#ironbelly

[im-abanana]

Albus Dumbledore Phoenix

Gellert Grindelwald Dragon

(Headcanon that Grindelwald's Patronus would be a Ukrainian Ironbelly, yes pls)

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Ironbelly Wyvern by Fajareka Setiawan

[sarahg170194]

Ukrainian Ironbelly

May 6 2018

sarahg170194  

[fluorescent-l-ghost]

The only time Harry Potter mentions Ukraine is by calling the largest dragon breed the Ukrainian Ironbelly. But now, due to the Azovstal iron and steel works defense, this symbol gains so much more great sense.

It appears as a fiercest creature in the Goblet of Fire and in the Deathly Hallows. If you’ve ever seen the photos from the Universal Studios Wizarding World of Harry Potter, that’s it. 

[literalhobbit]

The gals 😍 in honor of them officially getting together and because they won’t get out of my head. I kind of traced the first pic (forgot the OG pic artist 😅) and some of the last, but hey it’s a learning process.

Bonus Ginny ( @kegbasher) content because Cal thought it was hot when she squatted a giant door at the masquerade:

[bccksmarts]

I MIGHT be here today, I’m not too sure yet!! Might take some time over on @fluorescentmortem, give Molly some attention instead??

I really want to be here but also feeling,,, I dunno, still a little bit off, like I’m not necessarily needed over here which I KNOW isn’t the case, mayhaps I just need a re-up muse wise, get back into the swing of things ✨

But I KNOW Molly needs attention bc I miss her and how precious she is,,, we’ll see though, I might divide my time between here and Molly, see how much I feel like doing uvu

Discord’s under the cut in case I’m not present!!

Pomsicles for an easy copy and paste!!

I’ll be back to Hermione aesthetics soon,,, LoL really dropped a banger of a song and I LOVE it

[comicchannel]

Funko Pop Rides Harry Potter Gringotts Dragon with Harry Ron and Hermione - 93

Link para compra BR: https://amzn.to/3LnHy23

Buy here: https://amzn.to/3qQWoa4

[stabby-apologist]

You'd think Hermione would be a Ravenclaw until she jumps on the back of a Ukrainian Ironbelly

[nixnight1]

At first I was only going to write a funny scene of Regulus and Sirius underwater but I'm immersed now.

Another fragment of the Black brothers at the triwizard tournament:

Pt1

We have dragons here too

Sirius' skin was itching under his clothes.  Sirius was the next one, the bag felt rough at his fingertips and the paper felt like fire when he grabbed it. He read it to himself, feeling his throat close and his tongue get heavier in his mouth. When the silence grew too long, he read it outloud, “Hungarian Horntail.” It meant only one thing, Regulus would have the Ukrainian Ironbelly. Sirius felt tears gathering at the corner of his eyes while seeing his baby brother grab the last paper in the bag. Regulus whispered the name so low that Dumbledore had to ask for him to read it again. And while he repeated the name, Sirius could swear to himself that he saw tiny shiny tears gathering in his brother's eyes too. 

Pt3

[im-abanana]

I know the fandom has divided opinions (love the Phoenix headcanon 👐), but consider this:

Ukrainian Ironbelly Dragon as Gellert Grindelwald's Patronus/Animagus.

[ginevra11]

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons." — Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone

Given the Weasley's financial situation, Charlie Weasley playing professional quidditch must have been that once-in-a-lifetime golden opportunity. An ultimatum against the chronically suffering Weasley finances. Quidditch is like the soccer of the wizarding world—the cultural impact and stardom it brings are phenomenal! Not to forget the hefty income!

If anyone cared, the fact that Charlie dared to choose dragons over professional quidditch must come off as sheer stupidity and even disrespectful.

Many students at Hogwarts must have been really baffled and maybe disappointed. Somewhere along, I bet it may have become a shared dream of the students, some professors, and the Weasleys to see Charlie Weasley play professional quidditch.

His choosing dragon handling over quidditch would have been the gossip of the year! Some won't care, some will think him a moron, some will be a little heartbroken, and a few will probably worship him! Throughout the remaining Hogwarts year, topics like money matters, passion, success, etc. would be casually thrown around. By the end of the year, people might become more accepting and maybe understand.

It goes without saying that Charlie Weasley would be struck in a battle of his own. A million thoughts per minute would race through his mind. A war of dreams and hopes. He knows his way but has never felt so lost. He will inform an omniscient professor McGonagall of his choice, words that will politely decline the two scouts airing through his head.

