Gryffin-Doc

Brain dumps (mostly stories) from a fantasy-obsessed med stud. Check out my Hogwarts Mystery playthrough blog (fourhousehphm)

[eggzbian-deactivated20191126]

everyone PLEASE shut the hell up i am trying to gently headbutt someones hand and/or arm in order to receive affection

[psychokangaroo]

@gryffin-doc I DIDNT KNOW STEVE GOT A TUMBLR ACCOUNT???

[gryffin-doc]

LMAO

[gryffin-doc]

Never Faded- An Arya Stark Drabble

(Just something I came up with after the Game of Thrones finale and promptly forgot about. Arya’s ending was probably the only part of it I didn’t find disappointing. Please enjoy)

Ser Podrick Payne slowed his horse as he looked around the woods with a frown. It felt like he had been riding for hours in the same direction, but the trees surrounding him looked the same. Was it possible that he was lost? With all the traveling that he’d done in his younger days, he would have thought that was impossible. But then again, no one had ever traveled this far west before.

No one but the person he was looking for.

He dismounted less than gracefully, snagging his foot on a nearby thorn bush. It was a good thing Ser Brienne wasn’t there to see him. After all this time, he still felt like he was struggling to live up to the example she set. Podrick adjusted his weapons, gripped his horse by the reins, and set off through the trees.

His boots crunched through a soft layer of leaves and he tried to walk more quietly, as his mentor had taught him. The forest was completely silent, except for the sound of his own breath and the snorting of the horse beside him.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, his hand went to the sword at his belt. He looked down, just as an arrow whizzed past his ear and lodged itself firmly into a tree behind him.

His horse whinnied in alarm and Podrick, sword in hand, quickly ducked behind a tree for cover. A thousand possibilities ran through his mind- bandits, monsters, deserting soldiers-

Nothing happened.

Podrick cautiously peered out from behind the tree and to his surprise, he could see a clearing up ahead with a small cottage situated just at the edge. A warning, he realized. He held his breath. And as he peered closer…he could make out a slim, dark-haired figure sitting on the stoop, skinning squirrels with expert ease. It was difficult to tell if it was a man or woman from the length of the hair, but he knew…

She looked up expectantly as he stepped out from behind the tree, quickly sheathing his sword. Her eyes narrowed as he approached slowly, and he knew she was taking in his painted armor, one of the things she had left far behind in her life. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling unnerved in her presence.

“L-lady Stark.”

Instantly, she stood up, gathering the skinned squirrels and turning to head inside. “Arya!” Podrick blurted out.

Arya Stark stopped and turned around. The years had sharpened the angles of her jaw and he thought he spotted a sprinkling of grey in her hair. But from the way she was gripping her knife, he knew that her skills had not faded with time.

“Arya,” he repeated, stumbling forward so that he was looking up at her. Her frown deepened.

“Why are you here?” Her voice was hoarse from lack of use.

He had prepared a speech. One that appealed to her sense of family, of honor, of loyalty, but all of that faded as he stood in awe of her presence. Years ago, he had gaped at her in amazement as she was honored at Winterfell as the hero who had destroyed the Night King. It was a story told time and time again across every corner of both kingdoms.

“Westeros is in danger again,” he said.

She scoffed and turned on her heel. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Her hand closed around the doorknob and Podrick felt his heart beating frantically. His mission couldn’t end in failure, not when he’d barely tried. “Arya, please! There is a powerful army gathering across the Narrow Sea, it aims to destroy Westeros and the North! There are rumors that they have beasts we’ve never even seen! His Grace instructed me to bring you back and-”

“Podrick.” Arya’s voice was harsh and final. “I don’t do that anymore.”

She opened the door and walked inside, starting to close it behind her when he blurted out the only thing he could think of: “Sansa and Bran!”

The door stopped closing. Behind it, he could just make out Arya’s face, could see the softening in her eyes.

“Sansa and Bran are in danger.”

His heart pounded in his chest, counting the minutes that passed as he waited for Arya to open the door again. Desperately hoping that her loyalty to her siblings, like her skills, had never faded.

Barely sparing him a glance, she pushed open the door and gestured at him. “You’d better come inside.”

[gryffin-doc]

Idk if it’s just me but all the Pokémon in the Detective Pikachu movie look to me like rip-off stuffed animal or action figure Pokémon.

“Sorry son, the Pikachu doll is too expensive. But here’s a Pokachu, it looks almost the same! Go play with it, hope it doesn’t give you nightmares.”

[morphmaker]

The Fab Five travel through time, space, and genre to help Professor Flitwick get his groove back

[gryffin-doc]

This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

I have to sleep but hear me out:

Disney princess moms, the ones who got killed off, spectating their kids’ messed up lives. Getting angry. And coming back to haunt the SHIT out of the people who made their little girls cry

“You left our daughter IN A CASTLE WITH THAT,” belle’s mom screams at Maurice. He’s shivering on his bed, wondering why no one will believe him. “No! That’s not how this works!”

And then belle’s mom just haunting the shit out of the beast’s castle.

“Master,” a servant says, “I think the castle is haunted.”

“You’re a talking fork,” The beast says.

“I mean with ghosts,” the fork says.

Belle, meanwhile, is super thrilled that the book she wants to read is always right on the library table for her when she gets up.

Good night

[gryffin-doc]

Idk I feel like if I were the moms, I’d be scolding the hell out of my daughters.

Snow White’s mom watching her like: “OMG you can’t just break into a stranger’s house and sleep in their bed, were you raised in a barn? Wait, what- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! DO NOT aceept food from STRANGERS, that is the first thing I taught you!!”

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Different

“You’re…different. I’ve never met a girl like you.”

She stares at him, hands stilling over her sword. “What?”

“All the girls in my village are so boring,” he says. “So focused on finding husbands that they don’t bother learning about the world.”

“Girls in your village aren’t allowed to own property or vote,” she says, somewhat incredulous.

He winces at her tone. Need she be so harsh? “Well…it’s not like they’ve ever needed to, we’re a very progressive village and I always vote in favor of their needs. You’re not like that though, you fight for your rights yourself.”

“They are fighting for their rights,” she says. She sets down her sharpening stone, a frown stretching across her face. “No voting, no property, no wages of their own to purchase necessities. Besides finding a kind husband, what else do you think they can do to find a good future?”

“Th-they could leave,” he says. He did not expect the conversation to go this way. He expected her to blush like she had when he complimented her sword skills. He finds himself oddly defensive. “The men in my village aren’t slavers. The girls can leave any time.”

She snorts. “On foot? Your village is a hard, three day ride from the nearest city and that’s by horseback. And, even if they made it, what skills do they have? What references? The risk is too high for any woman to leave, that’s as good as trapping them. The fact that it takes me holding a sword for your opinion of women to change just shows how small-minded you are.”

 He bristles, unable to refute her. “Look, I was just trying to pay you a compliment! There’s no need to attack me.”

“Trust me,” she says, standing when he moves to loom over her. They’re of near equal height and, if he was trying to intimidate her, he fails. “You’ll know it when I’m attacking you. This isn’t it.”

He doesn’t seem to hear her, flustered to be seeing her eye-to-eye. “Furthermore, I think I’d know what sort of girls I grew up with! They’re timid and lack a desire to explore the world.”

“The world you created for them doesn’t take long to explore,” she says. Her sword is bare in her hand. “Marry or descend into poverty. Bear an heir or be cast into poverty. Behave or be thrown into poverty. I was there for a week and figured it out. But,” she continues, looking him up and down, “maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. After all, you’ve lived there your whole life and you still haven’t figured it out.”

He splutters. “That’s not–there are other options–”

“When the revolution is done,” she says, coldly, “and your people are forced to give women rights, see how many stay and how many leave. See how many suddenly discover their wander-lust. See how many end up like me.”

She leaves him there and stalks off to the edge of camp. She leaves him there with his mouth opening and closing, and heart pounding in his chest.

She leaves him there with the unsettling realization that he doesn’t want the women in his village to end up being like her, so different and strong. Because, if they did, where would he be? Where would his home be?

