#st. mungo's

[jomiddlemarch]

And whilst our souls negotiate there  

Chapter 2

He’d never have recognized her and Draco had seen her face in his dreams nearly every night since his aunt nearly tortured her to death in their ballroom.

It wasn’t the Glamour, they’d removed that straightaway, which was a pity, because he would have liked to examine the magic more carefully. One of his smallest, mildest, most wholesome regrets was that he’d never had a chance to study at Beauxbatons when he was young enough for their approach to have influenced his own casting; it was not so much a certain panache associated with the way they flicked their wands as a fundamental assumption that magic required beauty and well-done magic was undergirded with a deep and sustaining connection to the world’s terrible loveliness.

Hogwarts offered nothing like that and the pudding was typically uninspiring.

(Yes, Draco had always liked a good lemon soufflé and île flottante.)

Hermione Granger lay motionless in a bed, pale, the wild curls he remembered tied back away from her face. He’d thought for a moment that someone, maybe Donna Numina Gaetana in Padua, had cut them all off, the way he’d read Muggles had used to do for those suffering with fevers before they’d discovered germ theory, though the Healer would have used the hair in any numbers of potions and charms to try and restore Hermione to her senses. Her hands, which he recalled gesturing, holding a wand, reaching out across the parquet floor of the ballroom, lay palm down on either side of her, in a position no healthy sleeping witch would ever take. Her eyes were closed. If he raised her lids to examine her, he knew there would be nothing in her gaze that reflected her animated self, nor her quiescent, banked power.

Her eyes were hazel. He knew that, though he might pretend he didn’t. He’d known it since they’d turned fourteen, before the Yule Ball, before the Snatchers brought her to his house, before she’d glanced at him across the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the battle over, his mother trembling beside him.

If Neville hadn’t told him, he would have taken her falsified chart as truth. He would have shaken his head a little in the general frustration at the loss of an ordinary witch, one he’d assumed a member of Hufflepuff, as he’d noticed nothing about her that was memorable. It would never have occurred to him to question the notation Incurable, Level 3, confirmata per leporem. Muggles called it a vegetative state, which was perhaps partly why Neville, a gifted Herbologist, was so closely involved.

It was also because he’d been in love with Hermione since The Battle of Hogwarts, a patient, unrequited love that he didn’t wear on his sleeve as much as carry as a talisman. His was a love which did not seek possession, most unfamiliar to Draco, as neither the Black nor Malfoy line was known for such unworldliness. He hadn’t spoken of Hermione often, but what little he had said and the way he’d said it had made Draco aware of his affection, if not its depth and breadth.

That he’d learned when Neville brought him to Hermione’s bedside. When he’d picked up one of her hands in his, very gently, and had murmured a spell under his breath, a very old blessing of the North Draco had never heard uttered aloud before. 

“You’ll help her,” Neville said. 

If Draco had said it, about someone he cared about as much as Neville cared about Hermione, it would have been a threat, a binding. Neville was making a promise, to himself and to Hermione, and only offered Draco an encouragement, his faith compleat. 

“I’ll try, Neville,” Draco said. “I can’t promise anything—”

“You needn’t. You don’t like to fail. You won’t start now,” Neville replied.

“She’s been seen by the finest specialists in the world. My superiors. You—and Potter too—you have to understand how little I have to offer her,” Draco said.

Neville smiled.

“Humility at this late stage, will wonders never cease!”

“Neville, I’m serious,” Draco said.

“So am I. You’ve got something those specialists haven’t got, something I think is critical to curing Hermione,” Neville said.

“Salazar help me if this has something to do with the bloody Sorting Hat and some overwrought, badly scanned verse,” Draco muttered.

“Not directly,” Neville said. “Hermione also hates the Sorting Hat. That’s part of it—the history you share, the fact that you were educated by the same witches and wizards, used the same library—you’ll be better able than those specialists to understand what she did and how, how it might have gone wrong. And Harry and I believe what happened to her during the war is intrinsic to the injury—”

“What happened to her?” 

“Bellatrix torturing her. You were there. We think that’s playing a role in her current state,” Neville said.

“It’s my fault, somehow?” Draco asked.

“No, not at all. We think there’s latent Dark magic involved, Black family magic you can access as a close family member. Hermione collapsed shortly after she finished her last attempt at reversing the memory charms on her parents. They survived, but they still don’t really know her. She hasn’t woken since. The specialists believe, most of them, that she irreversibly depleted her magical core. Harry thinks she’s fallen into an enchanted sleep,” Neville explained.

