#voldemort rising

[hartbeats-rp]

Are you curious as well, Dear Reader? Then drift back to that Hallowe'en night thirteen years ago...HERE

[hartbeats-rp]

As the snows melted away, Hogwarts emerged into a stiff, steady wind, cold and brisk and carrying with it the scent of rain. Storms clearly lurked in the near future, but for the moment, the school and its grounds stood comfortably between storms: chill and damp but relatively calm. The breeze was strong enough to snatch scarves from necks and hats off of unwary heads--and homework from the hands of students who walked outside to enjoy the fresh air without paying enough attention to how strong that wind really was--but that did not stop student who had been cooped-up all winter from enjoying the weak, watery sunshine.

The sun-bathing inhabitants were entirely unaware of the darkness now lurking within their castle, slowly growing stronger between the yellowed pages of an old, lost diary.

[hartbeats-rp]

[draconis-perfectus]

HEADCANON ☾ SLEEP ~ To Sleep, Perchance to Toss and Turn

Draco, perhaps surprisingly given his otherwise indolent nature, is not much of one for lazying about in the morning. Now, there are certain hours that he feels one should never be awake for, especially when it's cold outside and somebody wants to make him practice Quidditch, but he does not, as a rule, sleep in very late--not for a teenage boy, at least.

Even on week-ends he tends to wake up around nine, never later than ten, and he really hates lounging in bed after awakening. When Draco Malfoy is awake, he wants to be awake--granted, usually clad in a dressing-gown and slippers for several hours, because there's no need to rush one's morning, but he won't just lie there without doing something; reading a book, writing an essay or a letter, something.

When he does sleep, though, he is very dedicated: Draco sleeps heavily and soundly, although not exactly peacefully. In fact, he tends to wrap himself in thick cocoons of bedding that get twisted around his limbs like he's practicing for a metamorphosis. It's a good thing Draco doesn't have to make his own bed, because it would be quite the trial for him to tidy up his nest in the mornings--but even at Hogwarts, the House Elves are used to pampered pure-bloods in Slytherin House, and know that a bit more care and keeping is necessary in the dungeons than most of the other common rooms, where one has to fend for oneself a little bit more, at least when it comes to tidying one's bedding on mornings when the sheets aren't being changed.

Of course, one other thing that the dungeons sees a lot more of than the other dormitories are jinxed, hexed, and warded beds--and few more-so than that of Draco Malfoy. After all, he'd never be able to drop off to sleep at all, let alone as soundly as he does, if he thought that the only thing keeping Crabbe and Goyle at bay was a thick velvet curtain. Safe behind his spells, though, Draco can sleep peacefully, even in a room shared with people who despise him.

Lately though, he's been having a hard time nodding-off, and an even harder one not waking in the middle of the night, shivering from smothered nightmares.

[draconis-perfectus]

Not With a Whimper...

The Boxing Day Gala, December 26th, 1994 - Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

The chaos of all those horrid, flapping things was bad enough on its own; the night was clearly ruined, the gala ending in disarray and disaster--and yes, sure enough, there was his cousin Sirius right in the thick of it, looking pleased as punch and positively roaring with delighted laughter. Draco and Marigold had avoided the worst of the prank, dodging out of sight behind a pillar, and watched from secluded safety while the rest of the guests tried to fight off the little monsters.

Draco shook his head in disgust, and was opening his mouth to make a derisive comment to Marigold--who was quite failing to stifle her giggles, much to his annoyance--but he was diverted by a second commotion, this one coming from the side hallway that led into the depths of the manor, and was definitely not open to guests.

"DOBBY -- WILL -- NOT!"

Dismay was not a strong enough word for the emotion that coursed through Draco at that sound. One of the Malfoys' House Elves--the weirdest, surliest of the lot--entered the ballroom wrapped around the ankle of a staggering James Potter, who was clearly being pulled there against his will by the little creature's magic.

"YOU HAS BEEN VERY BAD, MR. POTTER, VERY BAD INDEED! YOU IS TRESPASSING WHERE YOU IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE, AND TAKING THINGS THAT IS NOT YOURS!"

Draco was absolutely mortified. He couldn't bring himself to even look at Marigold, let alone meet her eyes, for fear of what she would say at the sight of her father being dragged backwards into the room by a mangy House Elf. At least it was in a clean pillowcase today, for once, but really--for an elf, to be manhandling a wizard! Draco thought he might die of shame. Clothes were not a strong enough response to this effrontery.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?"

