Chapter 1: To Shave, or Not to Shave
If you’re from the future, I promise it gets better lmao. At least, I hope…
Harry stared into the mirror. In it, a gaunt man with green eyes, wild black hair, and a similarly colored beard stared back at him. An internal debate raged inside of him, and his eyes flicked to The Razor laying haphazardly on the sink, looking oh so innocent. He looked back at the mirror, and noticed a new figure had joined the man. She was short and lithe, barely coming up to the man’s shoulder. A sea of freckles stretched across her pale skin, and could be found everywhere from her legs to her breasts (he would know) to her face, which was framed by a halo of disheveled red hair. She pushed a hand up through it, moving it out of her chocolate brown eyes in a movement which utterly enchanted him. She caught his eye, grinning. Harry rolled his eyes, and the woman chuckled softly. He looked from the woman in the mirror to The Razor, and back. Catching the movement, she raised an eyebrow.
“To shave, or not to shave,” he declared solemnly. The woman held his gaze for a moment, oozing disappointment from her expression and body language. After several seconds, she rolled her eyes and lunged forward, grabbing The Razor. He turned to his left, and saw Ginny standing there with The Razor in her hand, holding it out to him. He took it from her, and she brushed past him, moving towards the shower.
“No more Shakespeare until you’ve shaved that scraggly mess,” she called over her shoulder, stepping under the freezing water and sliding the curtains closed behind her. He turned back to his reflection, inspecting it closely.
“It’s not scraggly,” he mumbled to himself, not sure who he was trying to convince. Shaking his head, he started to apply shaving cream, listening to his girlfriend’s content humming over the pattering of the shower. Fred might be dead, Teddy might be an orphan, Lavender might be crippled, he might have a beard, but they had each other.
And after all, what more do you really need? As Dumbledore used to say, love is the most powerful magic there is.
Chapter 2: Hate is in the Air
Well, I originally intended for today to be another star wars snippet (the first of which I posted yesterday), but this scene demanded to be written, and who am I to fight my muse?
So here you go: a fun little fight scene feat. a slightly OP and significantly darker Harry than in canon.
And yes, there are swords.
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :p
Oh, and special thanks to bluntblade, a fight scene expert who helped me beat this snippet into submission.
The air was thick with bloodlust, almost suffocating in its intensity. The byproduct of pitting thousands of people who absolutely loathe their enemy against each other. Blinding hatred drove the two armies together, clashing violently in a spectacular display of the motivational power of fury and resentment.
Harry waded through the melee, his mind set completely on a single goal. Anyone who got in his way would be dealt with, effectively and efficiently. Sweeping the scene with his gaze, he let out an irritated growl as another pathetic peasant rushed towards him, obviously wanting to slay the famous Harry Potter so he could brag to his equally worthless friends. Setting his mouth in a hard line, he surged forward to meet the man.
It was over in seconds.
The man opened with a lone Avada Kedavra —typical of these fools; no imagination or skill— which whizzed by Harry, who pressed forward without pause. Before the idiot could follow his initial failure up with some other equally stupid curse, Harry silently threw a volley of spells at the man. A hasty shield was erected, barely staying a painful death. He grinned upon seeing that the man was leaning on his back leg, and his sword had slipped out of its initial ready position. Off balance.
Wasting no time, Harry conjured a ball of ice cold water above the target, before letting gravity take care of the rest. A second later, his enemy stiffened, completely still for a split second.
Which was all he needed.
With a wave of his wand, his disoriented enemy suddenly stood frozen, trapped by his own robes. A moment later, a silent Bone Shattering Curse struck his skull, eliminating whatever small threat he posed.
Harry strode past the mangled corpse, his stride having never faltered. He heard a distant cackling, and spotted a pale figure in the carnage, raising a gnarled sword into the air. A grim smile set itself upon his face, and his pace quickened.
Death had called, and Voldemort was going to answer.
Chapter 3: Maria’s Mission
Sorry that I’m posting this late; I fell asleep and only just remembered. Hope you enjoy.
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives.
Maria strode quickly down the grand stone halls of Hogwarts, ignoring the paintings and staircases and other wonderful magical things that filled the walls of the castle, which was quite unusual for her. But alas, she was on a mission, and did not have the time to sightsee.
She needed to get to the bathroom, go, and get to Charms class, all in the next ten minutes.
