mediocre jily blog

If you send me jily au fics I'll love you forever. This is a secondary blog.

[floreatcastellumposts]

I’m really craving some more Molly/Harry interaction. Your last fic about Molly taking care of Harry on his first day at the burrow made my heart melt!!💔❤️ I would love it if you felt up to writing another something like that sometime!

Remus and Tonks had announced that they had been secretly married, and Molly thought that she had never seen the man look so happy. The drinks were flowing, and Tonks was excitedly showing Ginny and Fleur pictures of the dress she had worn, and the wildflowers that Remus had gathered for her, while Remus beamed and thanked Arthur for talking some sense into him, even putting up with some (Molly thought over the line) jokes from Fred and George about him saving money by piggybacking onto Bill’s wedding. 

Eventually, Molly spotted her chance. She seized a new bottle of elf-made wine and made her way over to him, where he was talking affectionately with Ron. 

‘Ron, go and help your father find more wine, this is the last bottle.’ 

‘I’m talking to Prof-’ he protested irritably, but she simply glared at him and jerked her head until he left, scowling. 

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[blvnk-art]

You need to understand some things first :D

[perhapsarat]

Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.

SOMEONE PLS HELP MY SON 

(not you dumbledore)

[floreatcastellumposts]

I loved your Dean drabble! Would you consider doing another one from the pov of someone else in Harry's year?

‘I know Harry really well, Mum,’ he’d said to her. ‘He’s a really nice guy, he wouldn’t-’

‘He might well have been! But madness can come on suddenly! I don’t want you sharing a room with him - you don’t know what he could do. You know old Uncle Artie? In the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad? He says Potter blew up his aunt a few years ago because she offended him somehow. He said he’d never seen magic like it, not accidental.’

‘He told us about that, it sounded funny,’ said Seamus. ‘She was really horrible-’

‘He’s clearly never been able to control his emotions,’ said Mam. ‘His own aunt! Don’t think just because you’re friendly you’d be safe.’  

Eventually, he had persuaded her, promising that he would get out of Harry’s way if he ‘goes off on one’. He told Dean all about it on the train, and they both agreed that Harry probably wasn’t mad, but both of them wondered… 

‘It’s all a bit vague, isn’t it?’ Seamus said. ‘What actually happened. I mean, Diggory was old enough to just disapparate away, wasn’t he? And if it really was You-Know-Who, you’d think he would just kill Harry right away, wouldn’t you?’ 

‘Dunno,’ said Dean, struggling to unwrap his pumpkin pasty. ‘The other two times it sounds like they’ve stood around and had a chat for a bit, doesn’t it?’ 

‘Yeah, that’s what he says,’ said Seamus, and Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing.

Then, that evening, the argument happened. It was clear to Seamus now that what she had insisted was true - mammies truly did know best. 

Harry looked so different to what he remembered, so fierce and somehow surly at the same time, his eyes flashing with anger and his every movement sudden, as though he wasn’t really in control of it. Even Ron looked a little frightened, in Seamus’s opinion, and he spoke to Harry in a placating, calm way, like he was his bloody carer or something, like this temper tantrum was something to be expected. 

‘If it were me,’ Seamus said viciously the next morning to Dean, Lavender and Parvati as he recounted the incident, ‘if I really wanted to defend myself against those sort of accusations, I would have told my side of the story. I wouldn’t be so lofty to expect everyone to blindly believe me without bothering to actually tell anyone what it is they’re supposed to believe.’ 

‘He probably didn’t want to go into any details,’ said Parvati awkwardly. ‘He might not even be allowed-’

‘Oh, rubbish,’ said Lavender dismissively. ‘They’ve already done an inquest, they found that Diggory’s death was accidental. He’s probably just bitter it overshadowed him winning - I still don’t believe he didn’t put his name in that cup you know.’ She glanced down the table to the far end, where Harry, Ron and Hermione sat, then leaned in to speak in a low voice, as though they would hear her. ‘Hermione Granger absolutely raged at me last night too, but she couldn’t tell me what actually happened either. “It’s not my story to tell”.’ Lavender mimicked Hermione’s sanctimonious voice. ‘Pur-lease.’ 

‘You should have seen him, Lavender, honestly,’ said Seamus darkly. ‘He certainly looked mad. Doesn’t exactly help his case, yelling his head off and pointing his wand at me.’ 

The girls gasped. ‘He didn’t?’ 

‘He did.’ 

‘Look,’ said Dean uneasily, ‘whatever did happen, it’s clearly shaken him up, maybe he’s just…’ 

‘How can you defend him?’ Seamus demanded. ‘Having a go at my mother like that, he’s cracked.’ 

As though to prove Seamus’s point, Harry went mental in Defense Against the Dark Arts that very afternoon. 

‘So according to you,’ he demanded, his voice shaking with rage, his fists clenched as he stood, ‘Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?’ 

Hermione was tugging at Harry’s robes to get him to sit down, her face desperate and pleading, but Harry didn’t appear to notice. He was staring at Umbridge, his expression thunderous. Seamus watched, his heart thudding, unsure if he was afraid or not, half expecting Harry to attack her. 

