McGonagall, you're not gonna fucking believe this...

Conversing with the Giant Squid. Slytherin, Arbiter of Classic Literature, Writer, she/her. I'm the funniest person I know.

[merlinsbbeard]

IMPORTANT LINKS Masterlist | AO3 | Microfics Series

RECENTLY The Tales of Prince Harry | While the Village Sleeps | Anatomy of a Flower-Girl | The Whistle-Stop Broom | Of Figs and Fib Trees Chapter 6

WIPS Of Figs and Fib Trees | All's Well That Ends Well | Finniad: Striking Hearts

COMING SOON How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days: A Jily Adaptation

FANDOMS & SHIPS Harry Potter | Jily, Wolfstar The Hunger Games | Odesta

FOR FIC RECS @merlinsbbookshelf

[tedwardremus]

Hedwig's Greatest Catch

For @abihastastybeans and @blitheringmcgonagall

“Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!”

Ron jabbed Scabbers with his wand.

Harry leaned forward eagerly, expecting some dazzling display of magic. Instead, a white blur shot through his eyesight.

“Hedwig!”

Before either boy could react, the snowy owl landed squarely in Ron's lap, snatched Scabbers in her talons, and launched herself back into the corridor.

“My rat!” Ron shouted.

“Hedwig, no!”

The two boys burst from the compartment and sprinted after her down the length of the Hogwarts Express.

“I can't believe Harry Potter's owl ate my pet!” Ron yelled.

“I'm sorry!” Harry shouted back. “I don't know why she's doing this!”

Students poked their heads out of compartments as they raced past. Laughter, pointing fingers, and confused shouts followed them down the train.

Harry could feel his face burning. This was ridiculous. He desperately hoped Hedwig wasn't actually eating Scabbers. If she was, Ron might punch him. Or worse.

Harry imagined himself being sent home before even reaching Hogwarts.

Sorry, Professor. My owl murdered a rat. The story sounded ridiculous in his head.

The Dursleys would never let him hear the end of it.

“Ronald!” A pompous voice cut through the commotion.

“You should not be running on the train!”

“Harry Potter's owl is eating Scabbers, Percy!” Ron shouted over his shoulder.

They neared the end of the train car just in time to see Hedwig swoop toward the end of the carriage.

Then everything happened at once.

Ron crashed into Harry.

Harry crashed into Hedwig.

Hedwig slammed into the wall.

There was a loud crack.

For a moment, Harry thought they'd broken part of the train.

Then he blinked.

Instead of a rat dangling from Hedwig's claws, a short, balding man in shabby robes was sprawled across the floor.

Hedwig was furiously pecking his head.

“Scabbers?” Ron asked weakly.

Harry stared.

“Is it normal for rats to turn into men in the wizarding world?”

Ron shook his head. “No.”

The man scrambled backward on all fours, wild-eyed and trembling. He looked around frantically before his gaze landed on Harry.

His expression turned to horror.

“James?” the man squeaked.

“No,” Harry said. “I'm Harry.”

The man swallowed hard and then he bolted. He darted into the nearest compartment and immediately began struggling with the window latch.

“Is he trying to jump out?” Ron asked.

“He knew my dad's name,” Harry said, a strange feeling twisted in his stomach.

“Stop!” Ron shouted, grabbing the man's robes. “What did you do to my rat?”

The man yanked free with ease. Unfortunately for him, he threw himself backward at exactly the wrong moment.

CRACK.

His head connected with the window frame. He collapsed instantly.

Ron and Harry looked down at the unconscious man.

Then at each other.

“I don't think that's what the spell was supposed to do,” Harry said.

“No,” Ron agreed. “Definitely not.”

By the time they arrived at the train station, Hagrid was gathering the first-years.

“First years! Follow me!”

Harry hurried over.

“Hagrid, there's an unconscious man on the train.”

Hagrid blinked.

“A what?”

Harry quickly explained.

“Well, I'd better talk ter the conductor. He can send a message ter Professor Dumbledore.”

Soon, Harry found himself crossing the dark lake with the other first-years. The illuminated castle rose above them, magnificent and impossibly large.

When they reached the shore, a tall witch with square glasses was waiting.

“Hagrid,” she said. “Professor Dumbledore received your message. Please take the first-years to the Great Hall. I will escort Mr. Potter to the Headmaster's office.”