In the summer after his tiring yet satisfying, first internship in Wales, he will meet a frustrated mother mourning about the perils of dragon-keeping, who then hogs his dragon,-keeping guides for the better part of her free time. His father will tell him muggle fairytales and folktales about dragons. Bill, his forever partner in crime, would secretly sneak him to Gringotts to see the half-blind, majestic Ukrainian Ironbelly. Percy will educate him about the mysterious connection between dinosaurs and dragons that makes those beasts entirely more endearing to him. The twins will worship him for being too cool for quidditch and persuade him to rather become a dragon dealer. Ron will ask him all kinds of questions about dragons and quidditch while brutally defeating him at chess. He will braid Ginny's hair while listening to her monologue rant about dragons vs. quidditch. Before going to bed, she will make him promise to get her a baby dragon. After a few minutes of pleading, he will give in– but only for a day in Romania.

As rare as it comes, we find people who actually dare to dream and, rarer still, who achieve their dreams.

[precious-ketchup]

Dragons:

Toothless - How To Train Your Dragon

Draco - Dragonheart

Saphira - Eragon

Spyro - Spyro the Dragon

Ukrainian Ironbelly - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows PT 2

Drogon - Game of Thrones

Caraxes - House of the Dragon

[marketfreshfics]

The Stratagem Strain - Part III

Plot summary: Arriving at Hogwarts for an advanced graduate program on the direct appointment of the Minister for Magic himself, Paisley Gallos anticipates a successful sixth year of classes. Unbeknownst to her, she is a pawn in a sinister ploy orchestrated long before the start of the school year.

Tags: violence | angst | blood | vampires | tragedy | forced proximity | regret | denial of feelings | NDEs | eventual smut | dark magic | accidental death | read on AO3

WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence, blood and gore.

Theophilus Harlow was never fond of taking orders, despite his immaculate delivery on the follow-through. Were it anything else besides this momentous occasion, he’d employ one of the handlers at Horntail Hall to check this mess off the to-do list. His compliance was bound to Rookwood's authority and reinforced by the occasional galleon payment. Thus, albeit warily, he resolved with a trademark determination to see this task through to its conclusion.

No stranger to the grittier aspects of his line of work, this assignment would undoubtedly earn him a prominent mention on his professional dossier. The honour was not lost on Harlow; he understood the weight of the curse that churned within his gut—a responsibility he considered both a gift and a source of potent authority. Every detail of the forthcoming endeavour had been meticulously planned, and he stood poised to initiate the chain of events with unwavering resolve.

Naturally, there was a sense of accomplishment. Pride and prestige for being entrusted with setting the components in motion, toppling the first domino, privy to watch as the rest of them fell on the next in line, the forward momentum of disaster and death brought on by his move. He could watch from his vantage point at the start of everything and see the fruits of his labour sprout, bud, flower, and decay in that kingdom of the beginning of the end. The prospect made his mouth swim.

Still, the idea of whetting his whistle with swill this evening fouled his insides.

“Mudblood little bitch.”

“What was that, boss?” The Ashwinder recruit piped up, tugging his snake-emblem bandana over his mouth and nose.

Harlow let out a curt groan. “Keep an eye out. They’ll be along any moment now, and I want to get the jump on ‘em.”

The recruit fidgeted with his wand, tossing it between his palms. "And, the plan?"

“She’ll be travelling with another student,” Harlow interjected with a steely edge. “Make quick work of them, y’hear? Can't leave any witnesses.”

The Ashwinder shifted his weight uneasily, swaying back and forth like a jittery pendulum in an attempt to quash his nerves.

Harlow sighed wearily, the weight of impatience palpable. “Oh come now, don’t bloody well tell me you’re one of those soft ones. You let an Ironbelly singe your arse hairs off, but the idea of snuffing out a mopey teenager is too much?” 

“They’re just kids, boss.” 

Harlow threw him a loaded cannon of glare.

The Ashwinder relented, throwing his hands up. “Alright, alright! I’ll get it done.”

Harlow sniffed the air, catching a faint lick of life on the barely-there breeze. Even through the slight mist, he could discern the subtle aroma of two heartbeats, synchronized in rhythm, growing more tantalizing with each step forward that carried them closer. It was a slow build to savour, a crescendo of anticipation, waiting for the wren to perch so the fox could snap it up. The sensation thrilled Harlow to the core, matched only by his unrelenting thirst.

As footsteps scattered pebbles on the path, marring the scent of blood with upturned dirt, an involuntary growl bubbled within Harlow's throat.

“Which one are you taking, again?” The Ashwinder wielded his wand, his gaze darting toward Harlow for guidance.

Harlow pinched the brim of his bowler hat, his gaze filled with predatory intent.

“The girl. Dispose of the boy, whatever means possible.”