‘Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident-’

‘It was murder,’ said Harry darkly. ‘Voldemort killed him and you know it.’ 

This was the only time Seamus had heard Harry specifically acknowledge the story Dumbledore was pushing, the closest he had come to telling his side of the story. Selfishly, he was disappointed when Umbridge sent him out of the room - he wanted to see Harry rage more, he wanted him to just say his piece already, so they could make their minds up. 

Harry slammed the door so hard behind him that the paintings on the walls rattled, leaving the class in a breathless kind of silence. 

Umbridge smiled sweetly at them all, as though they had all experienced something very embarrassing together. ‘I understand that must have been rather scary for you all,’ she said soothingly. ‘But Mr Potter has always been a troubled little boy, and it’s not unusual for children with difficult upbringings to become attention seeking. We musn’t indulge him - for his own good.’ 

Hermione Granger burst into tears; Ron Weasley put his arm around her, staring furiously up at their Professor. ‘It’s nothing to do with any of that,’ Ron insisted. ‘He-’

‘Mr Weasley, would you also like to receive detention?’ she asked lightly. ‘Now, if you could all return to your reading, please, and we will hear no more about it.’ 

By dinner that night, the word had spread - Seamus was eagerly telling everyone about it himself. He felt oddly shaken by it. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ he told a group of Hufflepuffs, who listened, opened mouthed. ‘He looked deranged. I thought he’d attack her.’ 

‘And he actually said it?’ squeaked Hannah Abbott, ‘he said Cedric was murdered by You-Know-Who.’ 

‘He used You-Know-Who’s name.’ 

There was a ripple of shocked mutters. ‘Well that settles it,’ said Zacharias Smith pompously. ‘No one who had actually seen him would use his name, they’d be too scared. He’s just trying to be edgy.’ 

‘Sounds more like the poor chap was just getting really upset by her,’ said Justin, looking alarmed. ‘It happens, you know, when people have seen nasty things, they go a bit funny. My old man was in the army, he saw loads of decent-’

‘He wasn’t in a war, Justin, he was in a school tournament,’ said Zacharias impatiently. ‘And yeah, maybe he saw something nasty with Cedric, but it’s not the same, is it? I haven’t once seen him looking upset, just really furious all the time.’ 

There seemed to be a belief that if they saw him angry again, he might tell the rest of the story. Seamus kept an eye on him all through dinner, expecting it to happen at any moment, but instead he just saw him storm out with Ron and Hermione. 

‘I bet they know,’ muttered Pavarti. ‘That little clique.’ 

‘Well you know what Hermione’s like,’ said Lavender scathingly. ‘Quite happy to listen to gossip, never actually gives any out, does she?’ 

But then, as time went on, Lavender and Pavarti started swinging the other way. Like Dean, uneasiness entered their voices when Seamus flippantly mentioned the subject. 

‘Neville said he could hear Harry moaning in his sleep the other night,’ said Lavender in a hushed voice. ‘Said he could hear him telling Cedric to get away and to run.’ 

‘He’s putting it on,’ said Seamus aggressively, though if he was honest with himself he wasn’t sure. He too, had heard Harry’s choked, fearful sobs at night, had even heard him crying out for his parents, who Harry had never seemed particularly emotional about mentioning. But the thought of admitting that he might need to reconsider was embarrassing. He wanted to cling to it, wanted to seek vindication, because the alternative was that it was he that was being unreasonable.

‘Have you heard about that club Hermione Granger’s starting?’ Dean asked. ‘I reckon I might go, it’d be good to learn from him-’

‘What?’ spluttered Seamus. 

‘Yeah, I was thinking I might, too,’ said Pavarti. ‘I just keep thinking, if he was lying you’d have thought he’d have given up by now. And,’ she added irritably, ‘I would actually like to pass my Defence O.W.L.’ 

‘I’ll do it if you do,’ Lavender told her. ‘I’m not going on my own.’ 

‘Are you all mad?’ asked Seamus, but none of them listened to him. When Dean returned from the meeting in Hogsmead about joining, and Seamus had asked him how it was, Dean had shrugged. 

‘I reckon it’s going to be pretty good, you know. It was clearly Hermione driving it to be honest, it wasn’t an ego project like you said at all.’ 

‘Did he say anymore about-?’

‘No, and he got pretty shirty with Zacharias Smith when he started prodding about it,’ said Dean firmly. He squinted at Seamus, who felt strangely as though he was disappointing a parent or beloved teacher. ‘I… I’m sorry, mate, but I reckon he might be telling the truth, you know, or it’s somewhere in the middle. Diggory’s old girlfriend was there too. Even she believes him.’

Seamus didn’t answer, just shook his head vaguely and turned away. He did not want to admit to himself that the squirming sensation in his stomach might be guilt. They had all been hoodwinked, he told himself fiercely - tricked by a compulsive liar, or perhaps Harry even believed his own delusions. 

They bloody well should have listened to him, Seamus thought viciously as Christmas approached. Harry had awoken them all, screaming, thrashing around in his bed, his back arching as he yelled and spat out odd hissing words, Ron standing over him and shouting his name, gripping his arms to try and pin him down. 

