#int; andromeda

[regulusx]

         with a sigh regulus resigned himself to make the most out of his mandatory attendance to the fair, 'it will be good for the department if we are seen at the event' his boss had said, regulus was just relieved he had not been ordered to volunteer at one of the booths too. this he could manage, a fake smile since he had done since childhood, and pretended interest, he had literally being trained for it.

         had he not been so lost in his thoughts he would've seen the approaching incident, granted, andromeda had barely bumped into him, but now he was left with no idea of how to react.

         ❝it's alright, no harm done❞ regulus tried to sound nonchalant, he could not exactly use the same grateful and delighted tone as he did in his secret visits to his cousin, ❝everything okay?❞

Andromeda found that the events that the Ministry promoted were not exactly 100% reliable, there was a certain sense of distraction, pan et circus, if you will, and that left a sour taste in her mouth.

That being said, once Dora found out about the fair there was no way of not attending.

Dora was next to her mother, a treat in her hand, before some booth got her attention, and the child was running to it, Andromeda not far behind, "Dora, wait a minute!" she tried to get her daughter's attention and soon she was bumping to someone accidentally. "So sorry, my daughter..." she pointed and then turned back to try and catch Dora.

[petrificusx]

setting: their special bookstore, somewhere in muggle london featuring: ted tonks & andromeda black @enchantmecnts

Bookstore. 1:27pm

If it hadn’t been written in Ted’s messy script, then it very well could have been mistaken for an owl sent by Andromeda. Her notes were always like that, so vague and yet so direct. More often than not it would send Ted into a tailspin of questions. Even after all this time, he did not always get Andromeda, but this did not hinder things in any way. She was a puzzle that he was so eager to solve, he was resolute to spend the rest of his life trying to figure her out. He’d felt so strongly for a long while now, practically from the beginning when she as a Slytherin student had appeared in the Gryffindor common room to return the book she had stolen from him.

It was such an innocent beginning. Looking back Ted wasn’t sure if he knew exactly what he had been signing up for that day when Andromeda Black returned the copy of Pride and Prejudice his mother had sent him. The years that would follow, half blissful and half difficult. What more could be said of a relationship shrouded in secrecy? For years now that was what their normal was. Subtle glances, decoded owls, stolen moments whenever they could actually be together. Such was the lot drawn when you were a muggleborn so deeply in love with a pureblood heiress. Theirs was a great love, but it was not one that could be had out in the stark sunlight.

And so Ted did what was asked of him; he kept their relationship a secret. He kept it so close to his heart, nobody in his life even knew he was involved with someone. Not even his closest friends, though he would argue that Andromeda was his closest friend. She knew him better than anyone, and between them he held no secrets. He had been an open book to her since the very first day they met, and he would continue to be so for as long as she kept him in her life.

Of course, it had hurt him at times to be so tight lipped about it. Nobody loved feeling like a shameful secret, but the choice was made as much for their privacy as for their safety. After recent events, it had become more clear why they chose this clandestine way of enacting their romance. There was a growing sentiment against people like him. Against muggleborns. Andromeda’s family were blood purists, if they were to know that they were together… Ted didn’t want to think about what would happen. And after Francesca Fudge, a pureblood witch, was found dead, her blood used to scrawl a horrible thing against the walls of the new ward at St. Mungo’s… he didn’t want to risk things being known. Not for his own safety, but for Andromeda. If the girl’s death had told him anything, it was that nobody was truly safe. Not even those in pureblood society. Which meant now more than ever, neither of them was safe. And if anything happened to Andromeda… Ted felt sick just thinking about it. Hard as it was, this had to remain as it always had been: a well guarded secret just between the two of them.

Unsurprising to him (though it still stung deep within), Andromeda was growing reticent. Withdrawn. Distant. However you sliced it, the point was simple: she was pulling away, and it had only served to confuse him. This had happened before — she would have to face something and she chose to do it alone, leaving him with a vague note and no idea where they stood. And before he would let it slide, but Ted wasn’t sure he could this time around. If things were getting worse, he couldn’t sit by and wait for her to feel safe to be with him. He would have to create the space for them to be safe. And in a way there was an area that had always been comforting for them. So that was why he quickly scrawled the owl, sending it off and keeping a careful eye on his watch. He wasn’t working that afternoon, so he had plenty of time to see her. And he would have several days in a row without pause, so he needed to do it now. While things were still raw, still weighing heavy on their minds.

When the time drew closer — the ridiculous time he quoted on the owl, in the way that Andie had done when she wanted to meet with him anywhere — he was quick to leave, apparating into a laneway by the muggle bookstore he knew was safe to arrive at, and never watched. Walking into the bookstore, he kept minimal eye contact with the sole shopkeeper as he made his way through the unoccupied stacks, to the one section he knew she would frequent. If he knew but one thing about Andromeda Black, it was this: she enjoyed her classic muggle novels, to the point where she spent much of their relationship stealing them from him until his mother began sending them explicitly for her. Having arrived before her, he was quick to find a particular book on the shelf, thumbing to the page with the exact quote he’d thought of and putting a post it note on there, pointing it out, before he placed the book back — the spine jutting out just an inch or so further from the others so it would stand out. Then he slipped into the next aisle to look as though he were browsing, waiting patiently for her to show up.

When she finally did show up, Ted had his nose stuck in a book on the opposite wall, his back to the section he had left the book for her to discover. He didn’t need to look up to see her. While the rest of the world revolved around the Sun, Ted’s world had revolved around the constellation of stars that made up the Andromeda Black. He could feel her whenever she was around, would know if she was near even if he was blind. He just naturally gravitated toward her, and had to fight the urge to turn around and pull her into the circle of his arms. No, they couldn’t, not even when alone in a muggle bookstore. He still wasn’t entirely used to this. He suspected he never would be. Swallowing against the thickness in his own throat, he cleared it to try and catch her attention without turning around. “Brontë,” he said, voice low but loud enough to be heard by her behind him. Ted waited, what he assumed was an appropriate time, for her to grab the book in question and find the page he marked. Sucking in a breath through his nose, he closed his eyes and spoke, still quiet and intimate but just loud enough that she could hear him.

“‘He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn into a mighty stranger.’” He was quiet a moment before continuing, “I’m not the best at analyzing these passages. In fact, I may have it all wrong, but… I think about that bit a lot. About the souls? ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’ The notion of it…” Ted paused and swallowed. “We live in a world that doesn’t want us to think we’re alike, that we belong within it together. I think that much was said the other night… But you know what? I really don’t care what anyone else thinks. Pureblood, muggleborn. I don’t think it matters much. When I think about you and me, I don’t see us being so different at all. In fact, I think of those words. ‘Whatever our souls are made of’ … I think that your soul and mine are very much the same, if not just two halves of the same singular soul.”

He was quiet a moment, letting the words sit in the air between them before concluding. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I know things are strange right now, and more than that I know you. I know how you can get. If you need some space, I get it. Just… I need you to know where I stand. They can do these demonstrations a hundred times over, Dromeda. It doesn’t make a difference. You and me… We’re made up of the same stuff. And I don’t think that I can make it in this hellish world without you. So if you need to distance yourself, if you think pulling away is the only way to keep us safe… Okay, I’ll bear it. Just promise it’s not forever. Promise to come back. Or let’s try something different this time. Let me weather this with you. Let’s bear it together.”

[sweetblinginrose]

stay away from me, lestrange!

(Neville Longbottom x fem¡OCLestrange)

introduction: Morwenna Evangelinne Lestrange was born on October 31, 1980, on a dark and stormy night that seemed to foreshadow her destiny. Daughter of the feared marriage of Death Eaters Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange, her arrival into the world was marked by the echo of dark magic and power.

Barely a year after her birth, her parents were arrested and imprisoned in Azkaban for their active involvement in the First Wizarding War. They were loyal accomplices of Lord Voldemort, committing acts of unspeakable cruelty. With her parents behind bars, the guardianship of Morwenna fell to her aunt Narcisa Malfoy, who had also given birth to a son that same year. Thus, Gelinne and her cousin Draco were raised together in the opulent Malfoy Manor, under the strict supervision of Lucius.

From an early age, Gelinne was taught the most elegant and refined manners. Lucius Malfoy insisted that, as a pureblood, she must maintain an impeccable appearance and impeccable conduct. Morwenna’s education was rigorous, designed to instill in her the values and superiority of her lineage.

Over the years, Gelinne grew up alongside Draco, sharing not only their education but also the ignorance of her parents’ crimes. She knew of them only by their names and their portraits, imposing and mysterious figures that adorned the walls of the manor.

Finally, the anticipated moment came to attend the prestigious school of magic, Hogwarts. Alongside her cousin Draco, Morwenna quickly earned the respect of her fellow Slytherins and other students, thanks to her distinguished bearing and innate magical ability.

warnings: It mentions torture, death, bullying, abuse, evil, distress…

words: 2k

a/n: it’s a bit of an introduction, sorry, the good stuff is coming, i promise.

my main language is not English.

masterlist previous chapt. next

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

Chapter two: Gurdyroot

Morwenna tried to push her thoughts aside as she recalled how her aunt, Andromeda, had reluctantly agreed to let her spend a week at Malfoy Manor. It had all been Draco’s idea, presented as a chance for them to get to know each other better. Yet, something in Andromeda’s gaze when she gave her consent unsettled Morwenna. It was as if her aunt knew something she wasn’t privy to.