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s trapped. Locked in. And I think you’ll be able to figure out how to set her free,” Neville said.

“And how will I do that?” Draco asked, any snideness in the inquiry overwhelmed by bafflement.

“Ah, mate, if I knew, I wouldn’t have come to you, yeah? I’d have taken care of Hermione myself,” Neville said. “But there is one thing that might help.”

“What’s that?”

“She kept a journal,” Neville said.

“Of course she did,” Draco said. “Hand it over and I’ll start reading—”

“I haven’t got it,” Neville said. There was a long pause, for the realization and the grudging acceptance.

“Potter’s got it. I’ve got to talk to the bloody Boy Who Lived and abase myself, even though you’re asking for my assistance. I’m the one doing the favor—”

“It’s not a favor. He’s calling in his life-debt,” Neville said, his expression darkening. “He shouldn’t have to though. You ought to be glad to be asked. Because it’s Hermione.”

“Fine. Tell Potter I’ll meet him. Wherever he wants. Whenever he wants. He’ll like that, won’t he?” Draco said.

“It’ll make things easier. This wasn’t his idea,” Neville said. It was note-worthy that Neville didn’t try to defend Potter. And that Neville wasn’t in possession of Hermione’s journal. Journals, if Draco were to make an educated guess, keeping in mind the voluminous essays she used to turn in to Potions and Arithmancy.

“Well, we have that in common,” Draco answered.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 11: Bloom in the Dark

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars (rewritten!)

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: After a beautiful, romantic, perfect night in which they formed an unusually strong connection, Kate was devastated to learn that Sebastian practices Dark magic and that he has a complicated, traumatic past. Heartbroken, they went their separate ways. In the week that followed, both of them were constantly reminded of each other. Trying to find ways to cope, they feel incredibly lonely and long for the other’s company.

Tags: Angst, Sorrow, Emotional Turmoil, Longing, Hurt/No Comfort, Alcohol, Anxiety, Dreams, Therapy/Counseling, Hospital Visit, Painful Memories, Apologies, Desperation

Content Warnings: Post-break-up feelings, no happy ending, drinking to cope with pain, panic attack, illness of a family member

Chapter Music: “Miriam’s Memory” - Chuck E. Myers “Sea” (Hogwarts Legacy soundtrack), “Merida’s Home” - Patrick Doyle (Brave soundtrack), “Hog’s Head Jig” - Chuck E. Myers “Sea” (Hogwarts Legacy soundtrack), “A Beautiful Mess” - Jason Mraz

Word Count: ~2,170

Link to Wattpad Link to AO3

<- Previous Chapter

Chapter 11: Bloom in the Dark

29 May 1899

Shielding his eyes from the rain, Sebastian hurries along the dark London street, thankful for the storm as it has caused the area to empty of its normal crowds. 

As he turns a corner, the world around him suddenly illuminates - a flash of lightning, followed by the rumbling of thunder. He wraps his jacket more tightly around him; a puddle splashes under his boot. 

He can’t help but be transported to the past when he takes in the familiar sight.

“Just a little further,” Uncle Solomon grumbles. “Come on, Sebastian.”

Sebastian grits his teeth, then readjusts his grip on Anne. She shudders through the pain, leaning on him for support as they slowly move.

“Seb,” she groans pitifully, “it hurts…”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes his sister. “We’re almost there. It’s okay. They’re going to fix this. There’s nothing St. Mungo’s can’t fix.”

There’s a shop window on the right with a hand-painted sign: “CLOSED FOR REPAIRS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.” A mannequin is on display, wearing a hideous Victorian dress at least three decades out of style. The silky bodice is pea green, flaring out into a hoop skirt of the same sickly color with orange bows and brown ribbon.

Sebastian leans close to the window. He hesitates but remembers Kate’s sorrowful face when she told him that he was more than the pain of his past. He thinks about all of the reasons for coming here: sleepless nights, moments when memories of terror in Azkaban override the logic of his brain, drowning in regret, drinking by himself, being utterly alone in the world. Kate’s rejection. With all of that in mind, he finally whispers to the mannequin, “I need to s- see… a Mind Healer. Please.”

The mannequin gives a subtle nod and gestures for Sebatian to come forward. He steps right through the glass, and the dreary world behind him disappears, replaced by St. Mungo’s.

