#wand of morgana

[garagewitchcraft]

Wand of Morgana. My first true melted candle approach to a handle. I used a large red marble and round red stones to add to the dark magical aesthetic. I enjoy how this turned out and had made another one, though white with clear stones. I may make more of this design in the future, centering the differences on my choice of end stone.

[lilliths-httyd-blog]

sorry but cedric immediately shielding the children is my everything

[monstergirlgang]

Monster Girl October (tarot deck) Day 19: the witch/fairy Morgana le Fay as the Queen of Wands!

As a witch/enchantress, she's a good queen of wands, but also the story of her stealing Arthur's enchanted scabbard of Excalibur made me think of the scabbard as an interesting wand/stave symbol! When Arthur is given Excalibur, he's warned to keep the scabbard safe since as long as he has it, he'll be immune from bleeding to death. While he sleeps, he keeps the sword close, but ignores the scabbard, leading to Morgana stealing it and throwing it into a lake. Merlin scolds Arthur later for his negligence, and ultimately he is killed (if only he had that magic scabbard!)

[my-castles-crumbling]

mischievous - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 227

“Give that back!” Regulus barked, grabbing at the little book Barty was currently holding above his head, his taunting grin making Regulus want to punch him in the face.

“Oh, how bad can it be? Like you’re writing love letters in here or something,” Barty rolled his eyes, mischievous smile still locked into place as he simultaneously turned away from Regulus and flipped open to a random page, scanning the text.

“I swear to Salazar and Merlin and Morgana and all the rest, Barty, if you read it, I’ll-” but Regulus was cut off by Barty’s dramatic inhale.

“It is love letters!” he shouted gleefully, waving the book again, looking as if Father Christmas had come early. “Ev, come see!”

But before Evan, who was walking down the hall toward them, could arrive, the book flew out of his grasp and landed neatly in Regulus’s outstretched hand. 

Looking indignantly at Regulus, Barty soon realized that Regulus had not then one who cast the spell. The culprit was a few feel away, idly twirling his wand and looking quite pleased with himself.

“Don’t be a dick, Crouch,” James Potter chided happily, winking at Regulus and walking past.

And Regulus, instantly knowing that James had heard everything, buried his head in his hands. Because he knew tonight, when they met up, he would have to give a detailed explanation to James as to what, exactly, was in that book.

[ellecdc]

Hi! I’m back 😬. I’m still extremely new to requesting so feel no pressure to write this soon. I was thinking of quiet!reader, who gets nervous when she is around Regulus and instantly starts saying the most out of pocket things and being chatty to fill in the silence. Regulus finds this amusing and usually keeps a serious, quiet demeanor to hear the weird things that come out of her mouth. 😊

looolllll the second I got this request it made me think of that Philomena Cunk meme on TikTok where people were like 'me whenever the conversation lulls' - so I had to borrow that quote!!! (let me know if you find it). Thanks so much for requesting babes - hope you love it 🫶

Regulus Black x quiet!fem reader (who can't shut up around him)

The world was out to get you, that much you were certain of. You were certain of this fact because this was the third time this week that your table in the library had somehow attracted the elusive Regulus Arcturus Black. 

Usually, this would not be an issue. In fact, one could argue this was a rather nonissue, seeing as you were sort of embarrassingly completely infatuated with the aggravatingly quiet boy in your year.

However, it appeared that the company of one Regulus Arcturus Black short-circuited some fundamental part of your brain which caused you to blurt out the most asinine comments known to all of wizardingkind – neigh – humankind. The universe has never seen the likes of such horrible conversation. 

It went a little like this: 

Earlier in the week you had set up your arithmancy homework out in front of you at your favourite table in the library. It was your favourite table because it had a window view, but that window view was the least distracting window view in the whole library. It also was the perfect distance to a fireplace, meaning you could manage to stay warm in the stone castle during the cold Scottish winters. 

Unfortunately, it seemed, the table didn’t give you a good vantage point to alert you when one Regulus Arcturus Black made an appearance.

“Mind if I sit here?” A quiet voice startled you out of your calculations, causing you to overturn a pot of ink in front of you.

“Fucking Merlin and Morgana! I- oh, erm, uh, no I uhm, fuck.” You sputtered as you split your attention between the boy standing across from you and the pool of ink quickly making its way towards your skirt. 

With a non-descript flick of Regulus’ wand, the mess was gone – though the damage to your parchment was unsalvageable.

“Oh, uhm, thanks. Sorry I – erm, have a seat. Although, you might not be safe!” You tried to joke but your voice came out disturbingly high, and the (failed) ‘joke’ made you flush hot with shame.

“I’m usually way cooler than this.” You tried to argue, before you realized that someone way cooler definitely wouldn’t have just said that.

Regulus was either unbothered by your horrifying actions or chose to ignore them. He opened his textbooks and began taking notes like you weren’t even there, while you sat in the most awkward and uncomfortable silence of your entire life.

It wasn’t long before you decided you couldn’t take it anymore, standing abruptly – so abruptly, in fact, that you had to quickly save another pot of ink from spilling – and began hastily gathering your things. Regulus did look up at this, and his eyes on you seemed to cause another malfunction to your central nervous system.

“Well, I must be off. I have other homework to dump ink on.” You said, except you didn’t deliver the sentence as a joke and it sounded all too believable – paired with your actions today, and you were certain he believed that’s exactly what you were off to do.

“Toodaloo.” You called and ran from the library.

Toodaloo!?!?! Are you fucking serious!?!! TOODALOO. Oh gods.

You didn’t dare return to the library the following day.

The day after that, though? It was fair game.

You were once again sitting at your favourite table and had ensured you placed a sticking charm on the bottom of your ink pots to avoid any more unfortunate accidents, when the clearing of a throat interrupted your studies.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, motioning to the seat across from you.

He’s kidding, right? After what happened two days ago, he can’t possibly want to sit with you?

Nonsense, perhaps this is just his favourite table in the library too.

You were determined this time not to make a fool of yourself.

“Have you finished the rune translations for Professor Babbling, yet?” Regulus asked.

No, the world was definitely out to get you.

“I, erm, I’ve started it. I believe it references the magic practiced by the Egyptians during the Predynastic period. Quite interesting stuff, Ancient Egypt. Did you know that Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do in your life was die?” 

You were talking a mile a minute. You knew this to be true due to the fact that your tongue was actually tripping over your words, but while your brain was shouting shut up shut up shut up shut up, your mouth just kept moving.

“Is that so?” Regulus asked, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he scrutinized you.

“I don’t know actually.” You admitted, realizing you may have just lied to Regulus Black about Ancient Egypt. “I, I suppose I meant that they put way more emphasis on death than life.” You cringed again. “I don’t know if that’s true either – it’s just, it’s... it's the pyramids!” You shouted desperately, earning you a shush from the librarian. 

“The pyramids?” He asked incredulously, a smile playing on his lips.

He was making fun of you, surely.

“Yup. Pyramids.” You squeaked, turning your face back towards your textbook.

“And you got all of that from the runes translation?”

Your face burned in shame.

“Uhm, no. The runes said no such thing. I just…know things.”

“You know things?”

“Right like, uhm, oh apparently Shakespeare didn’t actually write any of the works attributed to his name. Did you know that? William Shakespeare’s parents were illiterate - which doesn’t necessarily mean much because, perhaps he became learned later in life, right? However, William Shakespeare’s own children were also illiterate. I mean, what famous playwright wouldn’t teach their children to read? It’s all bollocks.” 

You had to catch your breath at the end of your tangent.

“That’s a bold claim.” Regulus said plainly. 

Fucking hells, was it hot in here?

“Right, well, erm. I have to go.” You said as you gathered your things and rushed towards the door.

“Uhm, Y/N?” Regulus called.

“Yes?”

“Your wand?”

You looked back at the table and, sure enough, your wand sat forgotten in your place. 

