, and found yourself face-to-face with Ni-ki. He stood there with his usual air of confidence, but you could tell something was different—there was a glint of concern in his eyes as he glanced at the charred remains of the letter in your hand.

"You’ve been doing that a lot lately," Ni-ki said, his voice low as he nodded toward the ashes. "Who keeps sending you these?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "It’s from this guy, Harrison," you admitted. "He went to Ilvermorny with me. He’s been… persistent. Really persistent. I thought moving to Hogwarts would make him stop, but he just doesn’t seem to get it."

Ni-ki’s expression shifted from casual curiosity to something more serious as he stepped closer. "How long has this been going on?"

"Years," you confessed, your voice quieter now. "He’s been sending letters and gifts for a while. I’ve turned him down so many times, but he just doesn’t listen. I thought leaving would be enough, but clearly, he doesn’t know how to take a hint."

For a moment, Ni-ki was quiet. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a hard, focused look. His sharp eyes darkened with a seriousness you weren’t used to seeing from him. “That’s not okay,” he said, his voice firm. “Has he ever done anything else besides sending letters and gifts?”

You shook your head. “No, just… this. It’s annoying more than anything. But it’s getting worse. Every time I think it’s over, he sends something else, and it’s like I can’t escape it.”

Ni-ki clenched his jaw, his hands tightening at his sides. "And you don’t want anything to do with him?"

"Not at all," you answered without hesitation. "I’ve told him that so many times, but he’s just… I don’t know. Stubborn? Or maybe he just doesn’t care. It’s like he thinks if he keeps trying, I’ll suddenly change my mind."

Ni-ki’s eyes narrowed, his protective instinct kicking in. "He’s harassing you, Y/N. That’s not stubbornness—that’s ignoring your boundaries. You shouldn’t have to deal with that."

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. You’d always seen Ni-ki as playful, and maybe a bit smug, but seeing him like this—serious and genuinely concerned—threw you off guard.

"It’s fine, Ni-ki. I’ve handled it so far," you tried to reassure him, though even as you said it, you felt the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Ni-ki shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. He was tall, and the way he looked down at you with those serious, sharp eyes made your heart race. “It’s not fine, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it alone. He’s not respecting your space, and that’s a problem.”

His protectiveness was unexpected but comforting. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, realizing that you didn’t have to keep brushing it off as something small.

“Listen,” Ni-ki continued, his voice softening but still laced with a steely edge. “If he keeps this up, you need to tell someone—McGonagall, Dumbledore, anyone. But I’ll also make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

Ni-ki smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “Let’s just say I have my ways. If he keeps trying to reach you, he’ll have me to deal with. And trust me, he won’t want that.”

You laughed lightly, though a part of you believed him. Ni-ki had always been protective, even in his teasing ways, but this felt different. He wasn’t joking—he was genuinely upset at the thought of someone bothering you. And in that moment, you realized that Ni-ki wasn’t just teasing or flirting anymore. He cared about you deeply, enough to step in and make sure you were safe.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, feeling a little overwhelmed by how much his concern meant to you. “I appreciate it.”

Ni-ki reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You’re not alone in this, okay? If you ever need anything—anything at all—you come to me.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I will.”

With one last look at the ashes of the letter on the ground, Ni-ki nodded resolutely. “Good. Because I’m not letting this Harrison guy get away with thinking he can mess with you.”

You had no idea what Ni-ki had planned after learning about Harrison’s persistent harassment. In fact, Ni-ki had been hard at work behind the scenes, determined to send a message that Harrison would finally understand.

It started with Ni-ki reaching out to your old friends from Ilvermorny. He’d always been clever, resourceful even, and after hearing everything from you, he had a plan in mind. A letter from him had made its way to your Ilvermorny friends, explaining the situation and his idea. To his surprise—and relief—they didn’t hesitate to help. They were as fed up with Harrison as you had been, and they quickly agreed to assist Ni-ki in making sure Harrison knew it was over for good.

But there was one particular evening that made Ni-ki’s plan easier to execute—though you had no idea how much you’d helped.

That night, you’d been studying in the library, trying to cram for an upcoming exam. But the weight of everything, the sleepless nights, and the stress of school had caught up with you. Without much thought, your head had gently rested on your open book, and soon after, you’d fallen fast asleep, your arms crossed on the desk.

Ni-ki had been lucky to find you in that state. He had wandered into the library to check on you, noticing you hadn’t been around for a while. When he saw you peacefully asleep, your face resting on the book, a small smile spread across his face. He didn’t hesitate to quietly grab a blanket, gently placing it over your shoulders. His movements were careful, not wanting to wake you, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching as you slept soundly.

His next move had been far more mischievous.

With a grin, Ni-ki pulled out his wand and, with a quick flick, summoned his camera from his bag. He moved in closer, leaning down beside you. His face hovered right next to yours, his lips gently brushing your cheek as he kissed you softly, snapping a picture at that very moment.

It was perfect. The picture showed Ni-ki as he kissed your cheek while you slept, completely unaware. And it was exactly what he needed to complete his plan.

Without a second thought, Ni-ki sent the photo, along with a very threatening letter, straight to Harrison. The letter was brief but left no room for misinterpretation:

Harrison, She isn’t interested and never will be. Stop sending letters, gifts, or anything else. This is your final warning. From here on out, she’s got someone looking after her. Do yourself a favor and back off, or things will get ugly.

The message was crystal clear, especially with the attached photo showing Ni-ki close to you, practically staking his claim. He knew it would rile Harrison up, but that was the point. There was no room left for Harrison to misinterpret anything now.

And after that, to your great relief, Harrison’s letters and gifts stopped. You thought, maybe, he had finally understood that you weren’t interested and had backed off. You hadn’t given much more thought to it, just grateful that the ordeal was finally over.

It wasn’t until you found yourself in the owlery one quiet afternoon that you learned the full truth. A letter had arrived from one of your friends at Ilvermorny. You smiled, opening it with excitement, eager to hear from them. But as you read the letter, your eyes widened in shock.

Dear Y/N, Hey! We heard about what Ni-ki did. That guy really knows how to handle things, huh? Harrison needed that wake-up call, and we were more than happy to help Ni-ki out. We're so glad you're not getting any more of those creepy letters. You deserve to enjoy your time at Hogwarts without that hanging over you. By the way, you looked adorable in that photo he sent. Ni-ki’s a keeper, just saying! Take care, and write back soon! Love, your friends.

You stared at the letter, your mouth slightly open in disbelief. Ni-ki had done what?

As you stood there, shocked, two photos slipped out of the envelope and fluttered to the ground. Bending down, you picked them up and examined the first one. It was a picture of Harrison sulking in class, his shoulders slouched and his expression defeated. You breathed out a sigh of relief—he had finally gotten the message. But when you turned your attention to the second picture, your heart skipped a beat.

The photo showed Ni-ki in the library, leaning down and kissing your cheek while you were fast asleep. Your fingers instinctively went to your cheek, where he had kissed you.

"Oh," you whispered to yourself, still processing the moment.

"Hey, Ilvermorny!" a familiar voice called from behind you.

You jumped, startled, and quickly turned to see Ni-ki standing at the entrance of the Owlery, a relaxed smile on his face. He must have just arrived, but his sharp eyes immediately noticed your expression—and the photos you were holding. As he approached, he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"What’ve you got there?" he asked, though the smirk on his face told you he already knew.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your mind was still reeling from the image of him kissing your cheek. Ni-ki glanced down at the photos in your hand and chuckled.

"Guess he finally realized," Ni-ki said with a grin, nodding toward the first picture of Harrison. Then his gaze shifted to the second one, and his smirk softened into something more playful. "Ah, so you saw that one too, huh?"

You stood there, frozen for a second, your heart racing. "You… you kissed me while I was asleep?"

Ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his neck casually. "Couldn’t resist. You looked too cute, and, well… I figured Harrison needed a clear message." He winked, his tone teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his words.

"And what if I had woken up?" you asked, trying to sound stern but failing as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Then I would’ve played it off and told you it was a dream," Ni-ki replied smoothly, his smirk growing wider. "But you didn’t wake up, so… I guess you’ll have to take my word for it."

You shook your head, half-amused and half-exasperated. "You're unbelievable."

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, stepping closer until he was right in front of you, his gaze warm but mischievous.

"No," you admitted quietly, unable to keep from smiling. "It's not."

Ni-ki’s eyes sparkled, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging in the balance.

"So," he said after a beat, his voice softening. "No more letters from him, huh?"

"Yeah, no more letters," you confirmed, feeling the weight of that relief settle in. "Thanks to you."

Ni-ki shrugged, his grin turning softer. "I told you I’d handle it. And honestly? I’d do it again."

"Well," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "Next time you want to kiss me, maybe let me be awake for it?"

Ni-ki’s eyes widened in surprise at your bold comment, clearly caught off guard. His usual confident smirk faltered as he stared at you, the realization of your words settling in. Slowly, a blush crept up his neck, spreading to his cheeks and even the tips of his ears. You watched in amusement as the typically smug Slytherin boy, always so composed and quick with his teasing remarks, suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

Sensing his flustered state, you decided to push further. With a mischievous smile, you reached out and grabbed his green tie, giving it a gentle tug. He didn’t resist, allowing you to pull him down until his face was close to yours again. The tie twisted around your hand as you toyed with it.

You glanced up at him, your other hand moving to brush his dark hair aside, revealing more of his sharp, handsome features. His breath hitched slightly at your touch, his eyes locked on yours, completely entranced. His gaze softened, and you could swear that if hearts could literally appear in someone’s eyes, they would be in Ni-ki’s right now. He was utterly, completely captivated by you.

"You know," you began, your voice teasing as you let your hand slide down from his hair to his broad chest, your fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his robes, "for someone who's always teasing me, you sure do get quiet when the tables are turned."

Ni-ki swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure. But the blush deepened on his face, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to respond, only for no words to come out. You could feel the tension between you two building, his gaze never leaving your lips as he remained perfectly still, letting you take the lead.

"You look so cute like this," you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in just slightly, your lips hovering near his ear, "I didn’t think I’d ever see you blush, Ni-ki."

His breath hitched again, and you noticed his hands twitch at his sides, clearly resisting the urge to pull you closer. He was melting at your every word, at your every touch. You could feel it in the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world he cared to focus on right now.

"I—" Ni-ki finally tried to speak, but his voice came out shakier than you’d ever heard it. His usual cocky demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a boy who was hopelessly wrapped around your finger.

"What’s the matter, Ni-ki? Cat got your tongue?" you teased, your grin growing wider.

Ni-ki let out a shaky breath, finally regaining enough of his composure to smirk, albeit weakly. "You really like testing me, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, though the blush on his face betrayed just how affected he still was.

You shrugged innocently, your hand still resting against his chest. "Maybe. You make it so easy."

He let out a soft laugh, finally reaching up to gently take hold of your hand that had been toying with his tie. He brought it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I think you’re the one who’s going to be trouble," he said, his voice soft but filled with warmth, his blush still faint on his cheeks as he smiled at you. "But I wouldn’t have it any other way."

He then leaned in even closer, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Your breath hitched, and almost instinctively, you bit down on your bottom lip, unsure of where this was heading. The playful banter that had filled the air moments ago dissolved into something much heavier, more intense.

Ni-ki's eyes lingered on your lips, and for a brief moment, the entire world seemed to fall away. The distant hoots of owls and the rustling of wings around you faded into silence, leaving only the sound of your breathing and his. His proximity sent a thrill through you, and you swallowed hard, suddenly feeling nervous under his intense gaze.

"Please..." Ni-ki whispered, his voice low and breathy, barely audible but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You blinked up at him, feeling your chest tighten with anticipation. "Yes," you murmured, the word slipping out without a second thought.