Now, sitting in the Hogwarts Express compartment with Draco, Morwenna watched the blurred scenery rushing past the window. The journey back to the station was steeped in an odd silence. Draco, his nearly white blonde hair perfectly styled and his demeanor as arrogant as ever, seemed lost in his own thoughts—or at least pretended to be.

The compartment wasn’t empty. Across from them sat three house-elves sent to escort them. Each one looked more unpleasant than the last, with long ears and grayish skin that gave them an eerie, nightmare-like appearance. One of them kept coughing in a grating, raspy way, another scratched its arm incessantly with twisted nails, and the smallest of the three was so jittery it couldn’t keep its eyes fixed on anything.

Morwenna tried not to stare, but their presence made the already tense atmosphere feel even heavier. She shifted her focus to Draco, hoping he’d say something—anything—to break the oppressive silence. But he merely crossed his arms and stared out the window, his expression of boredom perfectly practiced.

When the train finally arrived at the station, they disembarked slowly, followed by the house-elves lugging their trunks and bags. Waiting for them was a black carriage pulled by Thestrals, shrouded in a mist that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Though they couldn’t see the creatures pulling it, Morwenna shivered at the hollow sound of hooves on stone and the faint rustling of wings that dissipated into the breeze.

The ride in the carriage was as quiet as the train ride had been. The house-elves were crammed into a corner, muttering in a language she couldn’t understand, while Draco lounged back, exuding nonchalance with a calculating glint in his gray eyes. Morwenna clung to the window, her gaze fixed on the darkened landscape as she tried to steady the whirlwind of thoughts crowding her mind.

There was something unsettling about the idea of spending a week at Malfoy Manor, an unease she couldn’t quite name but felt like a shadow lurking at the edges of her consciousness.

When they arrived at their destination, the house-elves began unloading everything with astonishing speed. With a simple snap of their fingers, the enormous black carriage that had brought them shrank instantly, transforming into a small, delicate object that looked like an intricate toy. Morwenna watched in fascination as a hand, gloved in fine black leather, reached forward to pick it up with precision. The hand belonged to a tall, slender man whose platinum blond hair was perfectly slicked back.

He took the tiny carriage and, without a word, slipped it into the deep pocket of an impeccably tailored black jacket that looked as expensive as it was intimidating. His entire figure radiated a blend of elegance and coldness that was hard to ignore. When Morwenna looked up at his face, she was met with an ironic, slightly forced smile. There was something in his gaze that unsettled her—a calculating scrutiny, as though he were measuring every detail about her in mere seconds.

Beside him, in stark contrast, stood a woman of refined beauty. Her golden blonde hair, sleek and styled to perfection, cascaded in soft waves that framed her pale face. Her piercing light eyes held a glimmer of unexpected kindness, softening her expression. This was, undoubtedly, Narcissa Malfoy—the aunt Andromeda had mentioned so often.

“Welcome, Morwenna,” Narcissa said with a warm smile, stepping forward to greet her. Her voice was gentle and melodic, but carried an undeniable air of authority that didn’t need to be asserted.

Morwenna, still slightly thrown off by the impression the man—who she guessed must be Lucius Malfoy—had made on her, inclined her head slightly in greeting, trying to recall the lessons on decorum her Aunt Andromeda had always emphasized.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” she replied politely, though her tone carried a mix of curiosity and caution.

Lucius said nothing at first, merely observing her with his distant and calculating air. At last, he gave a slight nod before turning his attention to Draco, who stood off to the side with his arms crossed, acting as though the entire scene was beneath his notice.

“I trust our guest knows how to conduct herself in a manner befitting her name,” Lucius said in a low, silky voice laced with implicit venom.

Morwenna felt a shiver run down her spine, but before she could reply, Narcissa placed a hand on her husband’s arm, a silent gesture that seemed to calm him without words.

“Come, dear,” Narcissa said gently, ignoring Lucius’s remark. “Let’s go inside. I’m sure the journey has been exhausting, and everything is ready to make you feel at home.”

Morwenna nodded, though something in the air—or perhaps in the way Lucius looked at her—made it clear that the days ahead in Malfoy Manor would be far from peaceful.

In truth, Morwenna’s presence at Malfoy Manor had not been Draco’s whim, but Lucius’s design. The patriarch of the Malfoy family deemed it crucial that the young Lestrange understand her roots, her lineage, and most importantly, the power she was destined to claim as a descendant of one of the most illustrious and feared magical families. For Lucius, this visit was the perfect opportunity to mold her, to draw her closer to the Dark Arts, as he had already done with his own son.

After settling into one of the mansion’s grand bedrooms—adorned with green velvet curtains and intricately carved dark wood furniture—Morwenna decided to explore. The hallways seemed endless, every corner cloaked in mystery. Portraits followed her with their eyes, chandeliers cast dancing shadows, and glass cases held magical artifacts that seemed to whisper secrets to anyone who dared to get too close.

As she wandered, nearly lost, a soft, hurried sound made her pause. Suddenly, a house-elf appeared before her, as if it had materialized from the shadows. Small, gray-skinned, and sharp-eared, the elf looked agitated, its expression a mix of nervousness and urgency.

“Miss Lestrange, Miss Lestrange!” it stammered in a high-pitched, melodic voice, its eyes darting about as though it feared being seen.

Morwenna frowned, intrigued. “What is it? Why the rush?” she asked, leaning slightly toward the elf to hear better.

The tiny creature opened its mouth as if about to confess something, but just as it was on the verge of speaking, a chill ran down Morwenna’s spine. A cold hand settled on her shoulder, startling her. The elf jumped and stumbled back several steps, nearly tripping in the process.

“It’s time for dinner,” came the icy, calculated voice of Lucius Malfoy. His tone brooked no argument, and though his face bore a smile, it didn’t reach his eyes.

Morwenna turned her head to look at him, her heart racing. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at her, as if he knew exactly what was happening and had taken pleasure in disrupting it.

The elf, terrified, gave a clumsy bow before vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving Morwenna alone with Lucius.

“Come along, dear,” he said with a disturbing softness, his hand remaining on her shoulder as he guided her down the hallway toward the dining room. “We wouldn’t want dinner to get cold. And remember, this is your home too… at least while you’re here.”

Morwenna nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling heavily on her as they walked.

A few seemingly quiet days passed, though the atmosphere in Malfoy Manor remained tense and cold, as if every word and gesture were carefully calculated. Morwenna couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider, watched closely by everyone—especially Lucius, whose presence was as imposing as it was unsettling.

The next day, Lucius and Narcissa decided to take her to visit several properties belonging to the Black family. The estates were grand, steeped in history that seemed to cling to the marble floors, the tapestry-covered walls, and the towering windows that let in only the faintest light.

In one of the houses, Narcissa led her to a room that felt like a mausoleum of lineage and pride. One entire wall was taken up by an enormous family tree painted with meticulous detail. The names of the Black family members shimmered in golden script under the soft glow of floating lamps.

“This is our legacy, Morwenna,” Narcissa said softly, gesturing to the tree. “Here lie our roots, our triumphs, and… our betrayals.”

Her finger paused at a specific point where a name had been burned away, leaving a charred void. Morwenna frowned, immediately recognizing where her Aunt Andromeda’s name should have been.

“Andromeda…” she murmured, almost to herself.

“She was a mistake,” Narcissa said, her voice laced with barely restrained disapproval. “She turned her back on her lineage and married a Mudblood. That’s what happens when one forgets who they are and where they come from.”

Morwenna didn’t respond, her gaze following the tree’s branches. She scanned the unfamiliar names until her eyes landed on two she knew all too well: her mother, Bellatrix Lestrange, and her father, Rodolphus.

She stepped closer, studying the portraits cautiously. Though stylized in the tree’s artistic design, the faces of her parents seemed to burn with a strange intensity. Their gazes, even painted, unsettled her in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

Slowly, she reached out toward her mother’s face, as if searching for some connection in the cold, painted surface. Her fingertips hovered inches away when a voice broke through her thoughts.

“Morwenna,” Narcissa called, her tone firm but not harsh, a warning wrapped in gentleness. Startled, Morwenna pulled her hand back, turning quickly to face her aunt. “It’s easy to get lost in memories of the past,” Narcissa said, stepping closer. “But remember, the past doesn’t always hold the answers you’re looking for. Sometimes, looking back too much can be dangerous.”

The days passed in an uneasy stillness, the tension within Malfoy Manor palpable, as if the walls themselves bristled with secrets. Morwenna had grown accustomed to the cold glances and measured words, but today, in front of the Black family tree, the weight of her ancestry pressed down on her more heavily than ever.

She stared at the charred void where Andromeda��s name had been obliterated, her thoughts tangled in questions she couldn’t yet ask. Narcissa’s words, spoken with calm authority, still hung in the air, wrapping around her like a cold mist. Unable to bear the silence any longer, she finally spoke.