It’s an upsetting realization to have, mid-revolution. No chance to back out now.

[maple-writes]

Wow, this has such a strong voice to it! And to convey so much background context in so few words!!! :0

[capricious-writes]

I knew from the first sentence that this would be amazing, and it delivered. It’s a take I’ve always seen hinted, but never fleshed out and I ADORE seeing it fleshed out.

[writersblockwithprompts]

Omfg. One of the most empowering and creative scenes I have read. What the actual hell. 😧💛💛 whoever wrote this please make a novel so I can re read it over and over again.

[thefancyspin]

Hogwarts Classes by Karen Leopold. You can find the artist and other works at their Instagram: @karen_leopold.

[gryffin-doc]

Nightmares (MC x everyone friendship)

Summary: MC’s friends all find themselves having the same nightmare about her. And the closer they are to the final Cursed Vault, the worse those nightmares are, causing them to reflect on why she’s had such an impact on their lives. 

Word Count: ~2400

Finally.

Finally.

After so many years of searching, they had finally figured out the location of the last Cursed Vault. “Jacob’s in there,” MC murmured, more to herself than anyone else. She sprang to her feet. “He has to be.” She took a step towards the library entrance, like she was already planning to run straight to the Vault, before pausing. Her eyes skimmed over the group and narrowed slightly.

“No.” It was Ben who spoke up, surprising everyone, including himself. “You don’t get to choose who comes with you this time, MC. We’re all coming with you.”

She shook her head. “I can’t get you all in trouble-”

“That’s not up to you this time,” Penny said firmly. “Ben’s right. We’re all coming with you.”

MC sighed. “Fine. Let’s meet in the Artefact Room after curfew.”

Ten minutes after curfew that night found Charlie pacing around the room, checking his watch impatiently. “She’ll be here, don’t worry,” Tulip snapped at him, her voice sounding tense. She scowled at Barnaby, who was twirling his wand between his fingers and dropping it repeatedly.

“You don’t think she went off without us, do you?” asked Tonks. None of them had wanted to say it out loud, but it was exactly what they were all thinking.

“She wouldn’t do that.” Charlie didn’t sound convincing to anyone, including himself.

“And besides, Rowan’s not here,” Penny added. “Rowan wouldn’t let her go off on her own.”

There was a pause as they all looked at each other, thinking about the likelihood that Rowan could actually stop MC once she made her mind up about something.

“We should go look for her,” Andre said.

The door of the Artefact Room opened and they all whipped around. “Sorry we’re late,” MC said, Rowan close behind her. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “If anyone wants to stay behind, it’s alright.”

No one said anything.

MC sighed. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

They split up into smaller groups to avoid being caught. They were highly practiced at slipping through the shadows, silently padding their way down dark corridors, listening for any sound that was a giveaway of Filch or Mrs. Norris or one of the teachers. MC led the pack with Rowan and Charlie by her sides. Rowan could feel her trembling slightly, but didn’t say a word.

They gathered around the entrance of the Cursed Vault. MC raised the wand that she had been gripping almost hard enough to break. “Alohomora.”

“Hello, little sister.”

Instantly, MC’s body tensed up. Her wand still raised, she gaped at the figure stepping out of the shadows of the Vault, lips quivering as they mouthed a name.

“Jacob.”

The laugh that echoed from the Vault made Andre’s hair stand on end and he gripped his wand a little tighter. Tonks appeared to turn a shade paler.

“It’s been a while.”

With a strangled cry that might have been a sob, MC lunged forward, but Charlie and Barnaby grabbed her by the arms, holding her back as she struggled against them. “Stop- what are you doing?” she snapped.

“Just wait, MC.” Charlie said firmly.

Ben shivered at the eyes gleaming from the darkness, so similar to MC’s but missing that spark of laughter that always graced hers. When he spoke, his voice was chilling and his smile sent shivers down their spines.

“It’s alright.” Jacob said. He took a step towards them, a step that didn’t seem to echo at all in the silence of the vault. “I just want to talk. I’m glad you found me, MC. Of course, I never doubted you for a moment.”

“Jacob…” She went limp, almost sagging back against her friends. Her jaw trembled and Rowan could see her clenching her teeth tightly.

“I’ve missed you, little sister.” Jacob stopped walking towards them and held out his arms. “Aren’t you going to greet me?”

MC gently shook Charlie and Barnaby off her. “It’s alright,” she said quietly. “He’s not going to hurt me. He’s my brother.”

She took a step inside the vault, the others crowding around her. Then she took another step…and whirled around, the tip of her wand pressed firmly against Barnaby’s chest.

“MC-” Barnaby began.

“Depulso,” she said, voice unwavering, and he flew backwards, arms flailing and knocking down the others.

“No!” Rowan screamed, struggling to untangle herself from the pile as she lunged for the doorway as it began to close. The last thing she saw before the door slammed shut in her face was MC’s faint but confident smile.

Rowan sat up in bed with a gasp, pressing a hand against her chest as if that would keep her heart from racing. This was the third night in a row that she’d had such a nightmare. One time, she didn’t wake up until after they’d forced the door open again, only to find MC and Jacob both lying motionless and bleeding on the floor of the vault.

She remembered the first time she saw MC in Diagon Alley, looking lost. The pang in her chest that she’d felt when MC announced that her brother was Jacob, that Jacob, the one rumored to be mad. But every single time, all of her worries and fears were chased away by the smile on MC’s face when she offered to be friends. And even though Rowan worried about MC a lot, all the time, practically every day although she’d never admit it out loud, that smile would remind Rowan of why she chose to keep following MC, no matter how dangerous things got.

Ben’s eyes flew open and he shivered, huddling deeper under his covers, grateful that this time, he didn’t have to see MC’s half-glazed eyes, her mouth frozen in the last spell she’d ever cast. Someone had been screaming in his dream- he wouldn’t have been surprised if that had been him.

He thought about the first time he’d worked up the nerve to speak to her, to thank her for standing up to Merula. He remembered her smile when she offered to help him in any way she could. And he remembered the steely set of her jaw when she stepped between him and Merula. He winced as he thought of the shocked look on her face when she realized he was the one who’d been attacking her- and then how she was the one who aggressively forced the others to welcome him back into their circle. She’d been protecting him ever since they met. And he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do for her.

Penny bolted upright, then carefully lay back down, listening for any signs that her dormmates had heard her. She took a deep shuddery breath, then curled up in a ball, wishing she had some Calming Draught to help her at this moment. She thought about the embarrassed look that crossed MC’s face every time she called her “the hero of Hogwarts.” The glint in her eyes when she faced Fenrir Greyback and told Penny to run for help. The certainty in her voice when she told them that they’d save Beatrice no matter what. And she knew that what frightened her the most about this recurring nightmare was not that it was something MC might do, but something she had done so many times already.

Somewhere in Egypt, Bill woke up with a start. He passed a hand over his face, trying to calm the nerves that had just sprung out of nowhere. No matter how far away he was from Hogwarts, he never stopped worrying about MC and Charlie and all of his friends still at Hogwarts. His work breaking curses now made him realize just how reckless they’d been at school, going after the Cursed Vaults with only plans to find them, not face whatever was inside. That same bull-headed attitude that had MC charging into whatever danger she might be facing to find her brother was exactly the same attitude that caused so many of his fellow Curse-Breakers to get injured or worse in the real world. He sighed and rolled over, resigning himself to another sleepless night.

Tonks tossed and turned, staring up at the curtains of her four-poster. She didn’t even remember how she became friends with MC, but she knew that Hogwarts just wouldn’t have been the same if she hadn’t gotten pulled into MC’s insane circle. Tonks had been prepared to be an outcast- knowing that she would be shunned if anyone found out about her aunt. She’d arrived loaded with pranks and tricks, partly to amuse herself but also because she wanted the attention on her to be for something she did, not something that was defined by her family.

And then she watched another outcast, also initially shunned because of her family, take every nasty comment directed at her without flinching and forge her own path, becoming a brilliant witch whose strength could not be disregarded. She watched MC build a group of friends who she was unquestioningly loyal to, and then she welcomed Tonks into that circle. Tonks knew she would do anything to protect MC. But she also knew MC would never let that happen.