That was all it took.

In an instant, Ni-ki’s hand came up to cradle your cheek, his fingers soft and warm against your skin. Then, before you could process it, his lips were on yours, soft yet firm, capturing you in a kiss that sent a shock of electricity through your entire body. The world seemed to stop for that moment as you melted into him, your heart racing as if it could burst from your chest.

His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded instinctively, letting go of his tie and slipping your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, slow and intoxicating, like it was something the two of you had been waiting for all along.

Ni-ki kissed you as though he’d been holding back for ages, his lips moving gently against yours, exploring, savoring. The intensity of the moment took your breath away, and you found yourself completely lost in him, every sense heightened as his scent, his warmth, and the soft press of his lips consumed you.

When he finally pulled away, you both stood there, faces inches apart, breathing heavily, neither of you speaking right away. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"That was…" Ni-ki began, but he trailed off, his voice catching slightly.

"Yeah," you whispered, not needing him to finish. You knew exactly what he meant.

He brushed his thumb lightly across your cheek, his gaze lingering on your lips once more before he smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

"I’ve been wanting to do that for a while," Ni-ki admitted, his voice low and rough with emotion.

You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Me too."

He chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with that familiar playful glint. "Guess I should thank Harrison for pushing me to finally make a move, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help laughing along with him. "Yeah, maybe. But don’t tell him that."

Ni-ki grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. "Trust me, I won’t."

Just then, a loud hoot echoed through the Owlery, breaking the enchanting atmosphere between you and Ni-ki. You both turned around to see your snow-white owl, Yuki, perched on a wooden beam above you, her feathers fluffed up as if she were trying to make herself appear larger.

The way she stared at you both, with those big, knowing eyes, made you feel like she was judging the situation. You swore that if an owl could look smug, Yuki would have been the picture of it.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, breaking the tension as he glanced at your owl. "I think she approves," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he straightened up, brushing off the lingering awkwardness.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh as you crossed your arms, looking up at Yuki. "Oh, don’t you start too," you said, feigning exasperation. "I already have enough pressure without you acting like my guardian."

Yuki hooted again, her head tilting slightly, as if she understood every word. It was almost as if she was telling you to go for it, to embrace the moment with Ni-ki.

“Seriously, though,” Ni-ki said, taking a step back, still chuckling at your owl’s antics. “Is she always this judgmental?”

You nodded, still laughing. “Every time I try to have a moment, she swoops in. It’s like she’s a personal bodyguard or something.”

“Maybe she just knows you deserve the best,” Ni-ki teased, a hint of admiration in his voice as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I think she’s just trying to make sure I’m good enough for you.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, she has pretty high standards, so you better step up your game, Ni-ki.”

He smirked, the playful spark returning to his eyes. “Challenge accepted. I’m up for anything if it means keeping her happy.”

“Good luck with that,” you replied, shaking your head playfully. “She’s not easily impressed.”

Just then, Yuki fluttered down from her perch and landed on your shoulder, nuzzling her head against your cheek. You laughed at her affectionate gesture, and Ni-ki watched the interaction, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Looks like you have a wingwoman,” he said, his gaze shifting between you and the owl.

You smiled, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “Or a winged guardian,” you corrected, running your fingers gently over Yuki’s soft feathers. “Either way, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sneak around with her watching.”

“Good,” Ni-ki replied, stepping closer again, his gaze earnest. “I’d rather have her around to keep an eye on things anyway.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the earlier tension bubbling back up between you two, even with Yuki perched there. The way he looked at you now, a mixture of admiration and mischief.

“Looks like you’ll have to share me with Yuki,” you teased, nudging Ni-ki playfully with your shoulder.

He laughed, the sound warm and inviting. “I don’t mind sharing, as long as I get my time with you too.”

[winnie1emon]

“I’m a man now”

lorenzo berkshire x american!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 1.3k

cw: mdni!! kind of childhood friends to lovers, sort of rekindling, cursing, heavy makeout, sexual language, tiniest bit of fluff (?)

an: lowkey not proofread since I did this instead of sleeping, first piece of work on this blog, title may or may not be a play on louis’ role in enola holmes haha

As sweat began to bead on your forehead, you shielded your eyes from the raging sun, watching the ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour melt in your hand. In your other hand, were bags of books, a new set of robes, and a brand new cauldron for you to start your final year of education but first school year at Hogwarts after having transferred from Ilvermorny. 

You turned your head to look behind yourself, seeing your mom chatting animatedly with her friend who you know to be Mrs. Berkshire. You remembered her obscurely from the summers she would spend in America when you were younger, bringing along her son– Lorenzo.

Lorenzo was walking beside his mother, casually eating his ice cream without a care in the world. You used to spend time with him as kids in the summer, but it had been about 5 years and you definitely had suspicions about his newfound personality. Despite your mother's insistence on you rekindling your friendship with the seemingly sweet Lorenzo, you spent most of the afternoon purposefully walking ahead of him or trailing slowly behind him. Stopping at a trashcan to wipe your hands with a tissue and throw away the remainder of your ice cream cone, you’re startled when your mother suddenly speaks to you. 

“Got everything you need?” She asks, placing a hand on your back. Regaining your breath, you turned to her, wiping off a bit of sweat on your forehead. 

“Yeah, mom, scared me. Can we go now? It’s terrible out here,” you complained, squinting at the sun. You looked around the bustling environment of Diagon Alley and saw Lorenzo staring at you from the corner of your eye. He stood there, tall and handsome, the sun hitting him in all the right ways. You shut your eyes for a second before opening them back up at your mom in an attempt to distract yourselves from his appearance. 

“Mhm, we’re going to stop by the Leaky Cauldron first though, Lorenzo’s hungry,” she told you. Noticing the hesitant nod you gave her, she added, “Y/n.. you guys used to be such great little friends, why don’t you sit beside him once we sit down to eat?” A slight frown formed on your face as you mumbled a small sure and began to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron with your mom, Lorenzo and his mother following behind. 

As the four of you entered the pub, your mother sat beside Lorenzo’s, giving you a knowing smile. You dubiously took the seat beside Lorenzo, averting your gaze, determined to stare at your mother’s eyebrows and zone out. You’re brought back to reality as Mrs. Berkshire orders. “Three butterbeers and a, uh hot tea for me please,” she smiled at the waiter. The moment the waiter left, you realized it would be the most awkward wait ever, so you excused yourself.

“Just going to use the bathroom real quick.” 

You entered the small, dingy bathroom that was dimmed, noticing the lack of foot space. You looked in the mirror, dabbing off a bit of the extra sweat you had from outside off your chest with some toilet paper. You reached down to your low-rise jeans, fishing your lipgloss out of your pocket. Reapplying the lipgloss, you saw the door open behind you through the mirror and flinched, turning around immediately, hands behind you, resting on the sink. “Holy shit! Who the fuck..” you huffed out, holding your hand to your heart. “Lorenzo. Why would you–?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Mhm, coming into the bathroom unannounced; a sure way to lull someone into comfort,” you retorted. “Wh-what are you even doing here?” You furrowed your brows in confusion, staring at his face. 

“You know,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Just wanted to see why you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” you asked incredulously. “There’s no reason for me to avoid you,” you added defensively. “What, you thought I was too scared to talk to you this whole time?”

“Look, there’s no,” he scoffed. “--there’s no need to lie,” he grinned, stepping closer, and you could almost convince yourself that he gazed at the sweat glistening on your chest momentarily. “You don’t have to tell me, it’s fine.” You furrowed your brows from his change of heart and said nothing. “So,” he exhaled. “What have you been up to?"

“Nothing really… bit bummed I had to move, but it’s whatever now,” you shrugged, grateful for the change in direction. “You?” 

“Yeah same, nothing too. Why don’t you like it here?” Lorenzo asked. 

“Dunno… seems a bit boring here. Plus all the guys I’ve seen so far– they seem so immature. The amount of yelling I heard in Flourish and Blotts; insanity.,” you groaned. “They’re all just little boys to me honestly.” Your eyes darted around the bathroom, pursing your lips slightly. 

“Pfft, yeah. I get what you mean, some of them are horrible.”

“They were like you when you used to come over to America,” you teased, a small smile forming on your face. “A complete twit as you people call it.”

“Please,” he sighed. “I’m a man now.”

“Mmm, uh huh,” you nodded hesitantly. The mood somehow shifted, the air becoming palpable. “I’m sure you are.” You gave him half a smile, teasingly. To your surprise, Lorenzo stepped forward, taking one of your hands into both of his and looked into your eyes.

“Missed you.” He said that so casually, the words coming out of his mouth like he had been itching to say those words for an eternity. Taken aback by the change of tone, you paused for a few seconds before saying,

“I missed you too. You’re quite handsome now; did you know?"

Lorenzo placed a hand on your jaw, lightly rubbing it. “Y’think so? Cause you’re not so bad yourself.” Your lips parted slightly, but no sound came out of your mouth. His eyes darted around your face, from your eyes, to your lips, even to your flushing cheeks. 

“Lorenzo?” You asked, receiving a quiet hm from him in return. “What are you doing?” you asked, unable to contain a giddy grin. 

“I mean, I think I’m about to kiss you, but I’m not entirely sure,” he answered cheekily. 

“Oh, just do it you absolute twat,” you sighed.

 And that he did. Lorenzo met your lips with his own, his hand snaking around your back. The kisses, at first, were light, you guys pulling away every so often to catch your breaths before he started to kiss you sloppily with increased fervor.

His hands trailed from your back, one resting on your waist, the other reaching down to your ass. You let out a small gasp in surprise, biting your lips to suppress a moan as he reeled you closer to him, grasping at your ass. Pulling your lips away from his, forehead to forehead, he met your surprised look with a coy smile before grazing your swollen lips once more, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

As he pushed your back into the sink, you pulled away, both of your breathing ragged, some stray strands of hair sticking to your face. “Hey…” you exhaled out. “Don’t you think our moms are getting suspicious since we’re taking so long?” You gave him a dazed look, wiping off the excess lipgloss from his lips with your thumb.

“Nah, I told them I was going upstairs to see a friend who’s staying here,” he said, his body still yearning for your touch. 

“Well, what about me?” you questioned. ‘Wh-what will I say?” 

“Just say you blew up the toilet or something…” he teased, his face still tinged with a rosy hue. “I’m kidding, I’m very mature.”

You bit back a giggle, rolling your eyes. “You’re really not, you are making me enjoy my move much, much more.”

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[obsidianpen]

A deleted scene from Blood and Gold (would fit into chapter 74, The Storm)

—

Victory was cold, stagnant, and silent.

The great halls of Ilvermorny were empty; it was July, and so no students nor faculty filled it with the life that would come about in the Fall. It was only he, Lord Voldemort, gracing the castle with his presence today… and what a castle it was.

Immediately evident in that it was based on Hogwarts. The founder—Isolt Sayre—may never have stepped foot in Hogwarts, but she clearly knew its history, and had heard about its unique characteristics. There was a corridor that shifted depending on the day of the week. A few of the staircases moved. The common rooms for the houses were in towers, dungeons, and one was very near to the kitchens. 

There was no secret chamber, though… unless it was a very secret indeed.

All in due time, Voldemort reminded himself. The castle was his, now. The MACUSA itself was his. 

On knees that had been forced to bend, bloodied and raw, unwilling, and—

No. He could not focus on that. He had won, however brutally, however many had needed to die in the process. North America was once more under the heel of Britain, where it rightfully belonged… and it would stay there. 

This generation would be ugly. They would fight with tooth and nail to defy him however they could, and he and his strategically placed followers would bite back, brandishing the whip of the Ministry’s power… 

The best generation would inherit some of this conflict…

Ah, but the next generation, and the one after. Someday, these growing pains would fade, and he would still be there. 

