Teddy Lupin: twenty-five, long cream-colored jumpers and sweater paws, morphs his face to make others laugh, perpetually changing hair (though he likes turquoise best), everyone’s older brother, dances through empty streets, unaware, unassuming of the danger lurking in the empty alleyways, visits all the owls in the Owlery so none of them feel left out, licking his lips to get the last taste of chocolate, restless fingers drumming across table tops, jittery legs bouncing up and down, clumsy falls down the stairs, nervous ruffling of the hair, sympathetic understanding behind every word, ready in an instant, always there for everyone, even before he’s there for himself
Victoire Weasley: twenty-three, perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect lips, surpasses perfect expectations, blood rushing behind pale cheeks, tidy room, long days cuddled by the fire, weaving flowers into crowns, always conscious of everything and everyone, twirls hair when thinking too hard, cries into her pillow at night, floaty pink dresses at red carpet premieres, media’s little princess, delicate, like the first dandelion in a field of weeds, like the quiet wind bristling through trees, like the butterfly landing on a flower, but strong, like the ocean pounding on the sand and her mother’s steady smile
Molly Weasley: twenty-one, stays up late to look at the stars, dreams about taking off, flying, soaring into the bright light of the sun, drinks hot chocolate in the summer, finds safety in her friends, purple bruises under her eyes, looking out for her sister, breathing out smoke during late nights on the Astronomy Tower, working harder than her father, playing piano on rainy Sunday afternoons, feels her heart beating out of her chest, blood pumping through her blood, mechanical smile, pretends everything is okay, muted, like a smothered fire, a flower protecting itself from sunshine, like blooming red disappearing from your cheeks
James Potter: nineteen, an easy laugh that makes people fall in love, unruly black hair that has never sat down since his mother tried to comb it when he was four, bruised knuckles and glittering eyes, running laps around the quidditch pitch before the sun begins to rise, presses a kiss to his sister’s hair to show he loves her, ruffles his brother’s hair to show he cares, an easy, carefree smile that stops the heart, made of reflex, of instinct, of guts, of daring, made of throwing himself head first in front of any challenge, even if it kills him
Fred Weasley: nineteen, dark hair, dark eyes, freckles dusting across his nose, quick wit that pierces the soul, lying faceup on the grass to enjoy the sun, brainstorming new pranks for the store, always beside james, forever hums new music under his breath, pours firewhisky down his burning throat, visits late night at his uncle’s grave, leaves flowers every time he goes, shoes and expectations too big for him to hope to fill but he tries nevertheless, a practiced sense of carefree that doesn’t quite reach eyes (but oh he tries)
Dominique Weasley: nineteen, long eyelashes and a look that could kill, biting french mumbled under her breath, fiercely protective over her brother, full of nerves and fear, consuming her, but she hides with a wink and a smirk, pretends she’s above it all, dyes her long red hair to rebel, runs away to her uncle Charlie in Romania for four weeks before her parents bring her back home, still dreams of dragons and fire and freedom, smokes outside her parents’ cottage to try and calm her shaking hands but the shaking doesn’t stop
Rose Weasley: seventeen, curly hair she wraps around her finger when she’s focusing, sneaks into the kitchens at midnight to procrastinate from studying, reads books under her covers but not books of facts, reads books of adventure, passion, and heartbreak and falls asleep dreaming of an exciting life, not her mother - would you please stop asking - but loves them more than anything, but she hates her family’s name, hates that she has to see the toll it takes on her cousins, hates that she has to see them fall apart while she has to hold strong, like the shore that refuses to break under the ocean’s waves
Lucy Weasley: seventeen, tracing constellations on her wrists, stays up too late because of thinking too hard, spends nights flying through the sky on her broomstick, wakes up with dark circles under her eyes, plays music like it’s her lifeline, strums on the guitar until her fingers bleed and mumbles lyrics under her breath until she’s mouthing them in her sleep, spends her holidays in Muggle villages visiting her mother’s family, lives on the outside edges of her family, glossed over in a sea of cousins brighter, more confident than she is, desperate for a way in
Louis Weasley: seventeen, blond hair, blue eyes, body and bones sculpted by the gentle hands of the gods, the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, the most unhappy boy you’ve ever seen, forever smoothing down his hair with trembling fingers, almost-there snark covered in a shroud of uncertainty, breathes deeply to remember where he is, floats on his back in the ocean until he feels like he’s dreaming, kisses boys against cool sheets in the dead of the night, presses his lips to their fingertips when the morning comes, closes his eyes hoping he wakes up in someone else’s skin, opens his eyes realizing this is the only thing he’s ever going to get
Albus Potter: seventeen, green eyes often accompanied by “you have your father’s eyes” which he knows, thank you very much, different from everyone in his family but tries so hard to keep it in, uneasy panic that keeps him awake at night, falls in love with best friend and tastes the stars in his mouth, presses kisses on his shoulders to tell him i love you, sometimes wakes up screaming in the middle of the night so panicked he thinks he may as well be dead, calms down when scor pulls him in close and whispers i love you, thinks that it’s not now but one day maybe this will all be okay
Roxanne Weasley: sixteen, emits joy and brightness unlike anybody else, a giggle and cheeky smirk that’s often accompanied with a small explosion somewhere, loud, confident, unabashedly herself, the kind of comfortable in her own skin that’s magnetic, draws everyone in the room towards her, defends her family with unmatched love and ferocity, dancing in the rain until her feet feel like falling off, kissing the girl and holding her hand in the hall because she’s proud of who she is, Paris, Rome, Japan, new and exciting adventures every day, always moving, never stopping
Lily Potter: fifteen, sparkling hazel eyes and a shock of red hair, unbridled joy for seeing the world around her, but a strong appreciation for the little moments, helps her grandma knit sweaters during Christmas holidays, spends summer afternoons babysitting for Muggle children in the nearby village, relaxes by the Black Lake to bask in the sun, picks flowers from meadows and gifts them to her family and friends, loves the feeling of wind going through her hair as she’s flying through the sky, breathes a little easier when surrounded by the ones she loves
Hugo Weasley: fifteen, quiet, observant, in his own world, skinny elbows, knees, and ribs that peek from behind his skin, chews on his bottom lip when thinking, wrings his hands under the table when he thinks no one’s looking, reserved but ever present, like the cool fog on early spring mornings, or the birds perched at the edge of the windowsill, dreams of running away and freedom and leaving everything behind, spends late nights at the library pouring over potions and creatures and spells, feels like banging on the tables and screaming asking when he’s going to get noticed but slips by, unnoticed
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
amandla
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