“I… I don’t understand, Aunt Narcissa,” Morwenna said softly, her gaze still fixed on her mother’s name. “I don’t know anything about my mother. Andromeda never told me much… only that she died in the Wizarding War.”

At this, Narcissa froze. Her usually composed expression faltered, her eyes widening slightly in shock before narrowing with a mixture of disdain and disbelief. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice low but sharp, each word clipped with irritation.

Morwenna shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of her aunt’s scrutiny. “Andromeda told me my parents died in the war,” she repeated, though the words sounded less certain now, as if cracks were forming in the foundation of what she thought she knew.

“Died in the war?” Narcissa repeated, her voice dripping with contempt. A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her lips. “Of course, Andromeda would say that. She always did have a talent for twisting the truth to suit her whims.”

Morwenna’s heart quickened. “So… it’s not true?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the first threads of doubt unraveling her carefully constructed understanding.

Narcissa sighed, long and deliberate, as though preparing herself to shatter the fragile lie. She stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Morwenna’s shoulder, forcing her to meet her gaze.

“No, Morwenna,” she said with a cold finality, her words as sharp as a blade. “It’s not true. Your parents, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, are not dead. They’re alive… though they might wish they weren’t. They’re in Azkaban.”

The name struck like a thunderclap. Azkaban. Morwenna’s legs felt weak, her breath shallow. “Azkaban?” she echoed, her voice trembling. “Why… why are they there? What did they do?”

Narcissa’s expression hardened, pride flickering in her ice-blue eyes. “They were loyal servants of the Dark Lord—of Lord Voldemort,” she said, her tone reverent yet unyielding. “They fought for him, sacrificed for him. And when he fell, they didn’t waver. Your parents, along with a few others, sought vengeance. They captured the Longbottoms—Dumbledore’s allies—and used the Cruciatus Curse to extract information about his whereabouts.”

The words sent a chill through Morwenna’s body. Her mind flashed back to Neville Longbottom, his voice trembling with fury in the Great Hall: “Your parents tortured mine!” It had been a dagger then, but now the truth plunged deeper, the wound raw and bleeding.

“And… and that’s why they’re in Azkaban?” she managed to ask, her voice barely audible.

“For that, and because they refused to betray their ideals,” Narcissa replied, her voice steady, almost admiring. “Your parents believed in the purity of magic, in the greatness of their cause. And they never repented. Not once. Bellatrix, especially, was… indomitable.”

Morwenna stood rooted to the spot, her emotions swirling—fear, confusion, and something unnameable, a strange pride she couldn’t fully understand or accept.

“That’s why I’m so astonished, Morwenna,” Narcissa continued, her gaze piercing. “Andromeda hid all of this from you. Perhaps she wanted to protect you from the truth, or perhaps she’s ashamed of our family. But I won’t do the same. You’re a Lestrange, and you deserve to know who your parents were and what they stood for.”

Morwenna looked up, her thoughts spinning in chaotic loops. “Do you think I should… know more about them?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course you should,” Narcissa said firmly, stepping closer. “You carry the blood of the Blacks and the Lestranges in your veins. That’s not just blood, Morwenna—it’s power, history, legacy. And while Andromeda may have tried to erase that part of you, it’s time for you to claim it.”

Morwenna remained silent, her mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. Deep within her, a seed of curiosity—and something darker—began to sprout. Narcissa’s words resonated, undeniable in their truth. It was time to uncover the past, to understand who she truly was… even if that truth could change everything.

The sound of Narcissa’s heels echoed through the silent mansion, marking the steps of her elegant and cold figure as she approached the sofa where Lucius Malfoy rested, in an equally tense posture. The wine glass in his hand made a faint tinkling sound as she sat on the armrest of the sofa, her proximity to her husband almost perfect, as if in that physical space there also resided an emotional disconnect.

“Have you spoken to her about that?” Lucius’s voice cut through the air, low and controlled, as always. His eyes gleamed with an icy intensity as he took a sip of his wine, waiting for Narcissa’s response. The question needed no clarification; they both knew what he was referring to.

Narcissa looked at him for a moment, her face set in a serene yet calculating expression. For a second, her blue eyes softened, showing a hint of concern that only a keen observer could detect.

“Yes,” she answered calmly. “Morwenna knows the truth about her parents. At least, what she needs to know… though she doesn’t fully understand it.”

Lucius studied her for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the glass, as though he were contemplating the implications of her words. “And what do you hope to achieve with that?” he asked at last, his tone tinged with a cold curiosity. “Do you expect her to align with our ideals, as her mother and father did? Or do you want her to become a tool for a greater purpose?”

Narcissa let out a small smile, which did little to ease the tension between them. “Morwenna has her own path to follow, Lucius. I’m not trying to force her into anything. But it’s clear she can’t continue living in ignorance, as Andromeda has kept her. She’s a Lestrange, and it’s time she understood what it really means to be one.”

Lucius nodded slowly, but his gaze never lost that calculating coldness that characterized him. “We must ensure she’s not a weakness, Narcissa. A weak piece in a game that no longer has room for mistakes.”

Narcissa looked at her husband for a moment, her eyes glimmering with a mix of love and disdain. “She won’t be,” she said firmly, assuring that Morwenna would not fall into the shadows of ignorance, but without revealing all the nuances of her own thoughts.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and palpable, as both of them lost themselves in their own reflections. Morwenna, in her distant room, remained unaware of the conversation, immersed in the echoes of the day’s revelations. In the distance, the wind hit the windows of the mansion, making the cold night feel even darker.

tags:

(If you don’t want me to tag you, let me know, and if it’s the opposite, let me know as well)

@20bombshell04 @scretlololok @jschladderall @staygold162 @that-crazy-skz-stan-uwu @shilphy87

[mossfordays]

As much as Alice loved the little Gryffondoors like they were her kin. As much as she cared about the Marauders. As much as she took care of them all.

A part of her hated Sirius.

She hated when he talked about Narcissa like a cold uncaring witch. How he claimed that all she cared about was making them the perfect pureblood heirs.

She hated him because Narcissa had told her stories again and again about how much she loved her boys. How much she wanted to protect them.

She hated him when he said the Andromeda was the only one who cared for his antics. That she’s the only one that would help and Narcissa stopped him every time.

She hated him because Narcissa told her the amount of things she turned a blind eye to so she could cover for them to her aunt and uncle. How she would distract the adults by formal conversations so the rest of the cousins could play int their room, or outside, just a little longer.

She hated him not for leaving home, but because he said none of his cousins would even care. He said they would probably be glad.

She hated him because Narcissa cried into her arms when it happened. Because just the year before, Narcissa cited protecting him and Regulus as a reason for not leaving.

Alice hated Sirius for all of these reason, but she hated him a little less for it when Narcissa left her.

(Inspired by @in-a-different-timeline ‘s post)

[suerteliquida]

"¿Ves? No soy la única con buen gusto," replicó Lucinda, observando con curiosidad cómo Andrómeda le daba otra oportunidad a la bebida, sólo para confirmar su pésima opinión sobre ella. "Aunque debo admitir que tu dedicación a la ciencia es admirable," añadió con una leve sonrisa sarcástica, apoyando su barbilla en la mano mientras la miraba. "Es lo lógico. Si algo no gusta, no vuelve, ¿no? Aunque..." hizo una pausa, su mirada recorriendo el lugar, "parece que algunos no tienen el mismo sentido del gusto que tú y yo. Están bebiendo como si esto fuera néctar de los dioses." Sus dedos juguetearon con el borde de su copa antes de mirarla de nuevo. "Quizá deberías darles unas lecciones de cómo manejar un negocio. Estoy segura de que sabrías cómo hacerlo mucho mejor que estos amateurs," comentó con un tono que estaba a medio camino entre la broma y el cumplido.

Por la ciencia, volvió a acercar la botella y dio un sorbo más. El mismo sabor fuerte la golpeó, haciéndola otra vez fruncir el ceño a la vez que meneaba la cabeza– No, definitivamente no se pone mejor –sentenció, antes de asentir dándole la razón a la chica– Sí, probablemente lo pensaran dos veces antes de volver a traerla –afirmó. Ella al menos jamás volvería a vender algo en su cafetería que tuviese mala recepción. No sólo era algo que daba mala publicidad, sino que era gasto de recursos.