Voldemort was eternal… and he was patient.

So patient.

Where is she?

He had taken her supposed school with catastrophic force; had killed Liam Wright, had killed Lester Madison, had overtaken an entire magical government—!

And still she hid.

Not forever. Not…

He thought he heard something—the slightest rustle behind him in the Great Hall. There was nothing there. A rat, perhaps, or even his own wild imagination. 

And yet he looked for her.

Every time. Like she might appear at any moment, ready to fight him, kill him, or surrender. He didn’t know. He didn’t care, really, so long as she appeared.

She never did.

Voldemort scowled, hating how quick he was to allow hope to swell in his heart, at any opportunity. She would come… someday. He just needed to drive her out. 

Ilvermorny… wasn’t enough.

Why would it be? She had never been here. It, like most of her, was a lie. 

He would just have to do better.

Curious, Voldemort returned to the entryway. The Gordian Knot engraved on the marble floor was intricate, and he allowed his eyes to follow its looping pathways for a time before looking up. He examined each of the wooden statues in turn: the Thunderbird, the Wompus, the Horned Serpent, the Pukwudgie. 

Well. Why not?

He moved slowly, not stopping until he was standing directly in the center of the round enclosure. He waited.

After a long pause, just as he was beginning to think the school would not sort a wizard who was clearly no student, a light shone. The Horned Serpent. The crystal on its head was glowing brilliantly. 

Then, before he could react in any way, the Wompus let out a deafening roar. And a moment after that, the Thunderbird came to life, beating its wings in the air.

Voldemort turned to face the Pukwudgie. The small, house-elf like creature made of wood stared at him blankly. 

It didn’t move. Its arrow remained at its side in its tightly furled fist.

Voldemort’s heart began to pound. Her voice, clear as the purest water, filled his mind.

As it happens, I was a rarity. More than one house wanted me. Three, in fact. All but the Pukwudgie. I suppose my heart wasn't pure enough for that little creature to be interested…

Voldemort was screaming and pulling out his wand before he had given his body permission to act. He slashed the Deathstick, fury bursting out of him, turning the wooden statue of the Pukwudgie to ashes in a flash of violent magic. The debris tainted the air as he fell to his knees, still crying out, shattered to learn that her lie had become his truth. 

[raven-dor]

so it goes

in which fred weasley the second finds himself completely enamored with his sworn… enemy?

PAIRING: fred weasley ii x ravenclaw!reader, fred weasley ii x fem!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, blood purist beliefs, obliviousness, slight angst, PURE FLUFF HONESTLY

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

🎶 : so it goes - taylor swift

AN: 🩵💛💗 - i love this fic so so much, hope you enjoy!!

first year

“So…” Fred started off, interrupting the silence that encompassed them. “What house are you hoping for?” 

“Ravenclaw.” The girl said quickly.

The young boy’s face contorted. “Why Ravenclaw?” 

“Why not?” She snapped. “Ravenclaw is for the best and brightest, and I would like to be the best.” Her posture straightened as she waited to be called. The Sorting Ceremony made her very anxious, and this pestering boy wasn’t helping.  

“But- But why not Gryffindor or even-” Blimey, he couldn't believe he was saying this. “Slytherin?” 

“Both good houses.” She nodded. “Just not what I want.” 

“What house were your parents in?” 

“My-” She seemed to crawl back in her shell. “My parents didn’t attend.” 

“Ah. Dumstrang and Beauxbatons then.” She shook her head. “Ilvermorny?” 

“I- I’m a muggleborn.” 

“Well-” Fred grinned, nudging her arm. “That’s bloody brilliant.” 

She smiled, looking at him curiously. “Really?” 

“My Aunt Hermione is a muggleborn, and I reckon she’s brighter than everyone in my family combined.” He paused. “I’ve just realized I never asked for your name. Fred Weasley.” He extended his hand. 

She hesitantly shook his hand. “Y/N Y/L/N. You’re related to the Minister of Magic?” 

He grinned. “I am, yeah.” Kissing the back of her hand, he winked just like his father had taught him. “Charmed.” 

To that, Y/N rolled her eyes, shoving him away as she pushed further into the crowd. James nudged his cousin. “What was that all about?” 

Fred grinned, still watching her walk away. “I think I’m in love, Jamesie.” 

third year

“Fred Weasley, put that boy down right this instant!” 

Fred grinned, lowering the bully until he was a few inches above the ground. “I thought I recognized those dulcet tones, Y/L/N.” 

“What has he done to deserve this?” She crossed her arms, glaring. “Hm?” She looked at James, trying to reason with him. “James, you’re the level headed one. Was this really worth it?” 

Fred whipped around, signaling at his cousin not to tell her, but James ignored him, nodding. “I would say so.” 

The boy was still fluttering around in the air, and Y/N sighed. “Fred, put him down.” 

“He-” The third year was practically fuming. “He’s despicable. Why should I?” 

“What exactly did he-” 

James walked over, whispering in her ear. “He called you a- a mudblood, Y/L/N. Fred told him to stop it, and the tosser didn’t listen.” 

Y/N nodded, looking back at Fred. “So you decided to levitate him in the air?” 

“I was going to drop him.” Fred muttered. “But then you came along.” 

“Let him go, Fred.” She said once more. “You can’t bully him into changing.” She walked over, standing in front of the pair. “If you're raised in an environment like that, it’s all you know.” 

Rosier scoffed, dusting his robes off as he stood. “You have no idea-” 

Fred stood between them. “It’s probably best if you leave, mate. Before Y/L/N changes her mind.” 

Rosier stalked away, mumbling about how he was going to pay for this, but they hadn’t paid attention. Y/N scoffed. “I can’t believe you did that.” 

“What? Defend your honor? Defend muggleborns?” He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I will always-” 

“Fred.” She crossed her arms. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you can.” He grinned. “But why can’t I help?” 

“You-” She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a Gryffindor, Weasley.” 

He yelled after her, laughing as she walked away. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” She yelled back, trying not to smile. “It is!” 

fifth year

James groaned, hitting his head against the library table. “Just apologize, Freddie. I’m tired of this. I haven’t seen Y/L/N in weeks, and I’m getting bored of you.” 

Fred gasped, holding a hand to his heart. “You wound me Jamie.” 

Roxanne interrupted, looking at her brother suspiciously. “What exactly did you do to deserve this?” 

“What did I do?” Fred rolled his eyes, looking at his textbook. “Why do you assume it was my fault?” 

“Fred.” James lifted his head. “Everyone knows it was your fault. You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Done what exactly?” Fred raised an eyebrow. “All I did was ask Scamander out.” 

“Which would have been fine. If you hadn’t asked her out in front of Y/N right after you’d been in an argument.” 

Roxanne turned back to her brother, shaking her head. “Oh, Freddie.” 

“What!” He raised his hands up in surrender. “What exactly is wrong about that?” 

“You two have been dancing around your feelings for five years, and then you ask out another girl in front of her?” She laughed. “I’d avoid you too.” 

James nodded. “Poor Y/N/N. I imagine the whole school is-” His eyes widened. 

“What?” Fred leaned forward. “Are you alright, Jamie?” 

“She’s-” James pointed. “She’s right behind you.” 

Fred turned around, trying not to wince at the awkwardness of it all. “Y/N.” 

“Weasley.” She spat his name out, like it was poison in her mouth. “I was just leaving.” 

“Wait-” Fred pulled out a chair. “Sit with us.” 

She shook her head, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to upset your girlfriend.” Looking at James and Roxanne, she waved quickly. “I’ll see you in DADA.” 

Fred stood up, immediately following after her. “Y/N/N, come on.” 

She kept walking, pushing past students to get away from him. “Leave me alone, Fred.” 

“Just-” He reached out, grabbing her wrist. She stopped, students filtering around them, muttering to their friends curiously. The whole school knew about them, thriving off of any gossip they could get. Her breath caught, staring at him with wide eyes. “Just wait.” 

“Fred…” She whispered. “Let go, people are looking.”

“I don’t care.” He whispered back.  

“Is there a problem here?” Y/N pulled away, staring at the ground as Headmistress McGonagall approached.

Fred shook his head, grinning. “Not at all, Minnie.”

“Ms. Y/L/N?” McGonagall turned to the Ravenclaw. “Anything to add?” 

“I think Fred said it best.” Y/N smiled weakly.

The Headmistress crossed her arms, staring knowingly. “Very well.” The three stood there for a moment before she clapped her hands. “Off you go then.” 

Y/N nodded, stalking off, Fred hot on her track. “Well wait just a moment.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She hissed, still trying to outrun him. 

“I-” He huffed, heart clenching. He’d never gone this long without her attention. Granted, this was all his fault, but if he had to go on like this any longer, he would combust. “I’m sorry. I really am.” 

That had stopped her in her tracks, Fred running into her back from the sudden halt. She turned around slowly, a curious look on her face. “Why exactly are you sorry?” 

“Well…” His cheeks turned bright red. Was she really making him spell it out? “For asking Scamander out.” 

She blushed. “Just- don’t do that again, please.” 

He nodded (in quite an over the top manner if you had asked her.) “Consider it done.” Swinging an arm over her shoulders, he dragged her toward the library. “James missed you. Says that he’s bored of me.” He scoffed. “Don’t know why, I’m quite the delight.” 

Y/N laughed, finding comfort in his hold. “You’re terribly unaware, Weasley.” 

the summer before sixth year

“Fred!” Y/N’s voice echoed from the top of the Burrow. “When I-” She sprinted down the steps as fast as her legs could take her. “I swear-” 

“Relax, love.” His voice rang throughout the hall, coming to a clear when she reached the bottom of the steps. “It was only a joke.” 

“A joke?” She huffed, squeezing her shirt to rinse out the water. “I was sleeping you git!” 

“I know.” He laughed. “We could hear your snoring echo through the house.” 

She gasped, smacking his chest indignantly. “Fred Weasley!” 

“Yes?” He wasn’t deterred by her squawking. “I’m right here love, no need to shout.” 

She rolled her eyes, shoving past him and sitting down at the table. Hermione laughed, shaking her head ever so slightly. With a wave of her wand, she dried Y/N off, scolding her nephew half heartedly. “You are just like your father.” 

George glared at his sister in law. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Ruffling his son’s hair, he sat beside him. “Never a dull moment.” 

Y/N grumbled, shoving a bite of pancakes into her mouth. “Sometimes I wish there was.” 

Fred grasped his heart. “Why would you-” 

Y/N glared at the boy. “Stop. Talking.” 

James laughed, leaning forward and whispering as if his entire family couldn’t still hear him. “Trouble in paradise, Y/L/N?” 

The table quieted down, the entire family either staring at Fred or Y/N, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. She leaned forward in her chair, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Fred grinned brightly, nodding along. “Our relationship is none of your business, Potter.” 

“Relationship?” Y/N laughed. “In your dreams, Weasley.” 

Fred faltered, his eyes training on her for a second too long. “Yeah… in my dreams.” 

sixth year

“Weasley…” Y/N shook her head. “Put him down.” 

Fred rolled his eyes, ignoring her. “You know what he did, why are you defending him?” 

“I’m a prefect, Fred. It’s my job.” She walked up, jutting her hip. “Now put him down.” 

Rosier shook in the hold of the spell, hissing. “Don’t lend me any of your help mudblo-” 

“Silencio.” Y/N pulled out her wand. “Put Rosier down, Fred, and I won’t tell your prefect about this.” 

Fred smirked, leaning closer. “You wouldn’t have told her anyhow.” 

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” Without another word, she turned around, walking away from the crowd of people. Fred let Rosier drop to the ground haphazardly, following after her like a lost puppy. “Any plans for the day?” 

She blushed. “Actually-” 

Fred scoffed, his heart dropping into his stomach. “Don’t tell me you're going out with him.” 