Tulip let out a quiet gasp as she opened her eyes and Dennis blinked at her, letting out a soft, questioning croak. “It’s alright, Dennis,” she mumbled, before rolling over and staring out into nothing.

After her friendship with Merula ended, she never thought she’d have friends again, and she knew it would be her fault. It was her own pride, her own ambition that caused her to stab Merula in the back and she had thought that MC of all people would shun her for it. But instead, MC had trusted her without question. She had made Tulip feel that once again, she was worthy of having friends. All the knowledge in the Cursed Vaults could never compete with that.

But Tulip knew that because MC trusted her so much, she would always stand in front of Tulip when they faced dangers, not beside her.

Barnaby woke up with a half-shout, arms flailing like he was still falling. His chest stung like that spell had really hit him and rubbed at the spot without thinking. It reminded him of the time when they were in the Library, looking for one of the Vaults and Ismelda had cast a spell at MC when her back was turned. Without even thinking, he’d jumped in front of her, even though that spell hurt.

MC was the first person to ever tell him to think for himself, something that was always hard, but that he was starting to like. She listened to his ideas, even when they were bad, and never lost patience with him the way everyone else did. And she had punched him after leaving the Vault of Fear, demanding that he never, ever, ever do something so stupid again. “You shouldn’t get hurt because of me,” she snapped, and Barnaby had noticed tears in her eyes when she said it.

Even though she’d hit him for doing it, Barnaby knew that the next time someone cast a spell at her, he’d still jump in front of her. But he never thought that she might be the one casting a spell on him to prevent him from protecting her like he wanted to.

Andre sighed as he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. He knew he wasn’t usually involved with MC’s crazy curse-breaking adventures, but that didn’t mean she still wasn’t one of his best friends. He encouraged and supported her in whatever she decided. Every time she was down, he would distract her with stories about Quidditch practice or he’d cheer her up by reminding her about all the students she’d saved during their short time at Hogwarts. He wanted her to know that she was one of the most important people in the school- not just to him, but to everyone. But he knew that part of the reason she was such a good curse-breaker was because she cared so deeply and whole-heartedly about others. He just wished he could get her to realize that she needed to care about herself as well.

Charlie’s eyes flew open, immediately fluttering shut when he realized it was just a dream. He rolled over, folding his pillow over his face like it would block out the image of MC pale and lifeless on the ground. Sure, he didn’t know her as well as Bill or some of her other friends, but his friendship with her was as strong as that with any of the others. He knew she’d always have his back- all he had to do was say, “I have a terrible idea,” and she’d immediately turn to him with eager eyes and a wicked smile.

But he knew that she was always the one protecting them, always the one standing a few steps in front of the others, ready to face whatever danger head on. He also knew she was fiercely loyal to her friends, refusing to give up on Ben even after he’d nearly killed her. And he worried, not for the first time, that that very same loyalty would backfire on her in the end.

“Morning, guys.” MC slipped into her seat at breakfast, getting only a few mumbles in response. Everyone seemed subdued and, now that she thought about it, they’d all been acting oddly lately. She’d noticed them all looking at her frequently, like they expected her to vanish or go mad or something. She studied each of her friends carefully, noting the dark circles and the way they were all picking at their food. Ben glanced up and caught her eye, then just as quickly turned away.

Suddenly, she stood up, slamming her hands on the table. They all turned to her, surprised. “Did I do something?” she snapped. “You’re all looking at me like you’re expecting me to do something horrible. So can you just tell me what I’ve done?”

They looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Sure, they’d discussed their nightmares with each other, but sharing them with MC was a different story. She sighed, shoulders slumping as she sat back down in her seat. “Look, guys, whatever I did- I’m sorry. But I hope you all know that I’d do anything to keep you guys safe.”

After a long pause, Rowan spoke up. “We know.”

They all knew. And that was part of the problem.

[ink-splotch]

What if Harry Potter, the chosen one, had turned out to be a squib, how do you think history would have turned out differently?

It was Mrs. Figg who suspected first.

She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.

Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.

She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.

When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.

Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.

When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.

Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”  

“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.

“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”

“Be taught what, Albus?”

But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.

Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.

When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.  

“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”

“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”

Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.

Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.

In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily…  strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”

Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.

“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”

He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.

Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.

Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”

Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.

“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.

“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.

“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”

Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.

They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.

As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?

Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.

The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.

Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?

Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.

Please, thought Harry. Don’t send me back.

Keep reading

[gryffin-doc]

I have this headcanon that Myron Wagtail of the Weird Sisters looks for musical inspiration everywhere. And that includes Muggle music. I imagine him sneaking into Muggle music stores every chance he gets and buying CDs and getting so confused about how to get the sound out that he breaks the first few he buys. I imagine him struggling to work a CD player but being more and more determined to figure it out because the harder it is to unlock that precious sound, the more it’ll be worth it. I imagine him going back to his band mates and telling them about the dark and twisted souls of tormented Muggle musicians- exactly what they should emulate.

Basically what I’m saying is, the Weird Sisters performed “Total Eclipae of the Heart” at their Hogwarts concert and you can’t convince me otherwise.

[scaredpotter]

tbh the most unrealistic thing in harry potter is when mrs weasley in the first book asks “now what’s the platform number?”

like this woman has been going to that school for seven years and then dropped kids off on the same place for nearly ten like why on earth would she forget the platform number

[marauders4evr]

I still have the headcanon that Molly BAMF Weasley saw a scrawny underfed child with an owl who had no idea where he was going and looked lost and confused and was like, “Ah, yep, new son.” but didn’t want to scare him by outright approaching and asking if he needed help so she was just like, “MUGGLES, MUGGLES EVERYWHERE! DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THE PLATFORM NUMBER TO WIZARD SCHOOL IS? WHAT’S THAT? NINE AND THREE QUARTERS? OH, YES, THAT’S RIGHT. THE PLATFORM NUMBER IS   N I N E   A N D   T H R E E    Q U A R T E R S!”

Of course seeing as how Harry isn’t the most observant bloke, she probably ushered her kids past him fifty times as different ones screamed the platform number until they finally got his attention.

[marauders4evr]

With that being said, and I’m extremely sorry for taking over your post:

11:45:

They had just enough time to make it onto the platform, get their trunks loaded, and say their goodbyes. Molly ushered them all along, wishing that she could just Apparate them all onto the train and be done with it. There was too much to do, too much to say, too m—

All at once, she screeched to a halt. Percy crashed into her, causing the twins to snicker.

A tiny boy was being crossly turned away by a security guard. A boy whose ribs poked through his baggy shirt, whose glasses were broken, whose jaw was trembling as he tried to find his way. Well, surely she could be the person to guide him there? And did he…? Yes! He had an owl! He was one of them!

The poor child; he looked so lost.

Where were his parents?

Never mind, never mind. She would see to it that he would get on the train. But she had to be careful. She couldn’t startle him. He’d run off and that would be the end of it. No, no, they had to be crafty.

11:47 AM:

“Packed with Muggles of course,” Molly said loudly, ushering her very confused children past the boy. “What’s the platform number again?”

“Nine and three quarters,” Percy said. “Mother, how could you have forg—?”

It was George who nudged him as he understood what she was doing. She had done it before, after all, and she would do it again.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

The boy didn’t seem to notice them.

11:48 AM:

“Packed with Muggles of course,” said Molly again, marching her children past once more. “What’s the platform number?”

“Nine and three quarters,” Fred and George screamed in unison.

And still the boy remained lost.

11:49 AM:

“Mum,” Ron panted, tripping over himself as he ran to keep up with her. “Slow down!”

Molly ignored him as she practically flew past the poor boy. “Packed with Muggles of course! Now, what’s the platform number?”

“Nine and three quarters,” Ron bellowed.

11:50 AM:

Molly honestly didn’t care if her entire family missed the train and she had to set off across the UK herself like a mother leading a flock of ducklings: she was going to help this boy onto the bloody train.