The ceiling is illuminated with soft light, the trim green. A roaring fire burns, and there are wooden benches nearby for waiting hospital guests. Music from an unseen piano echoes all around. 

Despite the warmth of the reception area, Sebastian shivers. This is the home of some of his worst memories.

He fidgets, wringing his hands, as he sits next to Solomon. A Healer in green robes and a white head covering finally approaches, surveying them somberly.

“Mr. Sallow, I’m sorry. I bear bad news,” she murmurs. “We are not familiar with young Anne’s curse. It’s rather unusual - unlike anything we’ve seen before. Without more information, there’s very little we can do other than offer some potions to manage the pain. So, we-”

“What?” Sebastian interrupts incredulously, standing tall despite his voice breaking. “W- What do you mean? There’s nothing you can do for her?” His fists clench.

Solomon frowns deeply and flings out his arm, forcing Sebastian to quickly settle back down on the bench.

“I understand you’re upset,” the Healer replies solemnly. “But only time will tell. This illness may pass. Have patience. And in the meantime, we have some potions that Anne can take temporarily…”

He shakes away the devastating memory.

Sebastian runs his hand through his wet hair as he unsteadily joins the line of witches and wizards waiting at the reception desk. The closer he gets to the front, the faster his heart beats. He can practically hear his blood pumping in his ears. Feeling as though he is burning up, he wrestles off his jacket, then loosens his shirt collar. 

They couldn’t heal Anne… 

What’s to say they can heal me?

I might as well be cursed myself. I’m damaged - maybe too damaged - to fix…

His mind begins to race as he progresses, now next in line. He’s still too hot. He can feel perspiration dripping down his forehead. It’s becoming impossible to breathe…

Have to get some air. I can’t… I can’t do this… It’s too much.

Sebastian tears himself out of line and makes a beeline for the exit, even as someone asks, “Sir?” He finds himself back in the pouring rain, panting as his clothes become soaked. When he has his bearings again, he apparates away.

31 May 1899

A huge tree, budding with new life, looms protectively over Kate. An open book lies on her lap, and her finger traces along the words as she reads out loud. The language is unrecognizable, and she realizes that this girl must not actually be her. The young lady, maybe ten or eleven years old, judging by the size of her hands and body, repeats the same phrase over and over again, her tone becoming more passionate with each recitation. 

The tome suddenly escapes her grip, rising on its own like a balloon. She gasps, blinking in disbelief as she watches it float upward, higher and higher. Eventually, it finally loses momentum and drops, landing on a branch far out of reach. She stares for several minutes before marching to the tree’s base with the intention to climb but doesn’t get far - she’s interrupted by a voice.

Kate whirls around to find a boy with tousled, dark - practically black - hair. She’s seen him before, but… where? He smiles at her, asking a question, though she does not understand a word he says.

She points to the book, out of reach, and in response, the boy laughs merrily and tells her something in another language. From his tone, he seems… proud and excited. He rushes to embrace her, picking her up and twirling her around. She giggles, pecking his cheek, which promptly flushes pink.

He pulls a wand out from his pocket, casting Accio. The book smoothly glides through the air into his hand. He returns it to her.

Kate’s eyes fly open, her heart racing. 

“So strange,” she mutters blearily. “What does it mean?”

She reaches over to her bedside table, feeling around sightlessly for her alarm clock. When she finds it, she brings it close to her face, sleepily examining it to see how much time she has left to rest. It’s 5:19 in the morning. She groans, knowing the device will sound off in about ten minutes.

She wraps her own arms around herself, desperate for some warmth and comfort. 

If only he was here, I -

No.

I need to stop thinking like this. It’s ridiculous. 

1 June 1899

Sebastian has wandered around the floral shop for several minutes now, passing by elegant bouquets, single stems of flowers and greens, and house plants in pots. Everything in here screams Kate. 

I wonder if she’s ever been here… It’s possible…

“Can I help you, sir?” 

He glances at the shopkeeper. “Yes, actually. Thank you. I’m looking for something specific.”

The man adjusts his apron. “Well, if we don’t have what you need, we may be able to order it. What exactly do you seek?”

Sebastian clears his throat. “Um… a Christmas cactus.”

“Oh! We do have one in stock.” The shopkeeper motions for him to follow. “Right this way.”