“He has a name Fred.” She whispered, refusing to make eye contact. “Frank’s kind.” 

“He is.” Fred nodded. “But he’s- he’s not what you want, is he?” 

She stopped, turning toward him. “And what exactly do I want?” 

“You-” He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. She was so beautiful in this light, with that fire in her eyes, begging him to dig a deeper hole. “You know.” 

“I don’t actually.” She whispered. “Come find me when you find out.” 

“He’s been staring at you for the past hour.” Frank Longbottom was not one to lose his patience, in fact he still hadn’t, but someone staring at his date had driven him close. “Are you sure it’s not-” 

Y/N nodded. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure he’ll stop.” 

Frank muttered. “I just think it’s odd that your friend is…” He sighed. “Well he’s left.” 

She whipped around, staring at his disappearing figure. “Oh.” 

“Go after him.” 

Her cheeks were bright red. “What?” 

He took a long drink of his butterbeer, repeating himself. “You like Weasley. Go after him.” 

“I-” She shook her head. “I really don’t.” 

Frank groaned. “Everyone knows it. I just don’t know why I hadn’t seen it.” He stood up, grabbing his coat. “You two are made for each other.” 

Y/N ran after him, pulling her sweater closer to her. Rowena, she should’ve grabbed her jumper. “Frank, I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize. Just-” He half laughed and half scoffed. “Just swear to me you’ll talk to him.” 

She felt conflicted. Horrible for making Frank feel so awful, and rather annoyed with Fred for ruining her date. “I- I will.” 

He nodded. “Good. Well…” He took a step back, waving. “See you.” 

She stared at Frank’s disappearing figure, lost in her mind. So lost, she hadn’t even heard Fred approach her. “Are you alright, Y/L/N?” 

She scoffed. “Fine, thanks.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Did Longbottom-” 

“No.” She laughed. “Nothing happened.” 

He squinted. “You sound disappointed.” 

“Well…” She turned to face him, glaring. “You would too if your date was ruined.” 

“What-” His eyes widened. “Oh. Sorry.” 

She crossed her arms, her teeth chattering. “It’s fine, really.” 

“You’re- You’re shivering.” Fred stepped forward, draping his coat over her shoulders before she could protest. “Did you even bring a jumper?” 

“I left it.” 

“You left it at Hogwarts? You know, just because you’re a witch-” 

She hadn’t the heart to correct him, instead she opted to watch him endlessly worry over her wellbeing. He looked genuinely concerned, which made her oddly happy, smiling like a lovesick puppy as he draped an arm over her and guided her back towards the Three Broomsticks.

seventh year

“Where is she?” Fred yelled, racing down the hall. “Where is she!” 

The hospital wing’s doors burst open, a livid Madam Pomfrey on the other side, steam practically hissing out of her ears. “Cease your yelling this instant!” He opened his mouth, but Madam Pomfrey raised a finger, effectively silencing him. “She is sleeping.” 

“What-” He was shaking. “What happened?” 

“A duel… I’ve been told Ms.Y/L/N gave him the option to stand down and he- the student used her moment of kindness against her.”

“I-” He scoffed. “Why would she…” He looked back at Madam Pomfrey. “Will-” 

“The effects of the healing drought should be wearing off soon.” The older witch nodded. “Would you-” 

Fred nodded, following after her until they stopped at the end of Y/N’s bed. He laughed, shaking his head. “Godric Y/L/N.” He sat beside her, holding her hand in his. “Why did you have to be so reckless? You should have-” He rubbed the back of her hand gently, sighing to himself. “I should have been there. But don’t worry, I’m here now. I’ll be here until you wake up, promise.” Staring at her for a few more moments, he leaned down to kiss her temple lightly before leaning back in his chair and falling asleep, their hands still intertwined. 

“Fred?” Y/N nudged his sleeping frame. He hadn’t stirred, and she smiled at his peaceful expression. Her hand was warm, and she looked down to see their hands locked together. Not that she minded, she let it continue as she tried to wake him up. “Love?” 

He stirred, whining in his sleep. “One more minute mum.” 

“I’m not your mum.” She whispered, giggling. “Did you really sleep here all night?” 

He smirked, opening his eyes slowly. “Did you really challenge Rosier to a duel?” 

“He challenged me, actually. Not that it matters. I lost.” 

“That’s what you're worried about?” He laughed. “He could have seriously hurt you, and all you’re worried about is your honor.” He shook his head lovingly. “That’s quite a Gryffindor thing to do.” 

She gasped, smacking his arm lightly. “You take that back!” 

“I’m afraid I can’t. It’s already been said.” She smacked him again, this time harder. “Merlin woman, stop hitting me!” 

“Why-” She giggled, still pretending to be mad at him. “Why would you say that about me?” 

He smiled, staring at her intently. “You scared me, you know.” 

“Sorry.” She murmured. “He kept going on about me, which I was fine with. And then he-” She sighed. “I just couldn't stand there and let him talk that way.”

Fred nodded. “I get it, trust me, I do. But next time… just-” He sighed, standing up. “I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you.” 

“You haven’t lost me Freddie.” She smiled.

“Yes, I know.” He glared. “Just, next time Rosier pisses you off, you get me.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m more than capable of handling him myself.” 

“I know-” He huffed. “Just let me take care of you, all right?” 

“I-” She blushed, nodding when she realized he wasn’t going to relent. “Fine, fine.” Scooting over on her bed, she patted the spot next to her. “Stay with me.” 

He climbed up, draping an arm over her waist as he faced her. “I- I have to tell you something.” 

She grinned, moving herself closer to him. “Yeah?” 

He gulped, just realizing how close they really were.  “You know that conversation we had last year?” 

“What about it?” She whispered, scared to break the peace that lay over them.

“Well, I…” He smiled, nudging her nose with his. “I know what I want.” 

“Oh really?” She smirked, her eyes fluttering shut. “And what’s-” 

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss. “Godric, let me kiss you.” 

“Well-” She scoffed. “I didn’t know if you were done-” He kissed her once more, and she sighed, pulling at the hair at the bottom of his neck. “You’re insufferable.” 

“So are you.” He grinned. “And somehow I still love you.” 

Her eyes widened, and Fred leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have-”

It was her turn to kiss him, interrupting his sentence before he had the chance to make a bigger mess. “Rowena, I love you too.” Her breath catching at their proximity. “Now let me kiss you.”  

He grinned, pulling her closer. “Whatever you say, love.” 

taglist: @beebeechaos

[rrezshifts]

“ it’s always been you . . . but you wouldn’t let it be „

ᴍᴀʀᴀᴜᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴜɴɪ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ 𝓲𝙣𝖙𝙧𝙤

theodore hermès castillo. is a current hogwarts university first year. the son of a wealthy french pureblood wizard and a indigenous mexican pureblood witch. the born wealthy and elite young wizard was born in france and was raised between there and the americas. when it came time to attend a magical school, his parents chose ilvermorny over beauxbatons. as he attended the american school, his parents and him, still lived between the two countries during his breaks from school. that was until a business venture left both his parents with no option but to find a permanent stay in england (note: as permanent as a wealthy family and boundless magical transportation can get you). before his third year at ilvermorny could start, theodore, nicknamed “theo” or “dior”, and at this moment in time, legally named theodora, transferred to hogwarts secondary school.

y’all wanted a “romantic” fanfic [novel] right?

sirius black. first met theodore alongside the rest of his friend group, the marauders as they called themselves. theo had sat down for the first dinner feast of the year after being sorted into gryffindor privately once he had first made it on to school grounds. the closest empty seat was right next to the curly haired boy. him and the other three boys were very welcoming. and a girl named lily evans and her two friends were very interested in getting to know theo. as he spoke up, answering any of the seven’s questions, one boy seemed to catch on to theo’s accent. as he was raised multiculturally the accents of both his mother and father melded as they flowed out of his mouth, fighting each other for dominance on certain consonants and vowels. the boy, sirius black, after asking dumb questions prior to this moment, asked another, “why does your voice sound like that?” and the blonde haired girl sitting next to lily cackled as james scolded sirius for his rude question. sirius tried to explain himself, muttering on about how it sounded american but also… not. theo laughed at that and explained that he was both american and french. sirius posture shot up straight as his eyes sparkled with excitement, he started spitting out french as a response. and when theo responded back with exact & perfect french, he jumped around in his seat as he continued the conversation.

james had told sirius that had to be the exact moment he fell in love with theo, but he would deny it, saying he in fact could remember the exact moment he fell for the boy. it wasn’t too long after the start of their third year, autumn had rolled around. and it seemed the falling leaves were conspiring on a cruel fate for sirius. him and theo were sitting outside, bundled in their robes, and studying for their shared potions class, when a few leaves broke off from a branch above and one landed gently in sirius’ hair. so gentle only theo seemed to notice, the movement above sirius catching his eye. the boy across from him placed his fingers on sirius’ jaw to maneuver his head towards him. opting to not verbalize, sirius would point out in the future, annoyed by the charged action with seemingly nothing behind it. sirius eyes danced over theo’s face before he said “here you go, pesky leaf” in their shared language, then handed the leaf to him. when theo turned back to his notes, sirius was panicking. he didn’t know what he was feeling, but all of sudden he couldn’t stop thinking about just how much more french theo’s accent got when he spoke the language, how gorgeous it sounded. and he could still feel the burning of theo’s fingers on his jaw despite how cold they were on his skin. but he pushed it all away, ignoring all of what it could mean for the foreseeable future. that is until he came to welcome his feelings for theo.

sirius’ fourth year at hogwarts is when he accepts his feelings for theo. after theodora became theodore, the young man transitioning. and despite all that, sirius’ confusing feelings towards him didn’t budge or falter, and in fact they even grew out of control, that’s when he knew he was screwed, that it was serious. but he kept this to himself . . . or more so away from theo. james, peter and remus knew. so did marlene, and james told lily. when everyone first found out, mind you at different times, each of them had their ooouu’s and ahhhh’s as well as their fun teasing moments. but eventually sirius’ crush just became a norm. it was nothing special and just a part of daily life at hogwarts. however, theo didn’t necessarily feel the same way for sirius for a while, however. it can’t be said that theo didn’t have certain feelings for sirius. they were just no where near as strong, it was more a intense adoration than anything.

towards the end of their sixth year however is when things had shifted. thursday night, the night before friday, theo had dreamt of sirius. which isn’t saying a lot just from that one sentence, because all his friends have made appearances in his dreams in the past 4 years of knowing them. but none of those dreams were like this one. none of those dreams had heavy breathing, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other, whimpers and moans, and pleasure, so much pleasure. his body woke him up abruptly at about 3am that morning, hot flashing, sweating buckets, and yearning. he was too uncomfortable to go back to sleep so he took a shower then sat on his bed and tried his best to ignore the dream he had that night. it was a struggle as he now sat and waited for james to wake up so he could follow him to his quidditch practice as an excuse to stay away from sirius as long as possible that morning.

the rest of that friday was almost an exact replica of the ones before. there were only two things that differed: 1) everyone, in their fifth year and up, was eager for classes to end so gryffindor’s dorm party happening that night could start sooner rather than later and also 2) theo couldn’t look sirius in the eye. something that’s rarely ever happened before. in fact he couldn’t even talk to sirius for too long because then he’d have to stare at him head on, and he couldn’t stand it. looking sirius in the eyes felt like admitting his dream to the man before him. he was worried his eye contact would spill to him a detailed description of what his mind conjured hours before. despite that paranoia, theo still couldn’t help but stare at sirius when he wasn’t looking. feeling a fucked up mix of shame and lust.