‘What the fuck,’ he heard Dean whisper, standing close to him as they watched. 

Harry seemed to wake now, with a gasp, his eyes wild - he immediately grabbed at his forehead, rolled over and vomited violently. 

‘He’s really ill,’ said Neville, trembling and looking close to tears as he stared at Harry’s pale, clammy face. ‘Should we call someone?’

But Harry was babbling about Ron’s dad being attacked, and Ron was trying to calm him down, and Seamus couldn’t stop staring. Clearly something was wrong with him, something horrible, something dark. 

‘He’s mad,’ Seamus muttered to Dean as Neville hurried out of the room to get help. ‘This is… There’s something not right with him.’ 

‘Mate, I really don’t think he’s been lying,’ said Dean quietly, though he too, looked disturbed by Harry’s lunacy. 

‘I dunno,’ Seamus whispered back. ‘I dunno, but… He’s not right.’ He didn’t feel safe in that dorm, not with someone so clearly mental just a few beds away. Even if it wasn’t Harry’s fault, he had been fighting so violently against Ron’s grip, thrashing about so viciously, that what if something awful happened? Suppose he walked in his sleep and attacked one of them without realising?

But after Christmas, he sat in the Common Room and watched as Harry came in and joined Ron and Hermione. He looked extremely pale, extremely shaken. He saw as he sank into a chair beside them, murmuring something quietly, running his hands over his forehead, and looking down at them as they trembled. 

You can’t fake that, said a cruel voice in his head. You can’t make yourself pale like that. That’s not someone making their hands shake, that’s like shivering, that’s involuntary. 

He squirmed uncomfortably as he tried to finish his homework, wondering if it was too late - even if he changed his mind, was it something that could just be forgotten? Like the girls, he was starting to think that if he was lying, it might have changed by now. He might have given up, or exaggerated. 

The next day, when they saw that there had been an Azkaban breakout, he looked up at Dean and admitted that perhaps there was something going on the Ministry was covering up. ‘They made more of a fuss when Sirius Black escaped, didn’t they?’ he said. ‘And they still haven’t found him. I bet he helped get all this lot out - this is dozens of Sirius Blacks, really, and they don’t seem half as worried.’ 

Dean hesitated, and looked at him carefully. ‘Yeah… It might be because of… You-Know-Who.’ 

It was strange, because You-Know-Who clearly meant Voldemort, but both of them looked automatically, in complete synchronisation, at Harry, as though he was a you-know-who as well. Harry was reading the paper silently, ignoring Hermione and Ron’s concerned looks, his expression utterly unsurprised. 

It was not until March that Seamus finally had to admit to himself what he had suspected for so many months. He was wrong, and he had been unpleasant, even cruel.

‘Have you read that article about Harry?’ Lavender whispered to him as they sat on the back row in Muggle Studies. 

‘No?’ he whispered back. ‘I didn’t see anything in the Prophet-’

‘Not the Prophet, the Quibbler.’ 

‘The Quibbler?’ he asked, baffled. ‘Hey - is that why it’s been banned? I did wonder.’

‘Yeah,’ she whispered, then fell suddenly silent as Professor Burbage walked past. When she was out of earshot again, neither of them looked up from the parchment they had been scrawling on, but their quills paused as she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. ‘He did an interview for them. About what happened.’ 

Seamus scoffed quietly. ‘Course he did. Got to grab a bit of extra fame even if it’s through the-’

‘No, Seamus,’ she urged. ‘I really think you should read it. Honestly - I was in tears when I did. I don’t really know what to say to him.’ 

She pretended to be getting another quill out of her bag, but as she bent down to rifle under the desk, he felt her slide something onto his lap. One eye on Professor Burbage, he subtly shoved it under his shirt. When the bell for morning break rang, he was one of the first out the door, slipping quickly into an alcove behind a tapestry and pulling out the magazine that had grown slightly warm against his skin. 

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

Harry’s face grinned awkwardly up at him from the front cover - whoever had taken the photograph had focused mostly on his scar and his eyes, they seemed to glare out at him. He opened it, and read. 

Harry Potter meets me, Rita Skeeter, in The Three Broomsticks pub on Valentines Day, deciding not to join his classmates in youthful, romantic pursuits of love, but to instead speak the truth of what happened the night He Who Must Not Be Named returned to full power. 

He is uncommonly preoccupied with facts - forcefully interjecting when he believes he may have been misunderstood or misheard. ‘I only want to say this once,’ he tells me, early on in the interview. ‘I don’t like talking about it, I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to have to keep clarifying anything.’ 

Why, then, has he decided to reveal the details now, nine months after the incident? The answer, for him, is simple - the public deserves to know the truth. 

Readers will, of course, be aware that Potter was a champion in last year’s ill-fated Triwizard Tournament, but few realise that, according to Potter, he never wanted to be a part of it at all. ‘My competing was part of a larger plan,’ he said. ‘It was admitted by a Death Eater, in front of witnesses, that he entered me illegally. I never wanted any part in it, but it provided a cover for my eventual disappearance.’