[ampresandian]

A scene I want in Season 2 (I would place it in probably episode 3, covering chapters 8-10, which I would title "We Board the Princess Andromeda")

INT. HALFBLOOD HIDEOUT - EVENING. THALIA and YOUNG ANNABETH are inside the hideout. Three sleeping bags are set out and the girls are cleaning up a meal and reorganizing their belongings. YOUNG ANNABETH: (huffs) Annabeth is clearly frustrated, pulling a twig out of her hair as she tries to focus on her task. THALIA: Hey, Annie. Let me help. Thalia approaches, assisting Annabeth with the cleaning. Annabeth pulls something else out of her hair. YOUNG ANNABETH: I just wish it was gone! THALIA: Is your hair bothering you? YOUNG ANNABETH: I just can't keep it from getting tangled in everything. THALIA: Can I help? I'll pick the leaves out and then maybe we can tie it up better? Annabeth nods, sitting on the floor to give Thalia a better view. Thalia carefully removes leaves and twigs. YOUNG ANNABETH: When is Luke coming back? THALIA: He should be back soon, he just went to go see... if he could find more supplies. Thalia seems unsure, but Annabeth happily accepts the answer. YOUNG ANNABETH: I'm sure he will. Luke is very smart. Thalia nods thoughtfully, finishing removing debris from the younger girl's hair. THALIA: All done. Now, what should we do with it? YOUNG ANNABETH: (thoughtful) Well, my dad took me to get it braided once, and that stayed really well, but it took forever. And I don't know if you know how to do that. THALIA: I don't think so, kiddo. Sorry. I'll learn. YOUNG ANNABETH: Maybe you could just tie it back like yours? Thalia frowns, looking at the afro. THALIA: Not exactly like mine, but maybe... Can I try something? We can figure something else out if you don't like it. Annabeth nods, and Thalia gets to work separating her hair and pulling it into two buns on top of her head. THALIA (cont): I don't know if that'll help it get less tangled, but maybe we can try it? YOUNG ANNABETH: It'll be better. Thank you! Annabeth hugs Thalia.

[sapphim]

sorry to bother - im trying to figure out how to work with plot flags in frosty editor for dav, and i know you 1. made the bi cassandra mod (my beloved) 2. make modding tutorials. any chance of seeing a tutorial for how you did it? only if it wouldnt be too much trouble!

Well believe it or not, I didn't make Bi Cass in Frosty. I made it with DAI Modding Tool and a hex editor. I don't recommend it. ;)

While the details change between games, the general structure of a conversation (child or linked lines, conditions, actions) really doesn't, so I am going to recommend you check out the first two parts of my Dialogue Modding Tutorial. It was written specifically for Origins and DA2 but the basic overview is largely applicable.

The exact structure of plot flags IS something that differs slightly between the Eclipse engine games and Frostbite games, although their purpose is still the same. Iirc plot flags in Inq and Andromeda each have their own GUID (unique identifier) rather than being a GUID+int pair. They also have counters, sometimes, rather than always being boolean (true/false). And a lot of the time rather than referencing individual plot flags, conversations will reference plot schematics, which are a separate file that can compare the results of multiple flags and other variables. They're a lot like defined flags in the Eclipse games.

Uhhhh in my limited experience making romance mods for Inq and Andromeda, the exact plot flags and plot schematics involved were all very easy to work with, mostly with human readable names and everything, which is always a plus. Other plot flags were uhhhhhhhhhh not always nearly so nice, so it's kind of luck of the draw there.

I don't know if there is anything of use to you in these two other asks I've answered about Frostbite modding but I'll link them anyway just in case: On dialogue modding, and on war table missions. (I never did end up writing that tutorial I mentioned in that one post because I quit Frostbite modding shortly after. Nothing against Frosty editor, however, it's a very good tool and easy to work with.)

If you need any other specific help with Frosty or Veilguard, your best bet is going to be found on Discord. I have links to some servers in my pinned faq.

[hersheysmcboom]

[SCENE START]

INT. PETER'S BACKYARD - DAY

SOUND of buzzing, crackling

PETER (10), a boy with a bowl cut and an oversized Star Wars t-shirt, is playing with a G.I. Joe action figure in his backyard. Suddenly, a blinding light fills the yard, followed by a loud CRASH. Peter shields his eyes.

As the light fades, Peter sees four strange figures amidst smoking debris. One is green-skinned and imposing (Gamora), another is blue and metallic (Nebula), a third is a talking raccoon (Rocket), and the last is a towering tree-like creature (Groot).

PETER

> (Gasps)

ROCKET

> Well, that's just great. Another freakin' planet. Check our bearings, metal-face.

Nebula, ignoring Rocket, scans the surroundings with her glowing blue eye.

NEBULA

> Atmosphere is breathable. Primitive technology.

GAMORA

> Any sign of pursuit?

NEBULA

> Negative. We lost them back in the Andromeda Galaxy.

Groot looks at Peter, tilting his head.

GROOT

> I am Groot.

Peter stares at Groot, eyes wide with disbelief.

PETER

> ...Did that tree just talk?

Rocket turns to Peter, a scowl on his face.

ROCKET

> Yeah, genius, he talks. You got a problem with talking trees? You got a problem with talking raccoons? Cause I got a whole lotta problems with stupid kids who stare!

Peter shrinks back, clutching his G.I. Joe.

PETER

> I...I'm sorry. I've just never seen... well, anything like you guys before.

GAMORA

> Where are we? What is this planet called?

PETER

> This is Earth. I'm in...Missouri.

ROCKET

> Missouri? What in the blazes is a 'Missouri'? Sounds like a disease you get from kissing a space slug.

GAMORA

> (To Rocket) > Enough, Rocket. Earth... according to my database, a class-M planet. Technologically underdeveloped.

PETER

> Underdeveloped? Hey! We have, like, cars and TVs, and...and Space Shuttle!

NEBULA

> (Scoffs) > Primitive.

ROCKET

> Speaking of primitive, look at that rickety hunk of junk we landed in. (To Peter) Hey, kid, you got any tools around here? We need to get this rust bucket spaceworthy again.

Peter, still awestruck, points to his grandfather's shed.

PETER

> My grandpa has a bunch of tools in there. But... who are you guys? Are you...aliens?

Gamora steps forward, her expression softening slightly.

GAMORA

> Yes, child. We are...far from home. And we need your help.

Peter looks from Gamora to Rocket, Groot, and Nebula. A thrill of adventure shoots through him.

PETER

> Cool! I always knew there was something else out there! Okay, I'll help you. What do you need?

Rocket grins, revealing sharp teeth.

ROCKET

> That's what I like to hear. First, grab that toolbox, kid. Time to get to work. And try not to stare.

FADE OUT

[SCENE END]

[cxpectopatronum]

—En ese caso, creo que tendré que seguirte —repuso, con tono amistoso al tratar de imitar la técnica de Andromeda—. Oh, eso funciona —observó—, pero prefiero aventurarme sin ese tipo de ayuda. —Consideraba ese atrevimiento más divertido.

– No es tan difícil –comentó Andrómeda, que se abrochaba los patines para ir una segunda vez ( ahora sin Nymphadora que había ido con ella la primera vez )– Aunque también tienen unas cosas de ayuda –señaló a alguien que la estaba usando, era una especie de objeto para sujetarse mientras avanzaban por la pista.

[power-chords]

Some stream of consciousness Andor thoughts: Tony Gilroy, MVP. This is Star Wars but it’s also Vietnam War, Cold War, Bone Wars (lmao). The intercutting of past/present pursuits and escapes, transitions from one world to the next: growing up, leaving home twice over, the passage from a form of adolescent naïveté to adult disillusionment. Both involve a figurative dimension. Kassa encountering his reflection and then smashing at it in anger and confusion hurted a little bit, NGL. Especially after him witnessing the death of an intriguing elder girl. (Was she a relative? I may have to re-watch that episode, I could have missed it.) I’m only up to episode three, so I have no idea what those glossy black racks contained, but my gut says: data. That’s an archive. Of what? Of information? Of life? (Well, what’s the difference, I suppose.) Some major Andromeda Strain/Space Odyssey vibes from that spooky ghost ship. Cassian is in this sense poisoned by association. And what he attempts to bring with him in his escape off-planet is essentially a totemic artifact representing safeguarded open speech. Oof. P.S. Anon: I have yet to get to your ask but I will be digging in eventually on those sources you recommended, thank you, I am sure there are plenty other references I missed.

I love that I thought Kassa was a girl at first. Women are always part of the action, as scavengers and mystics and… middlemen! Be still my heart. (The implication is in fact that Cassian learns his tradecraft from them, after being witness to the death of one who is either stupid or brave or both — there is both context and totally open-ended non-context in that ritual expedition, since we have no idea what any pre-existing ones look like, yet or possibly ever.) I love that the dipshit little footstool droid is all Int and like zero Wis and yet still has attitude, extremely relatable. Next post Stellan Skarsgaard and that crazy encounter/shootout sequence. No comment on Bix!!!

[braveclementine]

Chapter 27

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

𝕬𝖓 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖙 of land had been cleared by the Ministry of Magic (ie Kingsley) for the burial of the Fallen Fifty. Yes, even though I had saved Dad, Tonks, Severus, and Lavenders' lives, it seemed fate found a way to replace those four lives with those of the Slytherins who had fought alongside us. 

The cemetery was beautiful, hidden just outside of the city, where the sunlight barely managed to filter through the dense canopy of trees. It was unlike any other I had ever seen, as if nature had been given free rein to create a masterpiece of her own. The air was heavy with the scent of countless flowers that seemed to bloom in defiance of the season, their vibrant colours painting the landscape in hues of red, green, yellow, and blue.

 The grass was lush and green, dotted with fresh tombstones of marble that would tell the stories of the brave men and women who had fought in battle. Birdsong filled the air, competing with the soft rustling of leaves as they danced in the gentle breeze.

There were wooden chairs that had been set up in front of the podium where the small man who had spoke at Dumbledore's funeral would be speaking. They were filling up as I stood on the small stage that Lee and I had set up beforehand, overlooking the crowd. 