when the day of classes ended and the party started, theo kept away from his usual band of friends, instead finding his good friends, sybil, xenophilius, florence, pandora, alice, and frank. this of random group chatted for a bit before splitting up with their own objectives in mind. theo left with xeno to go smoke, and not even two hits in, barely buzzed, he confessed to the dealer about the dream he had the night before. the man listened intently, nodding and giggling, before he spotted something. his attention shifted and then he nodded in its direction as if to point. when theo looked over to what held xeno’s attention he found sirius lounging on the couch with a drink in hand staring directly at him. his gaze didn’t move, he didn’t go to look away, almost as if it were a test, a game of chicken after theo practically avoided looking at him all day. his stare seemed so serious, fixed, and lingering for so long. theo noticed sirius’ hips shifting on the couch as he continued to slouch and stare, taking a sip of his drink then crossing him arms across his chest. theo was high and drawn in by sirius’ demeanor. his past anxiety and paranoia gone, now replaced with the desire running through his veins after rehashing his dream while that dreams central figure looks so hot across the room from him.

theo lifted the blunt he was holding in the air, an invitation. and immediately sirius’ air of mystery lifted in that moment, he shot up, posture straight. he felt as though he’d won, since he was no longer being ignored. he slouched his posture again though, and he shrugged with a look on his face that said “eh why not,” a joke, theo noticed, ha-ha. as sirius made his way over, xenophilius left so sirius could take his place. theo took another hit as sirius sat down and blew the smoke in his face. sirius snatched the blunt from him and took his own hit, passing it back to him when he was done. they sat together now, but despite that, the next ten minutes would be sat in silence. it wasn’t bad, it was nice. but then sirius spoke up, “you’ve been avoiding me. or ignoring me. one of the two, maybe even both.” in french . . . he sounded so pretty when he spoke in french. “i’m sorry.” is all theo could think to say. he reached for the blunt in sirius’ hand but he pulled it away and out of reach “i just want to know what’s going on, theo.” and in this moment theo hadn’t moved a muscle since he tried reaching for a smoke. the drugs and sirius being so close made his mind fail his body. he just stared into the man’s eyes. he could see his brows furrow in confusion, then theo looked at sirius’ lips and before he could think— “i want to kiss you.” flew out of his mouth as his eyes stayed focused on the lips in front of him. sirius’ eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. theo looked to the rest of his shocked face and he immediately shot as far back from sirius as possible, embarrassed, and unable to say anything else, his mind now failing his mouth.

sirius was stunned, he thought this would never happen. it’s been so long since he started liking theo. and while he had hopes, he gave up on those awhile ago. his mind was battling itself now. wondering if it was just what shit theo was on that made him say that. and if it was, would it even be worth going for a kiss only to be disappointed when that high wears off. meanwhile, theo is mentally yelling “say something!” both to sirius and himself. needing this to be resolved because his mind is in disarray. he gives up on waiting though and tries to speak, in english this time, “listen, sirius, i ju-” and then he’s cut off by sirius grabbing him by the back of his head and kissing him. sirius’ other hand moved to hold the side of theo’s face, the blunt still pinched between his fingers. theo was caught off guard, but gave in immediately. theo pulled away to put out the blunt and then went back in. the two of them spent the rest of the party making out lewdly in the corner of the common room while their friends watched feeling ultimately shocked yet absolutely vindicated.

the morning after theo had explained to sirius that he’s very much attracted to him, and while he’s not ready to be in a relationship, he wants to explore the less platonic side of things with him, and only him. however, only two to three months later, during the middle of summer, and right before their seventh and final year at hogwarts, they started officially dating. things were perfect. amazing. beautiful. they both felt so loved and theo had never been as in love with anyone as he had been with sirius. they went on dates, spent too much time together, spent too much money on each other, were eachothers firsts, and even said i love you. but during the winter break of their seventh year, sirius’ problems with his family got revived and theo was brought into it by association. and while everything got solved, sirius, for a few weeks after being back from vacation, couldn’t stop kicking himself. couldn’t stop worrying about it happening again in the future. then he spiraled thinking that he wasn’t good enough for theo, that he was even bad for him, that the life he would be giving him wasn’t one he deserved. throughout this time he was isolating from theo, and everytime theo tried to talk to sirius about it, when he felt he could tell what sirius was feeling and tried to reassure him, it went nowhere. theo felt stuck, nothing was working. and sirius eventually decided he wasn’t what theo needed, and he broke it off with him.

theo was heartbroken. he cried for weeks, had to stay in lily, mary, and marlene’s dorm for a majority of what remained of the school year. it started as a week and then more and more of theo’s stuff left his and the boys’ dorm. the boys were scolding sirius trying to convince him to realize he was wrong, apologize, and take it back. telling him he was stupid for letting his thoughts get to this point. but their words and theo’s pain only convinced him even more that breaking it off was what was necessary. that was until the girls got to him. they changed perspectives for him pretty fast, but he felt it was too late to fix things by the time he figured it out. eventually though, theo was required to move back in with the boys when mcgonagall found out theo swapped rooms. he wasn’t in their dorms often though. and theo rarely spoke or participated when hanging out with the boys while sirius was there. it was at this time that theo grew even closer to people outside of the group of marauders, needing an escape. not being able to look at out be near sirius.

however, the boys and theo, many years prior, had planned to travel the world for a several weeks after graduating. it was partly theo’s idea, but it was a labor of love from them all. after the breakup theo said he wasn’t going, that james could take lily in his place. but james had practically begged theo to join them when he told him. it wasn’t until james and peter got remus to beg too that theo agreed to go. the many weeks in forced proximity with sirius made theo remember that he still loved him. so very much. and that hurt, but it also comforted him. he was able to build back a sort of rapport with his now ex boyfriend. by the start of their first semester at university everything was back to normal within the marauders. to the point that when theo’s roommate request got screwed up and he was in a dorm with james and sirius rather than remus and peter, he didn’t try and fix it.

however for theo, getting over sirius meant that he doesn’t have to be romantically or sexually celibate. as soon as his freshman year started he was getting to know people, going on shitty first dates, and he told himself if the possibility of a hook up came along he’d take it (spoiler alert: he never did). he was still thinking of sirius, and the pain of remembering the good with him never went away. every shitty first date reminded him of what he had with him and that it was going to be hard to replace. and sirius wasn’t blind, he saw theo leave their dorm in his nicer clothes. and he wasn’t deaf, he heard the other gossip about about theo’s dates. and as much as he hates to admit it it make him want to rip his heart from his chest until he can’t feel it ache anymore.

sirius felt even worse when theo stopped going on those shitty first dates. he started feeling worse when theo’s swimming rival, evan rosier, started to actually get along with him, and they started hanging out more. and maybe sirius is insane but he could swear he noticed theo’s body language around the blonde was hinting at something he didn’t like to see. sirius was starting to feel insane watching this. and after all the shit him and theo have gone through, he now has to decide if he is going to watch all of this unfold and wallow in self pity for eternity, or if he is going to tell theo how he feels and pray that theo still feels the same. little does sirius realize is that theo would choose him over anyone and anything always. and he’s been praying just the same.

after all that you want to talk about school??

magical ecology. major & muggle ecology minor in addition to being the it boy of gryffindor’s varcity swim team . . .

major & minor requirements . . .

➜ MATH 11A ➜ MATH 11B ➜ STAT 1A

➜ CHEM 1A ➜ POTI 1A

➜ BIO 1A ➜ BIO 1B (basic biology)

➜ BIO 13 . . . (magical biology)

➜ ECOL 1A ➜ EVOL 1A

➜ BIO & ECOL electives of your choice (14 in total)

school structure. average four years for most degree paths, 3 trimesters each year, average of 2-4 classes per trimester (depending on classes with labs). students rarely have classes on fridays, there’s a M/W & T/Th schedule. two week long winter break, three month long summer break. no spring break. many professors! more than one professor per department or type of course (people go to college to work at this place). hospitality and living in small but main part of castle. classrooms for each department in separate larger wings of castle connected by bridges on several floors. there’s a wizard town nearby, with shops and foods as well as easy access to transportation to muggle and wizard cities. there’s a few buildings and fields that house places for sports. and clubs take place in empty rooms scattered across campus. all hogwarts + affiliated wizarding secondary schools students are guaranteed admission and food and lodging is free. magical adults who did not attend affiliated wizarding secondary schools or haven’t attended one in 10+ years must pay a small teeny weeny admissions fee.

varsity swim team @ hogwarts . . .

competitive endurance and sprint swimming focuses on speed and precise technique in straight line swimming

☰ competitions held indoors in The Enchanted Pool

– it is self-regulating : the water and pressure adjusts so all swimmers are at an equal playing field. so as not to stress certain swimmers in case of excelled strength of competitors, the coaches put swimmers into classes similar to “weight classes”

– it has a bubble finish : when a swimmer finishes and wins a race their lane will produce bubbles

– competition pools have underwater viewing windows

– varsity level competitions allow for pre-approved and limited spells to improve muscle recovery in between rounds

– race formats include : 50 meter dash (sprint) , 100 & 200 meter sprints (endurance) , medley sprint (4 strokes) , relay races (teams)

– hogwarts houses compete against each other but the university also plays against other universities with a rare team up of houses

›› WEST : wizarding engineering science & technology

a program for STEM (science, technology, engineering, & math major) students at hogwarts university. gives students access to stem field trip opportunities, internship opportunities, STEM specialized tutors, and any additional help students may need as STEM majors

dedicated to @g1rlsp1ckins bc she dt’d me in hers and these are literally our realities 🥹💕

© rrezshifts last updated. 03/30/2025

[bettysupremacy]

hi! no sure if you do fred weasley requests so feel free to change to one of the marauders if not :)

i was thinking of a girl in her 6th year transferring from ilvermorny to hogwarts and getting sorted into ravenclaw. and it’s kind of a love at first sight when fred sees her. and go from wherever from there!! love ur work :)

I’ve never written for Fred, but I loved this idea. I hope u like!!<3 I don’t know how I feel

“Don’t be nervous.” Fred smiles, all twinkle.

George chimes in, your head turning quickly to acknowledge him. “It’s not all scary.”

“The hat doesn’t bite.”

“Sometimes.”

Fred elbows George quickly. “He’s twisting your arm.”

“Oh.” You smile politely, anxiety turning your gut. Fred’s ears perk at your accent.

“What’s America like?” He asks nosily.

“And why’d you transfer?” George finishes.

You shrug, polite smile still aching your lips. “Mom got a job at the ministry.”

“Mom.” George mimics. It falls to deaf ears.

“I thought only British born wizards could work there?” Fred pries.

You nod. “She is.”

“Interesting.” George’s mouth is stuffed with potato.

Fred laughs loudly. “Try to sound less like a dick. Please.”

“I didn‘t think he sounded like a dick.” You prod the food in front of you, eyes down.

Fred smiles, pushing his empty plate away. “You nervous?”

“No.”

“You look it.”

This gets you to smile. A genuine smile. “Maybe a little.”

You’re pretty, he thinks. It was the first thing he noticed about you. New girl, pretty girl. The aura around you practically glows to him. He wonders if Trelawney would see what he saw.

“Ha!” He points like he’s caught you. “I’m sure you won’t be Slytherin.”

George shakes in disgust, mock, but not really mock, revolted. “Probably Hufflepuff.”

“Or maybe Gryffindor,” Fred adds. “Then you’d be able to sit with us. The cool kids.”

“Yeah, right.” George laughs.

“I cant sit here if I’m not Gryffindor?” Your eyes flit between Fred and George. They’re twins. Obviously. But Fred draws your eye, and they can tell.

“I’m afraid not, pretty.” Fred laments dramatically.

“Not during dinner.” George shrugs, with a Oh Well! Sort of expression.

“They don’t really care during breakfast and lunch.” Fred nods.

“Or snack time.”