“Right, thanks. Uhm, best of luck on the rune’s translation. Let me know if you need help and erm, uhm, I - bye!”

You stayed out of the library for two days after that.

Which brought you to today. You decided to try to save yourself the humiliation and Regulus the hassle of having to sit with you by finding a different table. You would leave your favourite table to Regulus if it meant saving yourself the embarrassment of uttering absolute nonsense to your schoolgirl crush.

What you had forgotten, however, was how the world was absolutely 100% without a doubt out to get you.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, causing you to look up so quickly and, not being used to this table and unaware of the fact that you were sitting under a light sconce, you smacked your head rather painfully in the action.

“Son of a fucking dugbog.” You spat miserably as you rubbed at the sore spot already producing a lump on your head.

“Why?” You all but screeched.

Regulus tilted his head at you as one of his eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“Yes, why.”

“Why what?”

“Oh for – why do you want to sit with me?!”

He looked close to smiling as he scrutinized your form. “Do you not want to sit with me?”

“Of course I want to sit with you!” You admitted embarrassingly - and loudly - earning you a shush from the librarian.

“So, I can sit here then?”

You groaned and let your head thump onto the table in front of you – at least now you’d have a matching lump on the front of your head too.

“At the risk of me making a total and utter fool of myself? Sure, be my guest.”

You swore you heard him chuckle under his breath as he pulled the chair out across from you. You didn’t dare lift your head, however. Perhaps if you couldn’t see his piercing silver gaze, or his adorable black curls, or his stupid smirk, then maybe you wouldn’t be forced to say something ridiculous. 

“What? No fun facts for me today?” Regulus – the arse – asked from across from you.

You raised your head slightly, though left your shoulders at table level as you levelled him with a glare.

“You’re doing this to me on purpose, aren’t you? What, you get off on me making a fool of myself?”

Regulus smirked, though something in his eyes turned a little soft as he spoke. “I don’t think you make a fool of yourself.”

You scoffed and let your head fall back to its previous spot with a thud. “You’re an arse and a liar, Regulus Black.”

“Okay, perhaps you’ve been a little foolish.” He conceded, causing you to groan into the woodgrain of the table. “But I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”

Your head snapped up at that, and even Regulus grimaced as he watched you just barely miss the light sconce behind you.

“You’ve…enjoyed me making a fool of myself?” You asked incredulously.

Regulus moved his head back and forth in a sort of ‘so-so’ gesture. “I’ve enjoyed getting to listen to you. Why do you think I’ve been asking to sit with you all week?”

Apparently, your table wasn’t Regulus’ favourite table. Or at least, that wasn’t what made it his favourite – it was the fact that you had been sitting there that had made it so.

And ever since then, whatever table you were sitting at in the library – one would likely find Regulus Black there too.

[myriadparacosm]

Regulus: I think I'm straight.

Barty: *drops dead*

Pandora: *takes her wand out* Who are you?! Where is Regulus!

Emmeline: I feel very ill.

Evan: Dorcas is trying to jump out of the window!

Regulus: You are exagerating.

Evan: The hell we are?!

Pandora: Who are you!?

Regulus: Stop that! It's me Regulus!

Evan: Did you just hear yourself?!

Emmeline: Are you cursed?

Regulus: I'm not! I just think I realized something.

Dorcas: Straight?! You!?

Evan: What do you mean by that? Why on earth would you think that.

Regulus: I don't like your tone.

Pandora: For the love of Merlin and Morgana! What is wrong Reggie?!

Regulus: Potter has breasts.

Pandora:

Evan:

Emmeline:

Dorcas:

Regulus: And they are... Attractive.

Barty: What the hell is your problem?

Regulus: I saw them! He has- breasts bigger than some women I have seen!

Evan: Did you spy on him in the shower?

Regulus: I didn't! We trained a bit together at the Quidditch pitch and I saw him taking off his uniform in the locker room but I quickly left.

Barty: Did you also see the bits down there?

Dorcas: Reg', does my breasts make you feel things?

Regulus: What?! No! Never!

Emmeline: Then does any other girl's chest makes you-

Regulus: No! Salazar no! I only thought about them because of Potter!

Evan: What about my chest?

Regulus: Get out of my sight. I said Potter's, that's all.

Barty: Then you have no taste and you are just bent for Potter.

Regulus:

Emmeline: He is right though, Potter has gotten impressive breasts.

Dorcas: It doesn't make Regulus straight!

Regulus: Oh thank Merlin I was terrified for a moment there.

Pandora: Don't ever do that!

Sirius: *barrels into the Slytherin's house, out of breath* Reggie?! Are you okay?!

Regulus: What? What are you doing here! Get out!

Sirius: I felt something horrible was happening to you.

[dirtybg3confessions]

im so sorry but i think gale would make the lamest talk during sex. like he nuts and goes “by morgana’s wand that was a great experience” or some shit like that idk he’s so stupid and pathetic i need him

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (I) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

Part II / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant, cursing, Kreacher is a little shit

Following the sudden death of Cedric Diggory months before, the magical world flipped on its nose. The Daily Prophet pumped out towers of articles denouncing The Boy Who Lived, dubbing Harry as The Boy Who Lied.

Clever. Seriously, people actually subscribe to read that shit?

Surprisingly, Dumbledore forbid any form of contact with Harry during the summer--Hermione and Ron threw quite the fit after receiving the news. The most unsurprising reaction came from the ex-convict himself, Sirius Black.

Azkaban somehow became even less appealing after having to sit through his meltdown at the dinner table.

Who knew dementors could twist your spirit so far as to make petulant meltdowns a regular occurrence.

If his word was anything to go by, he got the better end of the deal compared to his murderous, psychopathic cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Entirely reassuring.

The inability to rant to Harry via letters, deal with Ron's whining, engage Hermione in her tangents, or sit around Sirius left you with no choice but to venture around on your own.

There was virtually no chance of running into anybody but the twins (who seriously needed their apparating privileges revoked) on your little escapade.

The hallways were dusty and suffocating from the sheer amount of unkempt gothic vintage furniture lining the perimeter. While an uncanny atmosphere of suffering blanketed every centimeter of the walls.

Wandering aimlessly, a sudden pulse of magic combined with your reckless compulsion steers your attention towards a tall, black door. The crystal door knob was dull in the dim light, the keyhole and backing rusting with age.

Clearly, no one has gone into the room in years--decades, even.

The room was located on the third floor of the house, far away from the bedrooms the Weasleys were sleeping in and even farther away from the restless master of the house (who was pacing like a maniac in the kitchen for the nth hour straight).

What's the worse that can happen?

Famous last words (Harry's impulsivity was definitely rubbing off on you).

The door put up quite a fight when you tried to twist the knob, creaking in protest before finally giving way as you pushed with your entire body.

You stumbled in, nearly choking on the cloud of dust that danced up into the air with your ever so graceful entrance. Taking a look around, you came to one conclusion.

The room was utterly boring.

Boxes lined nearly every inch of the floor, the wallpaper peeling and dragging down the walls, and the small window across the room was clouded by dirt. A lone ray of light illuminated a small black dresser table against the wall. Curiously, you carefully weaved around the boxes on the floor and padded towards the dresser.

Just as you reached to pull one of the drawers open, an unsettling prickle ran down your spine. Instinctively grasping at your wand, you spun around only to be met with the opposite wall and more dust.

Quickly scanning the room again, your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with a pair of narrowed ones.

It was a bloody portrait.

“Who are you? Who let you in here?”

The boy in the painting seemed only a few years older than you with pin-straight posture and sharp features to match. His voice echoed with firmness, a voice that seemed used to commanding respect and attention.

But Merlin and Morgana…he was divine. So divine that even Draco Malfoy would lose his composure if someone this attractive showed up at Hogwarts.

“No one...I'm no one. Who are you? You look…er-familiar.”