The Weasleys were the ones I laid eyes upon first, their heads of red hair bright in the sun. When George looked up at us, I swept my eyes over the rest of the crowd, unable to look him in the face. 

Severus was in the very back with Dad, Tonks, Trang, and Andromeda. They were sitting with Remus, Minerva, Elijah Kingsley, and Teddy so that if they started to cry, they would be able to run with them so they didn't disturb the funeral. 

More chairs were added as more people showed up. There was, of course, the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts, but also family members and friends who hadn't been there. My heart clenched when I saw Dennis Creevy sitting with a tall father who resembled Colin greatly. Both of them were crying silently, but proudly. 

I should've saved Colin too. Somehow. 

"Are you ready?" Lee asked me quietly. 

I turned slightly to look at him. We had been practicing this for the past week to make sure it was perfect for today. I had known Lee enjoyed singing and even had some band friends whose names were Luke, Ryan, and Aaron. Together we had formed our own sort of band, at least for now. 

They thought I had created the entire song, which I had taken out of my memories and put in a pensive to see if they could recreate it. They had been very successful and the song was perfect the last couple of days we had practiced. 

It wasn't, of course, my own. Rather a song that I had used to listen to when I had been int he other world. One I had listened to because it was a 'fan' song for the Wizarding World. One to portray how much the death of the characters meant to them, even though they 'weren't real'. Regardless, I would now take this song from Dr. Gates' world, and bring it alive in mine. 

I fidgeted with my dress slightly, tugging it lower slightly so that it was at knee length instead of above. "Yeah, I think so anyways. It's just. . . I think my main problem will be trying not to cry." 

Lee nodded, looking out at the crowd as the funeral director stepped up onto the platform. "That will be hardest part." 

We sat down in our chairs on the stage, but I couldn't listen to a single word the man said. All I could do was look at all the faces, shining and red with tears, and think about all of the ways I could have saved their loved ones. . . if I hadn't been so selfish to save my own. 

I could've told others, could've told everyone. Or I could've passed liquid luck out to everyone. I should have come up with a better plan. 

But I had been so scared to change the future by an inch, so scared it would prevent me from saving my family. 

I wondered if it was worth it. 

Lee gently touched my hand, making me realize that the band was setting up. I got to my feet slowly, approaching the microphone. I would be singing nearly the entire song though Lee would be helping with the chorus and the other three would join in for vocalizing. 

The coffins were brand new with a design that was modern and sleek. Its lines were clean and uncluttered, its curves soft and inviting. It was made from a sustainable blend of oak wood and metal, a testament to the changing times. A small bronze plaque on the coffin's lids bore the name of the deceased, along with the years of their birth and death.

On a nearby table next to the stage, there was a small surprise that I had set up. I just hoped I was able to sing and concentrate on the magic at the same way. 

I took a deep breath and started to sing. 

 "I'm tired and thin Haven't slept since the war I'm a mess of wounded skin Like a wine sack that's been torn

In the sacred space Behind the lids of my eyes Mad-Eye darkly holds my gaze And I can still see Frederick's laughing face." 

At this point, I let my wand point to the table, letting the two lanterns float up into the slowly darkening sky. I had asked to do this near nighttime so that they would show up better. The lanterns lit up, showing the pictures that accompanied them. . . Uncle Moody who was looking at everyone, and Fred who was laughing. 

After that, the lanterns kept coming, even as I continued to sing. Colin and Professor Vector and Professor Burbage and the Fallen Fifty. 

"It's not enough,  To say that time Can mend my wings That one day I'll fly"

Lee sang along with me as the photos continued to float up and coffins were lowered down into the soft ground. If anyone had stopped crying, they were sobbing now, seeing the faces of their loved ones. 

"And it's not enough  This acheless scar Some wounds are still burning Let me live as one earning his life" 

Lee: And we all fall down And we all fall down 

Me: Behind the lids of my eyes I can still see Frederick's laughing face

Lee: Far away

Me: And I can still see Fredericks' laughing face. 

Now I sang the line and Lee sang the echo. 

It's not enough (not enough)  To say that time (say that time)

Something surprising was happening. . . the crowd was joining in with Lee. I felt my heart soar, especially as the lanterns were now portraying different faces: The faces of Dumbledore and Sirius and Cedric and the faces of the people who had died to Voldemort before he had really taken control. 

Can mend my wings (mend my wings) That one day I'll fly (one day I'll fly) It's not enough (not enough) This acheless scar (acheless scar) Some wounds are still burning (wounds are still burning) Let me live as one earning his life (earning his life)

Lee: Darkest nights turn into dawns Golden lights are chords for songs of love Something death cannot erase

The rest of the song was instrumental as the last four photos showed up: Lily and James Potter, and Frank and Alice Longbottom, a tribute to both of our sets of parents for giving up their different sacrifices so that their children could end the Dark Lord they had so valiantly fought against. 

Lee sang the very last part, which was just a very simple: Far away~

The lanterns went out , the pictures dissolving into golden dust. The coffins finished settling into their already made holes, wands waving gently through the air to cover them with freshly dug up dirt. The headstones glowed brightly in the moonlight and slowly the people moved to visit the graves. 

I sighed, turning away from the crowd. Lee was still staring out at the crowd, but he looked down at me now. "Luna is right you know." 

"Oh?" I asked softly. 

Lee nodded, pulling me into a hug, "We're going to see them again someday." 

"Yes." I whispered, thinking of the stone that Harry had dropped in the forest. They were still out there, still existed, and I would see them all in death. "Yes we will." 

⬅️➡️

[saturniasxenos]

Eternaunivian & Cosmos ID/NPT Pack

Ee - Tur - Nuh - Yoo - Nuh - Vee - Ihn

Eternaunivian is ETERIN and a subterm of the Eternalgender System. Those who identify as eternaunivian may feel as if their gender, or even their whole identity, has a deep, never-ending connection to the universe and anything apart of it (including but not limited to: Dark Matter, Stars, Planets, Galaxies, Black Holes). This can be used as an umbrella term for any space-related eternic genders. You could be a star and eternal, an eternal quasar, an eternalized planet, an eternal that likes the cosmos, a constellation eternal, and similar.

This gender may be constantly fluctuating and fluid between any space-related and eternic genders. This gender would be considered under the agender umbrella, but can be used by anyone regardless of femininity, masculinity, and neutrality.

Created and Coined by me. There is no correct way to use this flag and term.

Keep reading for Etymology & Cosmos ID Pack (Titles, Names, & Pronoun suggestions)

Etymology: Eternal, Universe, -ian (suffix),

Pronoun Suggestions:

Uni/Unive/Universe/Universes/Universeself

Sta/Star/Stary/Stars/Starself

Co/Cos/Cosmo/Cosmos/Cosmoself

Co/Cos/Cosmic/Cosmics/Cosmicself

Qu/Qua/Quasar/Quasars/Quasarself

Gal/Galae/Galaxy/Galaxys/Galaxyself

Ne/Nebulae/Nebula/Nebulas/Nebulaself

No/Novae/Nova/Novas/Novaself

Or/Orbi/Orbit/Orbits/Orbitself

An/Andro/Andromeda/Andromedas/Andromedaself

Mi/Milky/Milkyway/Milkyways/Milkywayself

Pla/Plan/Planet/Planets/Planetself

Sa/Satu/Saturn/Saturns/Saturnself

Plu/Plut/Pluto/Plutos/Plutoself

Jup/Jupi/Jupiter/Jupiters/Jupiterself

Ne/Nep/Neptune/Neptunes/Neptuneself

Ma/Mar/Mars/Marsics/Marsself

Co/Com/Comet/Comets/Cometself

Met/Meteo/Meteor/Meteors/Meteorself

Inte/Interstell/Interstellar/Interstellars/Interstellarself

Ast/Aster/Asteroid/Asteroids/Asteroidself

Su/Sunspo/Sunspot/Sunspots/Sunspotself

Celes/Celestiae/Celestial/Celestials/Celestialself

Zo/Zodi/Zodiac/Zodiacs/Zodiacself

Sco/Scorp/Scorpio/Scorpius/Scorpioself

Le/Leae/Leo/Leos/Leoself

Vi/Vir/Virgo/Virgos/Virgoself

Ca/Can/Cancer/Cancers/Cancerself

Astro/Astrol/Astrology/Astrologys/Astrologyself

Astro/Astron/Astronomy/Astronomys/Astronomyself

Au/Auro/Aurora/Auroras/Auroraself

🌕/🌕's

🪐/🪐's

☀/☀'s

⭐/⭐'s

☄️/☄️'s

🌙/🌙's

🌌/🌌's

🌠/🌠's

Title Suggestions :

(X) Who Watches The Stars

The Guardian of The Quasar

Emperor of The Moon

(X) Who Dances Amongst The Galaxy

The Child of Andromeda

(X) Who is Made of Stardust

The Lover of The Cosmos

The Will of Luna

The Eternalized Constellation

Song of Neptune

Melody of Jupiter

Love of Venus

The Flame of The Sun

(X) Who is Infinite

The Eternal Galaxy

(X) Who Was Born From Black Matter

Name Suggestions:

Some names may not be fem or masc, I just organized what I thought sounded the most masc, neu, or fem!! Many names originate from named stars in the galaxy! See this site for more named stars.