She knew it was a challenge, but she had been left with no other choice. And anyways, she felt that she was ready for such a quest.
That illusion left her the moment she heard the shrieking.
Right as she was about to open the doors to the girls’ bathroom, a loud screech pierced through the air, causing her eyes to widen.
“NO! GET BACK, YOU FOUL CREATURE! GET OUT! OUT!”
Her breath caught, and her heart doubled its speed, moving the adrenaline that was pouring into her blood out to her muscles.
The voice sounded closer.
She screamed and whipped around. Not looking behind her, she pelted back the way she came as warm liquid streamed down her leg. At least that problem was solved, she thought distantly, as she tore through the maze that is Hogwarts, screaming her head off.
“YES! FLEE BEFORE ME, YOU PATHETIC ARTHROPOD!”
Myrtle watched in satisfaction as the small black spider fled into a small hole in the wall, abandoning its earlier efforts to encroach on her toilet, and started floating back to her stall. She shuddered (something that was rather disconcerting when done by a ghost) when she thought about a spider sharing her toilet with her. Disgusting little bugs, she thought, and submerged herself into Hogwarts’ plumbing system.
Chapter 4: A Cold Christmas Morning
Yayyyy angst. It’s been some time since I’ve written some right and proper introspective angst. So here it is. Hope you enjoy, and if I’m lucky, you might even cry or something (most likely you’ll just feel vaguely depressed lol).
Also, the inspiration for this chapter was “Nightcore - Suffocate (Nathan Wagner)” by Cherry 葵 on youtube. I definitely recommend it.
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :p
His sleeves flapped in the wind, sleet pelting down on him. It was a particularly cold and miserable December, as if the weather itself was mirroring his feelings.
No, everyone’s feelings.
He stood on the top of the astronomy tower. A place that held so many memories for him. Classes and exams innumerable. Snogging sessions almost as innumerable. The death of a mentor.
He stared into the early morning sky, a ceiling of grey clouds. Chunks of ice and snow struck his numb cheeks and glasses. His eyes stung with the cold bite of the gales, but he did not react.
He remembered the days when he awoke on Christmas morning to a pleasant layer of pristine white snow on the ground. He remembered the days when people lived happily, only a shadow of weariness and caution in their eyes, the same shadow that now engulfed their gaze. He remembered the days when the Weasleys were a whole family. Now Mrs. Weasley cried when she set the table, and the sky wept frozen tears on Christmas morning.
He had blood on his hands. They all did. It was the kind that never washed off. The kind that you could never quite fully ignore. The product of a war no one was supposed to have fought, let alone children.
They said it would get better, that it had last time. That the broken families would heal eventually.
He wasn’t so certain. It had been seventeen years and he was still waiting.
After all, you could never quite repair such things. Not truly. It was like when a muggle smashes a plate. Sure, they could tape it, but it wouldn’t truly be fixed. Of course, the existence of Reparo fixed that problem for wizards. A wizard can spell a plate back together. But no spell can repair a family.
Funny how magic can easily do anything a wizard or witch needs near instantly, but when something truly important needs doing, it’s useless.
As if sensing his thoughts, the storm grew more intense, more angry. He stood stubbornly there, not intimidated by the display. After all, what more could the gods throw at him? He had mastered Death. He had killed the unkillable, and lived the unlivable.
Maybe he could make a spell for that. A spell to repair families. Bring people back to life. Back from the bottomless pit of insanity. Everyone said it was impossible. That the dead were dead, and nothing could change that. Everyone also said it was impossible to survive the killing curse. And guess what? He did it. He was the crazy bastard who did the impossible not once, not twice, but several times. Why not do it again? What was the universe gonna do, kill him?
He barked a sudden laugh, his mirthless smile mocking the world. Was that the worst it could do? It’s not like he was doing anything important with his life.
Nature buffeted him, but he stood strong, unswayed by the pushback. Who knew, maybe he could bring Voldemort back. Then he could kill him again, and with any luck it’d be more painful than the first time. That’s what the bint always wanted, right? Life after death.
Harry closed his eyes, and took a moment to enjoy the sweet knives that slashed across his cheeks, the solid fists pummeling his torso. The winds howled.
He turned away from the screams that echoed in the gales —or maybe they were only in his mind— and strode down the long steps into the depths of Hogwarts. Who knew, maybe he’d find comfort in his childhood home.