It was in the third and final task of this deadly tournament that Potter’s true horror began. He recounts how he battled his way through the maze to find himself facing the Triwizard Cup - at the same time as the late Cedric Diggory, who he describes as an uncommonly good, fair student. In a decision that would ‘haunt [him] for the rest of [his] life’, the boys decided that rather than argue over who reached the cup first, they would take it together, securing a win for Hogwarts. 

‘The cup was actually a portkey,’ describes Potter. ‘It transported us to a graveyard. We weren’t sure if it was still part of the tournament or not, we had no idea where we were or what was happening.’ Potter describes the graveyard with great detail, painting a clear picture of weathered Victorian graves leaning haphazardly in the grass, a dark house looming on the hill above them. Potter, already with an injured leg from an event in the maze, had no idea of the horrors that were in store.

That the cup was only supposed to take one boy to the graveyard, rather than two, sealed Cedric Diggory’s tragic fate. ‘A Death Eater approached us, carrying Voldemort. On Voldemort’s orders, he murdered Cedric within seconds. There was no time to react or realise what was going on. One moment he was beside me, and the next…’ Potter trails off, and seems to collect himself for a moment. I am reminded, quite suddenly, that he is only fifteen years old. ‘Cedric Diggory died in front of me,’ he says at last. ‘It was no accident, it was murder.’ 

I ask him to explain what he meant when he described the Death Eater carrying Voldemort, and to my surprise he refers, quite calmly, to the night that made him the legend he is. ‘When [You-Know-Who] failed to kill me as a baby, his body was destroyed, but he himself was not killed. I have come across the remnants of him since then - when I saw him in June he had gained strength enough so that he appeared in a very weak form.’

This was the night, I point out, that he gained the scar for which he is so famous. He nods, and tells me that the scar causes him great pain when He Who Must Not Be Named (who Potter insists on calling by his true name - we have redacted all instances of this for sensitivity) is close or doing something particularly dark. These, then, are the ‘funny turns’ the Daily Prophet describes? ‘I suppose so,’ he replies. He then informs me that the sudden, agonizing pain in his head was his first indication that He Who Must Not Be Named was there that night, that it caused him to drop his wand and fall to his knees moments before Diggory was killed. 

He describes the Death Eater dragging him to a gravestone - one he recognised as having the same name (Tom Riddle) as You-Know-Who, before he renamed himself as a Dark Lord. The Death Eater bound him tightly to the gravestone and gagged him, his wand still lying by the body of his fallen class mate. 

What happened next is truly the stuff of horror novels. Sensitive readers may wish to stop reading here. 

The Death Eater performed a dark magic ritual, one Potter describes with horrifying detail. A large cauldron was set before him, and from the grave at his feet the dust of the bones of You-Know-Who’s father was taken. ‘Then he took my blood,’ says Potter, pulling back his sleeve to show me a long, thin scar on his forearm, caused by the knife of the Death Eater. ‘It was important for the ritual to have blood from an enemy - [You-Know-Who] himself explained that he believed it would make him more powerful if it came from me.’ 

But it is what Potter describes next that causes him to pale slightly. ‘The ritual also required flesh of the servant. The Death Eater raised the knife again, and cut off his own hand.’ I suggest that the image has stayed with him, but Potter’s response is simply, ‘no - the sound.’ 

Next, Potter explains his first sight of the ruined form of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. His face visibly winces in revulsion as he does so. ‘He was almost like a baby. As small as that, but red and raw and almost scaly looking - a complete monster.’ In a heart-breaking moment, he recounts how You-Know-Who’s wrecked form was dropped into the cauldron, and how he, having guessed what was happening, desperately prayed that something had gone wrong and that it had drowned. ‘It was all I could think about. Let it have drowned, please let it have drowned.’ 

Yet it was then that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose from the cauldron, restored to full power and returned to his body. 

But how, then, did Potter escape? At this moment, he was still bound and gagged against a gravestone, helplessly watching darkest magic be performed in front of his eyes. 

‘He summoned his Death Eaters,’ Potter informs me. It will shock many readers to know that Potter then named those that appeared, many of which are prominent and established members of the wizarding community. He rattles off their surnames easily - Malfoy. Avery. Nott. Crabb. Goyle. MacNair. He explains that they surrounded he and You-Know-Who in a large circle, and that You-Know-Who spoke to them about his years of exile and his fury that none of them had sought him out and come to his aid in the years since. He spoke, too, of his downfall due to the boy before him, many years ago. 

‘He described how my mother’s sacrifice meant that he had been unable to touch me,’ says Potter. ‘But because he had taken my blood, that magical protection was now gone.’ He pauses - it is clear that he is struggling with the story now, despite his calm voice. ‘And then, to prove it, he touched my cheek.’ Potter raises his hand slightly, gesturing vaguely, but does not touch the spot that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named touched. This, then, caused him pain in his scar? I asked. 

‘Yes. Agonising,’ is his only response. But then he describes an even worse pain - that while he was bound to that gravestone, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used the cruciatus curse on him. He describes the effects with chilling detail - my regular readers will know that over the years I have interviewed many victims of atrocities, and that sadly I can confirm that Potter, who described feeling as though his very bones were aflame, the overwhelming desperation to simply die rather than endure any more pain, is hauntingly accurate.