Harry's stomach dropped. This was it, he was being expelled.

He'd barely been at Hogwarts five minutes, and already his owl had apparently attacked a man who used to be a rat.

Professor McGonagall led him through winding corridors until they reached a stone gargoyle. Waiting beside it stood a tall wizard with a long white beard and a purple pointed hat.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter,” he said warmly. “I understand you had an eventful journey.”

Harry stared at his shoes.

“I'm sorry, sir.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Potter.”

The old wizard's expression became grave.

“I believe I owe you an apology.”

Harry looked up.

“Sir?”

“I have just had an opportunity to speak with the man found aboard the train. His presence reveals that I have made a very serious mistake.”

“I don't understand.”

“No,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I suspect you do not.

“I am about to tell you the story of a man named Peter Pettigrew, who, until this evening, we believed to be dead. I am also going to tell you about a man named Sirius Black, who has spent the last ten years imprisoned for Pettigrew's murder.”

Dumbledore paused.

“And, Mr. Potter, I am afraid both of those men have a great deal to do with your father.”

[thevulturesquadron]

[constancezin]

For @jilychallenge

My partner is @formerlympp

And the prompt

"A knight request a token before the jousting tournament begins and receives it."

It's more a Robin Hood than a knight but he got some apples.

[merlinsbbeard]

The Tales of Prince Harry

For @jilymicrofics January prompt: gallant Words: 539

Harry gets a little pushy while playing at Arthurian make-believe. Read on AO3 or below the cut

The sunroom of the cottage in Godric’s Hollow was almost too bright in the mid-morning. Light shone unobstructed through the Georgian sash windows, illuminating the thin skin of Lily’s eyelids, which were closed as she lay draped over the olive day bed, turning her vision to a russet glow.

She reached up a hand to shield herself but was immediately met with an opposing force; two small hands had grabbed her by the arm and manoeuvred it back onto her lap where the fresh-cut blush rose was laying.

‘Mum,’ Harry reprimanded her. ‘You’re meant to be the sleeping princess. Sleeping princesses aren’t supposed to move around.’

‘And you’re the gallant prince who’s come to rescue her,’ James said, swooping Harry up to spin him in the air. ‘All hail Prince Harry, Knight of Camelot.’

‘HAIL,’ Harry roared in his raspy, child’s voice, pumping a fist into the air and setting his shining silver helm off-kilter.

Recently they had been reading Harry to sleep with The Tales of King Arthur, and so his costume of rudimentary chainmail, thick wooden sword and red surcoat with a golden, roaring lion (which had been fashioned from one of James’s old, school guernseys) had made frequent appearance around the house, at the greengrocers and in the local playground.

‘And, Dad, you can be the squire,’ said Harry as his bare feet returned to the floor.

‘Why of course, my young prince. This squire will accompany you through the realms of evil.’ James raised his own wooden sword and squinted daringly at the open toy cabinet, the still blinds, the curled corner of the rug.

‘Can a princess get a prince to bring her an eye mask around here?’ Lily said from the day bed.

James jutted his wand over his shoulder, and a satin eye mask came zipping through the open sunroom door at full speed. Then, catching its elastic band on the door handle, it wriggled and tugged, stretching desperately towards the Summoner until Harry took the liberty of collecting it. Hurrying over, he stretched the elastic unevenly over his mother’s head, her titian hair puffing in the back.

‘Thank you, Harry,’ she said as she laid her head back against the cushion.

‘Shhh!’ Harry put a finger to her lips. Then, satisfied with her pressed-lip compliance, he turned back to his father. ‘Onwards, now, to slay the foul beast,’ he said and trotted out of the room and down the corridor, sword aloft.

The moment was rare and within reach. James, taking full advantage, planted a deep kiss on Lily’s unsuspecting lips.

‘Isn’t the prince supposed to be the one to kiss the princess awake?’ she whispered.

‘Not in this fairytale,’ James whispered back, his breath against her ear sending goosebumps along the flank of her body.

Distantly, there was a crash and a shrill YEOWL!

‘Oh, Harry, leave the cat alone,’ Lily called, voice biting James’s still-close ear.

‘But it’s not a cat. It’s a dragon!’ Harry’s voice sailed in from somewhere in the kitchen or dining room.