As the two complete the transaction minutes later, the shopkeeper explains how to care for the plant. “...And when the weather gets cold, that’s when it blossoms. It’s rather unusual but a real delight.”

Sebastian nods. “Someone I admire loves this plant. She told me all about it. I thought I ought to get one as a reminder of how things can bloom in the dark.” 

Making his way out of the shop, Sebastian sighs, staring at the cactus that will be the only decoration at his workstation in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He wonders if buying it was a mistake. He will probably think of Kate every time it draws his gaze - and, thus, how he can’t be with her. But on the other hand… remembering how he had been given a chance for once would help him to keep at least a little bit of hope.

2 June 1899

The song of a fiddle fills the air amongst the sound of chatting and laughter. The inn and pub at Ilkley Moor is bustling tonight.

Staring at Sebastian are his never-failing companions - two shot glasses: one filled with firewhisky, the other with gin.

Kate’s reaction to the exact same liquor replays in his mind - dramatic coughing, sticking out her tongue in disgust, a crinkled nose. But then - a pretty smile. Sweet laughter. Rosy cheeks. 

He tips back the firewhisky, swallowing it easily without any of the reactions Kate had. Then, he lifts the shot glass of gin to his nose. What had Kate said about gin? Pine needles. Smelled and tasted of pine needles. Accurate. 

The barkeeper quickly wanders over, noting that Sebastian has finished his drinks. “Are ya lookin’ to have more?”

Sebastian nods. “Just firewhisky now.” The shot glass magically refills in a matter of moments. 

Not much later, he notices a man about his age a couple of seats down with his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking as a clear cocktail is delivered to him. The barkeeper lends his ear.

“She’s getting married in the morrow,” the twenty-something sobs. 

“Isn’t there anything ya can do?” the attendant asks. 

“That’s just it,” he wails. “She said that she would’ve picked me had I fought for her! But I backed down the moment her kin arranged the match.” He wipes his eyes. “I love ’er, but it’s over. She’ll not see me no longer. I should’ve done more! Shouldn’t have let it be. We could’ve eloped. We could’ve been somethin’. But in the morn’ she’ll be Missus Flint.”

Sebastian downs his fourth shot of Firewhisky solemnly, contemplating the man’s sorrow. How would he feel if he found out that Kate was on a date right now with some Pureblooded, smarmy bachelor? That her mother had arranged her marriage already? His knuckles turn white as he imagines Kate in bed, pretending to come, her bare body unsatisfied underneath some rich bastard she doesn’t love. 

“We could have been something…” Her voice echoes in his head. “We were supposed to meet… I feel it in my bones…”

Despite being pissed just moments ago, Sebastian’s mind is completely clear now and made up. He takes a deep breath before tossing a few coins to the barkeep. When he reaches the stairs, he quickly hurries up, stumbling towards the top but righting himself. He quickly unlocks his room.

Fetching parchment, ink, and a quill from his trunk, he settles at the desk.

3 June 1899

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap.

Kate wraps a thin robe around her body as she slips out of bed and makes her way into the kitchen. Clearly, an owl is making noise, waiting impatiently to gain her attention. Lifting the window, she carefully retrieves the envelope from its beak, feeding it a little treat. Then, it flies away.

There is no seal nor insignia to indicate from whom the letter came. Kate frowns, opening the letter with curiosity. Then, as she glances to find the signature of the writer, she gasps, bracing herself against the counter.

Dearest Kate,

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I disappointed you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m going mad. How could we have gotten so close to happiness to have it all dashed? I wish I could take it all back - everything I did when I was younger - but I can’t. What is done is done. And if my past keeps me from you, I might as well be in prison. I am in utter agony. Absolutely everything reminds me of you. 

I don’t want to be alone anymore. I know you don’t either. 

Please, forgive me, Kate. I just want to be with you. I want to give you the world. The entire universe. I’ll bring you the sun and the moon and the stars if we can start over. 

Thinking about your hand on someone else’s arm makes me want to scream. Gods, I hope you haven’t moved on…

I know I’m not the man you thought you’d be with someday. But please give me a chance to prove that I can become that man. We are supposed to be together. I know it.

Let me hold you again and take away your loneliness. I want to make you breakfast every morning. Help you fall asleep every night. I’ll give you anything you desire - anything. 

I just need to see you again. Please don’t give up on us. I haven’t.

Please, can we meet?

The Three Broomsticks. Dinner. Next Thursday at 6 pm.