She marched past him with a fiery determination and said, “Packed with Muggles of course!”

The boy looked up.

Yes! Okay, this was it, this was it, this was it. Play it cool. He was following them. Listening. Pretending not to.

They stopped.

“Now,” Molly said. “What’s the platform number?”

“Nine and three quarters,” piped Ginny.

Victory!

The next nine minutes were a whirlwind of chaos but they managed to get the boy through the barrier. At Molly’s insistence, Fred and George popped up and helped him get his trunk into the compartment. She handed Ron an extra sandwich and muttered, “Tell him that everywhere else was full.”

He dutifully nodded.

As the train took off, she waved to her children, including her newest one.

Bristling with pride, she began to head back to the Burrow. There was simply no time to waste. She had a jumper to knit.

[gryffin-doc]

After the First Show: A Frog Choir Story

Summary: After MC chooses to take the only remaining spot on the Frog Choir, Merula’s words haunt her.

Words: ~1200

“What do you think?” MC asked Sir Hopwaffle as he perched on his brand-new pillow. He didn’t seem to be as much a fan of the dungbomb, so MC had wrapped it up in several copies of The Daily Prophet and tucked it under her bed.

He croaked, sounding almost like a shrug. She wondered if he was upset that she’d chosen to sing in the Frog Choir with Dennis, but he had seemed to be okay with the idea when she explained it to him earlier. If Dennis was a trouble-maker like Tulip, then Sir Hopwaffle was more like her- wanting the best for others.

“You go around Hogwarts acting like you really care about helping people…yet you won’t even let me have this one thing.”

MC’s gut twisted with guilt as she remembered the heartbroken look on Merula’s face when Flitwich had announced the results. She’d seen Merula angry plenty of times before, but this…this was different. That quiet whisper of “I’m sorry, Mum,” had been enough to tug at MC’s heartstrings.

Throughout the whole performance, MC had tried her best not to look at Merula, a difficult task when the Slytherin was clearly trying to cast the Killing Curse with her eyes. She couldn’t imagine how much Merula missed her mum, but she had an idea- and not being able to fulfill a dream that the two of them had shared must have almost felt like betrayal.

MC rolled onto her side, disturbing all of her other pets as they settled around her. Her mind drifted back to the rehearsal before the show…

MC walked into the Charms classroom with Dennis perched in her hand to see a cluster of students gathered around one person. Her gag reflex kicked in the moment she heard the person in the middle of the group speak and Dennis gave her a concerned look.

“I know I said I was too busy for the Frog Choir, but how could I possibly leave?” Emily Tyler was saying to the group of enraptured students. “I mean, I would miss my solos so much. And who doesn’t love handling slimy amphibians all the time?”

The older Gryffindor’s eyes landed on MC and MC could swear she saw irritation flash through them. It was no secret that Emily didn’t like her, probably because MC was the only person who had dared to stand up to her.

“MC!” Emily’s voice was high-pitched with fake friendliness.

Please don’t let her come over here. Please, Merlin, don’t let her come over here.

A pink manicured hand landed on her shoulder and MC reluctantly looked up into Emily’s too-bright smile. Damn it, Merlin.

“It’s so good to see you again!”

“Er…yeah. Likewise.” MC tried to take a step away, but the older girl’s grip was like a vise.

“I’m so glad you’re the one Professor Flitwick picked and not that tragic Snyde girl. I mean, can you even imagine having the daughter of Death Eater in the Frog Choir? That would bring our reputation down for sure.”

MC bit back her immediate retort that the Death Eater Emily was talking about had once been a member of the Frog Choir. Merula had told her that in confidence and she meant to keep the secret. “Merula’s not tragic,” she gritted out.

Emily laughed. “You’re so cute how you defend everyone, even when they do nothing for your image. Like that Bill Weasley character. Does he still fancy me, by the way?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Pity.” She sat down next to MC and MC could feel Dennis shudder slightly. “I’m so sorry for Professor Flitwick. It couldn’t have been easy for him to choose between the cursed girl and a Death Eater’s daughter. But it was necessary, you know. We couldn’t have both of you destroying the Frog Choir’s reputation.”

She gave MC a smirk and sauntered off, head high before MC could even respond.

“That’s so typical of her,” MC murmured to her pets. “It’s not that she really wants to be on the Frog Choir, you know? She just didn’t want anyone else having that honour. Especially not people like me and Merula.”

An idea suddenly came to her and she quickly sat up. All of her pets looked at her warily. “Say…” She smiled at her pets. “I have a job for you guys. But you’ll have to be…discreet.” They tilted their heads quizzically in unison and she reached under her bed again, pulling out the newspaper-wrapped dungbomb. “Here’s the plan…”

“Attention, students!” Professor Flitwick called, bringing the pre-rehearsal chatter to a halt. MC stroked Dennis’s head to keep him quiet as she glanced towards the front of the classroom. “Due to an unfortunate incident, Miss Tyler has again decided to drop out of the Frog Choir. But as always, I enjoy welcoming new members. And so please, everyone give a round of applause to our newest member, Merula Snyde.”

Surprised whispers rippled through the room as everyone applauded and MC tried her best to hide her smile. She supposed her pets had gone a little overboard. All she’d told them to do was hide the dungbomb somewhere in Emily’s room where she wouldn’t find it for a long time. Instead, they’d dug a hole in the other girl’s mattress and buried the dungbomb inside it. Rumour was that Emily hadn’t gone to class in quite some time, searching for the source of the stench, and most of her friends were staying as far away from her as they could.

MC looked up to see Merula approaching her. “Congratulations, Merula.”

“That was…very Slytherin of you,” Merula said.

MC responded with her most innocent smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looked down at the toad in her hands, who gave a loud croak. “Dennis is happy to see you here.”

Merula just rolled her eyes and walked away. Throughout rehearsal, MC snuck glances over at Merula and for the first time, the Slytherin had a smile on her face. Her grin stretched from ear to ear and her voice stood out even amongst the group of talented singers.

Flitwick beamed. “Wonderful job, everyone! I will see you all at the next rehearsal- or your next Charms class!”

MC took her time packing up and turned to see Merula still waiting for her at the door. The pair walked out of the room in silence, which Merula broke first. “So, why’d you do it? Did you feel guilty about stealing my spot?”

“Emily only stayed on because she didn’t want either of us to have the chance,” MC replied. “Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t even like toads.”

“I knew I could manipulate you into-” Merula began, but MC stopped in her tracks.

“Let’s get one thing straight. You did not manipulate me. I thought your audition was fantastic and you deserved to be on the Frog Choir. You’ve clearly practised very hard over the years.” MC straightened. “But that doesn’t mean that I should have to give up anything that I’ve worked hard for, either. You got Emily’s spot because Flitwick thought you earned it. That’s all.” 

Merula stared at her for a long moment, before the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Tch. You’re a weird one, MC.”

“I know.” MC smiled. “Get used to it, Merula. We’re going to be around each other even more now.”

And with that, she walked off, laughing to herself at the horrified look on Merula’s face.

[gryffin-doc]

Professor Khanna’s First Student (Rowan x Barnaby Friendship)

Note: So as we all know, MC is basically the Avatar of the Hogwarts Houses- her group of close friends are all from different houses and could not be more different from each other if they tried. If it weren’t for her, these guys probably wouldn’t even be hanging out with each other. I’m starting a series of one-shots pairing up her friends two at a time and depicting the hijinks that they get up to when she’s not around. Please enjoy! 

Summary: When Barnaby asks Rowan to help him study, she gets more than she bargained for. Will the youngest professor in Hogwarts history fail her first pupil?

Word Count: ~1800

Rowan sighed for the sixth time in twenty minutes as she pushed her glasses higher on her face, glowering at Barnaby. “Come on, Barnaby! I thought you wanted my help with Transfiguration!”

They were in the courtyard, perched on the edge of the fountain. A few students passed through, but very few were lingering outside so close to exams.

“I do!” Barnaby replied. He beamed down at Barnaby Jr as the Bowtruckle carefully climbed up along his arm. “I’m bad at it.”

“Well, stop playing with the Bowtruckle so I can help you!”