Maybe his scars would magically fade as well. You never know. It is magic, after all.
Chapter 5: Bleeding of the Brain
This fic is based on yet another partial request sort of thing from TheKholdOne in the HPFF server. Basically the premise is that as a result of the multiple untreated concussions Harry sustained over the summer and the external stresses of Snape’s lessons (and everything else too lol) he has an aneurysm and (as a result) a stroke.
The fic starts with copy-paste canon dialogue and shit, which originates from the bottom of page 533 of OotP. The divergence is extremely obvious and sudden lol
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives.
“Stand up and take out your wand, Potter.”
Harry got to his feet feeling nervous. They faced each other with the desk between them.
“You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me or defend yourself in any other way you can think of,” said Snape.
“And what are you going to do?” Harry asked, eyeing Snape’s wand apprehensively.
“I am about to attempt to break into your mind,” said Snape softly. “We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse.... You will find that similar powers are needed for this.... Brace yourself, now.... Legilimens!”
His scar spiked with pain, causing him to scream. A second later, the top of his head erupted in agony, the worst he’d ever felt. It was as if someone was hitting him with a sledgehammer. He fell limp to the floor, his head feeling as if it had been stuffed with hot coals.
“Potter! Potter! What’s happening?”
Harry was not able to respond, and would not have had an answer even if he could have. His vision flickered and distorted, and then started fading out.
“Expecto Patronum!” Snape called, but Harry barely comprehended it. Everything dulled, and his mind slipped into blackness. He laid limply on the floor.
“Severus. What has happened?”
“I don’t know, Albus. I used Legilimens on him and a moment later he started screaming and fell to the floor. After several seconds he died,” Snape reported, the barest sliver of emotion in his voice. Dumbledore’s eyes widened, and he cast several spells on Harry’s corpse.
“Troubling... most troubling...”
“It seems he died as a result of a brain injury. How he sustained an injury of such magnitude, I do not know...”
“So he really is dead,” Snape said distantly, an unidentifiable emotion coloring his voice ever so slightly. Dumbledore glanced at him.
“Feeling regret, Severus?”
Snape scowled. “Of course not. The brat deserved it...”
Dumbledore’s eyes stayed on Snape for several moments. Snape scowled harder, but his hands shook and his eyes were slightly unfocused. Dumbledore turned back to Harry’s body, and shook his head. “The real question is what we are to do now. The chosen one dead... this does not bode well my friend. No... not at all.”
Chapter 6: A Breakfast Fit for a Quidditch Player
*sigh* well, this chapter was kind of a nightmare to write. I hope it doesn’t show in the quality, but I think it might. Anyways, excuse my shitty writing, and I hope you enjoy.
Extra special thanks to MidnightSun
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives ;)
“Mornin’,” Harry chirped, cracking an egg into a pan. Ginny rubbed her eyes, looking around the room as if she was trying to place exactly why she was there. Eyes half-closed, she plopped herself down in a chair, leaning back.
“You want one egg or two?” Harry asked. Getting nothing but a grunt in response, he smiled slightly. “Two it is.”
After depositing a second sizzling egg in the pan, he snatched a lid and placed it on top. He turned to the bacon, which was crackling happily in a second pan. After a moment of contemplation, a spatula was jammed underneath the meat, flipping it. The brown color signified it was almost done.
Returning to the eggs, he turned the gas off, leaving them to steam in the hot skillet. His hand reached for an ornate bacon-filled platter, which he easily dumped the greasy meat onto. Setting it on the counter, he tossed a slice of bread into the pan, which was coated with hissing bacon grease. Fetching another plate, he removed the lid from a pan and slid two perfectly cooked eggs, sunny-side-up, onto the plate. Smiling in satisfaction, he glanced over at the toast, and flipped it.
He acquired another pair of eggs, and spilled their contents into the hot frying pan. Replacing the lid, he swiftly deposited the plate of eggs and the platter of bacon in front of Ginny, who was still only half-awake.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, smiling at him. He mirrored her expression, though with less exhaustion. His eyes widened, and he rushed away from her when a loud sizzle reached their ears. He summoned a third plate, and placed the piece of toast on it. A second slice replaced the first, cooking in the oil.
