James Potter
That table full of reckless weirdos
IN THE CASTLE THAT LITERALLY NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT I’M STILL IN AWE
If undelivered, return to:
Elliott Gilbert
62 Vade Park
If you get lost follow the trail of glitter
Jamison,
I will in fact acknowledge that we both miss each other a lot and thus i cannot use that as blackmail. However, I feel like I should remind you I have a long list of things I can blackmail you on. So I’d be careful of that score board of yours, before I end up using that against it.
OH MY GOD CAN SHE DO THAT? CAN SHE DO THAT AND NOT GET US ARRESTED HOLY SHIT? Like, obviously I’m still going to dye my hair (I’ll totally go silver and include a picture in the next letter) but that is so AWESOME. Oh my God. Hug her for me. I will always prefer the Muggle way but I am so, so game for that. Also, the reason I prefer it is because Muggles are cooler than wizards #sorrynotsorry.
What happens if you just casually transfigure all of the robes in the castle into them? Consider it the castle’s biggest prank. I’m sure all the upper level students will get in on it with you. Or at least, the Muggleborns will? If they’ve got any taste at all.
True, true. Just wasn’t sure with your crazy prefect/captain duties and our combined study schedules if it’d be a thing. But I’m totally game for it. It’s going to be so good to hear your voice again. I mean, I’m sure you’ll drive me crazy in like ten seconds, but the time before that will be wonderful. And talking to Quinn will be great, too.
I dunno about your face, though. I mean, it’s pretty damn nice. But illegal to mess it up? That might just be a little bit much, even for you. Besides, getting a little roughed up could make you hotter. You just have to toe the line very, very carefully I think. You could probably stand to get a little hotter.
I wish you all the luck in the world. And now Amy can cheer for me for you too! Which reminds me. Do not let my baby sister play Quidditch until she’s taller than a broom that is expressly forbidden. Like, I will probably punch you if I find out she’s on the quidditch team, okay? Cool. Love you, but I gotta do my big brother threats.
Seriously?? Seriously? You have tests named after owls and newts? One’s a cute lil bird and the other’s a freaking lizard? James. Jamie. Bro. You gotta talk sense into the people who make the rules cause that’s just ridiculous. You could even call the CATs like. Cumulative Analysis Tests considering that’d actually make sense.
DRINK RESPONSIBLY? I’M A TEENAGER THAT MEANS I’M SUPPOSED TO GO OUT EVERY WEEKEND, GET SMASHED, STUMBLE HOME DRUNK AND BE HUNGOVER THE NEXT DAY
Sure you can! You just gotta y’know, make sure that she remembers it’s not just talent it’s how she holds and presents herself too. Stage presence is a huge thing and doesn’t require your ears so I’ll scream as loud as I want ;)
It’s the best kind of history though. It’s the kind of history about other species and superheroes and the things that dictate a fucking magical world. We just need a find a way for me to listen in on your lectures, and then I’ll gush about them. That can be how you study.
And yes, I would blame you. But I’ll help you anyways. Because you’re cute and that way you can understand what’s going on when I drag you out to do things when you come for the holidays. Gotta keep you well trained and all that, right? Plus yes, I am the best.
Elli
P.S.: They’ll be over before you know it.
P.P.S.: She did and I cried a little and told her that she needs to hug you once a day for me too.
James Sirius Potter
(Yes, THAT James Sirius Potter)
(Surprisingly enough, it’s quite a rare name)
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
My Arse, Probably
It was another mission. The usual briefing, - Diagon Alley, six man team, Lynn keeping touch with Wilde back at Orriz Road, simple instructions; scope the street out, ensure the area was safe before the Ministry gave the clear for the public to mingle again. It didn’t stop the public from mingling already, the bustling street a clear sign that the Wizarding community felt a sthough the worst was over, but a job was still a job. Rose was covering a team over in the west, and he was here. Diagon Alley, at it’s busiest since the war had begun.