Fem: Ankaa, Aniara, Alasia, Aurora, Ayla, Astrid, Astra, Astraia, Ariel, Andromeda, Arista, Bellatrix, Danica, Dawn, Calypso, Celeste, Celestia, Cordelia, Cressida, Electra, Eris, Estrella, Gaia, Helene, Irena, Itonda, Luna, Lunar, Lyra, Maia, Merope, Mimosa, Mira, Nova, Nervia, Pleione, Phoenicia, Phoebe, Pandora, Seren, Selene, Stella, Starla, Solana, Star, Sunniva, Shaula, Thea, Umbriel, Venus, Vega, Veritas,

Masc: Alpheratz Archer, Apollo, Aries, Atlas, Ash, Altair, Altais, Antares, Arcturus, Taurus, Cyrus, Cosmo, Castor, Cepheus, Celestio, Draco, Eros, Fafnir, Felis, Galileo, Hunter, Jericho, Kiran, Kepler, Leo, Luca, Mars, Nox, Neptune, Oberon, Phoenix, Perseus, Pollux, Sterling, Sirius, Sol, Stellan, Titan, Theo, Zenith, Veritate,

Neu: Ancha, Aiolos, Artemis, Aster, Acrab, Algieba, Acrux, Atria, Achrid, Axólotl, Borea, Borealis, Cetus, Chertan, Comet, Cassiopeia, Crescent, Eden, Europa, Eclipse, Fulu, Funi, Galaxy, Graffias, Haedus, Io, Libra, Lynx, Lesath, Libertas, Moriah, Musica, Orbit, Orion, Polaris, Polis, Pisces, Phobos, Regulus, Rasalas, Denebola, Saturn, Solstice, Seraph, Scorpius, Scorpii, Soleil, Sargas, Spica, Sceptrum, Solaris, Tevel, Virgo, Vesper, Zephyr, Zosma

[otunnicliffe]

Chloe + Harry Potter And The Philosophers Stone

Chapter One: The Twins Who Lived

'Alright then Dumbledore, do you want to read the first chapter?' 

Albus Dumbledore simply nods at McGonagall, and opens the book. 'This Chapter', he booms, 'Is called 'The Twins Who Lived'.

'Ooh! That'll be Chloe and Harry!' Alice exclaims to Gwendolyn excitedly. 

Mr and Mrs Dursley of-

'Wait, I thought this was about Chloe and Harry?' Regulus says, abruptly stopping Dumbledore's storytelling. 'Who are the Dursleys?'

'Dursley... that name does ring a bell, but I can't put my finger on why.' Gwendolyn ponders.

'Isn't your sister, Petunia, dating a Dursley?' Kimberly asks.

'AHA! That's it!' Gwendolyn exclaims. 'Is it?'

'Yes, Miss Evans, the Dursleys are your sister and her husband,' McGonagall says.

'Why are we starting the story off with a bunch of muggles?' Narcissa scorns. 'Why aren't we talking about Chloe and Harry, or even Gwendolyn and James?' With this, everyone erupts into conversations filled with confusion about the beginning of this tale.

'Everyone!' Dumbledore booms, and the room instantly falls silent. 'Everything will be exclaimed. Now, if you all don't mind, let's use our ears and listen to the tale.'

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

'Don't exactly know why you'd be so proud of being normal,' Xenophilius mutters to Barty Jr. 'I personally find normal to be very boring indeed'.

'I agree mate,' Barty Jr whispered back. 

They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. 

Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.

'I won't lie,' Sirius exclaims, as he shuffled down in his beanbag, hands going behind his head, 'That sounds like the deadest job ever.'

'I agree,' Calls Peter, mouth full of sweet treats.

'Ew, Pete!' Arabella groans. 'Swallow before you wallow!'

'Sorry,' Peter muffles, clearly not being very sorry at all.

He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.

'He sounds like a right looker,' Andromeda exclaims, sarcastically, and the room erupted into laughter.

Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which became useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours.

'That is deffo your sister, Gwen!' Arabella announces, Kimberly next to her chuckling in agreement.

'This book isn't very nice about my poor sister,' Gwendolyn says, whole trying not to laugh at the trueness of the definition of Petunia.

The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

'This is a lovely description and all,' says Bellatrix, who was already laid back on her seat, already very bored. 'But what does this have to do with us?'

'Patience, Miss Lestrange, Patience.'

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.

'What's wrong with the Potters?' James cried, defensively as he suddenly sat up in his chair.

'Do you want a list?' Severus cut in.

'Snivellous, watch it!

'James leave it!' Gwendolyn exclaimed, and James gave Severus the finger and turned away from him.

Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursleys sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister,

'Me and my sister don't get along?' Gwendolyn exclaimed sadly. This garnered sympathetic looks from most of the people int hat room, apart from a few Slytherins, who really couldn't care less. 

,because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband

'Way harsh!' James objected. 'I am NOT good-for-nothing!'

were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.

'Well I don't want to be like them anyway,' James exclaimed proudly, 'Do we Gwen?'

'Nope,' Gwen responded, letting out a small smile. James took this as a win.

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had children too, twins, one girl and one boy, but they had never seen either of them. Those children were another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on a dull, grey Tuesday out story starts

'Merlin, has it only just started!' Bellatrix groans.

,there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country.

'What things?' Asked Peter, looking up from all the food he'd been eating.

'If you let the man talk, he'll tell us, stop interrupting!' Amos exclaims, also already fed up of this book.

'That was rude,' Peter mutters, but nonetheless shutting up to let Dumbledore continue.

Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

'Lovely child,' drawls Lucius, with disgust.

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the wall.

'What a delightful child', Kimberly quipped, not even trying to hide her obvious sarcasm.

'Little tyke' chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

'He's got a car!' Exclaimed Arthur excitedly, looking up.

'Most people in the Muggle world do,' Gwendolyn explained.

'Well I am very jealous of Muggles!'

It was on this corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar- a cat reading a map.

Everyone suddenly turned to look at McGonagall.

'You're in this story too!' Amos exclaimed.

'Well of course, Mr Diggory,' She said, trying her hardest to hold back her smile. 

For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realize what he had seen- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was the tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking?

'Oh Minnie, confusing Muggles yet again,' Sirius remarks, grinning broadly.

It must have been a trick of the light. Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.

'McGonagall, no offense, but you really need to work on your being a cat skills,' Regulus jokes.

As Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive- no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.

'Lies, we all know one who can.' Molly exclaims, pointing at McGonagall giddily.

Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. 

'Wizards wearing wizarding clothes in the Muggle world?' Alice quizzed.

'That's strange. That's like one of the things we know not to do!' Narcissa remarks, also looking puzzled.

People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes- the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak!

'Something big has happened,' Murmured Barty, 'Something huge in our world'. 

The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt- these people were obviously collecting for something...

'Stupid muggles!' Chortled Bellatrix.

...yes that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills. 

Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.

'I'm presuming that it isn't normal for owls to do that in the Muggle world?' Andromeda asks Gwendolyn. 

'No. it's not at all,' Gwendolyn responds, brows furrowed in confusion.

'Question.' Remus says. 'Why are we reading about this? What about Gwen or Prongs? Or Chloe and Harry?'

'Patience, Mr Lupin, and all will be revealed.'

Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly fine owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls

'What's a telephone?' Arthur asks.

Gwendolyn got him a pen and a sheet of paper, and handed it to him with the instruction of 'write what you don't know and I'll explain later'.

and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakers opposite.

'Lard-arse,' Arabella exclaimed.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin.

'Stupid Muggle, they aren't collecting anything!' Bellatrix says.

It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

'Is this when we find out what happened?' Regulus said, trying to contain his excitement.

Everyone now, even Bellatrix, was listening intently.

'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard- yes, their children, Chloe and Harry-'

'What happened to them?' Asked Gwendolyn, looking nervous.

'Why is everyone talking about us?' James asked, also looking nervous.

'Patience Miss Evans and Mr Potter, all will be explained.'

Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialing home when he changed his mind. He put the receiver down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure that there were lots of people called potter that had children named Chloe and Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his niece and nephew were called Chloe and Harry. He'd never even seen either of them, the girl or the boy. It might have been Charlotte and Harvey. Or Clara and Harold.

'Harold!' James exclaimed, his nose wrinkling in disgust. 'What a horrible name, why would I name my child that!'

There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at the mention of her sister. He didn't blame her- if he'd had a sister like that..

'A sister like what!' Arabella exclaimed defensively. 'Gwendolyn is so much better than Petunia, that bitch!'

'I agree!' James says. 'I'd be more worried about his wife more than anything else.

...but all the same, those people in cloaks... 

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that  he walked straight into someone just outside of the door. 

'Sorry,' he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was two seconds before Mr Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: 'Don't be sorry my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!

'WHAT!' Came the collective shout from everyone in that room, excluding the teachers.

'He's gone?' James exclaimed loudly, 'But how?'

'That will be revealed soon, Mr Potter.'

Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy happy day!'