Your last words came out as more of a question as you slowly drank up every detail of his features.

The boy’s eyes narrowed further into a glare, seemingly starting to become irate with your dodgy answer. Before he could retort, a familiar pop sounded through the room and before you could even comprehend what was happening, a familiar house elf was barreling through the boxes and dropping in front of the portrait.

“Master Regulus! Kreacher has failed you! Disgraceful Master Sirius has stolen everything! Oh my poor Mistress!”

The boy seemed taken aback by the sudden intrusion and the rather emotional outburst from Kreacher.

Seriously, could portraits take that many steps back?

Watching for a few more moments with wide eyes, it seemed that nothing the boy was saying was registering to the inconsolable elf.

Going to give the elf and Regulus some privacy, you scampered away and closed the door with much effort and an audible huff.

As you started walking away, a sudden bang nearly snatched your soul out of your body. Spinning around, confusion washed over you as Kreacher struggled to clamber off of the worn carpet, a disgruntled noise echoing around the hall.

Kreacher had just flew into the wall. Did the elf lose some screws and try to become a part of the bloody wallpaper?

“Kreacher? What happened?!”

Before the snippy elf could reply, loud footsteps pounded nearby and a disheveled Sirius bounded up from the staircase, shooting a look of mixed disbelief and contempt at his elf.

“What the hell?! Kreacher what are you doing?! You can’t just leave when I’m telling you to do something!”

Feeling, again, like an intruder to a conversation, you shuffled against the wall and towards the stairs as the house elf snarled at the older man, briefly eyeing you with confusion. Raising your eyebrows, you watch as the elf shoots glances behind him towards the room before popping away from a screaming Sirius.

Rolling your eyes, you say a silent farewell to the mysterious room only to notice the door was no longer there. The area where the door should have been was replaced with nothing more than peeling wall and a dusty wall lamp.

Did you just hallucinate the last 10 minutes of your life?

Apparently not. A few days had passed since your strange encounter with Regulus Black in the disappearing storage room, and you had somehow gained the undivided attention of Kreacher.

It seemed the barmy elf held some newfound admiration for you since you somehow reunited him with the young master he actually liked.

You were nose-deep in a book about Ancient Property Magic from the Black Library when the elf hesitantly approached you.

"Kreacher has a question for the young blood-traitor."

What a punk.

Placing the book off to the side, you rub the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

How did Hermione go on for hours reading in these conditions?

All the words were blending together and your eyes stung from all the damn dust in the house.

"Hello Kreacher. What do you need?"

"How did the young blood-traitor find Master Regulus? Kreacher doesn't know how Master Regulus is here...Kreacher has failed...Master Sirius is a lawless traitor undeserving--"

"Woah! Okay...while I am not too sure about how exactly I found that room. I suppose it is a good thing you have such er--apprehensions about Sirius. I don't think he would appreciate me breaking into one of the rooms here."

Which was entirely true.

Sirius was off his rocker. The combination of being away from his godson, listening to his mother screech every morning, and having to deal with Molly fussing over everyone was working him up the wall.

You felt almost bad for not telling Sirius about Regulus, but he had plenty on his plate and it felt nice to have something to yourself--your own little summer secret.

Granted, it was more accurate to describe it as a dead-pureblood-heir summer quest. Though, not as weird as giving a troll brain damage in your first year at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, you had a great idea.

"Hey Kreacher, want to go exploring with me?"

The house elf was skeptical for most of your trek upstairs, and he looked positively gleeful when you managed to somehow summon the secret door.

Apparently, Kreacher was magically expelled from the room the moment you left. So you were somehow the key to accessing the missing Young Master.

Before you could even caution the elf or come up with a speech for Regulus, the little thing was already flying for the door knob.

"You are back."

Regulus looked all but the same, except more tired than suspicious this time around.

"Yes. I hope you don't mind that I'm here. I have brought Kreacher as an olive branch to show that I am of no threat."

The boy's eyes flicker towards the unusually silent elf, and then pierces you again. Something akin to amusement danced in his eyes and you were almost offended.

You were no Harry Potter, but you weren't magically inept.

"Answer my question from last time. Who are you?"

"My name is Y/N. I don't know how or why this room exists, and it doesn't seem like Sirius has any knowledge of it. But from the looks of it, I'm the only one who can find this room."

"Sirius? He is alive then?"

Your lip quirks at the remark and you turn your gaze to the ceiling, "Yes, but he isn't quite himself".

"What?"

"Azkaban tends to have that effect."

"What?"

"You've missed a lot, Regulus. Like a lot. You're different from what I've heard though, pleasantly so. After all you haven't called me a foul, loathsome blood traitor. Nor have you tried to preach blood purity to me yet."

Regulus considers you for a few moments, eyes imperceptibly running over your expression. It is only for the briefest moment that you see something comparable to respect shine in his eyes.

Kreacher shifts uncomfortably and looked ready to butthead you, but Regulus interrupts the sudden blanket of silence.

"Kreacher, could you give us some privacy?"

The elf looked ready to vehemently protest in a manner similar to how he denies Sirius, but seemed to remember that he actually gave a flying handle about Regulus‘ opinion of him.

"If you wish, Master Regulus. Kreacher will be outside."

The elf pops away and you turn to maintain steady eye contact with the boy, becoming more intrigued with every passing second.

"You are right. I haven't tried to indoctrinate you or denounce your beliefs. I have been here for a long blur of time. I have had the space to formulate my own thoughts and opinions."

"Oh? A death eater finding salvation and seeing the light. Of course it'd be a feat only achievable through death."

"You speak as though we--they are still at large. Are there still death eaters around?" The disbelief flickering across his face spurred you to entertain him with an answer despite your former apprehension towards him.

"Yes. Many are well and alive. Lucius Malfoy prides himself in being able to circumvent the law and maintain his job in the Ministry despite his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Not that it will do him any good. From what I can deduce, the Dark Lord is not very forgiving."

Regulus looks like he's been suckerpunched in the gut, grimacing at every word that passes through your lips.

"You are right. Lucius will be punished for his treachery. I had hoped that the world would be rid of the Dark Lord after my death."

Confusion passes through you in waves as an indecipherable emotion mars his face.

So he wasn't a valiant supporter of the Dark Lord? Then it would seem the rumors that he was killed by the Dark Lord or his followers have some credibility.

"Well, the Dark Lord was gone, so to speak, for a while at least. It is only as of a few months ago did he come back in full form."

"I see."

"You don't seem surprised. Well, he killed one of my friends and traumatized my best friend so I hope you'll give me permission to wring his neck."

"You're quite vulgar."

"I am a saint compared to your brother, and my vulgarity is very much justified."

Regulus hums in understanding and you could almost see a miniscule smile stretching at his lips.

"Well, for your sake, I hope you never have to come face to face with the Dark Lord."

"I don't have much of a choice, he's been trying to eviscerate my friends and I since we were 11."

"Ah...well it would appear that you are to join me in the afterlife soon then."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? But I have no plans on dying anytime soon."

"Shame."

"Sod off. You're fine on your own...right?"

Dumb question, the man is literally stuck inside a painting in an abandoned secret room.

"It does get a bit lonely. But it is only the punishment for my sins."

"Well, I think you're quite swell. So don't worry, I have the whole entire summer to bother you. Think of it as an added layer of punishment."

"If you insist." His words conveyed exasperation, but the boyish smile that lit up his face told you a completely different story.

You couldn't help but admire his expression, committing it to memory because you were sure that his smiles were a rarity.

Pretty.

Wow. You were absolutely screwed.

[theroundbartable]

Once the ban on magic is lifted, Merlin goes all out.

Experiments with magic, illusion Charms, potions, wands, he invents them all.

Problem is, it requires a lot of time and with all threats gone and people accepting Arthur as the once and future king, he kind of starts neglecting his time with Arthur.