It wasn’t every day that Paisley found herself comparing ratios of Bertie Botts bean flavours based on package size, but Sebastian seemed intent on making it a topic of debate, no doubt to help distract her ping-ponging fears. His freckle-dusted grin broadened before he popped another unsuspecting bean in his mouth, and his complacent expression deemed it savoury. “Honestly, I think the amount of bad versus good beans depends on how the candymaker was feeling that day.”

Paisley couldn't help but emit a derisive snort. “You cannot be serious.”

“There’s a kernel of truth to it,” Sebastian argued. “I’ve been a loyal customer to Honeydukes since my first year, even had the odd treat of stopping in before that when my parents were still around.”

A twinge of discomfort knotted her insides at the underlying tension there. Instead of addressing it, plenty dredged in the difficult anxiety of the present, she deftly changed tack. “Do they change flavour varieties often?”

“Nah.” His response was a chew of sound, of gelatin lodged between teeth. “They’ve been pretty consistent since I was a child, I’m guessing far beyond that as well. But I often wonder how they decide which boxes receive more good beans than bad." A sudden spark of animation lit up his features. "I swear, there was one week when I indulged excessively, and every box I opened contained nothing but delightful flavours! It felt like striking gold. Must have been a stroke of luck from the sweets-maker himself..." “Perhaps someone warmed his bedroll.”

Sebastian nearly choked on his candy. “That’d do it-”

The paradigm shifted so abruptly, so entirely, as Paisley was snatched up before her brain could detect the threat, a blur of broad, striped waistcoat dragging her into the dense cover of the Forbidden Forest. A silencing charm swiftly cut off her shrill scream, planned and executed with chilling precision.

And before Sebastian could even react, dropping the box of sweets to retrieve his wand, he was already dodging a blasting curse from an Ashwinder. 

“Paisley?” The underlying silence behind the zips and thrums of spell barrages heading his way caused Sebastian's voice to become tense mid-battle. He prioritized shield charms, suspecting, correctly, that the dark wizard would employ some more unsanctioned forms of magic. A hex narrowly skimmed his shoulderblade, passing over the arc of his shield spell, and the Slytherin countered with Confringo.

The Ashwinder was fast on his feet, tucking and rolling in the nick of time, and as he took a moment to right himself Sebastian bolted off the main path, diverting towards the Forbidden Forest, sprinting along the dirt path and past the countless signs foreboding the danger within. 

Caught in Harlow's overpowering grasp, Paisley found herself ensnared, her resistance futile against the immense force. She made twisted attempts to break away, but she was entangled in his sinister hold, her flailing movements a tragicomic dance of rebellion against an unchangeable force.

As Harlow's eerie laughter echoed through the air, Paisley's heart sank as she realized how far they had travelled in what seemed like an instant. A chilling sensation enveloped her as she struggled to make sense of their inexplicable journey, of the distance traversed in moments. Her logical mind desperately sought answers, even in the face of danger.

“Your little friend is trying to find you,” He looked at her with disdain, his breath fanning heat and horror on her face. She sensed the spell that had silenced her starting to weaken, her audible grunts of resistance serving as proof, while Harlow continued chiding her. “But I doubt he’ll be so friendly once he does. Perhaps he can be your first meal…”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Still confused by his uncontrollable power over her, Paisley mumbled under her breath as she writhed in fruitless attempts to break free. It terrified her, for more reasons than one.

Harlow grinned darkly at her, then leaned in, mouth open wide, targeting her throat.

“Diffindo!”

Paisley's spell struck Harlow point-blank, the abrupt impact freeing her. She took advantage of the moment to scuttle backwards, creating distance, but the outcome of her quick wandwork was nightmare fuel in itself. The spell shredded through his shoulder cap, flaying his skin, altering his silhouette. The sight of his exposed bone, with its pale pink and white hues, was disturbing enough, let alone the flesh torn asunder to reveal the pulsating agony beneath. The dark wizard howled more in shock than pain, exhaling forcefully through his flared nostrils as he glared knives into her. 

“You bitch…”

It would have been an ideal opportunity for escape then, but as Harlow composed himself, Paisley observed in startled fascination as his shoulder miraculously started to heal right before her eyes. A network of muscle fibres wove around his humerus, connecting with the sinew of bone and nerves, while a fresh layer of skin and visceral enveloped it all, similar to wrapping meat in butcher paper. The bizarre nature caught Paisley off guard, and as Harlow approached, he smirked with irritation. “Well, that pissed me off.” He lunged toward her, but she managed to evade the forward motion, relying on her agility to navigate through the thick bramble around her. She winced as the thorny branches snagged on her forearms, leaving angry, red, weeping scratches on her skin. Her sole focus was to escape from his line of sight, so she could stun or maim him further.