Draco's father shoved his way through the massing crowd, his expression furious. He didn't seem to be aware of the limply struggling bat-bird-thing tangled in his hair; all of his attention was fixated on the elf and the Auror in front of him.

The elf in question quailed, cringing, and slid almost bonelessly off of Potter's leg. "Dobby is sorry, master! Dobby had to! Please do not be punishing Dobby! Mr. Potter is a bad man, sir, a very bad man! The portraits told Dobby, he is sneaking where is not supposed to be, sir! He is touching master's private things, and having bad thoughts, sir! Do not punish Dobby! Dobby lives to serve!"

Draco's father, still looking furious--his appearance made all the more terrifying by the struggling hex-creature still caught in his hair--reached for his wand, the color high in his pale face, and Draco couldn't restrain a crooked smirk at the thought of the punishment the idiot elf was going to receive for embarrassing them all like this--but then Dobby said:

"He is sneaking in the library, sir, and taking master's books!"

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over Lucius Malfoy. His cold eyes snapped immediately to James Potter, who froze guiltily in the middle of straightening his robes.

"Potter?" Lucius demanded, his voice a dangerous whisper.

"Not at all," James Potter replied immediately, a little too smoothly. "It's just a misunderstanding. I got lost on my way back from the loo, and thought I'd grab something to read, that's all. I'm getting a bit too old for these all-night parties, you know?" The endearing smile on Potter's face apparently had no effect on Draco's father, whose features had gone deeply pale and frighteningly rigid.

Draco noticed Uncle Sev sidling up (his own fancy black robes in a bit of disarray, no doubt from struggling with some of those awful creatures, although he appeared as collected as ever), sallow face drawn and black eyes fixed on Potter. Cousin Sirius crossed from the other side of the room to stand nearby, hardly looking abashed, but with his wand-hand careful empty, no doubt ready to back up his friend in case angry words turned to curses. Lily Potter, meanwhile, just looked annoyed--not surprised so much as exasperated--as she shouldered her way to the front of the crowd. Marigold ran to join her mother, who hugged her daughter absently and gave her husband a look that promised that Lucius Malfoy was going to be the least of his problems when they got home--not that Lucius was proving to be in any way a small, or quiet, problem:

"You go snooping through my home? You, a guest here at my invitation, breaching all bounds of hospitality to trespass in my home and rifle through my private possessions without provocation or leave?"

"You're blowing things way out of proportion here," Mr. Potter snapped back, but Draco's father was clearly in no mood to be reasoned with or mollified; after the chaotic stunt by Cousin Sirius, Draco couldn't blame him for shouting, even though he was now the heart of an ugly scene himself, one that all their guests were watching with rapt, even greedy fascination.

That gave Draco an idea; he backed away slowly, watching the noisy, angry scene playing out in front of him. The moment he was sure that all eyes were diverted, he slipped out the door and down the same hallway that James Potter had been dragged from. Draco hurried quietly to the library, curious to find out precisely what it was that Mr. Potter had found so interesting, and his father so upsetting.

He ambled through the room, looking for anything out of place; there were a few books strewn across a side table, and Draco walked over and started flipping through them. Most seemed to be on the subject of antique Dark Magicks, esoteric and old-fashioned, nothing of much use to anyone but dusty old historians these days--but they must have been of use to someone, or they wouldn't by lying out like this. He lifted the smallest of the books, a shabby old thing whose pages all seemed blank. Weird, he thought, turning it over in his hands curiously.

The sound of pattering footsteps made Draco turn with a guilty start, hiding the book behind his back. A House Elf--thankfully not the one that had started the ruckus with Mr. Potter--scurried into the room, bobbing and bowing. "Mistress has sent Rebby to fetch Master Draco, sir!" she squeaked. "Mistress would like Master Draco's help saying farewell to all the guests, sir! Quickly please, sir, says mistress!"

"Of course," Draco said smoothly, slipping the book discretely into his pocket. He strode out of the library with all due haste, returning to the ballroom to help his parents salvage what they could of the end of the evening and make their inevitably awkward farewells.

In all the disarray, he soon completely forgot about the slim black book tucked inside the pocket of his dress robes.