Hermoine pops her head out from behind Ginny. “What do you mean, George? There is no snack time.”

“For you.” He and Fred grin.

Loudly, Dumbledore calls for respect, the hush of silence deafening the hall. He has an air about him, the title of headmaster sitting on his shoulders nicely. You flinch as he introduces you. Dozens of prying eyes flitting towards you.

It startles you, so many heads turning as Fred pats your knee, helping you up. The teachers table looms over you as you sit in the rickety chair consciously.

The hats barely touched your head before a loud voice booms across the hall.

“Ravenclaw!” The hat announces.

A table erupts in cheer, notably blue. You frown. That isn’t Gryffindor red. Fred laments from the corner of your eye. For real this time.

A hand touches your back, soft and guiding. “That way, dear.” Mcgonagal ushers.

You stand. Lead in your feet. That’s not what you wanted, and the hat seemed to have known that.

“Go on.” She pushes softly.

You walk down the cold steps, more morose than you’d like. Down, step, down step, until you reach the gray flooring of the great hall. Hands reach for you as you draw nearer, claps on the back as you smile wearily.

A girl makes space for you near Fred, patting the bench quickly. Dark hair, dark eyes, she’s pretty you think.

“I’m Cho.” The girl smiles at you.

“Hi.” Your nose scrunches, holding back a nervous smile as you sit.

“Luna.” Another girl reaches out for your hand. You give it, taking in her dazed expression, and odd looking glasses. “No Wrackspurts.” She grins appreciatively.

You startle. “What?”

“Don’t mind her.” Cho eases. You ignore her, smiling at Luna.

It’s a large table, lots of friendly faces. You hold back the guilt gnawing at you for your quick judgment.

“Hi.” You mouth, cheeks aching from the polite smile you throw at a girl down the table. She waves excitedly, and you wave back.

“Psst.” Is whispered behind you. “Pssssst.”

You turn, vaguely expecting Fred’s face. Or George’s. Theirs. So confusing.

He looks happy.

“You’ll love it there.” Fred (you think) smiles, genuinely.

It gnaws in you. Doesn’t he wish you were Gryffindor? You feel silly, you only just met.

“You’re not upset I’m here?” You frown. Like you wanted him to care, he notices.

He shrugs breezily. “Blue looks good on you.”

Yeah. Fred.

[defectivevillain]

watching you (watching me)

pairing: Percival Graves/Reader

the reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: Just as you begin to think you’re getting to know Percival, he starts acting strange. When you come across him in the hall, he doesn’t return your small smiles; when he meets with Seraphina, he walks right by you as if you aren’t even there. You don’t want to read into those minute gestures too much, so, at first, you don’t. But the fact that he pivoted from purposefully stopping by your desk to inquire about your day…to walking past you without so much as a lingering gaze… is concerning. Plus, his rumored treatment of his employees seems uncharacteristic. While you've never worked under Director Graves, you’ve heard from several different people in multiple departments that he’s a great person to work for. So why is he so different all of a sudden? What changed?

word count: 4.5k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence, abduction, unconsciousness, hospitals, implied malnourishment & injury

Sometimes, you think you can never truly leave your life as an Auror behind. 

When you graduate from Ilvermorny, you eagerly join the Auror training program—and pass years later with flying colors. You soon find yourself regularly participating in missions and tracking down Dark wizards. The job is incredibly fulfilling, but it’s also extremely exhausting. Your work follows you into your personal life, to the point that perpetrators invade your dreams and you can’t ever relax. You manage to push through for a while, but eventually, you find yourself experiencing too much burnout to enjoy the job anymore.

Then you’re approached by Seraphina Picquery with a one-of-a-kind proposition. The Chief of Staff position recently became available after the previous employee retired, and Picquery—Seraphina, she tells you to call her—is looking for a replacement. It’s a rather high-up position—an administrative aid to the President of the entire organization. The salary is nearly double what you’re making as an Auror and you’d still be handling important work. In fact, you might even be awarded more responsibility in that role than your position as an Auror. It doesn’t take you long to get back to her with a confirmation that you’ll accept the position; within a few weeks, you have a desk right outside Seraphina’s office. 

Through your new position, you gain exposure to much more of the organization—as you’re communicating with nearly every executive-level employee. You meet Emily Limus, the Federal Identity Commissioner; Malcolm Carneirus, Captain of the Aurors; and even Bernadette Williams, the executioner. (She’s a kind woman, but you sincerely hope you don’t have a reason to see her again.) You don’t exactly meet Percival Graves, the Director of Magical Security. Rather, you sort of… crash into him.

You’re in a bit of a rush, power-walking down the hall, when you turn the corner and collide with someone. The stack of papers in your hands goes flying and you wince. “Sorry, sorry—” you quickly say, looking at the person you just bumped into. It’s none other than Percival Graves, the Director of Magical Security. You’ve seen and heard plenty about him, but you’ve never actually met him before. He’s somehow even more handsome in person, with inky black hair styled back to reveal tinges of silver hair on the sides of his face. He has deep brown eyes and looks rather intimidating, what with the formal attire he’s wearing. 

“It’s alright,” the man responds with an understanding smile. “You must be the new Chief of Staff.” He introduces himself and extends a hand. You think the thought is rather nice. He could’ve easily just assumed that you’d heard of him, but he instead went through the effort of introducing himself to you in a friendly and personable manner. You immediately decide you like him. 

You introduce yourself in return, before shaking his extended hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Director Graves responds. “Can I help you with those?” He motions to the floor, where your paperwork rests in a disorganized pile. You grimace down at it, dreading the thought of organizing it all over again. 

“Ah, that’d be great, thanks,” you then say, crouching down to pick up the scattered papers. He crouches down too and collects a few papers, placing them in a neat pile and handing it to you. You thank him and get to your feet once all your papers are in order. 

For an awkward moment, you’re lingering silently in front of him. He doesn’t immediately dismiss you or move to depart. Rather, the man regards you with another look. “Seraphina isn’t running you too ragged, is she?” Director Graves asks. 

“No, no,” you’re quick to say. “She doesn’t know I’m doing this, actually.” You motion down to the papers and grimace, hoping the man can keep a secret. 

“My lips are sealed,” Director Graves says with a small smile. You feel a smile rising on your own lips at the sight. 

There’s that awkward silence again; this time, it doesn’t seem like the man is going to break through it. You take a deep breath and try to manifest some composure. “It was nice to meet you, sir,” You say. 

His brow furrows. “Please, call me Percival,” Director Graves responds. 

You blink for a moment, surprised at the invitation. “Okay,” you agree. “It was nice to meet you, Percival. Sorry, I have to get going…” You glance down the hallway behind him, praying Seraphina hasn’t gone into her meeting just yet. 

“No worries,” Percival responds easily. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” The two of you part ways and you find yourself smiling as you pace down the hall, a new spring in your step. 

Indeed, you do begin to see Percival Graves rather frequently. You sit in on the meetings amongst the higher-level officials in the organization and he always has something to say about recent Dark wizard captures or other concerns. He’s pretty nice to you, too—always going out of his way to greet you when you enter the room. You feel like most of the other directors are keen to dismiss you, but Percival doesn’t. You hate to admit it, but he makes those stuffy weekly meetings infinitely more bearable. 

Percival also greets you whenever he walks past your desk to enter Seraphina’s office. His short greetings may seem virtually insignificant, but they go a long way to making you feel more welcome in the workplace. You tell him as much one time, and have the honor of watching his cheeks flush ever so slightly pink. After that conversation, he starts stopping at your desk and asking you about your weekend, your work day, and anything else going on. It’s safe to say that Percival quickly becomes your favorite person to work with—other than your boss, of course. 

But just as you begin to think you’re getting to know Percival, he starts acting strange. When you come across him in the hall, he doesn’t return your small smiles; when he meets with Seraphina, he walks right by you as if you aren’t even there. You don’t want to read into those minute gestures too much, so, at first, you don’t. You write these occurrences off as flukes and continue as normal. 

The meetings amongst the executives are tenser than usual, though. Percival seems to be dominating the conversation, purposefully steering it in the directions he chooses. He possesses a self-importance that you didn’t seem to notice before. You have to wonder if you were wrong about him. In the past few weeks, he’s been acting entirely differently than when you first met him. If he’s showing his true colors, then… you’re not very happy about it.

It seems you aren’t the only one to notice his weird behavior, however. Seraphina repeatedly remarks that he seems a bit off, and she soon abandons their weekly meeting schedule in exchange for biweekly meetings. You also hear from the Aurors that the man is exhibiting a rather bad temper. He’s been lashing out at recruits for easy mistakes and working the senior Aurors to the bone. 

You soon find yourself growing wary. These changes in behavior are complete switches from what he exhibited previously. And the fact that he pivoted from purposefully stopping by your desk to inquire about your day…to walking past you without so much as a lingering gaze… is concerning. Plus, his rumored treatment of his employees seems uncharacteristic. While you never worked under Director Graves, you’ve heard from several different people in multiple departments that he’s a great person to work for. So why is he so different all of a sudden? What changed? 

You attempt to have another conversation with him in the coming days, only for him to brush off your questions and effectively dismiss you. You’re left wondering if you’re even speaking with the same person: if the Percival Graves from before was conjured by your imagination. The man you’ve interacted with recently is just far too different from the man you crashed into in the hallway all that time ago. 

A dark thought crosses your mind as you’re contemplating Percival’s strange behavior. What if… he is a different person? What if this Percival Graves, the one who mistreats his employees and seems completely uncaring of the feelings of those around him, is a different man? You immediately huff a laugh under your breath for even considering such a crazy idea. There has to be a rational explanation for his behavior. Maybe he’s going through something right now—a death in the family or a bad breakup. You dismiss your doppelgänger idea as nothing more than a desperate theory.

But that same desperate theory keeps you up later that night, tossing and turning restlessly. It’s a foolish thought, a crackpot theory. Who would possibly have the power, skill, and evasive ability to disguise themself as the Director of Magical Security? How would that even be possible? They would not only have to be capable enough to at least get by in Percival’s position, but they’d also have to overpower him somehow. Percival is the Head of the Aurors—he’s an extremely talented duelist and quick on his feet. No doubt there are only a select handful of people who would even be able to stay alive in a duel with him, let alone triumph and render him incapacitated. Who would even want to do something like that? What purpose would it serve? 

Well, if a person wanted to invade the Magical Congress and gain access to highly privileged information, you suppose that would be a clear-cut path to getting it. Percival is one of the highest-ranking officials at MACUSA, other than Seraphina herself. 

But you find yourself struggling with the practicality of such an act. Again, only an incredibly powerful wizard would be able to pull something like that off—someone like Albus Dumbledore or Gellert Grindelwald. Obviously, Dumbledore wouldn’t have any reason to do something like that. But Grindelwald, on the other hand… The Dark wizard’s whereabouts have been unknown for a while now, and everyone knows that he’s gathering strength and support. You suppose one of his more loyal followers would embark on such a mission for his benefit. 

After spending an hour thinking through the idea, you realize you can’t shake it off—and promise yourself to consider it more in the morning. 

In the morning, you do far more than merely consider the possibility of someone else being disguised as Percival Graves. Instead, you find yourself hatching a plan. You think that, if you can lure Percival into a conversation, you’ll be able to ask him questions that only he would know the answers to. From there, you can determine if he’s real or a disguise maintained by someone else. 

It sounds ridiculous and utterly inane. But what’s the worst that can happen? At worst, you’d just look foolish in front of the real Percival. That’s something you can deal with. You also get the sense that this disguise theory will weigh heavily on your mind until you try to establish or refute its validity. 