Barnaby pulled the Bowtruckle away as she reached for it. “But Mum is busy helping Madam Pomfrey, so I have to watch him!”

Rowan narrowed her eyes. “…Mum?”

“You know, MC.”

“MC is Mum?”

Barnaby scoffed. “Well, obviously I can’t be Mum.”

“But why are you calling MC ‘Mum’?” Rowan felt her head spinning.

Barnaby smiled as the Bowtruckle hopped from one hand to the other. “You know. We’re raising Barnaby Jr together.”

Rowan took a deep breath as the thought flashed across her mind that maybe this is why Professor Snape was so grumpy all the time? No, no, she couldn’t think like that. Barnaby was her first student and she wasn’t going to let anything distract him. She leaned forward for a better look at the little Bowtruckle and it shrank away from her. Barnaby frowned. “Uh, I don’t think he likes you.”

“Barnaby, just put him back in the Wiggentree MC is growing in the greenhouse!” Rowan said. “How are you going to pass your Transfigurations exam if you don’t study?”

“He can study with me,” Barnaby replied, setting the Bowtruckle on his shoulder. “Maybe he’ll learn something too.”

Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Alright, fine.” She opened her well-worn copy of Intermediate Transfiguration and turned to him. “Which spells are you struggling with?”

“All of them,” Barnaby replied.

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Going back to-”

“First year.”

“First year?”

“I already told you.” Barnaby looked embarrassed, staring down at the ground. “I’m not good at Transfiguration.”

“B-but…” Rowan sighed. “Okay. What part do you struggle with?” He simply shrugged, focusing his gaze on the Bowtruckle who was now climbing down his leg.

Rowan’s face softened slightly. “Alright. Here.” She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a matchstick. “I keep this when I want to practice the basics. Try turning it into a needle.”

Barnaby stared at the matchstick, then sighed and pulled out his wand. He spent several moments waving his wand at it, a bored look on his face. Rowan felt a vein about to pop out in her forehead. “Barnaby, are you even trying?”

“…yes?” He sighed and tossed the matchstick to the side. “What’s the point? Every year on final exams, I barely get enough points to scrape by. When will I ever need Transfiguration?”

And that was when it hit Rowan: Barnaby had already given up. He had come to her as a last resort, hoping for some quick fix that would allow him to pass yet again this year. He wasn’t interested in the basics of Transfiguration. But Transfiguration wasn’t something you could just quickly cram, it was a skill that took time…dedication…

“HEY!”

Rowan looked up, startled, just in time to hear, “Wingardium Leviosa!” Merula had appeared out of nowhere to levitated Barnaby Jr. out of her former friend’s hands and was now dangling the Bowtruckle just out of reach. Barnaby jumped up and down, desperately trying to snag the creature out of the air.

“Is this the pathetic creature that you and MC are taking care of?” Merula sneered, twitching her wand so that Barnaby Jr dropped slightly. Barnaby lunged forward, but she quickly levitated the Bowtruckle high into the air again.

“Merula, stop it!” Rowan snapped, hands balled into fists. “Leave Barnaby Jr. alone!”

“Barnaby Jr?” Merula laughed. “Well, it does have the same dopey face you do, Lee. Who picked the name? Was it MC?”

“Yes. So?” Barnaby growled.

“Guess she didn’t pick you for your brains, either.” Merula laughed.

Hurt flashed into Barnaby’s eyes before it was replaced by anger and he snatched up his wand. “Barnaby, don’t-” Rowan began.

“Depulso!” Barnaby yelled. Merula was knocked off her feet and the Bowtruckle came plummeting down. Barnaby dove to catch it, missed and landed in the fountain. 

Rowan quickly pulled out her wand and pointed it at the edge of the fountain. “Spongify!” The edge of the fountain sank in slightly and the Bowtruckle landed on its bottom, bouncing on the softened area until Barnaby managed to grab it.

Across the Courtyard, Merula had finally picked herself off the ground and was clearly trying to hide any signs of pain. She dusted off her robes and marched back towards them, one arm slightly pressed to her side. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” she asked.

“We were studying,” Rowan snapped. “So if you don’t mind-”

“Transfiguration?” Merula glanced at the textbook and snickered. “Good luck, Khanna. Barnaby’s hopeless at Transfiguration. Not even your nerd brain could fix that. I’d give up now.” She walked off before Rowan could think of a retort.

Barnaby hauled himself out of the fountain, his clothes sopping wet, and carefully set the Bowtruckle on the ground. He pulled off his sweater and wrung it out, careful to avoid looking at Rowan. His shoulders were slumped as sat back down on the edge of the fountain, poking at the area she’d transfigured.

“Barnaby,” she finally said. “You’re not hopeless.”

He let out a bark of laughter with no trace of humour in it. “That’s nice of you to say. Especially since you’re the one who told MC that I’m ‘thicker than a troll.’”

Rowan winced. Okay, she had said that, but-

“It’s okay,” he went on, holding out his hand for Barnaby Jr to climb back onto his arm. “I know I’m not smart. Everyone says so. Transfiguration is for smart people, like you. That’s why I’m bad at it.”

“You’re smarter than people think you are!” Rowan said quickly. “I mean, you’re so good at Care of Magical Creatures, and…and that Depulso you cast just now was the most powerful one I’ve ever seen!”

Barnaby brightened slightly. “You mean it?”

“Definitely!” Rowan could feel the wheels turning in her brain as an idea came to her. “In fact, I think…I think you just need the right motivation.”

“Huh?”

Before Barnaby could blink, Rowan pulled out her wand and pointed it at Barnaby Jr. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

“No!” Barnaby scrambled to his feet, trying to catch the Bowtruckle out of the air again. “Rowan, what are you doing?!”

“Trust me, Barnaby! Just listen to me!” She kept the Bowtruckle floating a safe distance above the ground. “Look at the ground where Barnaby Jr is going to land. Look at how high he is. And think about how much you want to protect him. Think about keeping him safe!”

Barnaby stared at the ground so intently, she thought his eyes might pop out of his head.

“Okay, good! Now, cast Spongify on the ground!” Rowan called.

“What? But-”

“Just do it! I’m going to let Barnaby Jr fall now. You have to make sure he lands safely!” Rowan ended the Levitating Charm and let the Bowtruckle fall to the ground.

“Spongify!” Barnaby hollered. The Bowtruckle hit the ground and bounced safely several times before coming to a stop, looking dizzy. Barnaby looked at Rowan in shock. “I did it!”

“You did it!”

“I did it!” Barnaby jumped up and down a few times before throwing his arms around her, drenching her with water as well. “And I did a good job this time!”

“You cast an excellent Spongify,” Rowan beamed. “Think you’re ready for a harder Transfiguration spell?”

Barnaby hesitated. “I-I don’t know, Rowan. I mean, it worked that one time, but-”

“Come on. Sit here.” Rowan led him to the edge of the fountain. “I don’t know who first called you dumb-”

“It was my father.”

“-but that person was wrong,” she continued. “Doing different types of magic isn’t just about being smart. It’s also about being creative and caring and brave and-” And realizing she was just listing House attributes, she stopped and shook her head. “My point is, everyone learns magic in a different way. We’re all motivated by different things. Like MC is good at lots of things because everything she learns goes towards helping her find the Cursed Vaults and her brother. Bill is really strong because he wants to protect his family and friends.” She smiled at him. “And you’re really strong too. You just need to find what motivates you, especially when it comes to Transfiguration. And I’ll help you.”

Barnaby perked up. “You will?”

“Of course!” Rowan smiled. “That’s what teachers do.” She stood up and held her hand out for the Bowtruckle. “Now, are you ready to practice Spongify again?”

MC was walking by the Courtyard when she spotted Rowan and Barnaby and headed towards them. As she got closer, she noticed that Barnaby’s shirt was soaked through and there was a puddle of water at his feet. “Are you sure about this?” she heard Barnaby ask.

And then came Rowan’s somewhat shaky response. “I-I trust you.”

“Felifors!” As she watched, Barnaby pointed his wand at Rowan’s cat, transforming it into a perfect, plain black cauldron. “I did it!”