Lily lifted the purple mask from one piercing eye, which fixed itself on James.

A beat.

‘I’m gonna go save our son from the dragon,’ said James.

‘Mhm,’ Lily hummed and resumed position.

[jilymicrofics]

✨THE REVEALS ✨

Thank you to all our fabulous participating authors this year! We can now reveal who created which work: Deerstalker by @annabtg

Evidence by @sophie-hatter-jenkins

A Portrait of a Young Family by @tedwardremus

the sign of four by @neverenoughmarauders

self preservation of a goldfish by @sapphireleo

quiet and loud by @exalthia (Rebeccaseal)

Be sure to go and give each of these authors some love on their fics! A huge round of applause goes to @merlinsbbeard, neverenoughmarauders, SapphireLeo, annabtg, and sophie-hatter-jenkins for a clean sweep of correct guesses! No one could hide from you clever detectives 🕵️

[merlinsbbeard]

Call me Inspector Merlin from now on

[tedwardremus]

The street was ordinary, the sort of street where nothing interesting ever happened. Privet Drive sat in neat rows of identical houses with polished windows, trimmed hedges, and spotless driveways. But Harry stood at his bedroom window watching it with fierce anticipation, tapping excitedly against the glass and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

So far, the most exciting thing to happen all morning was a bird landing in the neighbor’s tree.

The Dursleys were leaving for a long weekend at the seaside with the family of one of Uncle Vernon’s colleagues, and as always, Harry had been informed he was not invited on the family holiday.

Which were Harry’s favorite words in the world to hear. Because whenever the Dursleys went away on their wonderful trips and weekends, Harry got to leave Privet Drive, too.

Harry pressed closer to the clean windowpane. Outside, Uncle Vernon was stuffing suitcases into the car while Dudley wailed about wanting to bring more toys and complained that there wasn’t enough room for another suitcase.

Then Harry heard it.

A crack echoed down the street.

Harry spun around and bolted downstairs.

“He’s here!” he shouted, skidding into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was watering her houseplants.

“Don’t run in the house!” she snapped. “You’ll break something!”

Uncle Vernon stomped into the kitchen behind her. “The car’s all packed. I told you, Petunia, the boot is perfectly suited for all our luggage. High-quality engineering.”

“Uncle Vernon, Sirius is here! You don’t have to worry about traffic anymore, he’s right on time!”

Uncle Vernon checked his watch with a grunt. “Did he? Of course. Unemployed layabout.”

Harry frowned. “Sirius has a job. He works for the bank.”

“Of course he’s unemployed,” Vernon said loudly. “That’s why you live here eating my food and living off my hard-earned salary, you ungrateful—”

“Really, Vernon?”

The kitchen fell silent.

Harry turned and saw Sirius leaning casually in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, dark hair falling into his eyes.

“Well then,” Sirius continued lightly, “I’d love to know what happens to the monthly stipend I send for Harry’s care.”

“Sirius!” Harry shouted.

He ran straight at his godfather, and Sirius knelt to hug him tightly.

“You packed?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded eagerly.

“Brilliant.”

With an easy flick of his wand, Sirius summoned Harry’s backpack from upstairs. It shot down the staircase and into his waiting hand.

“I told you,” Uncle Vernon sputtered, his face turning purple, “not to do that dangerous, ridiculous nonsense in my house!”

Sirius straightened slowly. He was much taller than Vernon, and Vernon instinctively took a step backward as Sirius approached.

“My apologies, Vernon,” Sirius said smoothly, slipping his wand into his pocket. “I’ll try not to terrify you with magic an eleven-year-old can manage.”

Vernon opened and closed his mouth a few times before muttering, “Right. Well. No time to waste. We’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

Sirius turned to Aunt Petunia. “I’ll bring Harry back Sunday evening.”

Petunia gave a stiff nod and a sharp sniff but didn’t say a word.

Then Sirius took Harry’s hand, and together they walked down Privet Drive. Somehow the street already seemed brighter, more alive, simply because Harry was leaving it behind.

“Do I have to come back?” Harry asked quietly after a moment. “I want to live with you.”

Sirius squeezed his hand gently and smiled down at him.

“Just wait until you’re seventeen.”

“That’s ages away!”