At that point, however, James had learned to differentiate between what felt tense, and what felt off. The world was tense, - not sure if they had reached the end of the storm, or the eye of it. But the people seemed calm, and while James was more than happy to go back to the Ministry, and to Orriz Road, with reassuring words, there was something about the familiar street that stopped him from returning.
They had a job to do. Peace or not, he would see it through.
His wand was holstered to his forearm, stuck with Louis’ latest ingenious invention; with one flick of his wrist, the wand would be in his duelling hand, without risk of it getting caught in the hip holster his father had begun to favour. It was a small relief, but a relief all the same. James, who had been caught in a moment of staring at the shops around him, forced himself to focus. They were on a mission, for Godric’s sake. Search the shops, search the basements, clear the street. He shook his head, turning back to his team to start their work, -
- when Ryder’s gaze turned to something behind him, and the bolt of lightning hit James’ back before he could hear Ryder yell a warning.
James fell, body convulsing with the electricity that pulsed through his veins. It burned, made him seize up, caused the civilians around them to go running, screaming, - though all James could comprehend was fire, and pain, and loud, muffled noises.
There was satisfaction in the strike that hit the target, the way the other man tensed as he fell to the ground, shaking and convulsing. He wasn’t dead just yet- but he would be soon. The blasting curse missed the blond witch that had been his target, left a crater in the ground and the soldier moved forward, undeterred as he approached Potter and fired off another hex.
A member of his team blocked it this time and the soldier fixated on the man before him. He didn’t know the man’s name, nor did he care for it. All he knew was this man wasn’t a hero, and the curse he sent flying at the soldier was strong, but blocked easily enough despite it. Even when the witch joined in, and the two of them were working as a single unit, the soldier wouldn’t lose easily. He wouldn’t go down.
Instead, he blocked spell after spell, firing his own off faultlessly. They were good, but he was better. He had to be. And they had to worry about the civilians around them. The soldier had no such concerns.
So his next shot went wide, grazing a civilian just to watch the Aurors react, torn between himself and protecting the others, as they moved forward. His steps were slow and deliberate, tension crackled beneath his skin and as the Aurors moved he sent a curse flying at them. It was the wrong target, of course, his hair dark but too long, his eyes the wrong color but it was soothing in a way despite it all watching the curse flay him and the man fall to the ground bleeding out. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be soon, and in the mean time...
The soldier had to dodge a series of hexes, body twisting and lightning crackling around him as he threw up a shield charm. One spell struck him, singed his arm through the protective clothing, another nearly took out his leg, and the soldier sent out a blast of lightning that surrounded them forcing the others away as he focused on Potter now, wand raised.
James Potter
Gryffindor House Table
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
If undelivered, return to:
Elliott Gilbert
Same Bedroom As Always
Same House As Always
Please Don’t Scare the Muggles Godric
Jamie,
You’re lucky that I love you, and it’s cute when you miss me as much as I do you. The fact that I was hoping you’d write me soon probably says about me, as much as you writing says about you. I miss your face like hell, and I’m assuming you miss mine too, so I’ve opted to include a selfie I took for your viewing pleasure. I’m thinking about dying my hair for the next one. Thoughts on color?
Also, what the hell? That sucks about Kurt. He was the only hope for fashion the guys in your dorm had. I’ll just have to work harder to teach you about good clothing choices outside of robes, even from a distance. But yeah, that’d be awesome. Thank you. ♥
Seriously though! That’s awesome! I mean, now that you guys can finally tell me all this shit, and NOW I CAN PROPERLY ENJOY YOUR CULTURE FROM A DISTANCE oh my god I’m so happy. Can we use these mirrors to talk once in a while too? Like, I still want letters, oh my God you’re not allowed to ever stop writing me just so we’re clear. But if our schedules ever match up I’d love to have like a ten second conversation with you every once in a while.
And yes, you are a genius. Though I mean, I dunno. Sounds like your cousin’s the real brains of the operation.
Also I’m still waiting on Amy’s letter, so she better have written me already it better get here soon. Is she making friends? Are people picking on her? Cause I will walk to Hogwarts and kick some serious ass if my baby sister isn’t happy. Magic won’t stop me from showing people a lesson. In other news, thank Dom for the picture! It’s going with the rest of my super secret stash of magic stuff that I totally don’t have.