Harlow's head twitched, the scant scent of blood piercing the veil of focus, and a snarl-turned roar ripped from his throat. In an instant, her attention shifted behind her, fully aware that his threat dug beyond the mere barrier of simple harm. With determination, she raised her wand and unleashed another spell, this time shooting Glacius with intent.

The freezing charm struck Harlow's dominant arm, fusing his wand to his palm. With determination, he clenched his jaw as he shook off the layer of frost, raising the conduit of his dark magic to hurl a stun toward Paisley, which she promptly dodged.

Engrossed in an intense exchange of magic, the two ventured further into the Forbidden Forest, the canopy of trees growing denser, the daylight diminishing rapidly. And despite how steadfast she was in her resolve, Paisley couldn’t help but sense that fate had already predetermined the predicament. She glowered at Harlow, before dodging a disarming spell, countering with---

“Bombarda!” Sebastian nearly swung a full rotation around a tree trunk, narrowly evading the Ashwinder's attack. With wide eyes, he observed the enemy preparing to cast another spell his way. Ducking each of his limbs behind the sprawling white oak, he anticipated the impact of the spell on the tree. As the fractured bark shattered and splinters flew outwards, he seized the opportunity to unleash a torrent of Incendio toward his attacker.

“Ah!” The Ashwinder yipped, evidence that Sebastian’s spell hit paydirt. The wizard shook off the stray flames, caught on his pant leg, but it wasn't enough to hinder. “You’ll get raked for that!” He hollered, but Sebastian was already on the move, rolling down an embankment to transition to an entirely different path, intent on confusing his pursuer as he ambled upright into a full sprint again. He refrained from looking back, as the audible crunch of gravel beneath his feet served as a constant reminder of the Ashwinder's near pursuit. Projectiles of red swiftly passed by in close proximity, his erratic running pattern seemingly far from foolish for how effective it proved, and at one point he observed that he managed to dodge a stray tail of green light from a spell he had never seen before--

“Petrificus Totalis!”

Sebastian's body went stiff, his arms rigid at his sides, and he collapsed to the ground, letting out a pained groan as he felt the sting of broken skin along his forehead. The shit-eating grin of the Ashwinder evolved to a guffaw, much to Sebastian's chagrin. He approached Sebastian, panting with self-assured swagger, as if he had just proven himself by outsmarting a student. “About time you stopped trying to scurry off, little rat.”

The dark wizard nudged Sebastian’s petrified form and rolled him over, rendering him face-up. He sneered down with disdain in a sordid, pathetic demonstration of authority. “I’ve got you now…” Sebastian sensed the wane of the petrification charm, though he remained motionless, not letting a single breath escape. Drawing upon his duelling experience, he awaited the moment when the unsuspecting Ashwinder would raise his wand, providing patience over power. There would be one opportunity, no more; with the incoming Expulso spell at such proximity, the sheer force of impact alone would likely stop his heart.

Once the spell manifested, Sebastian immediately flicked his wand upwards, uttering, “Protego!”

As expected, the shield deflected the spell. It ricocheted and returned to the caster, sending the dark wizard flying backwards in a somersault through the air. His cry came to an abrupt halt as he collided with the nearby cliff face, a sickening crunch sealing his fate. 

Wholly unprepared to investigate after the Ashwinder remained still for several heart-wrenching seconds, Sebastian pivoted on his heel in the direction where his newfound companion had been taken away. He hoped above all else that the last of his luck had not run up just then.

Luck was not generous to Paisley. Her competencies in magic combat were remarkable, with spellwork finessed from dedication to her craft, Still, she was not prepared to take on Harlow, deftly avoiding her spells and leaving her in frustrated awe of his dexterity. He appeared to defy the laws of physics with every blurred sidestep, and Paisley couldn't help but wonder whether he had enhancement beyond what mere mortals could achieve.

“Accio!”

Paisley was abruptly pulled airborne towards her kidnapper, who yanked her wand from her dominant hand with a grin before she hit the ground. Her struggle only amused her impromptu captor, his smirk a testament to dominance. 

Harlow caught Paisley’s leg, and despite her kicks and thrashes, his inhuman strength managed to keep a hold of her, dragging her through the underbrush without cause or care for the scrapes and bruises she acquired along the way. “Let, me, go!” She grit through a clenched jaw, curling her torso upright to claw his arm, anything to get him to release her or loosen his grip, but her attempts were met with cruel indifference.

“Ah, a fighter are ye?” Harlow’s snide remark sunk in, wholly entertained as he pinned her to the dirt with an elbow pushing between her ribs, forcing the air from her lungs faster than she could welcome it in. “ That’s good, you'll need it… but for now, you’re just makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be, kid.”