“Yes! Now please turn my cat back.”

“Oh…right! Uh…Reparifage!” The cauldron spun around and soon, Rowan’s cat was nestled in her lap once again while Barnaby did something that looked like a celebratory war dance off to the side. 

“Hey, you two!” MC called as she joined them. “It looks like tutoring was successful?”

Barnaby grinned. “I like Rowan. She’s really nice.”

“You’re not going to make her fight you, are you?” MC joked.

“Nope.” Barnaby stood up and picked up his bag and the Bowtruckle. “I should take Barnaby Jr home. Bye MC! Bye Rowan! Thanks again!”

MC waited until he’d walked off before turning to Rowan. “So what did you do, splash him with water until he got it right?”

Rowan scratched behind her cat’s ears. “No, just helped him believe in himself.”

She said it so casually that MC narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but chose to let it go. “Barnaby seems happy. I can’t believe you got him to sit still and study for so long.”

“I didn’t,” Rowan replied. “I had to get…creative. I guess not everyone studies well by reading a lot of books. Something I learned today.”

MC grinned. “Nice job, Professor Khanna. Any chance you’ll help me study for Herbology now?”

Rowan winced as she climbed to her feet. “I think I should take Fuzzclaw back to the dorm. Being Transfigured into a cauldron took a lot out of him.”

“Sure.” MC stood up. “I’ll walk back with you.” She stepped on a particularly soft piece of stone and almost tripped forward. “Hey! What-”

“Oh, look at the time!” Rowan grabbed her by the sleeve. “It’s getting close to dinner, we better hurry up!”

MC glanced behind her, then frowned at her friend’s suddenly frazzled behaviour. What exactly did her friends get up to when she wasn’t around?

[gryffin-doc]

Midnight Musings (Rowan x MC friendship)

Summary: When MC can’t sleep, her best friend has some words of comfort for her.

Words: ~1500

MC was dreaming again. She was six-years-old, strolling through Diagon Alley with Jacob’s hand wrapped around hers. She stared in wonder at the stores around her, selling all sorts of amazing things – wands, brooms, books…and not for the first time, she felt a stab of envy that Jacob would get to go to Hogwarts first and that she’d have to wait five more years before she could go.

“Hey MC.” She looked up into Jacob’s grin, the same grin she had whenever she had an idea that most of her friends were so afraid of. “Race you to the Madame Malkin’s.” He pulled his hand from her grasp.

And then he was dodging and weaving through the crowd, leaving her struggling to keep up with him. The crowd seemed to move into her way, blocking him from view. “Jacob!” she screamed. “Jacob, come back!”

“MC!” The ground around her seemed to shake, sending her to her knees. The crowd walked around her as if they barely noticed she was there.

“JACOB!”

“MC!”

MC sat up with a gasp and immediately pointed her wand at the person who was shaking her shoulders. Rowan jumped back with a yelp. “Whoa! Easy!”

“Rowan?” The cold sweat was starting to dissipate and now she could feel the embarrassment prickling her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry. I was just-”

“-having a nightmare. Yeah, I know.” Rowan pulled back the curtains of her four-poster just enough to hop onto the bed, then pulled them closed again.

“How did you know? I thought I cast a Silencing Charm on the curtains.”

“You did. Your cat woke me up.” Rowan gently scratched the chin of the smug-looking tiger cat who had crawled into MC’s lap and was now purring contentedly.

“Oh.” MC set her wand aside and flexed her fingers. The feeling of Jacob slipping his hand out of hers felt like it had been burned into her memory. She shivered.

“So?” She looked up to see Rowan raising her eyebrows. “You want to talk about him?”

“Who?”

“Professor Snape.” Rowan rolled her eyes. “Who do you think? Your brother.”

“No.”

Rowan pressed her lips together. “This isn’t the first time, you know. Every time you fall asleep in the library, I hear you muttering his name.”

“I don’t-” MC began but Rowan just grinned.

“Trust me. You do. Also, sometimes you drool. Just be glad I don’t let Tonks and Tulip find you looking like that, they’d never let you live it down.”

MC had to laugh. “The nightmares…” She sighed. “It’s always the same thing. I’m a little kid, Jacob is shopping for his school supplies at Diagon Alley. Even though Mum told him to hold my hand tightly, he says he wants to race. Then he lets go, and I can’t find him anymore.”

“Did that really happen?” Rowan asked.

MC nodded. “Yeah. Except then he found me crying in the middle of the street and bribed me with the biggest earl grey and lavender cone he could afford from Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour so I wouldn’t tell mum what happened.”

Her best friend wrinkled her nose. “Earl grey and lavender?”

“It’s my favourite!”

“Of course it is.” The other witch chuckled, then pushed her glasses higher on her nose, looking serious again. “But…it’s really not such a scary thing, is it? I mean, compared to everything we’ve been through.”

MC was quiet for a long time. “You’re right. It’s no Ice Knight or Fenrir Greyback. It’s not even as terrifying as the letter we got home telling us what Jacob had done.”

“Then what is it?”

“I think…” MC drew her knees to her chest, dislodging her cat from her lap in the process, who hopped off the bed with his tail held high. “I think it’s because this was the first time I realized that Jacob could let go of my hand.” Rowan squinted in confusion. “As far back as I can remember, Jacob was there for me. He teased me and pulled my pigtails and hid my toys like a big brother should, but he always protected me. He taught me not to be scared when I fell for the first time. And when I turned a flower in our garden into a spider when I was three, he was the one who taught me not to be afraid of my powers.”

She sighed. “As long as I’ve known him, he’s been there to hold my hand, to guide me. I was so excited and jealous that he was going to Hogwarts, I knew that it would be my turn soon and I couldn’t wait.”

“But then after he started at Hogwarts, he changed?” Rowan asked.

“Exactly.” MC felt her eyes prickle with tears and she dug her nails into her palms to hold them at bay. Not in front of Rowan, not like this. She was supposed to be the brave one in the group (besides Bill, of course), the one the others looked to for encouragement and strength. She took a deep breath as quietly as she could, hoping Rowan didn’t notice the little shake in her voice. “When he came home for Christmas his first year, I ran to hug him as soon as he stepped off the Hogwarts Express. But he just kind of pushed me aside, handed his things to Dad, and said he needed to get home as quickly as he could. I barely saw him at all, he just spent all his time in his room. He said he was busy studying, but I knew he was lying.

“I wasn’t even that surprised when he disappeared. I was just worried for him, and angry at what he did to our parents, and really, really hurt that he’d left me behind.” MC quickly swiped a sleeve under her nose. “And then I think back to that day in Diagon Alley and I realize that Jacob left me behind the moment he knew he was going to Hogwarts.”

Rowan watched her with a faint smile, before pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and handing it to MC. “I’m fine-” MC said quickly.

“Just take it.” MC sighed and dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. Both witches were quiet for a long time, the silence only broken by the contented purring of MC’s cat.

Finally, Rowan’s head snapped up. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this? You think I don’t know how you feel?”

“Wha-”

“You were my first friend at Hogwarts- you were the first friend I ever had! I thought we’d be…studying together in the library, or studying together in the Common Room…or quizzing each other in the Great Hall-”

“But we do all of those things-”

“I thought that you would be just another student, like me.” Rowan shook her head. “Instead, I watch you throw yourself headlong into any danger that happens to come by without even thinking about it. You didn’t hesitate when you duelled Merula, even though you knew that every professor had an eye on you. As soon as you hear whispers about the Cursed Vaults, you drop everything and run towards them. You’re the bravest, cleverest witch I’ve ever met. And it scares me.”

“What?”

“You scare me, MC.” Rowan picked at the blanket. “I guess I thought we’d be doing everything together. But you’re getting stronger than me by…by quantum leaps!” MC chuckled. “I mean it. You’re so much more powerful than I am and you’re so reckless and I…I’m afraid you’ll leave me behind.” She took off her glasses, ducking her head. “I know it’s not exactly the same thing. I know we’re not family, but-”

MC leaned forward and pulled her best friend into a tight hug. “I’m not my brother. I promise, I’m not.”