[spitfire-ginnyweasley-blog]

Diversion || Boxing Day Gala

The only thing making this so-called gala worth going to was Luna's presence. Ginny would never have been invited to this kind of thing by herself or even as part of her family--the Weasleys weren't proper people to bring around to fancy parties--but Luna had kindly extended the invitation, and Ginny couldn't resist getting inside Malfoy Manor when she had the chance.

She was almost regretting it, though, because while the food was great, the company (besides the aforementioned Ravenclaw girl) was awful. A few mild conversations with boring people whose names she vaguely recognized, a few raucous conversations with classmates she knew fairly well but didn't care to hang around with, and enough overhearing conversations Luna was having with people whose expressions were either feigned interest (failing to mask faint confusion) or dreadful bewilderment that Ginny had stopped trying to drink around Luna, because she always ended up snorting it out.

After a few hours, though, she was thirsty, and felt it prudent to stay away from her eccentric friend until she'd finished her drink. Ginny leaned against a pillar at the edge of the room, taking the opportunity while she was out of sight to scratch at her itchy dress robes. Resentfully, she glanced around at all the glamorous attendees, who all looked relaxed in their shiny clothes; either they were faking it or their clothes were worth more than the Weasleys could afford to spend on all their children combined in a year.

Sirius Black was loitering nearby--or at least he was until Harry Potter's dad swung out from between the pillars next to Ginny and yanked him backwards.

She didn't think anything of it until Sirius' protests got too loud and James, trying to be secretively hushed but too eager, quieted him. Something was up, and Ginny was too intrigued to not listen in. Anything to inject some liveliness into the evening.

Thankfully, they hadn't noticed her, and her nonchalant stance leaning against the pillar didn't attract their attention.

"...business to take care of, and I could use a hand."

"You’ve got two. I’m drinking." Ginny stifled a laugh as James Vanished the contents of Sirius' cup; she wasn't very quiet, but Sirius' angry, florid, and eloquent response covered up the giggles she couldn't suppress.

Shushing him quickly, James continued, his tone so serious that it made even Ginny quiet down and pay attention. “I want to spy on your relatives. Harry overheard something pretty interesting between Snivellus and Lucius, and apparently there’s something in the library I ought to take a look at. Give me a hand?”

"You owe me a bottle."

"If we can find an excuse to drag Malfoy in front of the Wizengamot, I’ll buy you five."

"And if he squirms out of it?"

Their answers were so rapid-fire that Ginny was having a hard time keeping up.

"Then I’ll buy you one and we can drink it together in commiseration and misery."

Sirius raised his empty glass in a mock toast, still looking bitter about it being empty. “Well then by all means, let’s cause some trouble. I assume you need me to make a distraction?”

"It is one of your best talents."

Sirius sketched a bow. “Always nice when one’s gifts are appreciated.”

James winked and darted off right past Ginny, still failing to notice her presence. She jumped back around the other side of the pillar just in case Sirius looked in that direction--adults never reacted well when they thought you'd been eavesdropping.

He exited the area, eyes jumping around the faces in the room and landing on Ginny, who pretended not to notice him until he tapped on her shoulder. "Miss Weasley," Sirius Black said, affecting a short little bow, similar to the one she'd just seen him give James. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere else."

If she hadn't overheard the conversation before, she would have been confused--the Blacks weren't exactly friends with the Weasleys. "That about sums it up," Ginny answered, raising her glass (Sirius, reminded of his empty one, glanced at it regretfully). "Galas are dull."

There was a gleam in his eyes. "I hear you're a fan of shaking things up a bit."

Did Sirius listen to Hogwarts gossip? Did the students who were related to him gossip about her? Ginny shrugged it off and grinned at him. "Yeah, I like a little chaos every now and then."

"This party needs a little chaos."

"The Malfoys won't like that very much."

Sirius winked. "I'll take the blame, Miss Weasley."

It took her three minutes and a few well-placed, easily-triggered Bat-Bogey hexes for the room to be overrun with chaos that Fred and George would be proud of. It was a little crude, and she wished she'd had more time, but she'd at least managed to make the bats look like birds this time to hide her identity. From the other side of the room, Sirius shot her a thumbs-up; she saw Mr. Potter disappearing into a hallway right behind him, safely concealed by the screaming women (and some men) who were being pursued by flitting bogeys.

Ginny crossed her arms, nodding and smiling at Luna, who was insisting that the bogey-birds were, in fact, Kinaloons, invisible bird-like creatures who liked to cause mischief and only became visible when they were lured out by the right combination of laughter and alcoholic vapors.