His mouth opened wide, angled at her neck, his intentions clear. When the realization hit, panic surged through Paisley, her cries of terror rending the air as she pleaded for salvation, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, of rescue. Had Sebastian managed to escape from that other wizard? 

In the depths of her terror, Paisley clung to a desperate hope, a fervent wish that she alone would bear the weight of the impending tragedy. It was a selfish plea amidst the chaos of her ordeal. She prayed, with every fibre of her being, that she would be the sole victim of Harlow's depravity this fateful evening. For in that moment of anguish, the alternative was too monstrous to contemplate — the thought of another soul enduring the same fate, the same agony, was a burden far too heavy at this moment. And so, amidst the turmoil that harassed her hopeless soul, she clung to that solitary hope, a fragile thread of solace in the darkness that threatened to consume her whole.

His razor-sharp incisors lacerated her jaw as he missed his mark once, twice, then thrice, still a novice to feeding on something so alive and virile.

Paisley was determined to thwart his progress, writhing and coughing through the pinch point of his arm to her chest. Harlow muttered an expletive, withdrew his wand, and prodded her chin.

“Arresto Momentum!”

Paisley was rendered immobile, and her fate was sealed.

Harlow gave no pause or reprieve, finally biting into Paisley’s throat.

Suction pulled her jugular into his mouth, and he consumed her blood, her accelerated pulse practically flushing it to him willingly, as each heartbeat became a morbid offering. Paisley's final scream rent the air as the stopping charm faded, its fruitless attempt at intervention fading into obscurity, and the darkness swallowed her gargled pleas.

At that moment, Sebastian let the echo of her howl guide the way, his heart clenched with a mixture of dread and despair. The flicker of hope that sustained him faltered, its fragile flame threatened by the relentless onslaught of despair, like the first unsuccessful attempt to blow out a candle, bending the flame to near extinguishment.

“No…” A cold dread settled over him in a suffocating shroud. Sickening certainty assured him that his intervention would come too little, too late, a bitter realization. The burden of self-doubt bore down upon him with crushing force, doubling his center of gravity until he felt liable to collapse under its oppressive weight. He couldn’t manage to keep a classmate safe on a routine trip to Hogsmeade; what good was he for even attempting to cure his sister? Paisley’s already sapped strength was being let out entirely, her heartbeats slowing, her lungs rendered dormant. But for all the pain of holding on, therein lay a tranquil acceptance of the inevitable. As her life came to a close, she felt a strange sense of peace wash over her, as if the forest itself conspired to cradle her in its embrace. In the stillness of that fateful moment, the spectre of death loomed ever closer, its gentle whispers beckoning Paisley forth with a solemn invitation, and it was an all too familiar friend in the end. 

And yet, amidst the darkness, a yearning stirred within her.

Oh, how she wished she could see the stars one last time…

Before she lost consciousness, she witnessed Harlow slash his finger, inserting it into her mouth, and then spreading his blood across her tongue. Fortunately, at that point, she lost the ability to taste.

And then Paisley slipped into the very last sleep she would ever experience.

[dndhistory]

445. Gary Gygax - Greyhawk Adventures: Artifact of Evil (1986)

The second Gord the Rogue novel and the last to be published through TSR as Gygax would be leaving the company soon, this is, like the first book, not the most successful of AD&D tie-in novels, it does however fix some of the criticisms I had of the first volume (while unfortunately creating other problems in the interim).

If the first book, Saga of Old City, didn't feel like it was particularly a uniquely D&D story, with a setting that felt as much like Leiber's Lankhmar as anything else, this volume is very definitely set in the world of Greyhawk. Unfortunately Gygax does this mainly by stuffing the novel full of references to in-universe characters that players would know from modules and other materials. You get Iuz, Zuggtmoy, Iggwilv (later Tasha), Eclavdra, Mordenkainen, Melf, Bigby, Baphomet, Graz'zt and a bunch of other demons and even such obscure characters as Obmi the Dwarf, who was originally in Snurre Ironbelly's keep in Against the Giants as a slave. This to say nothing of our regular cast of similarly named characters like Gord, Chert, Gelor and Curley, a bunch of names which kind of meld into each other on the page. Unless you are an obsessive (like yours truly) many of these names will be meaningless and even if you are sometimes they feel like unearned fan service.

The plot is also not much to write home about, in order to compensate for the mainly city set first book, Gygax takes us on a tour of Oerth, but it's such a wide ranging tour that you never really develop a sense of attachment for any place. There's an artifact of evil which demonic forces want and "good" forces which include Gord as mates as well as Mordenkainen, Melf, Bigby and other Gygaxian home game characters, need to get it first to avoid disaster. Much too much happens in this novel while also very little substance happening. It would have really benefited from a good editor and/or a flowchart. Still, good cover by Caldwell and interior illustrations by Easley! 