He then describes how You-Know-Who magicked a silver hand for the Death Eater that his cut off his own and performed the ritual, and instructed him to untie Harry and give him back his wand. Why? I ask. 

‘I suppose he wanted to humiliate me,’ Potter responds. ‘He did not intend for me to have a quick death.’ 

As part of a sick game to torment the boy, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced Potter to duel him, including the traditional, courteous bow. ‘He used some sort of spell that forced my spine.’ He looks suddenly awkward, and reminds me that the Death Eaters were all there, watching. It is clear to me, as I hope it is to my readers, that Potter is a proud young man, and that describing an experience he regards as, in his own words, ‘humiliating’ to a wider audience is difficult. I suggest this to him, and he admits that You-Know-Who was aware of this too - that he taunted him by instructing him to die straight-backed and proud, the way his father had. 

Potter maintains that he does not remember the night his parents died, or how his father met his fate, but says that he is aware that James Potter faced Voldemort in an effort to protect his family. 

Potter then describes being placed under the cruciatus curse once more, as the forced “duel” begun. Once again, he describes all-consuming pain, so much so that he was no longer aware of where he was, hoping desperately that he would die from it. How long was he under the spell? I ask. ‘I don’t know.’ Longer or shorter than the previous occasion? ‘I don’t know.’

He describes the curse being lifted and finding himself on the ground, shaking, scrambling up and stumbling to get away but being pushed back by laughing Death Eaters, being taunted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once again, who then used the imperious curse on him. 

‘He was taunting me again - he said “that hurt, didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, do you?” and he wanted me to respond no.’ Potter seems unable to look at me at this point, his eyes remain fixed on the table before him. ‘He used the imperious curse to get me to say it, but I threw it off.’ 

This is unusually impressive magic, I point out. To be able to throw off the imperious curse is something very few wizards can do, not least at the age of fourteen. 

Ever modest, Potter merely shrugs. ‘When I said I wouldn’t, it made him angry. He went to torture me again, but I threw myself sideways and hid behind the gravestone.’ 

This was, he says, a desperate attempt he knew wouldn’t work. There was no hiding or escaping. ‘I knew I was going to die. But I didn’t want to die like that.’ Potter pauses again, this time for a very long time. ‘He was right - [You-Know-Who]. I was going to die upright like my father did. I was going to go down fighting, even when it was hopeless. I didn’t want to die… Like that.’

Potter heroically burst out from behind the gravestone, and cast the first spell at You-Know-Who he could think of. The disarming curse. 

What he describes next will astound, bewilder and baffle many readers. ‘Our wands connected,’ claims Potter. ‘The two spells hit each other, and our wands… I accidentally caused an effect I’ve now been told is called Priori Incantatem. It caused shadows of the last spells [You-Know-Who]’s wand to appear. 

What this means, in the most heart-breaking twist of the tale of all, is that the shadows of You-Know-Who’s victims appeared, including Cedric Diggory, who asked Potter to return his body to his parents, and Lily and James Potter themselves. 

What words of comfort did they speak to him? I asked. After all, he has never had the chance to meet the parents who died when he was just fifteen months old. 

Potter does not cry, or even look particularly upset, but he is silent for several moments before replying. ‘There wasn’t… time for that. The shadow of my father told me that the cup would return me to Hogwarts, and that when I broke the connection I should run to it. When I did break the connection, they, and the other shadows, they surrounded [You-Know-Who] so that I was shielded from view. I pushed through the Death Eaters and ran for it, back to Cedric’s body. I summoned the portkey to me. I was returned to Hogwarts.’ 

The first thing, Potter tells me, that he did was inform Albus Dumbledore. He has been shocked and appalled to learn of Dumbledore’s expulsion from the Wizengamot and the vendetta against him in the press. I ask him if they are close, as many rumours suggest them to be. His face is unreadable as he replies, ‘no. I just knew he had to know.’ 

I ask him how he feels about the Ministry’s statement that Cedric Diggory died in a tragic accident. He is, he tells me, frustrated and worried. ‘The longer people refuse to accept [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] is back, the easier it will be for him to gain further power by stealth. And what about the accusations against him? That he is a liar? Deranged? Attention seeking?

‘[You-Know-Who] wants me to feel isolated and vulnerable, and the Ministry is playing into his hands,’ states Potter. When I ask him if he does feel isolated, he glances over at the friends who have escorted him to his meeting with me. ‘No,’ he says. ‘My friends know the truth.’ 

Seamus closed the magazine, and wept. It was a ludicrous story. Ridiculously dramatic. Insanely heroic. Horrifying. And he believed every word. 

So many more things made sense now. When he had heard Harry pleading in his sleep for his father to tell him what to do, when he had been unable to control his fury with Umbridge for her refusal to acknowledge anything about it, why he had been so quick to anger all year. He knew, instinctively, that the end of the article had been a lie - that Harry had felt isolated, and he, Seamus, had contributed to that.