Okay, but really. Who do you have potions with? Cause if you’ve got it with the Slytherins that make you such a grump, then it’s gunna be a hell year. Drink lots of coffee, it’ll make it better. Congrats on Friday Quidditch though. Just don’t like- Fall off a broom and mess up your weekend, okay? You better not come home with your face all messed up. I’m not going to be very happy with you if you do.
But you will get cookies when you write back saying you’ve led your team to your first, official victory. Just saying.
Also, you’re going to be fine when you graduate. Kick ass on those crazy exams of yours. I know you said you had owls or whatever fifth year? So what pet are these named after? Cats? Muggles have an MCAT, so I’m gunna go for that one and call it good. Let me live in ignorant bliss, okay? Cats are probably cuter than whatever you guys actually call them
PASS YOUR CLASSES. MAKE GOOD CHOICES. I WILL WRITE BACK ABOUT MY OWN CLASSES WHEN I’VE DECIDED WHAT’S WORTH MY TIME THIS YEAR!
Still no band. Still not famous yet. Will hopefully change by next letter, you’ll know because you’ll probably be able to hear me screaming all the way from the castle.
HOW CAN YOU NOT PAY ATTENTION IN HISTORY OF MAGIC??? You’re learning about so much cool shit, taught by Captain America?? Seven years later, I’m still in awe of you, Jamie. Pay attention for my sake, at least.
And tell Cap I say hi. Like, you can legally do that now and not get arrested. Oh my God is he ever on the train? Can I meet him at the station? THE WORLD IS FULL OF POSSIBILITIES.
Ell
P.S.: I miss you too, Jamie. Ten more months til you’re sick of me always.
P.P.S.: MY BABY SISTER IS A GRYFFINDOR SEND HELP SHE’S GUNNA BE JUST LIKE YOU. I CANT HANDLE TWO OF YOU
The soldier had another mission. That was the only reason he was ever pulled out of stasis, that the spells were lifted and he was truly able to be again. The war was over, had been over for-
He didn’t know. Had no idea how many missions he’d had since. His body still bore the scars from them, even with the protective clothing he wore. They were not the robes that his targets so often wore, but tight fitting pants and a shirt, designed to deflect magic. Between that and the mask that both hid and protected his face, he was well shielded.
But his targets had only gotten harder to kill, as the years passed. He knew this one would be the hardest. James Sirius Potter. The Golden Boy of the Ministry, Son of the Savior of the Wizarding World. He was a level seven threat. Fully capable of eliminating most assailants the Brotherhood sent after him.
The soldier was not most. He’d been trained better than that, had long since learned to master both his magic, and his powers. The Potter boy would die. The soldier had never been more confident of anything else, as he apparated into London, finding his footing easily on the roof he landed on. He had twenty four hours to complete his mission, and the first four were spent doing recon, concealed under layer after layer of disillusionment charms. The intel in the Ministry said that Potter would be on a mission of his own in Diagon Alley soon. It was best to be prepared for it.
Potter arrived as the soldier positioned himself, right on time. The soldier felt the lightning that rose to his fingertips. It had been too long, since his last mission, he thought. Too long, since his last kill and using his power would be a relief. But still, he waited from his perch, concealed until Potter’s focus had shifted completely on his mission.
And then, he dropped to the ground, spells dispersing to leave him visible as he landed. Lightning rose then, and he remembered his handlers words clearly.
‘Potter is important. Kill him slowly and painfully. Make it hurt, and be sure it’s visible.
All casualties are acceptable.’
So he let the bolt of lightning loose, sent it straight at Potter, and immediately fired off a silent Blasting Curse, moving forward slowly. Their were other Aurors around. Civilians everywhere, but the soldier didn’t care. He had eyes only for his target.
SUMMARY → During the war, a mission with Elliott’s stealth team goes horribly wrong, leading to Elliott being captured in battle. The torture and what follows leaves them broken at best, and in truth nothing more than a weapon.