[the-proof-james-and-lily-ha-blog]

Merry Mischief || Prompt

Christmas with the Potters was always a time for celebration. Magical wouldn't be the right term to apply, since they were mostly all wizards, but it certainly was the best way to end the year. Harry went home for Christmas with his sister, like every year. The days before were filled with butterbeer and magical snowball fights in the backyard of the Potters.

His dad spent the whole holidays, as every year, trying to make his mother get under the mistletoe with him. It had been a creative year, putting one under every doorframe in the house. Somehow, his mother managed to avoid getting in any room with his father trailing after her, and even escaped from the ones that popped up in the ceilings at random moments. Harry liked to help his father plan the traps, even when they both knew it wouldn't work -- his mother would only get under one with his dad on Christmas, but his father still did his best to try to do it earlier. Harry laughed with his mother every time it failed, and promptly asked James what would they do next about it.

Harry and Marigold stole all the Christmas biscuits one day before they were supposed to, taking them to her bedroom and then spent the whole day in bed, regretting their choices in life, and swearing to never do it again (as they had done the year before, and would repeat again on the next).

The 24th of December was always the best day of the holidays. The Potters, the rest of the Marauders, Mindy, and Uncle Sev all went to spend the day together at the Potter's house. The house elf made tons of meals and desserts (some dishes with meat especially undercooked for Uncle Moony), everyone did their best to get along...yes, Christmas was the best.

As his father announced that the Mighty Quest For The Presents began, and Marigold and Mindy left the room in a rush to find them, Harry noticed his father grouping the Marauders, talking to them in some hushed, serious tone, unlike the group at all. A pointed look from his mother got Harry leaving the room as well, not thinking much of it.

He and Mindy found the presents -- under his father's cloak of invisibility, as usual -- in Harry's bedroom. They looked at each other, grinned, their fathers' genes intervening once more, and they quickly checked if Marigold wasn't around, before going to the bathroom and putting her presents in the cabinet. Then they went to the living room with their own presents and the cloak, leaving Marigold to look for her own for a while longer, giggling and laughing as they watched her search for them.

Uncle Worms seemed to be better from his motorbike accident, even if still a bit shaken and pale, and he brought Harry a bigger chocolate stack than usual as a thank you for his pretty awesome get well card.

This year's prank present from Uncle Moony went to his dad, who had a very innocent looking book try to woo him with serenades and eating his hair. He gave Harry the two extremely rare chocolate frog cards that he needed to finish his collection, and there weren't enough words in the English language to thank him for it.

Uncle Pads got him a new Quidditch kit. It didn't matter if it was always Quidditch related, he always knew what Harry needed, even if he might have some help from Uncle Moons about it. It didn't matter, everyone always got great presents from him, except Uncle Sev, who received a bottle of shampoo, as he did every year. He still didn't take the hint.

Uncle Sev was a bit odd that year. Well, he was always a bit odd and uncomfortable at Christmas, since he was around all the Marauders, but he was quieter than usual, and he kept looking at Lily, while putting a hand over his left arm, as if something was paining him.

His parents finally kissed under the mistletoe, which made the Marauders applaud as James proclaimed about his victory, and how his bravery and beauty and wits had made him win the kiss of the fairest of all the ladies. His mother hit the back of his head with the mistletoe she threw at him, as usual.

All in all, it had been fun. Which meant the following day would be awful. Everyone dreaded the visit they had to make. Everyone. But it had to be done, so on the 25th, the Potters went to visit the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia, his cousin Dudley and his aunt Marge were the worst company you'd want to have, especially on Christmas. They had to sit around and watch Dudley open about fifty presents, whine about not having more, and then stuff his face in cake.

There were a few good things about the day, though, not everything was lost --  Harry and Marigold would have the pleasure of trying to hide their laughter at Uncle Vernon's attempt to impress their dad with his muggleness; they'd see what was new on the muggle world; and lastly, but not the least, they got a chance of pranking their cousin.

This year they trapped him in the broom closet under the stairs, laughing as they jumped over the steps, stumping them hard so they couldn't hear Dudley. 

But even that didn't last, with Aunt Petunia running to his rescue, and Lily looking at them with so much disappointment that Harry didn't even enjoy when Uncle Vernon opened his present and tried to be polite about getting a mirror that talks back at you.