[raviliuz]

Slytherin Quidditch Team's wands

It got kinda long... But I haven't written shit in so long do maybe that's better

Terence Higgs - Phoenix feather core, cedar wood

Terence had spent nearly an hour at Ollivander's, trying out different wands before finding the right one. And after his first months at Hogwarts, he sincerely doubted that this wand was really the right one.

Phoenix feather wands have a strong self-initiative and are the hardest to tame. At first, the wand often disobeyed him, but the more he used it, the better they worked together. Both phoenix feather core and cedarwood are highly loyal. I really like the idea of wands matching the character of the wizard, and Terence is extremely loyal to his loved ones and, despite his generally nice nature, is very tenacious and unforgiving. Ollivander's grandfather used to say that you couldn't fool a person with a wand made of cedar, because the tree chose wizards who were perceptive and observant.

Although the beginnings were difficult, with each passing year Terence became better and more in tune with his wand. After a few years, it was debatable whether Terence's wand was more loyal to him or he was to his wand. Also, he takes great care of his belongings and handles them extremely carefully so his wand was in perfect condition for years, serving him for his whole life

Marcus Flint - Dragon heartstring core (antipodean opaleye), hornbeam wood

To quote the Harry Potter wiki's description of the hornbeam, it "selects for its life mate the talented witch or wizard with a single, pure passion, which some might call obsession." Yeah, I think that's pretty self-explanatory.

However, another property of hornbeam is more interesting. These wands were incredibly customizable, literally taking over their owner's moral rules. In the hands of another person, they became useless, as well as when someone tried to do something inconsistent with their owner. I think it's very fitting considering Marcus' family. You know, a noble bloodline house where there are rules that Marcus doesn't agree with and individualism is killed. Flint's wand emphasized being himself and kept him from turning away from his ideals in difficult times. Marcus' parents often took his wand away as punishment, but the wand literally protested, wouldn't let anyone else use it, and when his father tried to force Marcus to do something against him, it would reflect the spells at his father. Marcus became very attached to his wand, which was really powerful in his hands.

Once, Marcus' father, upset, wanted to force him to buy a new wand. Marcus couldn't imagine using another, and to dissuade his father from the idea, he began to convince him that this wand had chosen him, the other would be less suited and would be even worse at magic. Marcus was not the sharpest tool in the shed in school, which was a huge complex for him at the time, adding to his already big self-loathing. However, Marcus was ready to say out loud that he's a shit wizard if there was a chance it would allow him to keep his wand.

The core was from the heart of the antipodean opaleye, a beautiful dragon from New Zealand, which despite its size is quite gentle and does not attack unless it has to

Cassius Warrington - Dragon heartstring core (Ukrainian ironbelly), yew wood

Cassius bought his wand in Bulgaria. In Britain, his combination was not popular. Yew wood had a bad reputation, it was said to attract bad luck and black magic. Little Cass did not understand why such a wand had chosen him, but a few years later he found that he and the wand fit together - Cassius was very unsuperstitious, often looking for trouble for fun, walking under every ladder, petting every black cat. It just amused him how much people, both wizards and muggles, cared about such nonsense. No one could explain how a given superstition would work, but just in case they subordinated their lives to it. So yes, Cass and yew wood went well together.

The wand was also powerful, both the yew and the dragon heartstring had a lot of strength and choses wizards with desire to be great. The dragon heartstring in Cassius's wand came from the Ukrainian ironbelly - the largest dragon, one of the more aggressive and dangerous. As the name suggests, they occurred mainly in Ukraine, which made them more popular in Bulgaria than in Great Britain.

The yew wand buried with the wizard sprouted and guarded the owner's grave, I wanted to mention it because I find it very edgy and romantic at the same time

Peregrine Derrick - Unicorn hair core, hawthorn wood

Hawthorn wands were chaotic. Great both for healing magic, preferred by Derrick, after Hogwarts he became a magimedic after all, but also perfect for curses. The problem was that hawthorn wands often reflected carelessly thrown spells back at the owner.

At first, Perry suffered a lot trying to learn the rules and how the wand works. Only after some time did he understand that there are no rules that he can learn, and he just has to accept acting in chaos. Derrick himself worked best in chaos anyway, he and the wand fit together, it chose him for a reason. Perry always had a mess in which only he could find his way, he focused best and worked in noise. He was from a large family, it was never quiet in his house, so he felt uncomfortable in silence and could not concentrate. He did fifteen things at once, and surprisingly they all turned out better than if he had done them separately (then he probably wouldn't have done half of them).