Fortunately, you get the chance to enact your plan later that same day. When Percival walks into your office a few minutes early, you manage to rope him into a conversation. He is very clearly fed up with you, despite the fact that you haven’t been talking for more than a few seconds. That’s your first clue. You also think that you see his eyes glimmer blue for a fraction of a second. His attire is the same as always, but his posture is different—perfectly straight and poised with an air of pretentiousness. 

You can’t keep yourself in suspense any longer. “How did we first meet?” you finally manage to ask. It doesn’t take you very long to recall how you first met—you crashed into Percival as you were walking down the hall; he helped you pick up the papers dropped and you eventually parted ways. If he says something along those lines, then you’ll know it’s him. If not… 

“We met here, of course,” the man responds. There’s hardly any emotion on his face. It feels like you’re looking into a void. Your heart begins to roar in your ears as you realize that he just tried to avoid the question. 

“I said how, not where,” you realize aloud, your suspicions confirmed. You point your wand at him. “Revelio.” You watch in mute horror as Percival’s face melts into an entirely different one. His right eye glows and morphs into a grey-blue color; his hair grows into a spiky white style. Gellert Grindelwald tilts his head and stares at you curiously. 

“Clever," he remarks. Your heart races in your chest and you quickly remember Grindelwald’s reputation: his dueling prowess, his extremely strong grasp of nearly all branches of magic, his incredibly quick reflexes. He allowed you to cast that spell just now, but it’s clear he won’t allow any further opposition—judging from the malicious gleam in his eyes. 

Grindelwald’s gaze is piercing, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your forearms. “But not clever enough," he says, clicking his tongue and disarming you with a nonverbal spell. In the blink of an eye, his wand is pointed at your chest. “Avada-” 

The door bursts open and a veritable mass of Aurors infiltrates the space, surrounding Grindelwald. Seraphina walks in after them, a furious expression on her face that she quickly smooths into indifference. Suddenly, Grindelwald is immersed in battle. To your discomfort and fear, he seems to be overpowering the Aurors—despite the odds being nearly twenty to one. For a few awful moments, you’re entranced by his elegant movements. Then you remember everything he’s done and snap out of it, casting a Stunning spell on him. Somehow, by some trace of dumb luck, your spell ends up being the one to send him crumpling to the ground. Seraphina immediately places Admonitors on his wrists, before ordering the Aurors to take him away. You and your boss are left standing in Percival’s office in disbelief. 

“That was�� anticlimactic,” you choke out.

Seraphina nods in agreement. You raise an eyebrow at her, silently asking her how she knew that Percival wasn’t himself. “Director Graves has never been late to a meeting, in the several years I’ve worked with him,” she explains. Seraphina then regards you for a long moment. “Nice work.”

“Thanks,” you respond blankly, still reeling from what just happened. Admittedly, you wanted to tell Seraphina about your plan, but Grindelwald would’ve been suspicious if Seraphina joined you for the conversation. You knew he would underestimate you—seeing you as a mere office assistant—and you decided to take advantage. You take a deep breath and try to refocus—you have more important things to be concerned with at the present moment. “Where do you think Director Graves is?” you ask. 

“I’m not sure,” Seraphina frowns. “We’ll get someone from Major Investigation to look around in here.”

You look around, an ugly feeling growing in your chest. You have the weirdest conviction that Percival is nearby, and you can’t explain why. “Actually… we may not have to," you murmur in response to Seraphina’s remark. She looks at you questioningly, but you don’t think you can explain your reasoning. You instead study the room around you once more, eyes gliding across a lacquered armoire and past his desk. 

Wait. A lacquered armoire? You take a slow breath and step over to the misplaced piece of furniture. The more you look at it, the more you realize that it sticks out like a sore thumb in comparison with the rest of Percival’s unassuming office. You take a deep breath and tug at the handles, unsurprised to find that it’s locked. You cast Alohomora and try unlocking it again. It doesn’t work. You try once more, willing the cabinet to open. To your surprise, your effort works and the doors fall open with an exaggerated bang.

Seraphina gasps. You’re not as shocked as you should be—there’s something horribly ironic about Grindelwald concealing the real Percival Graves in his office, only a short distance from his disguised form. You stare at the magically expanded space, your stomach turning uneasily as you see Percival Graves stuffed into it—leaning against one of the interior walls with a dazed expression. His wrists and ankles are bound together and there’s a gag in his mouth. You quickly bend down and free him.

“Percival,” you say, pulling him out of the armoire and to his feet. You state your name and remind him of your position, because he looks incredibly disoriented. The longer you look at him, the more worried you get. His hair is unkempt and messy; his eyes are bloodshot and bracketed with dark circles underneath. Percival looks gaunt—his skin stretched tight across his bones.  For a moment, you think he doesn’t recognize you—then, suddenly, he lurches forward and wraps his arms around you. You instinctually stiffen in surprise, before hesitantly returning his embrace. 

Seraphina sends a Patronus to the Healers, detailing where you are and requesting medical help. Within moments, a few Healers are running into the room. You try to break away from Percival, self-conscious that there are people watching, but he doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Eventually, the Healers manage to pull him off of you. They’re asking him questions, but his eyes look glazed over. Within moments, he’s slumping into their arms as he falls unconscious. You watch worriedly as the Healers exit the room. Seraphina takes one look at you and promptly tells you to follow after them. You try to protest, but you don’t get very far before she’s gently pushing you out of the room with the promise that the investigative team will wrap up any loose ends in the office. 

You manage to catch up to the Healers, who are now levitating Percival’s unconscious form as they rush to the Healing ward. When you arrive, Percival is whisked away into a room—and you’re left to haunt the waiting room. 

You’re not sure how much time you spend staring off into space on an uncomfortable sofa before there’s someone standing in front of you, proclaiming that you can visit Percival. As you follow after them, the Healer reassures you that he will make a full recovery—stating that they have him on all the necessary nutrient supplements that will help him regain his strength. 

“He isn’t awake just yet,” the Healer explains as they open the door to his room, revealing Percival reclined in a hospital bed. He looks uncharacteristically vulnerable now—his eyes closed as he evidently rests. There are bandages along his arms and wrists. You frown and take a seat in the chair situated in the corner of the room. “I’ll be back in a bit to check on him.” They promise. You thank the Healer and they leave with a sympathetic nod. 

In the wake of everything that just happened, you’re exhausted. You wouldn’t be surprised if your encounter with Grindelwald drained some of your magic temporarily. The stress of the entire affair coupled with your poor sleep last night makes your eyelids sting and burn with fatigue. You desperately try to keep awake but, at some point, you’re dozing off in the chair at Percival’s bedside. 

When there’s a gentle tap on your shoulder, you ignore it. But just as you’re about to drift off into sleep again, there’s another tap—slightly more insistent than the first time. You blearily open your eyes, your blurry vision slowly clearing to reveal Percival staring down at you. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he grimaces apologetically. You stare at him for a moment, still processing. Then you remember everything that just happened: Grindelwald disguising himself as Percival; Seraphina and you finding Percival bound and gagged in his office; Percival falling unconscious; you choosing to wait in his room for him to wake up. Now he’s awake—and he’s out of bed. 

“You shouldn’t be up—!” you quickly say, forcefully guiding him to return to his bed. He grasps your forearms as you lower him back onto the bed; the movement sends a shiver down your spine. Even once he is situated, he doesn’t seem keen to let you go—as his grasp momentarily tightens and he looks at you imploringly. 

“How’d you know?” Percival asks, his voice raspy from disuse. You don’t need him to elaborate further—you know what he’s referring to. His hands slip from your arms and you contemplate the question. It doesn’t take you long to find an answer. 

“Grindelwald was a convincing actor,” you admit. You stare at the wall behind him. Eye contact feels difficult right now, in the stuffy silence settling in the air of the hospital room. “...But he wasn’t you," you break off, not trusting yourself to go into the details without slipping up and revealing something untoward. 

“I was worried no one would find me.” Your eyes snap back to Percival; the sincerity written all over his face is heartbreaking. Then a grimace rises on his lips. “I… apologize for the way I acted,” Percival then says. You stare at him in confusion. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for, and he’s looking at you expectantly. Eventually he sighs. “It was unprofessional of me.”

“What?” you ask. Then it comes back to you: the relief written all over his face, the way he rushed to embrace you without hesitation. “Oh, when I found you? You were in captivity for months, don’t be so hard on yourself. I would’ve done the same thing.”

Percival frowns at that. “If it had been you who Grindelwald took…” he trails off, before vigorously shaking his head. “I don’t even want to think about it.” You remain silent, unsure of what to say or how to say it. Fortunately, Percival is comfortable with keeping the conversation going. “What I mean to say is… thank you—for your determination, and… for seeing what no one else did.”

“There were a few others who were also suspicious,” you inform him, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the idea of taking all of the credit. Sure, you may have been the one to act first—but whispers of Percival’s uncharacteristic behavior had been spreading like wildfire. You’re certain someone would’ve figured it out, if you hadn’t acted. As to whether Percival had that much time left… you’re not sure. And you don’t really want to think about it. 

Somehow, this makes Percival frown again—as if he thinks you’re trying to brush off his gratitude. “Regardless, I appreciate it,” he maintains. “And I admire your courage and bravery. I’m sure it was difficult to stand up to a supervisor.”

“Ordinarily it wouldn’t be,” you admit before you can contemplate the consequences. Percival’s brows climb up his forehead. “I’m comfortable being honest with you," you clarify, before breaking off so you can’t indict yourself further. You’ve already said far too much. 

“I appreciate that,” Percival responds. He looks a little lighter—the tension seems to have slowly slipped out of his shoulders. “And I echo the sentiment," he says with a quick nod. There’s an appreciative smile on his face and your heart starts racing. If you don’t leave soon, you may do something you’ll soon regret. 

“I hope you recover quickly, sir,” you remark, taking a step back and turning towards the door. There had been a tense silence stretching across the space, indicating that the conversation was over, so you have no qualms about departing now. 

“Wait,” Percival says, just before you can leave. You freeze and turn around to face him once more. There’s a torn expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” tou ask. 

“This is going to sound pathetic and selfish,” Percival admits, steadily avoiding your gaze. You raise a brow. From what you’ve seen, Percival is the furthest thing from pathetic or selfish. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of me being pathetic,” you deflect, a small smile on your face. Percival shakes his head with what can only be described as fond disagreement. You’re thrown back into the memory of your first meeting, into your hands shaking beneath your stack of papers and your heart thrumming steadily in your chest. 

“...Will you stay here a while longer?” Percival asks, breaking you from your thoughts. 

“Of course, sir,” you respond. The formal address is more for you to maintain your own boundaries and remind yourself that you don’t get to associate with Percival in anything more than a strictly professional sense. But he seems to react negatively to it—as his brows furrow and he studies you for a moment. You take mental note of that reaction and abandon the formality. Percival just went through hell and back—spending months slowly fading away in that armoire in his office, perfectly out of sight but so achingly close to freedom. If there’s anything you can do to make him feel better, you’ll do it. And not only does that include sitting at his bedside a while longer, but, apparently, it also includes negating to call him “sir.” You don’t think those are very tough tasks to undertake. 

You’ll end up accidentally spending the night in his hospital room, and you’ll wake up to another slight tap on your shoulder and a back ache. Percival will be looking down at you again; you’ll admonish him for getting out of bed; he’ll thank you again for keeping him company. Eventually, he’ll practically force you out of the room with a reassurance that he’ll be fine. Normally, you wouldn’t believe him—but the determined expression on his face suggests that he’ll bounce back just fine. 

Indeed, within a few weeks, Percival will be back at work. He’ll continue to stop by your desk and talk to you—to the point where you’ll have to ignore Seraphina’s relentless teasing about it. He’ll maintain that he owes you something—to which you’ll consistently remind him that he would do the same for you. 