He had refused to believe any of it, because it was easier not to. It was warmer not to. Safer. But the images he could now see so clearly of Harry in that graveyard made him feel as though he wanted to vomit with shame. He had known, really. He had seen the difference in the boy he had shared a room with for several years. He used the rest of his break to walk to the owlery with Lavender’s magazine, to send to his mother, and resolved to tell Harry that he believed him the moment he saw him next. 

[floreatcastellumposts]

I loved your last ootp ficlet! I’ve been meaning to ask for ages, would you consider doing a missing moment between Harry and Sirius in ootp? Or Harry, Remus and Sirius? Thanks so much 😊

Harry heard a clacking, grinding sort of sound from the grandfather clock, and he stared at it, confused. He felt Sirius’s hand on his shoulder, and he was promptly yanked aside - and just in time too, for a heavy bolt suddenly launched from it and struck the wall behind him at chest height, the end wobbling slightly as it was embedded in the plaster.

‘Right,’ growled Sirius. ‘You’re not the first I’ve had to pull out of the way of that sodding thing.’ He marched over to the stairs, and bellowed Lupin’s name up them.

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[ghostofbambifanfiction]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Sweets for my sweet @bcdaily

[floreatcastellumposts]

Links to Ficlets

The below drabbles are in rough chronological order, but please let me know if I have missed any or got any muddled. Prompts are always welcome. Harry’s first pair of glasses Harry is ill (child)...

You can now find all (I think) of my drabbles under this page of my Tumblr. I will try to keep it up to date, but give me a prod now and then if you notice any are missing! 

[bcdaily]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

400. =)

[jiilys]

jane potter, liquorice eater extraordinaire, gave up smoking and always has runs in her stockings  

liam evans, king of barely pausing at stop signs, goes out with the liquorice eater extraordinaire  

sarah black exclusively dated roller derby girls in high school and so all her passwords are, embarrassingly, skaterchick

ruby lupin likes to sew, caught jane smoking, and has a gum problem. also the barista course on her resume is a lie.

piper pettigrew’s 20th birthday was at a kid’s seafood place because she liked their chips and her first kiss was her second cousin

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[floreatcastellumposts]

Mother/daughter moment between Ginny and Lily talking about boys I just think that’d be cute and you write things the best ❤️❤️❤️

This is not really what you asked for but this is what came out of the hellish teenager years I ended up thinking back to. TWs for weight/body insecurities.

Her daughter’s hair slipped through her fingers like silk, or water, the tendrils wrapping round her fingers as she plaited it. For her part, Lily sat crossed-legged on the floor in front of her, keeping unusually still and, even more unusually, very quiet. 

‘Are you excited?’ Ginny asked her. 'Looking forward to going back?' 

'Mmhmm.' 

Lily couldn’t see her mother raising her eyebrow, just continued to stare stoically ahead at her trunk, already packed and ready to go. 

'Second year’s a big one,’ said Ginny carefully. 'You can try out for the Quidditch team, if you want.’

'Yeah,’ said Lily vaguely. 

'That’s what you wanted the new broom for, wasn’t it?’ Ginny said, her eyes flicking to the Nimbus Thunderstorm leaning against the wall. 

'Yeah… I might… I might just practice this year though,’ Lily said. 'Try out when I’m a bit older.' 

Something that irritated Ginny a lot was when she realised she was becoming her mother, and the way she instinctively pursed her lips in concern didn’t help. But she pushed the thought out of her mind and concentrated on the twelve year old sat before her, who had always had her brash confidence, especially when it came to flying. 

'Can’t hurt to try out though, can it?’ she said. 'You’re a very good flier. I thought you liked the idea of playing seeker.' 

'Yeah… Maybe…' Ginny desperately wished she could see her daughter’s face, and was about to see if she could subtly levitate the mirror to be at the right angle when Lily spoke again, he voice a little rushed. 'One of the older girls, Lissy Fawcett, she said that the Quidditch changing rooms aren'tseparated into boys and girls. That everyone goes in together. And then I remembered last week and asked James if that was true and he said it was, but I don’t know if he was just trying to scare me, and then he started teasing me about it, and… Well, is it? True?'  

Ah. 

'Yes, it’s true,’ said Ginny slowly. 'Is that what’s putting you off?' 

'No,’ said Lily quickly, but where Ginny had pulled her hair back she could see her ears turning bright red. 'But that’s bad though, isn’t it? I mean, the dorms are separate-’

'The shower cubicles are private, right up to the ceiling,’ said Ginny reassuringly. 'And when I was at school the boys used to walk about with their tops off, and some of the girls too on occasion, but mostly everyone was quite grown up about it. I’m sure if anyone was behaving badly or being mean-’

'They might not say anything, but they might still look,’ Lily burst out. 'You can’t control what people think, can you, and they might laugh at me later-’

'Hey,’ said Ginny, dropping the plait and turning Lily by the shoulders. Ginny’s red, miserable face looked solemnly up at her. 'Why would anyone laugh at you? You’re usually so confident, where’s this coming from?’