After some time, Derrick learned to cooperate with the wand and became attached to it, even when it did not always want to act as it should in class when it was required of him. The wand, however, worked perfectly at work. Derrick became a medic at St. Mungo's, and both hawthorn and unicorn hair support healing magic. Derrick and the wand have gotten along great over the years. Perry was close to tears when the core of his wand died and he had to have it repaired. Without it, he felt like he was missing a part of himself, even though he was given a replacement wand and was free to use magic

Lucian Bole - Thestral tail hair core, apple wood

When little Luke heard what the core of the wand that chose him was, he turned pale. As a child, Lucian witnessed a group of strangers crash while flying on a flying carpet, and some drunk passengers ended up falling from a great high which caused death. This obviously affected Luke hard, who from then on preferred muggle ways of transport and was able to see thestrals. So when he heard that his wand had a thestral hair core, he thought it was an unfunny joke, reminding him of his trauma.

Ollivander didn't quite understand the boy's reaction. Indeed, quite a few wizards believed that thestrals were bad luck, but he hadn't expected such superstition from an eleven-year-old. Despite everything, he tried to reassure Luke, explaining to him that many adventures and journeys awaited him because such people were chosen by wands with a Thestral hair core. This piqued Lucian's interest, and he started asking Ollivander about the various wand specs (perhaps the days before the start of the school year when the traffic is incredibly busy is not the best time for such conversations, but Ollivander couldn't let go of educating the kid who was so eager to listen). Lucian was very happy to hear that the apple tree chooses likeable people, leaders with personal charm. Ollivander made Luke promise on a small finger that he would do his best at school and educate himself because apparently, the wand sees in him the ability to achieve great goals and openness to the world.

Lucian actually traveled a lot, he was passionate about getting to know different people and cultures. He also had a strong interest in the muggle world, eventually attending a muggle university. After a lesson in Care of Magical Creatures, he also became more fond of thestrals, seeing that despite their bad press, they are intelligent and gentle

Adrian Pucey - Unicorn hair core, willow wood

Adrian quickly found his wand. To be honest, he wasn't interested in its characteristics, preferring to go shopping instead of reading the description of his wand. His wand worked great from the start, the core of unicorn tail hair was consistent and loyal, it fitted Adrian quickly, and was a great tool.

Adrian had learned more about the characteristics of his wand in a fourth-year Charms class when Flitwick was ill and Binns was teaching instead. The historian wanted to combine their subjects and make a more theoretical lesson about the history of wands and their characteristics. Adrian read the description of his wand core, nodded, matching. He also made a mental note for the future that the hair sometimes needed replacing.

Then he read the description of the willowwood. He read the last sentence of the description and felt personally attacked. "The owner of such a wand was often insecure." Exposed by your own wand. Adrian has indeed always been insecure. This demotivated Adrian a bit in his fight with overthinking and complexes, because he thought that it must have been innate then, if the wand, choosing him as an eleven-year-old, had already noticed it.

During the summer, Lucian forcibly dragged him to Ollivander's shop to explain to him that wands, like the Sorting Hat, see potential and possibilities, but we create who we are. A wizard may have the most powerful wand, but that does not mean that he will be the most powerful, only that with his own work and the right conditions he can be powerful. Luke kept telling Adrian this, but he could see that he wasn't taking it seriously, that he needed an expert (also a stranger who wouldn't really care about him) to tell him that

Graham Montage - Thunderbird tail feather core, ebony wood

Graham had barely entered Ollivander's shop when the wand literally flew towards him and hit him in the chest. Ollivander, genuinely surprised, only commented "I hope you're here for the wand, young man, because this wand wants to be with you very much."

The wand was imported from America. Ollivander struck a deal with the American wand maker Aleshanee Wolfe, a relative of Shikoba Wolfe, so that he had some of her wands for sale and she had some of his wands for sale. This was for mutual promotion in new regions. Still, Ollivander wasn't particularly happy that a wand he hadn't created, had chosen Graham, but there was no denying that they were a perfect match when the wand reacted that way.

The wand, both core and wood, was great for transfiguration, which Graham was a genius at (I have to get my shit together and write a headcanon about Graham and transfiguration). Montague had learned this from Professor McGonagall, who had quickly noticed his great potential and deliberately asked about his wand characteristics to see if the wand that had chosen him also wanted to highlight the boy's Transfiguration abilities. Years later, when Graham had grown to be the best student McGonagall had taught, in conversation Montague mentioned the history of buying a wand, and McGonnagal merely nodded unsuprised.