At least Arthur thinks so, cause he's a pining and needs Merlin in every second of the day. Not just at meals and during the council and when he's doing his manservant duties and.... You get it.

So he offers to play Merlin's guniea pig.

Merlin, the servants and the council are not only shocked, they get really, really worried.

Arthur is their KING. Offering to being a guinea pig for a clumsy sorcerer is like putting himself at unnecessary risk.

Which Arthur obviously ignores, because he also fights at the front lines of his wars. After convincing Merlin how good it would be for him to have someone to experiment on and that he knows Merlin would never harm him and trusts his instincts, cause Arthur is a sappy bitch, Merlin finally relents. Especially after Arthur orders it.

And because I'm in HP mode right now, Merlin ends up inventing HP magic.

Meaning, polyjuice potion, Veritaserum, etc etc.

He also invents the mirror of erised, or those disappear cabinets.

All things that make Arthur wonder and pine even harder than before.

He only gets to test them once Merlin is really, really sure it's save for the king. But Arthur loves their extra time together. He loves watching Merlin work.

And all of the above is just pretext so Arthur can smell at the Amortentia potion:

"Hey, Merlin, I'm not drinking that. That's your bathwater, isn't it?"

Merlin: "erm.... No? What do you mean?

Arthur: " its smells like you."

Merlin: it smells like me? No. It smells like metal and.... *Clears throat nervously* That soap I make you use."

Arthur:..... "The soap I can agree on. But it's more like.... i dunno. It just smells like you."

Merlin: "why do you even know how I smell?"

Arthur: "I've hugged you before..... Once."

Merlin:" when did that....."

Gwaine walking in: "hey! No one told me you're brewing apple cider, Merls!!! Let me try some!"

And then they have a problem.

It takes them weeks of shenanigans to get Gwaine to stop drinking Amortentia, though the effect on him is pretty similar to booze. Except more goal oriented.

They let all of Camelot smell the potion and describe it's contents. Most of them seem happy. Some embarrassed. But overall, the people seemed pleased by the smell.

Gwen: "it seems.... Like they all smell their favorite smells. Like I smell fresh bread and gleaming metal and Morganas shampoo...." She stares dreamily into the cauldron.

Merlin and Arthur look at each other, then Merlin clears his throat.

"that's .... A good theory. But that doesn't explain why Arthur thought I just boiled my own bathwater."

Arthur: *sweats*

Gwen: "oh.... Oh my."

Arthur: "Merlin, I think she might be right. Em.... This is awkward."

Merlin: *blank* what?

[shychick-52]

I watched 'Day of the Sorcerers' again last night.

And I was wondering, did anyone else think it was odd that Cedric and Greylock didn't once acknowledge each other or react to seeing each other again at the meeting of the Order of the Wand (especially after they seemed to become friends when they last saw each other in 'Baileywhoops')?

I'm really glad he at least acknowledged Morgana's presence and that he was rightfully shocked/suspicious to see her there ("Is that Morgana?!"), but I'm surprised he didn't actually demand how the heck she escaped Merlin's mirror after he, Merlin, his little niece Calista, and Sofia trapped her in there in 'Gone With the Wand' (unless Merlin released her from it after awhile, knowing she wasn't nearly as much of a threat without the powerful Dragonclaw Wand she stole from him??).

EDIT: But it would have made even more sense if he had reacted with anger/outrage to seeing her there after she'd tried to hurt Sofia and Calista!

I know, time restraints and all that. XD

EDIT:

YOU GET IT. It should have been a two-part episode because of how freaking significant it was, being Cedric's most important episode! There was so much stuff that felt rushed. We never even saw most of the Order get captured after Merlin and the other good sorcerers went after them.

@moonypears-blog @sunkinszx @fantadym @bettathanyou

[garagewitchcraft]

A second attempt at this melted candle style, but first time using white on the handle. A clear jagged edged stone on the end to mimic ice, and clear round stones on the handle. The first attempt at this style is one post below this - Wand of Morgana. This aesthetic is much lighter, but gives cold. Named Winter's Touch.

[morsmordream]

it was probably somewhat barty’s fault for letting his guard down, or for walking back from the library on his own after curfew.

he thought any danger would come from the gryffindors, but he wasn’t worried about that. he could take any of them, any day.

of course, with his luck, it wasn’t gryffindors who caught him. rather, his three least favourite housemates- snape, avery, and mulciber. they did tell him he’d regret calling snape a mudblood last week, but how was he to know they’d actually follow up on their word?

he turned his head, spitting blood onto the stone floor of the empty classroom he’d been dragged into. if he could only find a way to slip the conjured ropes, he could easily flick his wand out from his holster…

“if this is about the mudblood thing, you’re only proving my point here, snape,” he said, with his best attempt at his usual easy grin, “you know, punching me like a bloody muggle. did your daddy teach you that? or did your mummy? suppose your blood traitor mother is no better than a muggle with her family magic stripped from her.”

snape’s eyes darkened, and he gripped barty’s jaw, forcing him to look up at him. barty met his eyes, he knew snape wouldn’t breach his mental shields, no matter how good of a legilimens he was. his father couldn’t breach them, and he was the head of the fucking DMLE.

“goading me to curse you instead? i’m not stupid, crouch. leaving you with curse damage so you can run along and tattle. when i curse you, not if, when, it won’t leave a mark anyone will find-”

the door opened then, and barty whipped his head around before breaking into another grin. he knew they’d find him. sirius knew hogwarts better than anyone, and regulus, evan, and dorcas were like bloodhounds.

“you must forgive us for being a little late to the party, snivellus,” sirius said, dusting imaginary dirt off his robes, “you see, our invitations must have been a little bit delayed. surely, you wouldn’t want a little three on one action with our dear barty, would you?”

from the corner of his eye, barty watched avery and mulciber shift into duelling stances, looking rather worried. good, they should be.

snape’s face was twisted in rage, and he gripped barty by the hair.

“we’re just having a little chat, black. getting even-”

“avada kedavra,” sirius said, far too calmly, and the spell shot mere centimetres past snape’s head, crumbling the stone on the wall behind him.

snape released barty as if he had burned him, his face pale and his hands shaking.

fucking morgana, sometimes barty forgot just how close to the surface the black madness truly lay in sirius, and he was truly glad both him and regulus were with him and not against him. and, naturally, he found it incredibly hot that sirius would start throwing around unforgivable curses on his behalf.

“vanish the ropes. i’m not fucking playing around, snape, if i have to repeat myself then next time that curse will hit you.”

the ropes vanished, and within seconds regulus, evan, and dorcas had stunned the three boys. sirius pulled barty up, passing him to dorcas who began to heal him. sirius and regulus moved to the three boys on the floor and began casting in a language he couldn’t quite catch.

finishing with a grin, sirius strolled back over and pulled barty in for a tight hug.

“what were those curses?” he mumbled.

“variation on a nightmare curse, from one of the black grimoires. at the moment, they’ll feel as though they’re being buried alive. they’ll have horrific nightmares about all manner of deaths every time they sleep until the curse is lifted. mind, i don’t feel awfully tempted to do so any time soon.”

barty kissed him, gently, as evan and regulus made gagging noises behind them. dorcas was likely rolling her eyes.

“thank you.”

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

what's wrong, my little firework? [f.w. x reader]

Summary: Woebegone, uncommunicative Y/N. Painfully oblivious Fred. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: rushed ending.

Over the last few painfully long hours, Y/N had grown morose. 

With a piece of ink-stained parchment in one hand and a quill in the other, she thoughtlessly scribbled quick squiggly lines, supposedly cursive. She paid no mind to the hair-raising sound of the tip of her quill scratching away at her parchment, but instead mindlessly thought about him.

  Fred Weasley, the boy who was out on the quidditch pitch sweating away and batting bludgers seamlessly. 