If you don’t want to see me, I will … I don’t even know. But I’ll understand. I won’t bother you any longer if you don’t want me the way I want you. Just know… I am yours. Completely. If you can somehow accept me, you will never be lonely again. Be my sunshine, and I’ll be your moon. I’ve only just found you, and I don’t want to live without you. Please, reconsider, Kate. Please. 

Yours,

Sebastian

[alienishenart]

And they blushed

[nexeliam]

Hi everyone, you will find below the 14th chapter links of "The Blind Wizard" ! Sorry for the delay, with Christmas in the middle and lots of other stuffs (Arcane I'm looking at you), I've been quite busy! Anyway, it is out now (quite a heavy one...), I hope you'll enjoy the read!

Links of the chapter on AO3 or Wattpad :)

[oh-phoenixx]

“St. Mungos” - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 496 words

@abductedhiko

-

“Alright, Mr. Potter. I need to check your vitals and cast a few healing spells,” Regulus said with a smile. He had taken a liking to Fleamont in the few days that he’d been at St. Mungos, after suffering a pretty scary heart attack.

Euphemia walked into the room holding baked goods from the cafe just opposite the hospital. Fleamont beamed up at her and held out his hand for them, but Euphemia shook her head and put them out of his reach. “Let’s see what your vitals say first.”

Fleamont let out a sort of whine-chuckle that made Euphemia glare fondly at him. Regulus chuckled and checked his vitals, recasting healing spells he’d been keeping up for the last two days. Once he was done and had confirmed that everything was looking good, all things considered, Euphemia handed Fleamont his food.

“I’ll be back in a few hours, Mr. Potter,” Regulus told him.

“Call me Monty, please,” Fleamont reminded him.

When Regulus came back, as he said he would, a few hours later, Euphemia and Fleamont were not the only ones in the room.

“James, you really didn’t have to come,” Fleamont sighed, though he was gripping James’s hand and grinning up at him.

“I can spare a few hours. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a heart attack,” James replied, trying to look angry but failing quite miserably, as he simply seemed relieved that his father was okay.

Regulus cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the man. He kept his eyes on Fleamont’s chart as he approached them.

“Ah, Regulus, this is my son, James,” Fleamont introduced proudly. “Plays for the Montrose Magpies, he does!”

“Dad,” James groaned, “you don’t have to tell people that every time.”

Regulus hid his smile as he kept his eyes trained on the chart. “Dr. Rosier will be in to see you tomorrow morning, and if all is well, you can go home.”

The following morning, Fleamont was discharged from the hospital. Regulus was not needed, as Evan had been the one to check him over. So, he didn’t have to see Fleamont’s son again, to his great relief.

Well, that’s what he thought, anyway.

“Hey, Regulus,” a low voice said from beside him.

Regulus looked up to see James, all hazel eyes and messy hair. He was grinning like a mad-man, leaning far too close to Regulus. Regulus took a step back, turning back to his paperwork, which was suddenly very interesting.

“You didn’t say goodbye,” James commented.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t needed.” Regulus swallowed hard.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” James said.

Before Regulus could say anything else, James slipped him a piece of paper. “Bye, Regulus.” James winked and walked away confidently.

Regulus looked down at the piece of paper, which had a phone number written on it, and underneath, ‘You took care of my dad. Wonder if I could take care of you to repay the debt.’

[okaycoffees]

if i had a penny for everytime i had my heart broken by a book with themes of sexuality and addiction in which the main character is an extremely abused boy with disabilities who is named after a saint i would have two pennies, which isn't alot but its weird that it happened twice

[m4tt13w0rld]

drarry fic where draco is a st mungo's healer in the potions and plant poisoning ward, and harry comes in from an overdose. he'd resorted to mixing various potions to get through his daily life — inadvertently becoming a potions addict and now dealing with horrible withdrawals.

[mortiscausa]

bby mordred (on the left) with his big sister thaney and her son, kentigern, for the first prompt of @queer-ragnelle's may day parade: may king mordred. taking advantage of this challenge to do some stuff relating to my arthurian comic project and get back to working in watercolours again

[ravenclawcrap]

hello, i have my final exam tomorrow so of course i decided to finish writing a fanfic today!

enjoy ;))

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63769861

[bellwood-qudditch]

No because what happens when a students appendix is like gonna burst at Hogwarts?