NOTES → Warnings for violence and torture
It had begun in chaos.
They remembered the blinding light of spells as they were hurled across the air. They remembered people everywhere. There were their men, a carefully composed team of wizards trained for stealth, speed and their willingness to kill. They remembered being ambushed despite it all, and the battle that had followed.
And then there was nothing but pain. Screaming at their men to go, get out of there while they still could. They remembered the look of panic that had flashed across Brody’s features at the words, the way he’d opened his mouth to protest and the way that Elliott had blocked a hex heading for the other man, swore, and cast a hex that covered the field in lightning and chasing after them.
Elliott had watched them go, had known their team would make it out alive, and had thanked God for it.
And then a curse had taken them down.
Elliott had bit back a scream as pain lit across their body, rippling down their spine and making breathing more difficult than it should have been. They’d hardly been able to see through it, blood loss had left them dizzy and shaken but they’d forced themself to power through it.
They’d sworn once to fight as long as they could, that they’d fight until the day they died. And as they rounded on the men coming after them and their team, Elliott vowed that would be true.
They would protect their team, they’d make it out of this alive, and they’d return home- to James.
James Potter, son of the savior of the wizarding world. Seen by so many as a leader in this war for his family name and his history. Jamie, to Elliott, who’d never cared about that, and had so much more to fight for, for that reason alone.
The memory pushed Elliott forward, and the wizard called on curse after curse, sending spells flying at their enemies. It was four on one, unfair and Elliott was ridiculously outmatched, but still they fought. They hadn’t trained for years, for nothing after all. And they’d made it out alive of those situations, they’d make it out of this one too.
Still, curses hit where they shouldn’t have, and Elliott knew that if their team had noticed them breaking away from the group, there would probably be too many people between them. If Elliott wanted to get out of this, they’d have to do it alone.
They fought, matching hex for hex and ignoring blood wounds that opened on their skin in the process. it wasn’t until a curse hit them, barely glancing off of their shoulder but sending fire coursing through their veins that they dropped to the ground wand held aloft still.
It was a final stunner that made them stop, unable to move, barely able to breathe and dizzy with pain as one of their opponents cast the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was too much, it left Elliott reeling and before they knew it, they were gone, unable to stay conscious any longer.
When they came to, it was to whispered snatches of words, bits of conversation that hardly made sense as they tried to focus. They needed to find a way to remember all of this, to get it back to James.
“...others got away. They Apparated once they were out...”
“The Golden Boy might...fetch a high price.”
Elliott knew they had to fight, at that. They had to tell them no, that it wouldn’t be acceptable. They could hurt Elliott all they wanted- they wouldn’t let them hurt James.
But their struggles were cut short by a heavy boot kicking them hard and sending them falling back on the ground with a low cry. It hurt, their lungs burned and Elliott couldn’t look away from the woman who knelt down, features covered by a mask.
“You will be silent. You will answer when spoken to, or you will pay for your disobedience.” Elliott’s only response was to spit in her face, and the woman dropped him painfully hard to the ground. “He is stubborn. That will make him useful.” She declared. “Break him.”
There were no words, for what came next, no way to possibly describe it. They’d sworn until they were gagged, fought until they were restrained and when they were released only to be hit by the Cruciatus Curse time and time again, it was all Elliott could do to endure.
When they shifted methods, torturing Elliott with hexes that cut through their skin, burned them and made them shake and sob with pain, Elliott still remained steadfast and firm. They cried and screamed, but they did not beg for mercy and they didn’t give what their tormentors wanted.
When the war had begun, they’d had but two people they were truly loyal to in the wizarding world. And now, they clung to the memory of one of them, thinking of James as they’d seen him last. Home and safe, eyes tight and with a silent plea in his gaze for Elliott to come home safe.
Elliott couldn’t give him that anymore, but they would protect him, and his secrets until his dying day. As long as James believed in them, Elliott could keep fighting.
And Elliott knew James would never stop.