The boy whose heart supposedly belonged to her, and she the same.

  While he was out there flaunting his beautiful quidditch skills, she was stuck in the library with at least a week’s worth of predictions she had to submit to Professor Trelawney. Forget about how she’d die to a pack of peckish pixies three moons from then, she’d die right there right then if she had to sit a moment longer without Fred.

  “Earth to Lovesick Y/N, earth to Lovesick Y/N?” Hermione waved an ink-smudged hand in front of Y/N’s face, redirecting her attention back to Earth, and not in the clouds.

  Y/N blinked and snapped back to reality, “Huh– yes, ‘Mione?” 

"Merlin, your head was in the clouds!" Hermione's eyebrows knitted together, but she couldn't seem to stifle the tug at her lips, or the glint of mirth in her eyes, "If you had a mirror right now, you'd see- oh. Wait."

Hermione whipped out her wand, and, with a swish and flick, transfigured her quill into a tiny rustic pocket mirror. She glanced at her dubiously but was impressed nonetheless. Top in transfiguration as always, that's my girl!

Then, she glanced into the mirror.

Merlin and Morgana, she was as red as Fred's quidditch robes!

"See? All you ever think about is him!" Hermione chuckled, shaking her head light-heartedly like how a mother would.

"No, I was thinking about..." Y/N trailed off as her eyes darted around the library to come up with a quick lie.

Her eyes then landed on a copy of one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books. His beaming face stared back at her. She swore she saw him wink.

"...Professor Lockhart?" She knew how much Hermione swooned over the Professor, successfully changing the topic.

  She couldn't shake it off, though. He flew around on his broom in Y/N's mind every minute and every second of the day. 

  Did he feel the same, though?

  The nagging feeling tugged away at her heartstrings, now that she had come to think of it. Did Weasley ever initiate contact? On their first kiss; it was Y/N who had pulled him in by the collar of his striped pyjamas. It was Y/N, to both of their surprises, who had grabbed him by the chin (with a little tip-toeing, of course) and leaned in.

  Did Weasley, Fred Weasley, ever care enough to... try?

  Y/N's thoughts shouted at her, screamed at her, drowning out the sound of Hermione boasting passionately about Gilderoy.

With a pained smile, a curt nod, and a tight grip on the mirror, she bid herself to make it through the study session with this tight feeling in her chest.

- -

  Dinner rolled around, and students strode into the Great Hall with ravenous stomachs from scribbling on parchment, snoozing through lessons, and snoring in the common rooms.

  Y/N made it to her house's table, but her eyes were elsewhere but the delectable array of food that lay in front of her. From the front of the Great Hall to the very end, she searched for the head of fiery-red hair. 

  Oh! There he- never mind. It was Ronald. Stuffing his face. As usual.

  Demoralised, she heaved a sigh of resignation and began to swish her wand, floating a serving of pudding onto her plate. Her appetite hadn't been picking up, but still didn't allow herself to neglect her well-being.

  Before she could even take a spoonful, a pair of large firm hands hand snaked their way around her waist, catching her off-guard. 

  "Fuck- What the fuck, Fred!" she swore elegantly.

  Fred chuckled delightfully and lifted her chin so that she was looking at him smiling goofily, "There's my little firework!"

  And, without warning, he picked her up effortlessly (humming in the process too), swished his wand to take her plate of pudding with them, and danced out of the Great Hall, paying no mind to the hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at the spectacle.

  A boy carrying a girl (who was quite being vocal about protesting) bridal style out of the Great Hall, with a plate of pudding trailing behind.

- -

  He took her to the Great Lake, where the Giant Squid seemed to be basking in the golden rays of the sun that was setting. It seemed as though it had managed to make a pair of sunglasses for itself with a piece of kelp.

  Never mind that, she was gingerly placed on a checkered picnic mat. 

  "Fred? What's this?" Y/N asked, wide-eyed.

  "Why, a picnic of course! Merlin, do you need glasses like Harry, too?" Fred snickered mirthfully.

  She scanned the containers full of food. Some had sandwiches with the crust removed, some were filled to the brim with glistening golden fried rice, and that.

  A tall glass of trifle, with two boastful glasses of butterbeer to accompany it. 

  This was what they ate on their first-ever date. Trifle and some butterbeer to wash it down.

  For some odd reason, her eyes started to prickle with tears.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, and met his expectant eyes, "You remembered?"

  It was their first anniversary.

  His mouth opened agape as shock painted his face, "Of course, I did, love! The time, place, what we ate, everything!"

  He then noticed the pained look on her face. Quickly, he scooted over and wrapped an arm around her. Y/N leaned into his warm chest, seemingly lost in thought as she kept quiet. Their heartbeats synced.

  "What's wrong, my little firework?"

 It was strange, seeing him like that. By day, he wreaked havoc 'round the school alongside George. He was a ball of fire that no one, not even George, could tame. 

  Then, she came along, and he seemed to fizzle down. Only she had seen this side of him, the Fred that he had kept locked away for someone. And that someone was her, his little firework.

  "It's just that," you licked your lips that seemed to dry out in the evening breeze, "all this time I..."

  She choked on her words that seemingly refused to come out. They lived in different worlds; she was a bookworm, and he was an athlete. She couldn't communicate how she felt, and he had no filter when he was upset. They were polar opposites, yet he still stayed. He still looks lovingly into her eyes. He dedicates every bludger he had ever whacked to her.

However, it seemed that vulnerability was not her forte after all. He intuitively picked up on it. Gingerly, he raked a calloused hand through her hair, massaging her scalp.

Fred leaned into her ear and whispered, "You?"

 Emblazoned by his touch (that she had dearly missed), she swallowed her pride and composed herself. Here goes nothing.

  Y/N turned to face him. She looked up into his eyes with her red-rimmed ones that glistened neath the golden sun.

"All this time, I thought I meant little to you- Merlin, hearing myself say this already sounds ridiculous and I know what-"

A pair of lips shut her up before she could ramble for hours and hours and turn the food cold.

"You mean the world to me, firework."

--

a/n: surprise !!(???) rushed ending i know but i've been reading good shit on ao3 and just suddenly felt the sudden urge to write again and then i saw this request and i just had to and i know i received this a while back but i just had no will in me to write this and Oh My God it just feels great to be back on here (i will still be MIA) but i just had to, yknow?

[lorrainmorgan]

Serpents meeting for the first time.

[ 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐲 🐍 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 ]

⚠️ Long af.

Part 0 Next

Lorra's touch was like a burst of frosty air against his skin as she traced her delicate fingers along his palm, revealing the strategies and movements of the players in the ongoing match, pulling Ominis into the intensity of the game.

The Yule Ball practice was in full swing, with students from third year up, gathered in a spacious classroom adorned with elegant chandeliers and ornate mirrors. Professors Hecat and Sharp stood at the front of the room, their voices ringing out as they taught the students how to ball dance. 

Ominis Gaunt, with his sharp senses heightened by his blindness, took in the sounds of shuffling feet and whispered instructions. Despite being an expert on the matter, he couldn't help but feel a small pang of jealousy towards the pairs already twirling across the floor. He seemed uninterested in the lesson. Why would anyone want to dann-cce with a blind man, anyway? He thought to himself, feeling a twinge of bitterness.

He’d refused to waste time explaining his expertise to anyone – instead, he simply waited for the demonstration to be over so he could return to his daydreams in peace. The music swelled around him, filling him with both nostalgia and longing for something more than just this mundane dance lesson.

"Ah!, Mr. Gaunt," Professor Sharp's voice cut through the chatter of the ballroom. "I see you still haven't found a partner." How obss-sservative… Ominis thought to himself as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, dreading what was to come next. 