She felt Rowan nod into her shoulder and sniffle. “I know, MC. I know you’re not.” She quickly wiped her eyes and put her glasses back on. “But the thought that you’ll leave me behind- that’s what pushes me to get stronger. So that I’ll be there for you, the way you’ve always been there for me.”

MC smiled and squeezed her best friend’s hand. “I…I appreciate that.”

“But it’s not just me. You’ve got Penny, and Bill, and Tulip, and Tonks, and I guess Barnaby, and sometimes Charlie, and maybe Ben-”

“I know.” MC smiled. “Thank you.”

Later that night, after Rowan had returned to her own four-poster, MC lay back down with her cat curled up on her chest again. Even as its rhythmic purring soothed her to sleep, her mind was still racing.

Every time she’d thought of Hogwarts, she’d imagined being Jacob’s pesky little sister, embarrassing him in front of his older, cooler friends. She’d imagined hanging out with her friends in the Courtyard, going to class, maybe even trying out for the Quidditch team. But here she was, chasing after Jacob’s shadow, just as she’d tried to chase after him years ago in Diagon Alley. And the faster she ran, the more she had to wonder if she really was turning into her brother.

[gryffin-doc]

Just Friends (Charlie x Female MC)

These drabbles were inspired by a post by @sungoddessra’s theory about Charlie having a crush on the MC, as well as @rvnclwrites’s story (called Charlie’s Crush, check it out!). I wanted to write some drabbles with some quotes from the game. These are some behind the scenes moments about MC’s feelings for Charlie from her POV. Hope you enjoy! 

Word Count: ~3000

Bill: “No, my brother Charlie told me. He’s a second-year like you.”

You frowned slightly at that. Charlie…Charlie Weasley? The name was familiar. Maybe Ben had once mentioned that he was a good flyer, but try as you might, you couldn’t picture his face. You felt bad- you barely paid attention to people who were not within your immediate circle of friends (or your immediate circle of enemies). But it was okay. Rowan would know who he was.

“Charlie Weasley?” Rowan pushed up her glasses and gave you an incredulous look. “Bill’s younger brother? Gryffindor’s Seeker? One of the best Quidditch players in our year? Honestly, (Y/N), how do you not know who Charlie Weasley is?”

You felt your cheeks heat up despite yourself. “Hey, I’m not the only one who forgets people’s names! You don’t know the name of that Gryffindor kid who’s been sitting behind us in Charms since last year either!”

“That’s not the same thing!” Rowan snapped. “Everyone knows who Bill and Charlie Weasley are. It would be like people not knowing who you are.”

“I wish people didn’t know who I was,” you muttered, remembering that day after you beat Merula in a duel for the first time back in first-year. The whispers that followed you the moment you entered the Great Hall, head bowed. Weirdo. Freak. Mad like her brother. Nothing you hadn’t heard before, but this time, it rankled you even more. All you’d done was defend Ben, and Snape had acted like you were the one who started the fight. Ever since you’d started at Hogwarts, you’d been trying to stay under the radar, to find Jacob as quietly and as quickly as you could, but everyone else in the school made it impossible for you to stay invisible for long.

You remembered glowering at anyone who dared look your way, how most people immediately shifted their gaze away. Even the upper classmen were afraid of making eye contact with someone who was possibly cursed. You could practically read their minds just by looking into their eyes: She’s dangerous. She’s crazy. She shouldn’t even be here. And you remembered the soft brown eyes that met yours, beaming with admiration.

You’d been so surprised, you’d looked away immediately. And by the time you turned back, he’d vanished in the crowd again.

Oh, you thought to yourself. So that was Charlie Weasley.

Bill: “Charlie told me he’s been meaning to talk to you about the Cursed Vaults.”

You sipped your Butterbeer and looked at Bill in surprise. All around you, your friends were chattering excitedly about having defeated the Vault of Fear and Tonks was teasing the possibility of changing her face to look like You-Know-Who. You had been about to help Penny coax Ben out from under the table, when Bill had quietly murmured those words into your ear.

“Why?” you asked. “Does he know something? Like where the next one is?”

Bill shrugged. There was something teasing about the look in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You’d have to ask him yourself.”

“I never see him around.” You drained off the rest of your Butterbeer and Madam Rosmerta immediately slid another one in front of you.

“On the house, dear,” she said with a wink. “I heard you’re to thank for things at Hogwarts calming down.”

“Thanks.” You grinned up at her, but staring down at the mug, your thoughts were jumbled. “Charlie’s not looking for the Cursed Vaults, is he?” you asked Bill anxiously.

Bill laughed. “(Y/N), relax. Charlie just wants to help. Frankly, I think he’s jealous of all the fun we have curse-breaking.”

You smiled at his words and let the matter drop, but you were anxious to get out of the Three Broomsticks. Anxious to hunt down Charlie Weasley and demand to know what he wanted to talk about.

But you didn’t find him until the End-of-the-Year Feast. As your House celebrated yet another House Cup win, with your Prefect loudly telling anyone who would listen how it was all thanks to you that your House had won yet again, you slipped away from the celebrations, out into the Great Hall.

You wanted to celebrate with your friends and your Housemates, of course you did, but yet another school year had passed and you still hadn’t found Jacob. Every day that he was gone, the possibility of finding him seemed smaller and smaller. Rita Skeeter had told you that he was alive, but could you really trust her? What if-

“(Y/N)?”

You realized your cheeks were wet and quickly dabbed your eyes, turning around with a smile so that your friends wouldn’t see that you were upset. But it wasn’t any of your friends.

“Hey,” Charlie said, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at the ground. “Why aren’t you in there celebrating? Sounds like you’re the hero of the day.”

“Oh, I, um…need to pack.” The excuse was lame, even to your ears. “It always seems to be the last thing on my mind, what with the, um, stuff going on.”

“You mean the Cursed Vaults?” Charlie grinned at you and you had to laugh. “Everyone knows that the school would have been destroyed without you.”

A million protests came to your mind. Dumbledore would never let anything bad happen to Hogwarts, the Boggarts were scary but not a real danger, anyone could have done it- but you settled with a simple, “Thank you.”

“Just saying what other people whisper about,” Charlie said softly. He held out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced. I’m Charlie Weasley.” He smiled as his large, calloused hand closed around yours, sending a slight tingle up your arm. “And no need to tell me who you are, (Y/N).”

You nodded dumbly.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find your brother this year,” he continued. “But we’ll find him next year. And I’d like to help you.”

As he walked away, your heart felt a million times lighter. And suddenly, the summer didn’t seem like such a long time to wait before coming back to school.

Andre: “Charlie Weasley might be a bit better, but I do love Quidditch.”

Andre: “What position does Charlie play?”

“Seeker, of course,” you replied as you tossed a Gobstone into the circle. Andre winced as he was sprayed in the face with a nasty gush of fluid and you couldn’t help laughing.

“Nice move, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, Andre,” you grinned, although it puzzled you. From the time you met Andre in Hogsmeade to now, he always seemed to slip Charlie’s name in conversation. The two of you had become fast friends ever since he gave you that coat (which got you tons of compliments, much to your surprise), bonding over Quidditch and fashion and occasionally studying for Transfiguration together.

It was nothing, you told yourself. Andre and Charlie were probably very good friends, because both of them played Quidditch. And you talked about your friends all the time. But…

But there was something about the way the corner of Andre’s mouth lifted in a smirk, the way his eyes seemed to be carefully studying your reaction, the way his eyebrows shot up when you responded that made you wary of what he was trying to get at. Conversations with your Ravenclaw friends were like playing Wizards’ Chess- there was always some underlying strategy or motive that they were hiding from you.

“Are you and Charlie good friends?” you asked carefully, and there it was- his head jerked up, his eyes widened, and he missed his next move.

“Yeah, we’re pretty good mates,” Andre replied. “The bloke has no sense of style, but he is one of the best Quidditch players I know.”