And Percival does end up doing the same for you. At some point in the foreseeable future, when you’re injured in an Auror mission, Percival will be the one waiting at your bedside. You’ll jokingly point out how worried he looks and he’ll only frown more, before admitting that those few hours when you were unconscious were nearly unbearable. Percival will admit that his feelings for you “far surpass professionalism.” 

You’ll try to answer with your own confession, but Percival will quickly interject with the promise that you can give him an answer once you’re feeling better. When you finally get the chance to speak to your feelings, you’ll just barely finish speaking before Percival is pulling you into a kiss. His hands will slip down to your hips and you’ll feel sparks running up your skin and a smile rising on your lips.

“How long?” Percival will ask breathlessly when you first break apart. 

“Since you crashed into me,” you’ll admit. 

“Don’t you mean when you crashed into me? ” Percival will emphasize. 

And you’ll roll your eyes and lean closer to kiss him again.

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[ravenclair]

In the Shadow of You | Hogwarts Legacy

☆ Summary | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☆ Available on Wattpad

Chapter 2: Sixth Year

(Word count: 2,133)

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to skip sixth year and stay here?” Sirona begged, hugging you tightly.

You laughed, hugging the witch back, “I’m positive.”

“Fine,” she sighed, releasing you. “But you better be back next summer holiday as well. And the one after that.”

“I’ll be graduated by then, Sirona.”

“Even better. You can stay indefinitely.” 

You smiled, shaking your head incredulously. 

It was officially time to return to Hogwarts for the Sorting Ceremony later that evening. It would be interesting to watch the ceremony this year, as well as see fresh faces around the castle. Although you knew you’d be back throughout the school year, it was hard saying goodbye to Sirona Ryan. 

“Thank you, for taking me in,” you said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without your kindness.”

Sirona smiled. “Anytime, my friend. Thank you for all your help this summer. Butterbeers on me next time you’re in town.”

⋆｡°✩

You made your way through the Ravenclaw common room to unpack your things. It was still early, so not too many students had arrived yet. You found the sixth year dormitories and pushed open the door.

“Bunk beds again?” You heard a familiar voice groan in frustration. 

Samantha Dale stood before the sets of bunk beds, the room not too much different than the dormitories you shared previously. She turned upon hearing the door open, lighting up when she recognized you.

“There you are! I knew you’d get here early too,” Samantha exclaimed. “Can you believe this? We must be the only house with such terrible sleeping arrangements.”

Last year, you ended up on the bunk below Samantha’s. You didn’t particularly mind the setup, but you could see why she might be annoyed at having to clamor in and out of bed every day. 

“I’ll take the top bed this year, if you’d like,” you suggested. 

She waved a hand in dismissal at your offer. “No, no, I can’t stand the bottom bunk. I feel like I might be crushed at any moment. Makes it quite hard to sleep.” 

You chatted about your summers as you unpacked your trunks. Samantha gushed about some rare plant species she got to see while on a tour of Ilvermorny and how beautiful Mount Greylock is during sunsets. 

After making your way back to the common room, you ran into more familiar faces. Amit was showing off yet another new telescope. This one, however, was a Muggle telescope he acquired at his astronomy camp in London. His wizarding models were much more beautiful, but he was excited nonetheless. 

As you made your way to the Great Hall for dinner, you heard Poppy Sweeting call your name. She caught up to you, pulling you into a warm embrace. You continued to the Great Hall together, her quickly talking through stories of Romania. You parted ways at the Hufflepuff table, but she promised you would both catch up properly sometime soon. 

Once seated at your own house table, Samantha to your right and Amit across from you, you did a quick scan of the hall. The first years had yet to arrive. Your eyes wandered casually towards the Slytherin table.

You saw Sebastian talking excitedly with Imelda Reyes. Ominis sat to Sebastian’s left, looking bored. 

Samantha noticed your line of sight. 

“Imelda is pretty fired-up about quidditch returning this term. Won’t stop talking about it to anyone who will listen,” she said. “Apparently, Madam Kogawa approached her about it earlier and asked if she wanted to be Slytherin’s team captain.”

You had forgotten about school quidditch. Since last year’s season was cancelled, you had never gotten to see a proper game. You weren’t even sure you fully understood the rules.

“Sebastian was Slytherin’s seeker during fourth year,” Samantha continued, “she’s probably trying to recruit him again.”

During one of your many talks this summer, you recalled Sebastian mentioning his time on the quidditch team. He had recounted an exciting story about his first game as the team’s Seeker. Anne had been a Chaser. 

You smiled fondly at the memory. 

“What’s with that look?” Samantha said, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

You turned toward her, confused. “What do you mean?”

Before she could retort, the Great Hall doors opened, and a flood of first years made their way between the banquet tables. Headmaster Black gave the opening speech, and the Sorting Ceremony was quickly underway. 

It was a decently sized group, about fifty new students. Each time the Sorting Hat shouted your house name, everyone at your table cheered. Ravenclaw welcomed nine new housemates. As soon as the ceremony concluded, the tables filled with food. With the excitement of the day, you hadn’t realized how hungry you were. 

As you began filling your plate with food, Samantha returned to her previous line of questioning. You weren’t surprised. She wasn’t one to let things go so easily. It could be amusing at times. But also frustrating.

Especially when you knew exactly where this particular conversation was headed. 

“So,” she started again, “anything interesting happen this summer that you’d like to share?”

You feigned taking a moment to think. 

“Not particularly, no.”

“Hmm, I see,” she said, nodding contemplatively. “Well, I heard from Abigail Oakes that you and Sebastian Sallow were spotted looking rather cozy at Hogsmeade the other day…supply list shopping, was it?”

You didn’t respond, choosing to instead take a bite of your food casually. She just stared at you, awaiting your response. 

You swallowed. “So? Friends go shopping together all the time.”

“No witch is just friends with someone who looks like that,” Samantha exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s the most handsome wizard in our year! And he somehow got even more attractive over the holiday. Surely you’ve realized that by now.”

Amit coughed awkwardly, suddenly very interested in the potatoes rolling around on his plate. 

Merlin, she needed to keep her voice down. 

“And besides,” Samanatha pushed, “you two were always sneaking off together in fifth year, thinking no one noticed.”

You turned toward her, stunned. 

Had others really taken note of how much time the two of you spent together?

“He’s my best friend, that’s all!” You whispered defensively, desperately hoping that no one else could hear your conversation. 

She looked unconvinced, but didn’t say another word, her curiosity seemingly satisfied. 

For now.

⋆｡°✩

After dinner was concluded and the Great Hall began to empty, you felt a strong hand pull you away from the exiting crowd. You looked up and saw Sebastian smiling down at you.

“Care for a visit to the Undercroft?” he whispered. “Ominis and I are heading there now, if you can sneak away.”

You glanced back into the crowd and locked eyes with Samantha. She had both eyebrows raised in an amused look. You returned it with a glare. 

“Yes, let’s hurry before the prefects notice,” you replied to Sebastian. 

Once the three of you were safely in the Undercroft, Sebastian’s casual demeanor shifted. Turned serious. You glanced at Ominis, wondering if he knew anything, but you couldn’t read his expression.

Sebastian pulled from his pocket what appeared to be a letter. He took a deep breath. 

“I received this just before dinner,” he started, “it…it’s a letter…from Anne.”

Your eyes grew wide in surprise. Ominis drew in a quick breath. That definitely wasn’t what either of you were expecting.

It had been almost four months since the events of the catacombs and Anne’s sudden disappearance. Four months of silence from Sebastian’s twin. You knew it had been eating him alive, not hearing from her for the remainder of last term. Not receiving a single owl from her for the entire summer. Not having any idea where she was or if she was alright. 

If she was alive.

Although it had pained you to see him suffer from her silence, you understood why she had needed the space. Things had taken a turn for the worst, for everyone involved. You couldn’t imagine the hurt and confusion Anne was going through, but you saw enough of it in Sebastian these last few months to guess. 

Sebastian continued, staring at the letter. “She…her curse. It’s gone. She’s been at St Mungo’s receiving treatment for the lingering ailments and studying medicine with their healers.”

You gasped. Her curse was…gone? 

“Sebastian, what are you saying?” Ominis said, wariness evident in his voice. “You mean to tell us she’s…she’s healed?”

Sebastian finally tore his gaze from the letter, looking directly at you. 

“She says that she began to feel…different, not long before the summer holiday. Better. After you defeated Rookwood,” he said. “She stopped having those daily bouts of pain, and the nurses at St Mungo’s noticed a rapid increase in her health within the following few weeks.”

You were speechless. It made sense, that defeating the curse’s maker would lift their curse…but it seemed too impossibly good to be true. Ominis was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t you see?” Sebastian continued, “You saved her. You saved my sister. She’s coming back to Hogwarts next month once she completes her rehabilitation.” 

Your emotions were an odd mix of overwhelmed and relieved. Somehow, you had done it. You had given Sebastian the one thing he desperately wanted, the thing he drove himself mad for last year. 

Anne was healing. The feeling was too much to put into words. 

Suddenly, Sebastian was closing the short distance between you. You felt his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace.

Still dazed, you heard him whisper with a trembling voice, “I don’t know how I can ever thank you for this. For everything.”

Slowly, your arms came up to rest gently on the back of his uniform shirt, returning the hug. You peaked over his shoulder at Ominis, his head tilted upward towards the ceiling and grinning like a fool. You’d never seen him look so happy.

“I…I can’t believe this,” Ominis said in awe. “Anne is coming back? Truly?”

Sebastian released you, but kept one arm around your shoulders casually. 

“She is, and just in time for quidditch season. Tryouts are in two weeks, and the first game is two weeks after that.”

“Quidditch?” you questioned, wanting to find out how accurate Samantha’s rumor mill was. “Professor Black is allowing it again?”

Sebastian nodded. “Imelda informed me about it at dinner tonight. She said Kogawa confirmed it with Black last week.”

“Imelda Reyes was blabbering about it all afternoon in the common room and the entire walk to the Great Hall,” Ominis chimed in, “boasting about how Madam Kogawa asked her personally to be Slytherin team captain. I was wishing I was deaf instead of blind by the time we sat down for the Sorting Ceremony.”

You burst into laughter at his blunt humor. No wonder he looked so annoyed at dinner.

“Anyway,” Sebastian drawled, turning your attention back to him, “looks like I’ll be living in the quidditch pitch until tryouts. Imelda said she’ll be running practice drills everyday after class for the next two weeks.” 

“Running practices before tryouts?” you questioned.

Sebastian nodded. “She wants to give everyone a fair shot. Let all the former players get back into the swing of things. It’s been a while since we’ve all played together as a team.”

That was rather fair of the usually cynical Slytherin. Perhaps Imelda had a soft spot when it came to quidditch. And she probably wanted everyone at the top of their game for the season. You had no doubt that Imelda Reyes was the type that didn’t take well to losing. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Sebastian continued. “I haven’t practiced properly in ages.”

Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “You should join us! I’m sure the Ravenclaw team is in need of new recruits. Bet you’d make a brilliant Seeker.” 

“I’m not sure…I don’t think Imelda would appreciate a Ravenclaw crashing Slytherin practices,” you answered hesitantly. “And besides, I don’t even know how to play. I’d be leagues behind everyone.” 

“Ravenclaw could use all the help they can get,” Ominis quipped. “They were terrible fourth year. Too many bookworms, that house.”

You shot him a glare you knew he couldn’t see, but he chuckled anyway, knowing he got under your skin by poking fun at your house. 

“Ominis is right,” Sebastian teased, “and Imelda will get over it. She won’t admit it, but she respects your flying talents too much to deny you. I can teach you everything you need to know.” 

It was hard to say no to him, it always had been. Sometimes you wondered if your soft spot for the Slytherin was too obvious. He always knew exactly what to say to sway your mind.

You smiled. “I’ll think about it.”