And if there was any way to get a day worse for Christmas than the Dursleys, then it had to be the Malfoy Gala, in which Harry had to present again. It would be boring and nothing would happen. He really wasn't looking forward to it.

[the-proof-james-and-lily-ha-blog]

Trouble Usually Finds Me || Self Para

After talking to Neville -- and getting tired of watching potential victims approach the punch -- Harry decided that he had a wand, a bunch of pranking material and a Slytherin manor as his playground.

So he very casually left the main room, walking around the hallways in the Malfoy manor, and started unlocking and locking the doors he saw, trying to find the ideal place to leave a jinx in. Just because he wouldn't be there to see the result, it didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy knowing that someone would lose all their hair later on during the holidays.

Suddenly hit with an idea, Harry went to the carpet in front of the huge, wooden desk, and grabbed a bag from Zonko's. He lifted the carpet, and put the contents underneath, smirking widely. He was just putting the carpet back to place when he heard voices, and the door handle moving.

Harry looked around quickly for a place to hide, wishing he had his invisibility cloak with him, and ended up moving around to hide under the desk, crouched down between the small area, and the only thing visible being the small space between the front of the desk and the floor.

Two people came in, one in the middle of a sentence, and Harry quickly recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice, even if it was more distressed than arrogantly snob, as it usually was. "…supposed to be safe, Severus!”

Harry frowned a little, as one of them closed the door, wondering if he should come up now and reveal himself before he heard too much, but, on the other hand, he did want to know too much. Before he could make up his mind, however, Uncle Sev spoke. "Well obviously that was the intended outcome, but don’t—"

"It was the whole point! To keep him safe! Well, now he’s more in danger than ever! If I hadn’t gone along with your idiotic plan—"

"If you hadn’t then he would have been dead years ago and you know it."

Harry could only see the bottom of two pair of shoes, which were getting closer to the desk, and he wished they wouldn't. Not only would they be interrupted by the prank, but Harry himself would get caught, and he really wasn't looking forward to that. His mother would kill him.

Besides, who were they trying to keep safe?

"If I hadn’t—if I’d remained loyal—then I could have convinced him, somehow…"

"He is not—was not, a man easily convinced, Lucius.”

"Certainly not by the traitor who helped kill him!"

Harry's eyes widened, realizing about what exactly they were talking about. You Know Who, and the night he was supposed to kill him. Had they been trying to protect Harry? He couldn't see why would they, neither were his number one fan. But..if they did it to actually help people.. had the Malfoys been honest the whole time? Were they really the good guys?

"Well there’s no use arguing about it now anyway," the Potions Master snarled, now practically spitting out his words. "What’s done is done. What are you going to do? Tell him I Imperiused you?"

"No…no, of course not…that would never work, anyway." Suddenly Lucius sounded defeated and much older than his forty years. "He wouldn’t believe you capable."

"Nor you susceptible, presumably, or he never would have entrusted you with so much to begin with."

Harry looked intensely at the part of the shoes he could see, the words hitting him hard, and for the first time in his life, Harry felt terrified. They were talking as if..as if You Know Who was back and they had to justify themselves to him. On..on why they stopped him from killing Harry. Was Harry going to be hunted down again? Why hadn't they killed him properly?

"Yes, well…you would know what you’re talking about in regards to that, I suppose.” There was a pause, and a pair of shoes got dangerously close to the carpet, and so about to be forced to dance a samba, and if that happened, Harry was dead. “Actually, Severus…there is something I wanted to show you. It was something he gave to me years ago—a plan that never had time to come to fruition—and it slipped my mind in all the ensuing chaos. But now that the situation has…changed, I think perhaps a closer look may be warranted…”

"What is it?"

"Come with me, I’ve got it locked away in the library. What better place to hide it than in plain sight, after all…?"

Harry waited, glad to see them moving away from his prank and himself, and waited until they left the room to sigh in relieve, and then get out of his hiding spot. He put a hand on the desk once he was up, to steady himself, and closed his eyes, trying to understand everything that he had just heard. If what they had just said hadn't been so.. shocking, filling him with dread, Harry might have had the nerves to go after them, and see what..thing Lucius Malfoy had.

But right now, it was too much. It was way more than he could handle. It didn't mean he wouldn't handle it, Harry decided, walking to the door. He left the room, and went to look for his dad. He was going to put the best man he knew on the job.