[gawrkin]

King Lot in the Chronicle Traditions, pt. EX: Historia Scotorum

(Thanks to an anonymous person, who gave me a link to the Philological Museum, I was able to have a look at how King Lot presented in the Scottish narrative by Hector Boece. Kudos to him/her. Link is HERE)

Lot introduced. In Boece's work, Lot is a Pict, rather than a Northern Briton from Hen Ogledd/The Old North. Keep in mind this Chronicle has a Pro-Scottish bent, hence the appropriation of Lot and his family as Pictish. You may now imagine Gawain and co. being heavily tattooed.

The alliance of Lot, Conranus and Aurelius

After the triumph over the Saxons, Lot is wed to Anna, Aurelius' sister, and fathers Valvanus (Gawain), Mordred and Thametes (Teneu). Geoffrey of Monmouth himself flip flops on whether Anna was a sister of Arthur or a sister of Uther and Aurelius. Boece elected to go with "Sister of Aurelius and Uther" to frame the injustice Arthur and the Britons commit regarding Mordred's eligibility to the Throne.

Uther sires Arthur, in which Boece emphasizes it's illegitimacy. The treachery towards the Scots and Picts begins here.

Due to his sons being cheated out of succession, Lot allies with the Saxon King Occa (Octa/Osla Gyllelvawr, Hengist's son and Rowena's brother)

Lot breaks off with the Saxons and Occa retaliates as a result.

Lot pushes for him and his sons for succession, presumably under an old Celtic system similar to Tanistry. Sadly, Racism gets in the way.

Because of the Saxons, Arthur makes a deal with Lot: The next successor after him will be Mordred. Also, Mordred's marriage. Huh, that's weird. You'd think it would be Gawain, since he is usually portrayed as the eldest. Perhaps he's not in Boece, since Mordred is always mentioned first before Gawain?

Lot vs. Colgern

Years later, King Lot sadly dies offscreen. :( And the Mordred drama ensues because, again, racism. Arthur breaks the treaty and designates Constantine of Cornwall as heir to the throne, etc. etc. And that's it for King Lot in Boece's chronicle. The following three entries are some interesting tidbits Boece included as part of his narrative:

King Brude, one of Lot's nephews, succeeds the Pictish Throne. By which brother, unknown. It ought to be Auguselus, but Eugenius is King of the Scots and Urien and Ywain aren't part of this narrative, so...

The story of Thametes/Teneu and St. Kentigern/Mungo.

Lothian retains it's name to the present day, in memory of King Lot

King Lot got a peculiar sidegrade here compared to in Historia, still having lost the "King of Norway" element (as he is now a pict), as well not having a role in the endgame - unlike in Didot Percrval and AMA - having died early so that Mordred is King of the Picts when it all goes down.

In exchange, more emphasis is place on the political intrigue and struggles: Lot's role in both Aurelius and Arthur's wars against the Saxons, his fight to have his family maintain their rights to the throne despite Briton resistance to the idea, etc.

Personally, I do love the idea of Lot and the Orkney bros being Norse/Pictish/Briton mixed race (and maybe, Urien and Augusel as well). Also, the idea of Mordred having a hand in government long before the Revolt, being in-charge of Lothian, Orkney and the Picts. It gives him something cool to do since Mordred lacks a lot of noteworthy adventures, enhance the flaws (percieved or otherwise) about Arthur's rule and helps contrast him with Gawain, who I've complained before about how he should be a responsible King in the French narratives, rather than the adventurer-hero he, and his fellow Round Table Knights, have been pigeonholed into by the French writers.

Link to Part I: HERE

Link to Part II: HERE

Link to Part III: HERE

[daddiesdrarryy]

Ron: Blaise, is there a way to tell that blue cheese is getting really bad?

Blaise: Can you show me the cheese?

Ron: I can’t

Ron: I already ate it

[pangaeaseas]

pity the late night weekend shift at St mugoes because wizard drinking games are crazy and also extremely dangerous. they have to deal with people drunk-transfiguring themselves. it's a nightmare.

[fuzzygreenmushrooms]

Nobleflower but Pandora tells Narcissa that she'll be part of the reason that drives Alice mad and Narcissa brushes it off as pandora being weird and saying that her and Alice would be together and mad in love

But pandora saw barty torture Alice for the name of regulus's killer and Alice screaming narcissas name in vain.