“Only ten years,” Sirius said lightly. “And you’ll spend most of them at Hogwarts. Trust me, once you get there, you’ll barely think about Privet Drive at all.”

Harry sighed. There was no point arguing. Sirius always gave the same answer. Harry had to stay with the Dursleys, and Sirius would always be there whenever he needed him.

Still, Harry knew he was lucky. Lots of people didn’t have anyone at all. Harry had Sirius, and Harry knew—without a doubt—that Sirius loved him.

“Can we fly our brooms this weekend?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Of course. And we’ll go to the bookshop and get ice cream in Diagon Alley too.”

Harry’s face broke into a grin so wide it almost hurt.

He was going to have the best weekend ever.

[sotrias-labyrinth-deactivated20]

I feel like when I say ‘relatable’ what I really mean is ‘resonant.’ I don’t want characters who I feel are like me, I want characters who have emotions so strong I can feel them through the page.

[secretlyatargaryen]

I think this is important because a lot of us forget the power of stories to make us feel things about characters who are not like us, who have experienced things that we never will. The purpose of listening to someone else's story should not necessarily be identification, but understanding.

[merlinsbbeard]

While the Village Sleeps For @jilymicrofics March prompt: tobogganing Words: 541

A snowy Winter's night means tobogganing with the Potters. Read on AO3 or below the cut

Lily’s purple-gloved hands covered her face as a yawn escaped her for the third time since they’d come outside. The cobbled pathways, hedges, low stone walls and slanted, tiled rooftops of Godric’s Hollow had all been blanketed by snowfall. The village itself looked like one of those miniature sets her nana took out every year, with the frosted, fake trees and a working, mechanical train set.

It was the middle of a black night, and way past Harry’s bedtime, but in the morning—when the sun had risen and the village awoken—the streets would have turned to a grey slush. So, they’d woken him once the snowfall began to thin, bundled him doublewide in thick winter socks, gloves, jackets, scarves and beanies, and trudged out into the fresh snow.

The best slope for tobogganing was behind the church. If you went to the top, you could look out onto the whole sleepy village, lit only by the flaming lampposts and the vague impressions of flickering fireplaces through living room windows.

Harry had made it halfway up the slope before getting impatient with all the slipping and sliding nonsense. Now he’d climbed into the toboggan while James held it steady, and was rocking forward and back, pretending to rev it like an engine.

‘Ready, Mummy? Mummy. Are you watching me?’ Harry called, his voice small against the vast, open slope.

Lily waved both arms at him. ‘I’m watching!’ she called back from where she stood at the base.

‘Free . . . two . . . one . . .’ came Harry’s little voice once more.

James gave a great push, and Harry came pelting down the slope, raking a trail through the snow as he went, scream-cackling the whole way down.

‘Oomph,’ he said involuntarily after he gained a bit of air and came crashing back into the ground once more.

His momentum slowed as he reached the thicker snow at the foothill. Then the toboggan spun, gliding sideways for a moment before he caught an edge and flipped into a bit of shrubbery.

‘Uh oh,’ said Lily, a few metres away. ‘You alright, buddy?’

She trudged over as quickly as she could, but by the time she was there, he was already up and dusting the snow off his clothes.

‘That was so fun,’ Harry said, grinning beneath his beanie, which had smushed down over most of his face. Lily readjusted it to reveal his green eyes shining up at her. ‘Try it!’ He grabbed the rope and offered it to her. ‘Don’t worry, Mummy. I’ll catch you if you go too fast.’

Lily chuckled. ‘Thank you, Harry, but Mummy can’t go this time. Why don’t you ask Daddy instead?’ she said, rubbing her belly over her coat.

‘Is it toz of the baby?’ Harry asked.

Lily nodded, and Harry stared at the ground for a moment, rubbing his knees together and huddling one arm close to his body.

‘Can the baby have hot chocolates with us when we get home?’ he mumbled towards the ground.

Lily smiled, patting his head. ‘Of course.’

‘I want four marshmallows in mine,’ Harry said. Then he waddled off up the hill, apparently satisfied with that conclusion. And halfway up he called out to James: ‘Daddy, let’s go down together this time!’