"I’m aware that Ball Dancing is a tradition in The Gaunt family. Correct? Well if you would be so kind as to join Miss Morgana and impart her the art of dancing." Mr. Sharp motioned towards a young woman, who was gracefully making her way towards them.  "Due to personal matters, she has just been transferred, so I urge you to extend a proper Hogwarts welcome, Mr. Gaunt." The professor's gaze rested on Ominis, silently urging him to step out of his comfort zone and make new friends.

As the new girl drew closer, Ominis could hear the delicate sound of her heels clicking against the polished marble floor, and a warm, sweet scent filling the atmosphere around him . She had a coy smile on her lips, and her long hair flowed behind her like a carmain waterfall. The setting sun cast a warm glow upon her, making her skin appear almost ethereal and her emerald eyes shining through her long lashes. 

But at the mention of teaching someone, Ominis couldn't help but let out a groan. The simple thought of having to guide someone through the tricky steps of ballroom dancing was nothing short of a nightmare for him. But he also knew that it was expected of him to comply with Professor Sharp's request.

With a heavy sigh and a lazy grip on his wand, he rose from his seat and made his way over to meet Lorrain Morgana, who looked at him with uncertain eyes. His frown deepened as he considered the task ahead of him, but he couldn't help feeling a small spark of curiosity about this girl who needed to be taught how to dance.

Finally, a soft female voice floated through the air, not too close, not too far away. "Hello Gaunt," she said, introducing herself as Lorrain."I believe you're my partner for today's practice?" Her tone was friendly and inviting.

Ominis shifted slightly, his posture tense and guarded.

"That is correct... I’m  Ominis," he mumbled softly, a hint of superiority in his tone. It was no surprise, considering his wealthy background and upbringing.

Extending his free hand, Ominis waited patiently for the girl to take it. As she did, he drew her closer to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. His hand effortlessly found its place on her small frame, tracing the delicate curves of her feminine figure. She responded by placing her arm on his shoulder, falling into a perfect ballroom posture without hesitation.

He couldn't help but be surprised by how well they fit together in their dance positions. Instead of feeling annoyed with her, as he had initially been. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as they moved together in perfect synchronization, as if they had been dancing partners for years instead of mere strangers meeting for the first time.

Despite having the feeling that his partner was already an experienced dancer, Ominis couldn't resist explaining the steps for the footwork. He led her through each move with gentle guidance, reveling in the way she caught on quickly and stumbled only a few times, always quick to apologize and laugh at her own clumsiness.

"Sorry, Ominis, be patient with your new student" Lorrain said between giggles. 

Her laughter was like music to Ominis's ears. It was so beautiful, so enchanting. Like a tiny bell ringing in the distance, calling out to him. And when she laughed, he couldn't help but join in.

As they danced, their surroundings faded into the background until it felt like they were the only two people in the room. The music became mere background noise as they twirled and swayed to their own rhythm, caught up in the magic of each other's presence. 

The melody of the piano intensified, filling the room with its graceful notes. Their dance quickened in pace, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony as they became closer in distance. He could tell that she had danced before, her movements fluid and confident as they performed more complicated routines.

As he prepared to lift her briefly into the air, she could feel his breath brush against her cheek. He spun her around, taking pleasure in the way she moved with him. It was unlike anything they had experienced before.

He couldn't help but notice how perfectly her body fit into his hands, every curve and line seeming to belong there. To him. 

His voice was barely a whisper as he asked her softly, "Why did you lie about not knowing how to dance? You clearly know how to put on a performance " There was a flutter of anticipation in his belly as he waited for her response.

Her answer came with a slight hesitation, almost like a secret she didn't want to reveal. 

“I guess it came naturally, thanks to my partner." A mischievous glint sparked in her eye as she responded playfully. 

The music faded away, and with it, their dance practice came to an end.

The way their hands fit together was like a perfect puzzle. His fingers laced into hers as he stared at her with a blind gaze. His eyes were like two piercing crystal orbs, gathering the raw power of a raging thunderstorm within them. The vivid blue hue that dominated their depths seemed to crackle with lightning. 

"You can let go of my hand now," she whispered softly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

"Oh...sorry…I didn't hear the music stop," Ominis quickly lied, his voice betraying him with a hint of shyness. Of course he heard the music stop; he was blind, not stupid… nor deaf.

He released her hand, feeling an odd emptiness where it once was. It was almost ticklish, as if her touch had left behind a lingering sensation on his skin.

As the clock struck the end of their previous class, Professor Sharp announced a generous 3-hour recess before their next one. The students' excitement was in the air as they eagerly dispersed thru the Defense Against The Dark Arts Tower to enjoy their newfound free time.

But for Ominis, this sudden break was a chance to process and make sense of what had just transpired. He wandered the halls, searching for a solitary spot where he could sort through his thoughts undisturbed. 

At long last, Ominis found his way to the floor and settled into his cherished spot. He leaned back against the cool marble wall, stretching out his legs in front of him with a satisfied sigh. The winter sun cast soft hues through the stained glass windows, bathing his pale face. He waited patiently for his best friend Sebastian Sallow to finish up with his wand training at CrossWands, absently running his hand over the smooth wooden surface of his wand.

He found himself drifting off to sleep on the floor, but was suddenly jolted awake by a loud voice echoing through the hall. "Are you enjoying your day nap?" 

Ominis' eyes shot open in surprise, his wand in front of him trying to locate the source of the voice. With a quick clearing of his throat and a slight shift in his position, he attempted to compose himself and appear less startled. "Er, um, yes, I was just resting...my eyes?" 

The sweet scent of cinnamon wafted towards Ominis, mingling with the sound of the loud gentle voice and the soft thud of a pair of heels approaching him. The combination made his head spin with a dizzying happiness. "Ah, if it isn't Lorrain, the girl who doesn't know how to dance..." he said, unable to contain a hint of sarcasm in his words.

"My friends call me Lorra," she replied with a mischievous smile, playfully poking his shoulder.

As she settled herself next to him, her long hair cascaded over her shoulders like red silk. "I'm jealous of you," Lorra continued "Napping anywhere you want...if I may ask, why do you always sleep on the floor?" 

Ominis felt his ears grow warm as he realized he was being confronted about his unusual sleeping habits. He nervously scratched the back of his head and fidgeted with his wand, avoiding eye contact with the other Slytherin student. With a timid chuckle, he replied softly, "Well, I suppose I've just grown used to it. It's...a long story." His cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as he desperately tried to change the subject.

She understood right away that something personal was on Ominis' mind. The tension in his voice and the way he avoided eye contact spoke volumes. "You don't have to tell me," she reassured him, sensing his hesitation.

"I find Potions quite interesting, which brings me here to ask you a small favor: I need help with a rather advanced lesson. Would you mind helping me? Everyone else is going to the Quidditch match early tonight but I'd prefer getting over this assignment as soon as possible." 

The request seemed out of character for Ominis, who was, in his own words “rubbish at potion’s class”.

"I'm not sure if I would be of much assistance," he hesitantly replied, his tone slightly uncertain. He wasn't particularly skilled in Potions…however, a small part of him longed for some attention and wanted to help out. He looked at her with hopeful eyes, expecting her to politely decline his offer.

But instead, she smiled and continued speaking "I understand your hesitation, but I have found that teaching others is the best way for me to study and retain information. Unfortunately, my previous partner, Amit, is nowhere to be found… Would you still be interested in lending a hand?" 

"Alright Lorra," he said with a forced nonchalance, "but I must warn you, my potions skills are...lacking."

The girl let out a delighted squeal at his acceptance, causing him to feel a rush of warmth and joy.

"Great!" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. "I'll see you at dinner tonight and we'll head off to potions classroom together, yes?" She stood up from the floor and reached out her hand to help him up as well.

Ominis lifted his wand in front of him as if to see her gesture. She waited patiently for him, her hand still outstretched. After a moment, he took her hand and stood up, feeling a surge of contentment and safety wash over him. Ominis had always been drawn to friendly personalities, and Lorrain had all the right qualities to put his attention on her.