Lily couldn’t have got any redder. She looked down at her wringing hands. 'All the people on the Quidditch team. They’re all so… tall. And the girls especially are really pretty. And I know James is ugly-’ Ginny decided to ignore Lily’s dig at her brother. ’-But loads of girls really fancy him, one of the chasers, Sarah, she was talking about his chest the other day, really loudly in the common room, so they clearly look, don’t they? And I don’t want anyone looking at me, especially not before I’ve lost weight-’

'Lost weight?’ spluttered Ginny. 'Lily-’ She got off the bed and sat on the floor beside her daughter, pulling her onto her lap and hugging her tightly. 

'Joe Schilling’s one of the beaters,’ said Lily, now openly crying. 'I don’t want him to see me in the changing rooms.’

'You don’t need to lose weight,’ said Ginny firmly, planting a kiss on her head. 

'Please don’t tell dad!’ Lily suddenly said urgently. 'He’ll just tell me there are more important things than looks and I shouldn’t worry and-’

'Well, he’s right,’ said Ginny. 'But I understand. He doesn’t get why girls get upset about this sort of thing.' 

It was true. She could easily imagine Harry’s bafflement, his bewildered 'but she’s perfect?’, his uncomfortable suggestion that there were more important things to worry about than appearences. 

'I know it’s silly,’ said Lily in a quiet voice. 

'You tell me about it anyway,’ said Ginny, and then she listened as her daughter tearfully rattled off all the imaginary flaws in her appearance, all the nerves and worries and confusion as her friends started getting boyfriends already ('Even though we’ve only just started school!’), her confusion when it came to make-up, and what clothes to wear ('What’s wrong with natural coloured tights? They were laughing about them in the common room, I had no idea they weren’t fashionable - why do they sell them then?’), her anxiety about whether she was shaving properly ('They’re never smooth, my legs, AND I’ve got dad’s dark body hair but your pale skin, so you can always tell!’), but most of all about Joe Schilling. 

’…But he doesn’t even know I exist.' 

'I see,’ said Ginny, a little overwhelmed. 'Well, you know, if he’s going into his fifth year he might be a bit old for you, Lils-’

'I know that,’ said Lily rather snappishly. 'I’m not trying to date him or anything, and he wouldn’t look at me twice anyway, but I can’t help feeling embarrassed every time I see him.' 

'Yes, I know that feeling well,’ said Ginny, having a minor post-teenager stress disorder flashback and cringing. 'I wish I could find a potion or spell that cures that, but it’s just one of the many unbearable things about being a teenage girl.’ She looked down at her daughter, and placed a hand against her cheek. 'You don’t need me to tell you that you’re beautiful. You know that’s what I think, you know that’s what your dad thinks, you know that’s what the whole family thinks. I know it doesn’t matter to you right now. If I could take that confidence you have normally and make you feel it all the time, you know I would. But Lily… I’m about to say something and I have no idea if it’s good parenting or not…' 

Lily blinked at her, taken aback. 'What?' 

'If you don’t try out for Quidditch, you’re just chipping away at the confidence you do have, and I think that would be awful. I am telling you to try out, and I’ll consider it a personal slight if you don’t.' 

Lily looked down again. 'Maybe once I know this stuff a bit better, I’d be more confident-’

'Lils, we’re women - we’re always going to think we’re going to be more confident if we can just get our hair like that, or learn how to apply eyeliner better, or drop a dress size. There’ll always be some way we think we’re not being women correctly, there’s always some way society tells us we should be doing better, and if you start playing that game you just never get out because you’ll never find that confidence you’re chasing. You have to get it from within yourself.' 

Lily looked like she was trying to resist rolling her eyes, and Ginny couldn’t blame her. She’d hated hearing all this sort of stuff when she was younger too, because somehow it always seemed to come from women who had worked all that stuff out already. She knew that eventually Lily would realise all of this for herself, but that didn’t help her there and then. 'If you really want,’ Ginny said reluctantly, 'I can get you some of that Magical Madga’s hair removal potion for your legs-’

'Really?’ squealed Lily, delight crossing her face for the first time. 

'Only because I know you worry about that so much, and there’s a condition,’ said Ginny sternly. 

'I’ll try out,’ she said quickly. 

'That wasn’t the condition, but good.’ She paused, stroking back her daughter’s bright red hair. 'You’ll always come to me about this sort of stuff, won’t you? Because your dad and I both bottle things up, and I don’t want that to be you, especially if it’s this sort of thing. I’ll always listen, so if you’re coming to me worrying about your nose or whatever, I promise I won’t dismiss you, I promise I’ll listen, but you must come and talk to me.' 

'What’s wrong with my nose?’ asked Lily seriously, but then as Ginny’s heart plummeted, she grinned. 'I’m kidding.' 

'I mean it, Lily, I don’t want to be worrying about you thinking all these horrible things about yourself.' 

'I will,’ she said. She hesitated. 'And you promise you won’t tell dad? Because he really won’t get it.' 

'Just for us girls,’ Ginny promised her. 

[peaceofseoul]

When in doubt, go to the library!