Bonus if Alice only utters narcissa's name on repeat at saint Mungo

[backseatbabyy]

Rosalie Jenkins - Harry Potter OC

~ General ~

Full Name: Rosalie Ethel Jenkins

Nickname(s): Rose, Rosie

Birthdate: April 12th, 1961

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Residence: London, England/New York City, New York | London, England

~ Physical Appearance ~

Hair Colour: Blonde

Eye Colour: Amber

Skin Tone: Pale

Body Type: Mesomorph

Height: 5’3

Misc: A slight gap between her two front teeth, freckles, a defined cupids bow, large, doeish eyes

~ Background ~

Hometown: London, England

Growing up in the wizarding community of Diagon Alley, Rosalie spent her childhood exploring the magical shops of the Alley and running wild in the streets of muggle London with her gang of siblings. One by one, the Jenkins children received their Hogwarts letters and left, until Rosalie was the only one left.

~ Magic & Schooling ~

Wand:

Wood: Applewood

Core: Phoenix Feather

Length: 11 1/2 Inches

Flexibility: Supple

House: Gryffindor

Best Class: Charms

Worst Class: Astronomy

Patronus: Dove

Patronus Memory: Stealing candy with her siblings in London

Boggart: A squirming tangle of worms

Riddikulus: They turns into a bunch of spaghetti noodles

Amortentia (what she smells like): Vanilla, lavender, marshmallow, roses

Amortentia (what she smells): Eucalyptus, black currant, sandalwood, Quidditch jersey

Mirror of Erised: Regulus

Quidditch: No—But she is the announcer

Prefect: Yes

Clubs: No

OWLs:

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Charms: Outstanding

Potions: Outstanding

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

History of Magic: Acceptable

Astronomy: Dreadful

Herbology: Outstanding

Care of Magical Creatures: Exceeds Expectations

Divination: Acceptable

NEWTs:

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Charms: Outstanding

Potions: Outstanding

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Herbology: Exceeds Expectations

Career:

1971-1979: Student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

1979-1981: Healer-in-Training, Member of the Order of the Phoenix

1981-1995: Healer

1995-1998: Healer, Member of the Order of the Phoenix

1998-Retirement: Healer

~ Family ~

Mother: Jeanette “Jeanie” Carr

Jeanie Carr, an American aspiring journalist, spent the summer after her college graduation in London, hoping to expand her horizons. While there, she explored museums, concerts and met Thomas Jenkins. The pair fell hopelessly in love. Jeanie learned of Thomas’s magical heritage after their wedding, only 6 months after meeting. Needless to say, Jeanie stayed in London for much longer than just a summer. Twelve years, actually. Until, she received an offer of Editor-at-Large for Vogue. Thomas refused to follow her, adamant that their three children attend his alma aater. The pair separated, and divorced officially a year later. The custody agreement dictated that the three Jenkins children would spend at school in England and spend summer holidays with their mother. Jeanie visits for Christmas every year.

Father: Thomas Jenkins

The owner of an apothecary in Diagon Alley, Thomas Jenkins met Jeanie Carr four years after his graduation from Hogwarts. For him, it was love at first sight. However, it wouldn’t last. Adamant that their four children attend Hogwarts, Thomas refused to make the move across the pond to America with Jeanie. This culminated in their divorce. Thomas has the children Christmas and Easter break.

Eldest Brother: Thomas Jr. “Tommy” Jenkins

The eldest of the Jenkins children, Tommy was the first to attend Hogwarts. He was sorted into Hufflepuff. There, he met Ruth Cole, a Ravenclaw. Initially a harsh rivalry, By the time their 6th year rolled around, the pair were hopelessly smitten for each other and married the summer after their graduation. They have two children, Lorelai and Carter. Tommy took over his father apothecary in Diagon Alley.

Older Brother: Edward “Ed” Jenkins

Ed Jenkins, the first Gryffindor in the family, marked the beginning of a trend for the Jenkins children. Often the leader of their little gang, Ed became an Auror after his time at Hogwarts. He was killed in 1980 while fighting against a group of Death Eaters.

Older Sister: Wilhelmina “Billie” Jenkins

Hardly a year apart, Billie and Rose were always close. Really, the two were inseparable, Rose regards the year before she was allowed to go to Hogwarts as the worst of her life. During their time at Hogwarts, the Jenkins sisters were the social butterflies of Gryffindor house, with Billie’s bright-eyed, blunt charm, and Rosie’s upbeat and friendly personality, they were well-liked by most and befriended by many.