And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping his was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

'Shock me,' Remus said quietly. Kimberly chuckled.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw- and it didn't improve his mood- was the tabby cat he'd spotted this morning.

Everyone turned to stare at McGonagall once again. 

It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure that it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

'Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly. 

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. 

Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word (shan't!). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?'

'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars!'

'Shooting stars!' Exclaimed Gwendolyn. 'No wonder they're all wondering what's going on!'

Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'

Arthur added 'Bonfire Night' to his list.

Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. 'Er- Petunia, dear- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?'

As he expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

'I always knew she didn't like me, but I didn't think she would take it this far!' Gwendolyn exclaimed, sadly. She once again received sympathetic looks from most of the inhabitants of the room. James put his arm around her comfortingly, and she softly smiled.

'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'

'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled.' Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today...'

'So?' snapped Mrs Dursley.

'Well I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know.. her lot.'

'Is that us he's referring to?' Andromeda asks. 'Witches and Wizards?' Dumbledore nodded.

Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. He decided he didn't dare. Instead, he said, as casually as he could. 'This twins- they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?'

'I suppose so,' Said Mrs Dursley stiffly. 

"What's their names again? Clara and Howard, isn't it?'

'Chloe and Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.'

'Says the one who named their child 'Dudley''. Kimberly scoffed.

'Chloe and Harry are nice names, especially in comparison to Dudley!' Regulus agreed. 

'Oh, yes,' said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. 'Yes, I quite agree.'

'He can't talk about names!' Gwendolyn says defensively. 'His name is Vernon.'

This sent James into a pit of laughter. 

'Who names their child Vernon?' Alice says, giggling.

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. it was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something.

'But what!' Remus asks, getting rather annoyed. 'What does this have to do with Gwen and Prongs?'

'Patience, Mr Lupin.'

'I don't have that at the moment.'

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did.. if it got out that they were related to a pair of-

'Pair of what?' James asks, defensively. 'What's wrong with me and Gwen?'

well, he didn't think he could bear it.

'Well, I can't bear the fact that I'm gonna be related to you!' James says. 'Such a horrible, boring man!'

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he feel asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind...  

'What's his issue with us?' Amos asks.

'He perceives us as not normal,' Xenophilius explains. 'And he only likes normal things.'

He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect them...

How very wrong he was. 

'What do you mean by that?' James asked quizzically.

'Do we turn up at their doorstep?' Gwendolyn asks.

'Patience, Miss Evans, Mr Potter.'

Mr Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the the wall outside was showing no signs of sleepiness. 

All eyes again returned to McGonagall.

It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unthinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

'Where you not bored?' Regulus asks.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. 

All eyes went to Dumbledore.

'Is it you, sir?' Molly asks.

Dumbledore shrugs, but the grin on his face gave it away that it was, in fact, him.

The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. 

Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old,  judging by the silver of his hair and beard. which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes, were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. 

'But why are you at Privet Drive?' Remus asks. 'What happened?'

'Once again, patience Mr Lupin.'

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered 'I should have known'.

He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up into the air and clicked it. The nearest street light went out with a pop.

'Oh that's so cool!' Frank exclaimed.

He clicked it again- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. 

'I bet your sister would have still tried though, right Gwen?' Arabella teased. Gwendolyn chuckled lightly. 

Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. 'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.'

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead, he was smiling at a rather severe-looking women who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. 

'That's our Minnie alright!' Sirius joked, smiling at the teacher.

She too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. 

'How did you know it was me?' she asked.

'My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.'

'You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day'  said Professor McGonagall.

'All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passes a dozen feasts and parties on the way here.'

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. 'Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right,' she said impatiently. 'You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on/ It was on their news.' She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. 'I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars.. Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent- I bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.'

Everyone in the room recognised the name. Diggle was a Hufflepuff a few years above them, and they all happened to agree with McGonagall on her evaluation of him.

'You can't blame them,' said Dumbledore gently. 'We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years'.

'I know that,' said Professor McGonagall irritably. 'But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours.'

Everyone's head poked up at this.

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't so she went on: 'A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?'

'It certainly seems so,'

Everyone gasped.

'But how!' Barty Jr asked.

said Dumbledore. 'We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?'

Arthur wrote 'Sherbet Lemon' on his list.

'A what?'

'A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.'

Arthur crossed it off his list.

'No, thank you,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. 'As I say. even if You-Know-Who has gone-'

'My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this "You-Know-Who" nonsense- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort'

Everyone in the room let out an involuntary shudder, except Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. 'It all gets so confusing if we keep saying "You-Know-Who". I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.'

Another shudder from everyone.

'I know you haven't,' said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. 'But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort- was frightened of.'

'You flatter me,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Voldemort had powers I will never have.'

'Only because you're too- well- noble to use them.'

'It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey like my new earmuffs.'

Alice and Molly giggled to each other at that.

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, 'The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'

'Are we finding out now?' Remus asks.

'Yes, Mr Lupin.' Everyone was now sat up, attention fully on the story, the suspense in the air thick as they awaited to hear what had happened.

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer. 

'What they're saying,' she pressed on. 'is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters.

Everyone turned and looked at Gwen and James, whose faces had turned pale.

'I think I know what's to come next, James,' Gwen says softly, tears filling her blue eyes.

James clearly knew what she meant, and grabbed her hand tightly. 'Don't say that.'

The rumour is that Gwendolyn and James Potter are- are- that they're- dead.'

A gasp erupted from the room.

'Knew it,' Gwendolyn said quietly, tears now spilling from her eyes.

'We die?' James asks, voice croaky, as he starts to softly cry too.

'I'm afraid so,' Dumbledore says solemnly. 

Arabella lets out a small sob, followed by Kimberly, Molly and Alice doing the same. The others just started at the pair in shock, tears in some of their eyes. Sirius mouth gapes open, silent tears streaming from his face. 

'We'll give you all a few minutes to get used to that,' McGonagall says softly, feeling hot tears pricking her own eyeballs.

A few minutes pass, and a still sniffling Gwendolyn and James say that they are ready to continue. 

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. 'Gwen and James... I can't believe it... oh, Albus...'

'Aww, Minnie you care!' James says, giving her a water smile.

'I have a question,' Molly says. 'What happens to Chloe and Harry?'

'Yeah, the book is about them, so they haven't died,' Kimberly says. 'So were they not in the house at the time or something?'

'That part is coming up now.' Dumbledore announces.

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. 'I know... I know...' he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. 'That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's twins, Chloe and Harry. But he couldn't kill those little children.

'WHAT!' The room broke out into.

'Prongs, your children are the reason why he's gone!' Remus said, putting the pieces together.

'Really?' James says, as he and Gwendolyn look to Dumbledore for some kind of explanation. 

'Mr Lupin was correct, your children did stop Voldemort.'

'But how?' Bellatrix spoke up, looking completely dumbfounded. 'You're telling me that he killed all those people and was as powerful as he was, but couldn't kill two kids?'

'That is correct, Miss Black, but the rest of the explanation, I'm afraid, you'll have to wait to find out what happened.'

'Are we ready to continue?' McGonagall cuts in.

With everyone nodding in agreement Dumbledore continues. 

No one knows why or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Chloe and Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke- and that's why he's gone.'

'James, you have some powerful offspring, mate!' Amos announces, everyone nodding in agreement.

Dumbledore nodded glumly. 

'It's- it's true?' faltered Professor McGonagall. 'After all he's done... all the people he's killed.. he could kill two little children? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Chloe and Harry survive?'

'We can only guess,' said Dumbledore. 'We may never know.'

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said 'Hagrid's late.

'Hagrid's in this story?' Gwendolyn asked happily. Hagrid had just become the Groundkeeper for Hogwarts very recently, and Gwendolyn found him very lovely and kind.

'Great, just what this story needs,' Lucius remarks to Narcissa and Bellatrix. 'That big oaf.'

I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?'

'Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?'

'I've come to bring Chloe and Harry to their aunt and uncle.

'YOU'RE WHAT!' James and Gwendolyn shouted. 

'Why would you do that!' James asked, looking at Dumbledore as is he'd gone mad.

'My sister hates me, and you want to give her my children?' Gwendolyn asks, anger rising in her voice. 'She's going to treat them terribly!'

'How come either me, Kimberly, Remus, Sirius or even Peter don't get them?' Arabella asks.

'It's a long story that is explained later, but you need to know it was for the best,' Dumbledore replied.

'I don't believe you!' Gwendolyn says.

Before starting an argument, Dumbledore just keeps on reading.

They're the only family they've got left now.'

'You don't mean- you can't mean the people who live here?' cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. 'Dumbledore- you can't.

'See, McGonagall agrees it's a bad idea!' James says. 

'Unfortunately, Mr Potter, it had to be done.' Dumbledore said calmly. 

You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street. screaming for sweets. Chloe and Harry Potter come and live here!'

'It's the best place for them,' said Dumbledore firmly. 'His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older

'But they won't!' Gwendolyn exclaims angrily. ''My sister hated me being a witch, she won't tell my children that they're the same!'

I've written them a letter.'