You hummed in response. Ever since Rowan had told you who he was, you’d started paying more attention during Quidditch matches. He was good, you thought, remembering his last game, when he’d pulled out of a difficult dive to dodge a Bludger and came up with the Snitch in his hand. Even you had been jumping up and down, cheering for the Gryffindor Seeker.

“Why?” Andre asked.

“Oh, no reason,” with what you hoped was a casual laugh. “It’s just that I’m such good friends with Bill, I’m surprised that Charlie and I haven’t really talked much yet.”

You tried to ignore the knowing smile on Andre’s face and hoped that your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

You: “That’s because Charlie is always too busy for us. The only time we ever see him is in Care of Magical Creatures.”

You: “I knew you were good at calming dangerous creatures, but I didn’t think anyone could calm Merula.”

Charlie: “She’s not that bad. I mean, she’s really bad. But she’s not all bad. Just let me know next time she bothers you.”

You could barely pay attention in Care of Magical Creatures that class, which was particularly bad, what with Fire Crabs and a Chimaera somewhere on the loose. You bit your cheek hard to keep from grinning like a total idiot.

It was almost stupid how long you had gone without really talking to Charlie. After all, he was Bill’s younger brother and Bill was one of your best friends. You had almost all of your classes together. And yet the longer you went without speaking to him, the more awkward it got.

Which is why in your first Care of Magical Creatures class of fourth-year, you marched right up to him, initially planning on saying something nice, and wound up teasing him about never being around. You were relieved when Charlie took no offense and laughed it off. “You know me, (Y/N).” Except you didn’t.

And then Merula had come over and started going off about how Jacob was missing. And while you were preparing to retaliate, Charlie had stepped in on your behalf. You couldn’t believe it. Sure, Tulip and Barnaby stood up to her for you- but only after you showed them friendship that they’d been desperately seeking but unable to find from Merula. And Rowan, who had eagerly stood up to you against that third-year on your first day at Hogwarts, always shrank behind you when Merula approached.

But here was Charlie, standing up to her without you asking him to. Without even knowing you. “Just let me know next time she bothers you.”

You snuck a glance over at him, where he was diligently sketching a dragon instead of a Fire Crab and found him gazing in your direction. He grinned at you and you quickly looked away, but felt yourself smiling.

“You’re in a good mood,” Rowan commented as you left Care of Magical Creatures for that day. “I saw Merula approaching you before class. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Charlie- uh, I mean. You know Merula. It’s just the same insults over and over again.”

“So what did Charlie do?” You had been hoping that she wouldn’t ask, but nothing got past Rowan.

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “He just, uh, he was just nice and patient and that confused Merula and she walked away. It was pretty amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Mhmm.” There was something about the grin on Rowan’s face that reminded you of Andre. And you weren’t exactly sure you liked where this was going.

You quickly switched to asking about some obscure regulation you remembered Rowan mentioning once and she went off, babbling excitedly and leaving you to your thoughts.

Thoughts that kept turning to a certain freckled Dragon-obsessed, Quidditch-playing redhead.

Charlie: “Tell me when you’re ready to head into the Forbidden Forest, (Y/N). I’d like to do some exploring myself…”

Suddenly, it seemed like Charlie Weasley was everywhere and you again found yourself wondering how you had barely spoken to him before your fourth year. After hatching your plan to get Professor Kettleburn to help you find a way into the Forbidden Forest, it seemed only natural to ask for his help.

“Charlie!” you blurted out one day on your way to class. “Could you…could you help me learn about Bowtruckles with me and my friends?”

Charlie had looked surprised- you could swear that his ears went pink- and then smiled at you warmly. “Of course, (Y/N). I’ll meet you in the library.”

You’d been holding your breath on your way to the library, and you had to admit it was a surprise to see him sitting at a table with Bill, Rowan, Tulip, and Barnaby, looking like he was already part of the group. You slipped into the seat between Rowan and Charlie and you soon found yourself swamped with books and quietly chatting with the others, swapping notes, sharing gossip, and discussing Bowtruckles.

You stretched and blinked the bleariness from your eyes at the end of the long study session. “Thanks for your help, guys. This should help me write that essay on Bowtruckles so I can get Kettleburn’s help.”

As your friends gathered their books and prepared to head out, Charlie had leaned over to you. “Tell me when you’re ready to head into the Forbidden Forest, (Y/N),” he said in a low voice. “I’d like to do some exploring myself.”

You felt your face flush and nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Usually, it took a lot of persuasion to get your friends to overcome whatever hesitation they had about joining you on your crazy adventures, but here was Charlie, volunteering himself before you even had to ask. His eyes were sparkling with the promise of adventure, a look you were all too familiar with, having heard Rowan and Ben complain about it every time you mentioned another “master plan.”

Charlie winked at you as he shouldered his bag and headed out of the library. You looked up to see Tulip smirking at you. “So, you and Dragon Boy, huh?”

“We just met, Tulip,” you said quickly, hoping that no one else can hear you. “We’re barely friends.”

She propped her chin up on her hand, eyes twinkling mischievously. You wished the floor would swallow you whole. “You don’t have to be friends to like someone.”

“I like him,” you retorted. “As a friend.”

“Mhmm,” she replied. “Well, when you two are in the Forbidden Forest exploring together-”

You balled up a piece of parchment and threw it at her to shut her up, causing Madam Pince to practically Apparate to your side and demand your help shelving books. You almost welcomed getting in trouble. Anything was better than the teasing look on Tulip’s face.

And the thought that she might be right, but you quickly locked that thought in a box that could not be opened with Alohomora and threw it into the sea.

Charlie: “Well done (Y/N). We might have to make you an official Weasley.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you missed your shot, ducking as the Gobstones sprayed you. Charlie laughed, the sound washing over you like warm dark chocolate washing over you. He had to be joking, right? He had to be doing this on purpose- to distract you and make you lose.

In the months since you’d first started chatting with Charlie, the pair of you were now inseparable. Working on essays for Care of Magical Creatures, cheering him on in Quidditch no matter who he was playing, asking him to hang out after practice- your other friends joked that whenever they needed to find one of you, all they had to do was look for the other. You understood each other in a way the others didn’t, and he always seemed to know the right thing to say whenever you started to doubt yourself.

But behind his back, you constantly had to deal with your friends being utterly ridiculous- Tulip waggling her eyebrows suggestively at the two of you, Andre and his constant winking, Rowan’s none-too-subtle excuses for leaving the pair of you alone.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Bill said, sliding down across the table from you in the Great Hall at breakfast one day. “I was wondering if you had time today to chat about becoming a Prefect? I know you had some questions and of course, I’m qualified to answer them.” He puffed up his chest in an exaggerated pose and you laughed.

“Sorry Bill, not today,” you replied. “I was going to meet up with Charlie and plan our next visit to the Forbidden Forest.”

“Oh really?” Bill grinned broadly at you and you felt your face giving you away by blushing the color of his hair.

“Not you too,” you groaned.

“What do you mean?”

You gestured vaguely in the air, attempting to encompass all your friends. “Everyone’s been so weird recently! Whenever I mention hanging out with Charlie, Penny squeals and Tonks starts making kissy faces and Rowan freakin’ applauds. Charlie and I are just friends, for crying out loud!”

Bill laughed so hard you saw tears come to his eyes as he reached over and ruffled your hair, a habit of his that used to annoy you to no end but that you tolerated because Jacob used to do it too. “Adorable,” he said, standing up. “(Y/N), you are just too adorable.”

That was irritating because Bill was supposed to help when the others were being ridiculous and here he was being bloody useless. It just went to show that no one could be trusted.

But ironing out your plans with Charlie later that day had put you in a much better mood. And now you were relaxing over a game of Gobstones which you had been winning until he said the magic words: “We might have to make you an official Weasley.”

His soft brown eyes met your own and you felt your insides turn somersaults in a way that they shouldn’t be turning if you were just friends like you said. And, as it hit you like a hippogriff that your friends were right, this was bad, why did they have to be right- you wished for once that you could read his mind by looking into his eyes. Because you knew now that you were crushing on your best friend and this was an adventure that you weren’t ready to start and didn’t know how to plan for.