[merlinsbbeard]

Anatomy of a Flower-Girl For @jilymicrofics February prompt: lily, white Words: 124

A poetic account of Lily, probably written by James at some point, probably in his textbook. Read on AO3 or below the cut

She is Lilium candidum, the Madonna lily, the white lily, or whichever name you like to call her. Her eyes are the lanceolate leaves, her hair the titian textures on the innermost section of each silken petal. Her freckles, those speckles the hue of a barn swallow’s belly, are the pollen grains that coat the anthers. And her pinkish skin holds the same qualities as the sculptural, unopened bud. Green veins thrumming.

She is there, leaning asymmetrically in a glass vase, her hip propped against the wooden edge of a table. Her petals droop and fall when she tires, landing as copper lashes on the hollows of her eyes. The ink-smudged heel of her hand: pollen stains on the cotton tablecloth. Foliate shoulder sloping.

[merlinsbbeard]

The Whistle-Stop Broom For @jilymicrofics January prompt: flounder Rated: T Words: 368

Lily did not consider herself a graceful flyer by any extension of the term. It'd been six years since she took those compulsory flying lessons in first year and just as long since she'd even thought about touching a broom. Now, her boyfriend James had convinced her to let him teach her the basics. 'It'll be fun,' he'd said. Read on AO3 or below the cut

‘I don’t like this, James. I don’t like this at all.’

‘It’s easy if you just relax,’ James called to her. ‘Breathe.’

‘I can’t,’ she said, clenching the broomstick between her thighs as if her life depended on it. It shuddered beneath her. ‘I’m going to fall.’

‘I won’t let you fall,’ said James. His hands came to the front end of her broom, steadying it to a gentle sway. ‘Why don’t you try going higher?’

‘Higher?’ said Lily, and as if it were a well-trained dog who’d just heard the word sic, the broom shot up through the air.

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck, were the words running through her brain as the grass of the Quidditch Pitch sank away and the brightly coloured turrets of the stands became streaks of colour against the blurred, blue, spring afternoon sky.

‘Brake, Lily,’ said James, streaming after her on his own broom. ‘Brake!’

‘I—can’t—brake,’ cried Lily, her voice carrying out in all cardinal directions as the broom began to spin on its x-axis.

James stuck the tips of his thumb and forefinger into his mouth, frowning lightly as he blowed a clear, sharp whistle through the air.

Automatically, the broom slowed, the spinning stopped, and Lily came to a stable halt halfway up the length of the goalposts. She was no longer sitting up in good form. Instead she was leant forward, clutching the handle to her chest as if she were trying to meld to and become one with the broomstick. Her eyes were scrunched shut. (If she opened them to see the ground floating far beneath her, she thought she might be sick.)

James was at her side within seconds. ‘Alright, that was a really good start.’

‘Shut up, and get me down.’

‘On it.’

He climbed onto her broom behind her, pulling her tightly to his chest with one arm in case she started to flounder about again. He tilted the broom handle down with the other, guiding them towards the ground. His broomstick towed along behind them.

‘Lucky it had training wheels on,’ he said as they touched down.

Lily, who could’ve kissed the ground in that moment, spun to him incredulously. ‘That was with training wheels?’

[radioactive-earthshine]

Not sure why it's a new trend among fic readers to assume if the fic has not been posted within the week it's inappropriate to comment on it, like the fic has to be hot out of the oven to give feedback for.

I got a comment on a fic that is less than a year old and it was mostly an apology for being a comment on an "old fic" and how late they were in commenting.

Just comment on the fic. Doesn't matter how old it is.

[mysteryteacup]

Fandom is not social media.

Fandom is not trends.

Fandom is a cross between a library and having a slumber party with your friends.

"Old" means nothing to fic.

[houndsofmercury]

sirius definitely kisses a little mean when he’s jealous. sharp little bites, hands gripping wayy too tight. & remus, naturally, thinks this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, every time

[lalunavinoalafragua]

Something quick, messy and unfinished. I mean my sketch.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/84317986/chapters/222999006#workskin

[kalgalen]

"i want then to make each other worse" i want them to have an impact on each other that's hard to define as objectively good or bad but is still sure to change the trajectory of their lives and alter their very being on a fundamental level forever

[hinny-is-my-comfort-ship]

sirius black is naturally cruel and works to be kind

regulus black is naturally kind and works to be cruel

[hedonisticeiram]

🫠

[lalunavinoalafragua]

Something for all the Lily Evans out there

@shirtlessjamespottermay