So they bore the torment for hours -or maybe it was days- and fought for the only thing that truly mattered now. When it finally stopped, and Elliott lay there in a heap, hardly able to breathe, they knew there was little worse than this. To be healed, only to be tortured again.
All they knew was that they didn’t know how much more of this that they could take. That their body and mind both felt fragile, imbalanced and something was wrong.
It was terrifying, but worse than that was the feeling of being lifted from the ground. When they were set on a bed -or was it a table?- and restrained once more, they didn’t know what it meant. All they knew was their control was completely gone, they were delirious, and despite it all they knew they still had to fight.
“You are a strong soldier. Your strength will be their downfall.”
Elliott wanted to protest, to scream and fight once more, but a spell rendered them silent and they couldn’t move. They had no voice, no way to do anything except to try to endure as spell after spell was cast, and their mind went blank, unable to withstand the assault any longer.
When his eyes opened once more, his mind was clear of thoughts and distractions. Slowly, he began a self assessment of his body, lips pursed. He knew he should be hurting, that there should be pain and hunter there. But he felt healthy, put together and whole.
He shifted to sit on the table, no longer restrained as he determined his body was health. He felt strong, confident, despite two men who watched him closely. Slowly, the soldier dipped his head to them in respect- they were commanding officers. Nameless, but in charge. He knew that now.
He just didn’t know how.
“He’s ours, now.” The one on the left was saying. “Wiped clean.” Then, the masked man faced him. “Soldier! What is your name?”
He blinked twice, lips pursed in thought. “I have no name.” His voice was flat, toneless. “I am merely a weapon.”
“And your loyalties lie to...?”
“You, Sir.” This, The Soldier knew. “To you. To my handlers and commanding officers.”
“Well done,” Something in The Soldier settled at the reassurance and he nodded once, head held high and body ready to move whenever he was given instructions to do as much. “Come. It’s time we test your programming, before we begin your training.”
The soldier nodded once, and listened as the other man, who’d been silent thus far spoke. “Your records indicate a certain skill with wandless magic. Do you recall it?”
The Soldier nodded once, but didn’t call the lightning he knew that he could. He didn’t know how he could do it, either- but he knew that if he focused on the spell, it would come to him as easily as breathing. It was a Power, one he’d mastered though he couldn’t recall it.
For another, it might have been disconcerting. For him, it just was.
“Do you feel you could be capable of doing it?”
“Yes,” The Soldier answered easily. “Do you wish for me to do so, Sir?”
“We do,” The man stopped and The Soldier stilled as he did. He watched as the other opened a door, and realized it led to a cell. The man inside was slender and blond, shorter than The Soldier, and when he looked up, The Soldier registered frightened, gray eyes that calmed at the sight of him. The Soldier recognized the look on his features, realized his expression shifted from horrified to relief, before the scene was changing.
“Elli-”
The man broke off with a cry as one of the commanding officers cast a spell that had him flying back against the wall, and The Soldier stared at him, brow furrowed. The face came to mind easily enough, but there was nothing attached to it. No context, no name. The man just was, in the same way that the soldier was.
He was a target, The Soldier realized as one of his commanding officers nodded once at the man. He was the one who he was to attack.
So The Soldier lifted a hand, focused and watched lightning form in his palm, only to strike the man. He didn’t flinch at the choked off scream, or the smell of burning flesh as it reached him, but simply looked to his commander, waiting for instructions.
“The programming holds true, then,” The officer remarked, looking pleased with himself as the soldier regarded the body before him. “Muscle memory and knowledge of his skill set seems to remain. We’ll have to test it appropriately.” The officer nodded to the Soldier, “You did well.”
The soldier just nodded, disregarding the next words of ‘send the boy’s body back in a box. Allow his brother to make of it what he will.’ as he was led out of the room. It wasn’t his place to ask questions, he knew that as he followed his handler.
He was a weapon and a tool, he would serve only his purpose and then wait until his next order came. It was all he’d ever known.
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
areudirty
germansingergirl
gummygunk
vaporwave
stormborns
origamiaround