~ Personality & Traits ~

Personality: Despite her sweet-as-sugar demeanour, Rosie has a temper to match the Jenkins reputation and the knife-sharp tongue to wield it. However, she doesn’t anger easily. Rosie is usually very friendly and kind, always open to new people and experiences. She’s usually the one to smooth over arguments between her sister and other students. Rosie is naturally extroverted and dislikes being alone. She is very persistent and stubborn, to an infuriating degree. Rosie is very charismatic and lovable, with a particular talent for charming adults and older people.

Likes: The Beatles, sherbet, lemon flavour, roller-skating, embroidery, Quidditch announcements, dancing, jewelry, Fizzing Whizzbees, Star Wars, David Bowie, Joni Mitchell, card games

Dislikes: Actually playing Quidditch, milk chocolate, driving, tight spaces, worms, honestly all bugs, coffee,

Hobbies: embroidery, roller skating, dancing, playing piano, playing cards

Favourite Place: Astronomy Tower

~ Relationships ~

Love Interest(s):

Mary MacDonald

Mary MacDonald was the kind of girl who was easy to fall in love with. With her easy charm, brash and outgoing personality and beauty, it’s no wonder she was Rosalie’s first love. Short and sweet, they decided to be just friends after only a few months.

Regulus Black

Rosalie met Regulus on the astronomy tower. She’d known him, of course. But she’d never really talked to him before. The Astronomy tower was her refuge, she’d go up to calm down and maybe have a smoke or just look at the stars. So imagine her shock and horror at finding Regulus Black in her normally undisturbed space. Somehow, the two ended up having a surprisingly civil and insightful conversation. They continued to meet at the Astronomy Tower, by coincidence or not, Rosalie could not be sure. Little by little, Rosalie began to consider Regulus a friend. They even tiptoed towards something more, when Regulus pulled away. All attempts to contact him were met with roadblocks, and Rosalie was left confused and heartbroken. Perhaps in a last ditch effort, or some final goodbye, Rosalie did something rather foolish. She told Regulus the address of her cottage in Ansty. Honestly, she never really expected anything from it but on December 21, 1979, Regulus Black appeared in her living room, half drowned and soaking wet, accompanied by a house elf. Rosalie fixed him up, and with a little back and forth with Auror Moody and other members of the Order, it was decided he would stay with her. It was….tumultuous to say the least. They fought, and talked and fought more and began to fall back in love. And the rest is history, I suppose.

Best Friend: Billie Jenkins/Maeve Leigh

Friends:

Joanne Archer

Sirius Black

Marlene Mckinnon

Mary MacDonald

Rivals:

Marcy Linshaw

Enemies:

Barty Crouch Jr.

Alecto Carrow

~ Misc. & Notes ~

In her first year, she made a habit of sharking the upperclassmen at cards and winning cigarettes, money, sweets and even the occasional favour. Once they wised up, no one would play with her.

Rosalie used to read her brother’s old textbooks when they got them to get ahead in school.

She became quidditch commentator in her 4th year.

She’s always been a bit of a crybaby, and cries at nearly everything.

Following her graduation, Rosalie accepted a spot as a Healer-in-Training at St. Mungo’s.

Her favourite holiday is Halloween. Every year, she and Billie do matching costumes and throw a massive party in the Gryffindor common room.

She has shit handwriting. It’s scribbly and hardly anyone can decipher it.

During her 6th and 7th years, Rosie interned with Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary. She helped with minor afflictions and injuries.

She has a small scar on her left leg from tripping and falling onto a rusty nail. She had to get 6 stitches and a tetanus shot.

{i will never not make an oc who loves joni mitchell}

[eviemacs]

Who: Evie & Open Where: St. Mungo's When: Blishwick Wing Grand Opening

"Sorry my boss would have my head if I let on who the anonymous donor is, you're just going to have to wait for the announcement. It'll be worth the wait, though!" Evie promised with a shrug and a smile. They didn't need to know that she had just as little clue as to who had made this wing happen as the rest of them. She watched as the mildly intoxicated eventgoer grumbled and went off to find another mediwix to bother, she presumed. How did they even know she worked here? Evie hadn't abided by the suggestion that all employees wear their uniforms--Evie might not be a huge lover of parties, but she did enjoy dressing up and she wasn't going to miss out on that. "Can you believe that guy?" She asked the closest person, eyes wide. "Absolutely crazy."