Graham learned the other features of the wand, just like Adrian, in Charms class with Binns. His ego was greatly flattered when he read that he apparently knows who he is, is steadfast in his beliefs, and does not change under the influence of his surroundings. The wand was difficult to master and tenacious, but that was what made them fit together so well. Graham, stubborn and steadfast, was just the one who was able to master this wand and use it perfectly

Miles Bletchley - Veela hair core, black walnut wood

Miles's shopping at Ollivander's went fairly quickly. Ollivander offered him several wands, and Miles didn't know how he should feel to know that wand was the right one. However, as soon as he picked up this one, he felt that even a simple wave of this wand would be what he was looking for.

Already at Hogwarts, he himself went to Flitwick to ask if he knew about the characteristics of wands, because he had a few questions. Black Walnut is characterized by forcing the wizard to be honest with themself. It dramatically lost power when the owner lied to themself and was dishonest. This suited Miles, who was very boldly seeking himself and reaching for various forms of expression. In the 1990s, he openly painted his nails, used makeup, and wore women's clothes, he never restrained himself from expressing his opinion, he did not act more posh and polite than he was, he did not analyze what would benefit him. After learning about this feature of his wand from Flitwick, back in his 2nd year, he felt more motivated to be himself. He was a kid who had different visions of who he wanted to be but was afraid to try and experiment in fear of being judged by others. However, his own wand motivated him to seek himself and become who he is.

On the other hand, the hair of the veela could be capricious when the wand was not properly cared for and handled roughly and without respect. However, when treated well, in the hands of the right person, it was consistent and subtle, yet powerful. So yeah, Miles' wand was really demanding and high-maintenance

Also, I didnt reread it for correction, sorry. And life update. I worked in call center for 3 months (I would never manipulate someone into contract btw, I made everything crystal clear and none of my clients had any complains) and now I finally have some holidays, idk how it is in other countries but in Poland university year starts in October instead of September. So yeah, i'm going for short vacation now, then I will have to sort and buy and pack my things because im moving out of my family house to another city for uni

[roalinda]

Entry for @hprecfest

☆Day 8 : A canon-divergence fic☆

Uncertainty by @adiha

Pairing: James Potter/Sirius Black

Summary

He knows what he’s going to see as he rushes through the door. There is a desperation in his steps, a doom awaiting. There, in the entrance of this house which he’s never seen before, but familiar still, his best friend lays lifeless on the carpet. He looks older, his hair is shorter, and he’s dead.

Sirius screams.

He is laying on his four-poster bed in his dorm, drenched in sweat, his hand is clutching the sheets, and his breath is labored. For a moment, he doesn’t know whether he is dreaming or awake.

Category: M/M

Rating: Mature

Words: 23, 164

The uniqueness of this work is in the time frame it is happening. Time/dimension travels are usually backwards in time in most works. This work doesn't have the literal time travel but is all about visions from future and how they wreck havoc in Sirius' mind and the way James and him try to prevent a potential devastation. Read and enjoy.

He has always thought Sirius was beautiful. It was an objective fact really. The sky is blue, Ukrainian Ironbellies are enormous, and Sirius Black is gorgeous. This was the reason anytime thought of kissing Sirius invaded his thoughts, he disregarded it as something anyone who has met him would want. It wasn’t romantic or anything…

Or that’s what he had been saying to himself.

2. Over the hills and far away by shadowmun

Pairing: James Potter/Sirius Black , past James Potter/ Lily Evans

Summary:

There has always been Sirius. Even when there was Lily, there was always Sirius. Until there wasn't.

Or: James and Lily is a thing of convenience. And when Voldemort comes, James isn't at home.

Rating: E

Category: M/M , F/M

Words: 8, 319

This is a 100% must read if you are a fan of Sirius' deep sense of loyalty and sacrifice and love for James and how he is willing to throw away everything for protecting him and Harry, even without James' knowledge. I am fond of jily so when I recommend works with a past jily relationship it is not to send negative vibes. This one is so good and with the foundation of Sirius throwing away his dignity for James to keep his, James' guilt and love and Azkaban's dreadful trauma on Sirius' side, it is a literal bittersweet liquid chocolate . This work is not a -James comes back to life- trope , so you can read it safely if you are not fond of that. It is about how Sirius selflessly sacrificed and how James decided be worthy of it at last, uncaring about people's opinions and his own personal fears and regrets.

Clearly the Auror was less than impressed. “No mark is no absolute proof. Surely the organisation has its sleepers...” She looked up now, as if she knew something, her eyes finally meeting Sirius' thundercloud grey. “But you can easily disprove the second accusation. Where were you the night of the 31th October?”

“You want an alibi?” It hurt to watch Sirius, while he worked things out. How he licked his lips, while he made a decision, while he fought his pride and sense of justice. “I've none.” James could tell it dawned on him he had been played. Someone was feeding the Aurors information, someone who knew about them. Someone who had interest in seeing him fall. There was no lack of people who fit the latter.