[moonysfrexckles]

This is STUNNING

[thesymski]

jk rowling told me personally that hedwig was the duolingo owl the whole time. anytime she’s not actively delivering a message to harry, she’s threatening people everywhere to make sure they do their german lesson. this is never mentioned because it’s not relevant to harry’s journey

[october31st1981]

Broken Heart Technology

James Potter to Head Girlfriend: it’s really disrespectful to be instagramming during class hours evans

James Potter: also 10/10 would bang again

Lily Evans to Head Boyfriend: Ur texting in class??? How is that different

James Potter: i’m in history tho. i’m not entirely sure that binns isn’t already dead

Lily Evans: He is disconcertingly pale 

James Potter: my cat bit him once. he didn’t even flinch

Lily Evans: Should I bother to ask why ur cat was at school? 

James Potter: honestly lily it’s like u don’t even know me at all

Keep reading

[perhapsarat]

personally i like all the other options more 

[jiilys]

jiilys fic masterlist

hi everyone! just to clarify, this isnt a complete list of everything ive ever done on here. ive been writing on here for a while so some things are Very Very Terrible Bad, and i couldnt take actually linking them for fear people would actually read them. however, i have included a decent amount of bad fic, because some people still like them but also bc sometimes you write bad stuff and you dont die and (hopefully) just get a bit better  

basics: writing tag  ao3 page headcannon tag 

au troupes

camp counselors 

lawyers 

bar owners 

boxer james, manager lily 

theatre people [really really weird]

breakup sorta  

hollywood 

prison [bizarre]

shitty police

arranged marriage 

robbers 

even shittier police 

high schoolers trying not 2 b in love 

lily can revive dead people 

told entirely in dialogue 

broke but happy 

collab w/ ellie where theyre famous  

muggle au where lily and james consider fucking while his mum makes dinner downstairs 

lilys a ghost haunting james’ house 

bend it like beckham au 

canon

lilys birthday and james spoils a book [sad]

18th birthdays

sick lily, james having a fat lol [super short]

with you  

heart scope 

arguing abt who harry looks like

fool out of me

untitled ellies birthday fic [Romantic and Dramatic]

heart anatomy 

fire lit things

we will go quietly into the ground

series i do 

genderswap series  

atlas series (james/lily long distance) 

social media series

no title fic

james and lily making out in a broom closet 

james washes dishes and lily, pregnant, is a bit sad

james sees lily in a dress and Has A Minute 

lilys hair gets accidentally died black and james still finds her hot

james coming back from Not Werewolfing runs into lily 

some headcannons ive done 

royalty au

series of images from 1978

high school theatre nerds au

10 things i hate abt you au

teachers au

soccer player au 

muggle girlmarauders 

debate club au 

quite old + not great no title fic 

james and lily + gang in outside burning building

“i want you like God wants Eve not to eat the apple.” [wannabe poetry abt nothing]

lily says they should go live on the moon  

‘there is no middle ground, there is just blissful dull or horrific terror’ [more wannabe poetry abt nothing]

james keeps saying “darling i do believe i love you”

these ones are really just bad

this entire thing (fucked up and lovely) 

every time i’d pick you, even if we never meet, even in a dream

is there a place where this is not temporary [holy cow this is bad] 

it doesn’t have a title and its bad congrats past me 

you’re all over my heart (in its tissue like blood) ([his is the Worst One]

okay i cant even type this ones title its that awful  

oh darling i have coloured blood (that i stole from you) [why. why did i think all these titles needed 2 b so long. huh. why]

some things mini-series: lily, sirius, james 

if i could save you (i would, i would, i would)  

bleeding for no reason [title not factually correct there is a reason] 

oh how you thrill me (all my nerves are wired with you) [this title is Exceptionally Fucking Shite]

[jiilys]

call if you care for me

Sirius Black to goobers: the one day i actually come and school burns down

Remus Lupin: what classes were you in

James Potter: i was in english you Were Not

Peter Pettigrew: or history

Remus Lupin: it doesnt count as attending school if u just lie behind the science block till lunch  

Sirius Black: youre all ruining this fire for me  

James Potter to Lily Evans: give back my chocolate shake

Lily Evans: i dont have it

James Potter: i can see u fuckin drinkin it we’re in the same maccas

Lily Evans: everyones saying you did it

James Potter: pardon

Lily Evans: set the fire

James Potter: come off it

James Potter: whose saying that

Lily Evans: everyone

James Potter: ah yes my great mate ‘everyone’

Lily Evans: mary, elliot from science, louise marcot, guy from math whose name i dont know but went to ball with ruby garland, sam roberts, and sushi danny have all told me it was you

James Potter: wow that does seem like everyone

James Potter: now im wondering whether I did do it

Sirius Black to James Potter: had a dream i died in a freak pharmaceutical accident last night

James Potter: what is a freak pharmaceutical accident

Sirius Black: i was drunk in a pharmacy and put all their throat lozenges up my nose 

Keep reading

[floreatcastellumposts]

When a mysterious woman comes to the Auror office claiming to be the victim of a terrible crime, Theia and Harry want to do everything they can to help her. The problem is, she has no memory of what has happened. As they piece together the sinister events, their own troubles and traumas rise to the surface, causing them to question who they really are. Sequel to The Aurors.

“I knew a man like you. He was bitter and angry and he lashed out. Then I found out the reason why and it made sense.”