He nodded his head in excitement. 

"Goodbye for now, Ominis Gaunt," she said softly, reluctantly releasing his hand. Her fingers tingled where they had made contact with his cold skin, but there was something more that captivated her - a sense of mystery and intrigue that left her curious and wanting more from her new friend.

At Dinner, Ominis settled into his usual spot at the Slytherin table at the Great Hall, surrounded by his closest friends. Among them were Imelda and Sebastian, their voices blending together in idle chatter as they ate. The sound of silverware clinking against plates filled the air, creating a peaceful background noise that eased their nerves before the upcoming Quidditch match. Despite the lively atmosphere, Ominis couldn't shake the memory of Lorra. His mind was consumed with thoughts of her as he absentmindedly joined in on the conversation.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Lorrain appeared at the table. She boldly took a seat next to Reyes, despite her initial apprehension towards new students, the two seemed to hit it off quite well. Meanwhile, Sebastian recounted his fierce duel earlier that day, catching them up on all the thrilling details. As they laughed and chatted, their dinner almost grew cold on their plates.

"Well, the supper was delicious as always but I better get going!" Lorra declared, wipping her mouth with a napkin after finishing her meal.

Imelda's face contorted with anger at Lorrain's words. "Wait, you're not going to my match? We're playing against Ravenclaw! You promised you'd come, Lorrain Morgana..." Her voice trailed off into a heated whisper.

"And I AM coming, Imelda Reyes" Lorra retorted, throwing a potato chip at her friend playfully. "I just need to finish an assignment first... quit hounding me." She turned to look at Ominis sitting across the table, hoping he had heard her plea.

"Oh, right! Me too, potions shouldn't be too hard for me as I know most of the topics already..." he mumbled and quickly cleared his throat and tried to keep the mood lively. "Yes, I'll see you later, for potions then!"

Lorra laughed at Ominis' attempt to appear cool and collected. She couldn't help but find it endearing. Sebastian and Imelda exchanged a look of concern, their faces grimacing in response to their friend's desperate display.

"That was painful to watch," Imelda whispered to Sebastian, her tone dripping with pity.

"What on Merlin's name was that, Ominis? You, helping someone in potions? Are you trying to cause mass annihilation?" Sebastian burst into laughter at the absurdity of the idea.

“Oh, Shut up both of you!” Ominis' annoyed voice spat out, his cheeks and ears flushed red with frustration as he stood up from the table and began to march in her direction.

As they were arriving at the dungeons, the smell of Garreth Weasley’s most recent failure potion stuck their noses, making them giggle at his friend’s attempt on brewing and Invisibility potion without assistance…

“Let’s get started before the Quidditch match begins. Imelda will have my head if I don't show up,” she stated firmly while grabbing Ominis' shoulder for support.

His eyes widened as she unexpectedly grabbed his shoulder. He shivered, but kept his cool nonetheless and cleared his throat in hopes of gaining some confidence. He quickly nodded his head as he smiled.

"Yes, of course. What are we making again?"

“A Focus potion… now come on Gaunt”. She noticed his discomfort with physical contact and swiftly removed her hand from his shoulder with a gentle pat before leading the way into the classroom.

As they moved around the room, the clinking of bottles and thud of heavy books filled the air, joined by the array of smells - sweet, earthy, and a hint of something sharp and pungent. Some other students were there too, but paid no mind to the new arrivals. Lorrain carefully laid out all of the ingredients on an empty table, making sure they were close at hand. 

Despite their earlier awkwardness, they worked well together, smoothly mixing and stirring the ingredients. She focused on her notes and went over them a couple of times.

Sitting across from her, Ominis listened intently as she explained each step. He was happy and somewhat surprised that the potion brewing was going successfully, although he didn't recall having that lesson in Professor Sharp’s class before . Altho not being particularly good at his class, Ominis tried hard, and it seemed to be paying off. He was glad to do it in good company too. 

Despite his efforts, he couldn't keep the girl from occupying his thoughts. There was something irresistible about her, drawing him in like a powerful magnet.

“I'm going to move closer so I can observe your potion-making technique, Ominis,” she said calmly, her voice carrying a hint of challenge. She knew he was highly attuned to his surroundings thanks to his wand, but her statement came naturally nonetheless. As she leaned closer to inspect the potion, she couldn't help but notice his fresh scent, like a burst of ice mint aroma hitting her nose. 

The blonde tried to maintain a calm demeanor, but his nerves were quickly getting the better of him. Her presence alone seemed to fluster and unsettle him. The cauldron bubbled and steamed as Lorra carefully added in the final ingredients. 

Ominis waited with eager anticipation, a smile spreading across his face as he heard the girl say that the potion had turned bright blue, just as it was supposed to. "You did great, Ominis!" Lorra exclaimed with a smile.

"The potion is ready and our brewing was successful”. She poured it on a small crystal clear bottle and left it on Professor’s Sharp’s desk. “Sorry for the hurry, but I better get going to that match. It was really nice studying with you, Ominis Gaunt," she said while gathering her materials. 

"Likewise..." Ominis replied, feeling a hint of disappointment that their time together was coming to an end. "Oh, um...are you still going to the Quidditch match?" He mentally kicked himself for asking such a lame question. Of coursess-ss she is going, ss-sshe just ss-ssaid it, you stupid piecc-cce of ss-ss..

She paused at the doorway, her body turned towards him as she waited for him to answer his own obvious question. But Ominis remained blank and empty-brained, as if he were in a daze. She couldn't help but wonder if he was even listening to himself. "Earth calling Ominis?" she thought with a small smile. 

Despite his lack of response, she felt confident enough to continue. "Yes, Would you like to join me?" she asked.

 Without hesitation, Ominis almost shouted his answer and leapt from his seat, eagerly making his way to join her. As he walked, he tried to compose himself. For the love of Salazz-zzar, Gaunt… composs-se yourself, pleass-sse…

The evening had descended upon Hogwarts, casting a dark blue hue over the Quidditch Stadium. The stands were filled with cheering fans, their faces painted with the colors of their house’s teams, themed scarfs and vibrant color sweaters along the picture. Green and blue flags fluttered in the breeze, dividing the stadium into two halves. 

 As they made their way through the bustling crowd, Ominis couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the bright lights and loud noise. He could feel his anxiety building as the crowd grew larger and louder. His wand allowed him to see dark silhouettes, almost like auras, and capture the essence of objects, but huge crowds and loud noises were overwhelming for him. He tried to appear calm, but deep down, he was struggling to keep his cool in this chaotic environment.

Going up the stairs, Lorra gently placed her arm around his, offering support and comfort. He wasn't being pulled… nor guided… he was being accompanied, like walking with an old friend down the bustling streets of Hogsmeade after a night of too much butterbeer.

“Lorra! You won't believe the incredible Astronomy table I stumbled upon at the Highlands!” Amit Takhar's voice echoed up to them from two floors down, filled with excitement and enthusiasm.

“You traitor! How could you go without me?” Lorra shouted back with equal enthusiasm, almost leaving Ominis deaf in the process.

“I owe you one, promise!” Amit replied as he disappeared into the Ravenclaw's stands.

Lorra and Ominis began to search for a spot among the crowded stands, hoping for a place where they could both stand and sit comfortably. But luck was not on their side. This was the perfect opportunity for Ominis to flaunt his status and power to impress Lorra.

“You know, we could always join the prefects, up in the higher tower,” Ominis offered with a hint of pride in his tone.

“Ooohhh, lead the way Lord Gaunt,” Lorra said, imitating the Headmaster's distinguished voice. This caused Ominis to giggle “Don't call me that, you sounded like a house elf.”

The pair ascended high above the normal stands, their path guided by welcoming Slytherin prefects. Settling in the middle of the center bench, they were in the perfect spot to fully immerse themselves in the match. 