'A letter?' repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down against the wall. 'Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain this in a letter? These people will never understand him! They'll both be famous- a legend- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Potter Twins Day in future- there will be books written about Chloe and Harry- every child in our world will know his name!'

'I bet Potter's having a right ego boost at the minute,' grovelled Severus.

'Exactly,' said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. 'It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before either of them can walk or talk! Famous for something they both won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?'

'There's a difference between growing up away from it and being placed in an abusive home!' Gwendolyn says. 

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, 'Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But how are the children getting here, Dumbledore?' She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding the twins underneath it.

'Hagrid's bringing them both.'

'You think it wise- wise- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?'

'I would trust Hagrid with my life,' said Dumbledore.

'I wouldn't trust that big oaf with anything,' Lucius remarks.

'I'm not saying that his heart isn't in the right place,' said Professor McGonagall grudgingly. 'but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- what was that?'

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky- and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. 

If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide.

'That's Hagrid, for sure!' Kimberly said.

He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms, he was holding two bundles of blankets.

'It's the twins!' Molly exclaimed to Gwendolyn.

'Hagrid,' said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. 'At last. And where did you get that motorbike?'

'Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,' said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. 'Young Sirius Black lent it me.

'I have a motorbike!' Sirius exclaimed, an excited look on his face. 'That's so cool!'

I've got them both, sir.'

'No problems, were there?'

'No sir= house was almost destroyed but I got them both out alright before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They both fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol.'

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the two bundles of blankets. Inside each, just visible, was a baby, one girl and one boy, fast asleep. The girl's hair was barely visible in the dark light as it was so light, and the boy's was the exact opposite, jet black.

'Aww you had a mini you and a mini James, Gwen!' Alice said, cooing slightly. 

'I bet they're proper cute, our kids,' James said, smiling down at Gwendolyn who just blushed in response. 

Under the tufts of platinum blonde and jet-black hair over their forehead they could see identical curiously shaped cuts, like bolts of lightning. 

'Is that where-?' whispered Professor McGonagall.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'They'll have those scars for ever.'

'Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. 

'Really?' Gwendolyn asked, amusement written over her face at the idea. Dumbledore nodded. 

'Can we see?' Andromeda asks.

'Maybe another time.'

Well- give him here, Hagrid- we'd better get this over with.'

Dumbledore took Chloe and Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursley's house.

'Could I- could I say goodbye to them, sir?' asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry first and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss, then doing the exact same to Chloe. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

'Shhh!' hissed Professor McGonagall. 'You'll wake the Muggles!'

'I mean I doubt it,' Arabella says. 'especially if the motorbike didn't in the first place.'

'S-s-sorry,' sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. 'But I c-c-can't stand it- Gwen and James dead- an' poor little Chloe and poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles-'

'Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found,' Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Chloe and Harry gently on the doorstep

'WHAT!' James and Gwendolyn erupted again, turning to Dumbledore angrily.

'You're leaving them on the doorstep?' Kimberly asked him, looking both parts angry and confused.

'What if there was foxes or something?' James asks. 

'Yeah, and the weatherman said earlier that it was going to rain!' Remus added. 'You're leaving them in the cold and the wet?'

,took two letters out of his cloak, tucked them inside either Chloe's or Harry's blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute, the three of them stood and looked at the two little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

'Well,' said Dumbledore finally, 'that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.'

'What you should be doing instead,' says Gwendolyn, angrily, 'is thinking about the fact that you left two BABIES on a doorstep!'

'Yeah,' said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. 'I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall- Professor Dumbledore, sir.' Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night. 

'I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,' said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. 

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the two bundles of blankets on the step of number four. 

'Good luck, Chloe and Harry,' he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.

'And leaving the two babies on the step,' Arabella said, rolling her eyes at the idea.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Chloe and Harry Potter rolled over inside of their blankets without either of them waking up. Each baby had one small hand closed on the letters beside them and they both slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing that they would both be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, not that they would both spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley...

'He better not do anything to either of them!' James muttered.

...They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: 'To Chloe and Harry Potter- the twins who lived!'

[midnight-and-his-melodiverse]

Interstellar Mythos

Story Script

INT. BRIEFING ROOM – NIGHT

In a small dimly lit briefing room, there sits around five to ten newly-graduated soldiers and pilots in a seating pattern that gradually curves inward toward the back of the room.

They’re facing a blonde haired girl with a red and silver uniform, which has the symbols of the Earth and Sun emblazoned on it. This girl, known as COMMANDER AITERA, is leafing through her findings as the ambient noise of chatter fills the small room.

She calls the group to attention, and they immediately follow through.

COMMANDER AITERA

Alright, settle down. So, I’m not sure how to put this mildly, but there have been sightings reported by our fellow soldiers and pilots at a neighboring Terra Protection Coalition base. Specifically, I’m getting readings from Base Mars that there are a lot of mythical creatures that have made their way into orbit.

A pilot from the back, wearing a blue uniform with that same array of symbols, KAYLIN, pipes up.

KAYLIN (excited and giddy)

Oh? Does this mean that there are DRAGONS IN SPACE–

He’s swiftly cut off, by a motion of AITERA’s hand. COMMANDER AITERA

Now, don’t kid yourself, Kaylin. This can only mean bad, bad news for the citizens of Terra. So if all these creatures of myth, and yes, dragons, have fled their solitude island habitat far away from human contact, and they’re now in orbit, then something or someone musta tampered with ‘im. Which means that--

AITERA’s projector screen suddenly lights up. ???

EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION FROM BASE MERCURY.           EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION FROM BASE MERCURY.

AITERA clicks to answer it. ???

Base Mercury to Base Terra, do you read us? COMMANDER AITERA

Loud n’ clear, Base Mercury captain Rylen.

CAPTAIN RYLEN

...Let’s hope our connection doesn’t give out on us, but as we speak, a group of Star Dragons, specifically of the Andromeda variant, have begun ravaging our outpost and we would really appreciate the help! Communicate with the rest of our neighboring bases and round up some of their top pilots, stat! Time is precious in these sorts of situations. Over and ou-- The transmission abruptly halts.

COMMANDER AITERA

Y’hear that, Base Terra team? We’ve got a great big mission on our hands and a base that’s counting on our assistance. Let’s not let ‘im down and round up the rest of the pilots! A chorus of “Ma'am, yes, ma'am!” rings throughout the room. (perhaps a sneak peek into a story for 2024??)

[millerbrick]

@andromedakessel​

​The envelope that the crows dropped was completely disregarded. He was not here to play silly games anymore, and he certainly no longer cared to humour the gamemakers. Let the other tributes appease the audience, for once. While they were distracted trying to solve another mystery or whatever bullshit it was that had been thrown at them, maybe he would be able to kill them all.

For now, though, he had to focus. One by one. Starting with his supposed allies, who had the most to pay. He would be their reckoning.

His legs did not rest once, stalking through different rooms and hallways. Regrettably, obnoxiously, he did not encounter anyone for so long. That was until he finally made his way out of the house and to the courtyard.

“How’s that wrist?” Miller called out to Andromeda Kessel, completely unbothered. “Tell you what, I’ll let you make the first move this time. Just to keep it fair.” Not that it would make any difference. She would die today.

[petrificusx]

Popular myths and legends suggested that vampires were super fast and super strong. Jae cursed the fact that reality was a far cry from this. With a grunt, they hoisted their guitar case onto their right shoulder, after having carried on the left for some time. They had just left a gig at a small open mic night, ditching post drinks with their band mates since they would have to be up early at the studio in Hogsmeade for work. For the first time since they started at the Wizarding Wireless Network, Jae would be working a morning show, which was a nice change of pace for their typically nocturnal work hours. But getting up at dawn rather than closing shop made it feel less and less glamorous.

They were walking towards the apparition point, planning to disaparate and head back to Godric’s Hollow for the night, but wanting to linger and bask in the post-show adrenaline, Jae took a roundabout route through Diagon Alley, not noticing that his pace was in time with the only other person in the street at that time. When she whirled around on them, the vampire actually jumped, nearly dropping the case. “Bloody hell,” they gasped, hand over their frantically beating heart. “Why’d you have to go on and scare me like that?” They must have looked a sight — in a royal blue velour jumpsuit with a bright red belt tight around the waist, a deep v neck accentuated with a ruffly Victorian shirt beneath, glittery make up that was slightly smudged from sweat and their own habit of touching their face during after show conversations. They were all done up in their show look, a drastic change from their usual clothes. “I’m not following you, we’re just going in the same direction,” Jae said. “Promise.”

location : diagon valley status : open

the day had faded into a quieter night, and the cobbled streets of diagon alley seemed darker than usual. ever since she'd left home, paranoia had followed her—along with arrogance, the lingering belief that she still mattered, that she hadn’t been entirely forgotten. with her hands buried deep in the pockets of her cloak, steady steps accompanied her, ignoring the flicker in the glass of a shop window, the sound of footsteps falling into rhythm with her own as she tried not to fall back into old patterns of mistrust. and yet, her fingers twitched towards her wand, allowing her figure to be swallowed by the shadows when she turned precisely into an alley, spinning on her heel, wand raised .  “ why are you following me ? ” her voice was sharp, cutting through the air in a way that once felt more familiar than it should have.