The buzz of excitement and anticipation filled the court as the teams entered the field on their brooms. Ominis leaned forward and set his wand down, placing his hands on his knees. He let out a deep sigh, knowing that trying to follow the action with his wand would be futile. The quick movements and chaotic jumble of players would only appear as pitch black silhouettes, making it impossible to decipher who was doing what. Instead, he chose to simply sit back and take in all the lively chaos happening around him. 

Cheers and boisterous clapping echoed throughout the stadium, adding to the vibrant atmosphere. It was a true display of buffoonery at its finest, and Ominis was content to just enjoy it all without overthinking or analyzing. 

Without warning, Ominis felt a pair of cold, small fingers wrap around his hand and turn it palm-up. Lorra's touch was like a burst of frosty air against his skin as she traced her delicate fingers along his palm, revealing the strategies and movements of the players in the ongoing match, pulling Ominis into the intensity of the game.

"Imelda told me she was going to chase Martha Agripa in the first quarter so she'd get nervous, brilliant tactic if you ask me! " Lorra began to explain, tracing her fingers along Ominis' palm. He couldn't deny the thrill of having her attention. 

"Darnit Sallow, FASTER!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, caught up in the passion of the game. From time to time, her grip would tighten with excitement or frustration, causing Ominis to giggle from the pressure.

The heat from their clasped hands mingled with the electric atmosphere of the game, making his palms slick with sweat. This moment, this shared experience with someone like Lorra her, showed him a deeper connection than even his wand couldn't have revealed before. It was like if they've had this unspoken bond for years, it just felt so familiar. So natural, to both of them.

Notes:

👉 Idk if anybody is reading this ff but if you're: Thankyou! 🫰means a bunch. What started out as mere therapy has become a hobby 🐍✨

👉 One more chapter to go until everything is connected to Chapter 2

👉 the difference between my writing here and on the first chapters are... significant... so I might re write the first ones too so they match the same style

👉 yep, I'll upload this ff on Wattpad. What started as a short story, become a little more complex...

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic March 20 – prompt 20: Manegro Potion – word count 482

Manegro Potion - Causes hair on drinker's head to grow out rapidly

“You look stunning, domina mea,” Peter bowed with a flourish as the door to the Head Girl bedroom opened.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Senator,” Cornelia smiled, bending down to kiss him.

They walked hand in hand to the portrait hole at the entrance of Gryffindor Tower and stopped a couple of minutes to rearrange both their togas and the laurel crowns Peter had made by hand that afternoon.

“My last Gryffindor costume party,” Cornelia sighed. “I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t think about it, baby,” Peter kissed her. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight.”

The Common Room was packed with people, all busy drinking, chatting, dancing and trying to guess who other people were dressed as. Marlene was in the middle of the dance floor, dressed as David Bowie, while Dorcas, dressed as Morgan Le Fay, was ogling her from the corner. Lily and Mary, both in full ABBA getup, were sharing a bowl of popcorn near the fireplace and giggling.

“Is your friend… Dressed up as your other friend?”

Peter followed Cornelia’s gaze and snorted at the sight of James, in heavy boots, tight jeans, a Bowie tank top and black leather jacket, sitting on the couch next to a very puzzled Regulus Black. James’s hair was longer as well, and he had pulled it back in a bun with his wand through it like Sirius often did.

“So that’s where the Manegro Potion we brew in Potions last week went,” Peter chuckled. “Drink?”

Cornelia nodded and he quickly went and got a couple of Butterbeers from the table by the window, but as he was handing Cornelia hers he saw her mouth fall open as her eyes looked over his head.

“Merlin and Morgana both,” she breathed.

Peter turned around to see Remus walk in the room from the stairs to their dorm. He was dressed in deep blue velvet with silver embroidering, tight trousers shaping his long legs and a cape hanging from his shoulders.

“Prince Charming exists then,” Cornelia said.

“Definitely,” Peter agreed.

“You know I love you, but if he so much as smiles to me tonight you’ll give me a pass,” she added, taking a sip from her Butterbeer.

“As long as you do the same if he smiles at me instead,” Peter added.

He was still staring at Moony’s legs when Sirius’s voice echoed from the stairs.

“My prince! Wherefore art thou?”

A couple of seconds later, Sirius made his entrance, the back of one hand on his forehead and the other keeping the hem of a floor-length silver dress away from his feet.

“Here, beloved,” Remus smiled, kissing Sirius’s hand and twirling him around.

Peter noticed only then that Sirius’s usually luscious hair was way longer than usual, gathered in a complicated braid that fell past his waist, interlaced with flowers.

“I stand corrected,” he said. “That’s where all the Manegro Potion we brew went.”

[sneverussape]

snapetober 2022 - hidden injury

—

“is he dead?”

“for merlin’s sake…draco! you mustn’t touch him! he might be cursed!”

“professor!”

“first diggory, then potter, and now professor snape—!”

“parkinson, stop crying this instant, you’ll bring the bloody baron round!”

“he’s breathing, isn’t he? oh circe, oh merlin, mordred, and morgana…”

“it must be some sort of hidden injury…i saw him stumbling on the way back from the forest.…”

“you don’t think it’s—mummy wrote me yesterday that…you know…it was tonight.”

“you mean…”

“but why would the Dark Lord want to hurt him? he’s one of us! it doesn’t make sense!”

“pansy, you great bloody cow, keep your voice down!”

“but he…if the Dark Lord came back like potter said…and i know my parents had written about…well. something hinting at it. why would he…why would he hurt professor snape? what about…what about our parents?”

“…”

“…you lot, shut it. i’m trying to listen to professor snape’s breathing.”

“it’s the cruciatus, i’m sure of it. see how he’s shaking?”

“there’s no cure for the cruciatus!”

“i know, nott, shut up. listen, we’ll bring him to his office to lie down properly, and wexler and i will keep an eye on him until the breakfast bell. if it gets worse, i’ll send for pomfrey.”

“leggy, you couldn’t!”

“she’s a slytherin! of all people she’d be the most help, and she can keep our secrets far better than the old coot of a headmaster…here, malfoy, give the professor some room, will you? wipe his face…good man.”

“i could have sent for the elves at the manor…to help…but…”

“no, if the Dark Lord did this…it’s not safe. just make sure the professor’s warm. we’ll move him in a bit.”

“leggy, you really think…do you think…”

“shut it. never breathe a word of it outside of this room, any of you, you hear? for now, we will watch and listen. if the Dark Lord is back, and is responsible for this…one thing’s for sure…we take care of our own, understand? within hogwarts.”

“including professor snape.”

“especially professor snape.”

“enough now, leggy. zabini, shuffle over here and give us a hand. steady the professor while i levitate him. malfoy, scoot over. who was the swot that keeps breaking the wards on the professor’s office?”

“i did. just yesterday. it was pretty difficult that time. the professor was pleased, i think.”

“walk ahead of us and get it ready. mind your wand movements, hear?”

“i’m not a bloody first year, wexler. i heard you spent a month in the infirmary when you first tried to break the wards.”

“better you than me. now get a move on. i don’t want to use too much magic on the professor while he’s still…unwell.”

“malf—you aren’t coming to stay up with us. you’re a bloody fourth year. the professor will have our heads!”

“i don’t care, i’m coming. he’s my godfather. he wouldn’t dare fail me in potions for this.”

“no but he’ll give you detention for skipping curfew intentionally. you lot should have been in bed hours ago.”

“just walk, leggy, so we can set the professor down and let him rest. he can yell at me when he wakes…and i hope it’ll be soon.”

“on your own head be it— oh, merlin. greengrass you did not just melt his office door.”

“we’ll you did tell me to get it open.”

“the rest of you lot get back to bed before i assign you all detention with trelawney and hagrid. we’ll let you know how the professor is later. and none of you better be late for breakfast because of this or i’m assigning you all additional latin translations.”