Almost a minute later, two pieces of toast and just as many eggs resided on a dish, and Harry brought it into the large, vaunted dining room. The eggs steamed as he handed Ginny a piece of toast, which she took gratefully. After scooping an unhealthy portion of bacon, he sat down across from Ginny, whose wavy red hair fell haphazardly around her head like a halo of fire in the golden light of the sunrise.
“Thanks for making breakfast. You do know you don’t have to wake up early and make me food every day, right?”
He swallowed a bite of egg and smiled. “Of course not. But I choose to do it for you. You deserve it, luv.”
Her eyes shined with affection. “I would kiss you right now, but my breath is horrid and I don’t fancy swapping half chewed bacon bits.”
“How about you make it up to me tonight? With interest, of course,” he responded with a chuckle. A wicked smile stretched across her face.
“I do believe I find that deal agreeable, Mister Potter,” she nodded, a posh accent coloring her voice.
“Very good, Miss Weasley. I will write us up a contract as soon as I have finished my meal.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that’ll be necessary, Mister Potter.”
“Do you not? It is always good to get such things in writing, you know.”
“Why yes I do. In fact, I can think of several alternate ways to spend that time.”
He smirked. “My interest is certainly piqued. In fact, my appetite has mysteriously disappeared.”
“How funny, mine has too. I believe our first activity would be most enjoyable in the bedroom. Of course, anywhere works perfectly fine.”
He stood up and stepped around the table and extended his hand. “If you will, madam.”
She took his hand and stood up, a saucy smile playing across her features. “Lead the way.”
Chapter 7: Calendars
This was a blast to write, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Have a good rest of your day.
If you like the fic, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :p
Harry walked into the living room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place to the sight of a half dressed woman sitting on the floor, surrounded by several boxes of calendars.
He stood in the doorway, and blinked. Ginny turned towards him, and smiled wearily. “Hi.”
“Uh, yeah, hi. What the hell happened here?”
Ginny chuckled lightly, before motioning to the piles, “Well, as you can see,” she snatched a calendar and flipped it open, revealing a picture of the ‘01 Holyhead Harpies team, “they developed those photos the team took and slapped them everywhere, including on these things. And they seem to have thought that we need seventy-five of them for whatever reason.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Ah… does this normally happen?”
“… so what do we do with them?”
She reached up and shoved her fiery red hair out of her face with a shrug. “That’s what I’ve been spending the last half hour trying to figure out. Even if we gave one to every one of my immediate family, our friends, and the professors, we’d still have roughly fifty left.”
He rubbed his face. “How many rooms does this place have again?”
Ginny chewed her lip for a second. “Roughly thirty? Including the bathrooms, about forty.”
“Perfect. We can have a calendar in every room. And we can give the last ten to… I dunno, Malfoy.”
“You want to look at me prancing around in the skimpiest, most ridiculous ‘Quidditch gear’ on the planet while you’re taking a shit?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s the part you questioned?”
“Was I not supposed to question it? At least sending some to Malfoy makes sense.”
He shook his head with a smile, and shrugged. “Sure I do. On-throne entertainment and all. Also, we’ll never forget the date again,” his eyebrows scrunched together for a moment, “well, least, not for the next year.”
“Good points. I’m sure picture me will be flattered.”
“She’d better be. Watching the Boy-Who-Lived take a shit is an honor! People’d pay to watch that!” He retorted with faux anger. She snorted with amusement.
“Which room should we put them in first?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know why you’re asking me. I’m gonna be busy sending these to Malfoy. You can do whatever you want.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Alright, you go have fun with your love letters.”
“I will!” He replied, already marching out of the room, a handful of calendars clutched in his arms. Dumping them on the table in his office, he summoned a piece of parchment. About to start the letter, his curiosity suddenly flared up.
“Damn,” he muttered several seconds later, flipping through one of the several calendars. After viewing the last page, he slid it into the stack, grumbling.
“Of all the days that I got called in, it was that one…”
Chapter 8: Owls in the Kitchen
I don’t know what to say in these A/Ns anymore lmao, so…
IF YOU LIKED THE FUCKING CHAPTER LEAVE A FUCKING KUDO AND A FUCKING COMMENT OR I’LL SPAM YOU WITH CUTE PUPPY PHOTOS!
There. I switched things up from my normal copy paste request
Oh, also, Romione shippers rejoice
“Why is there a flock of post-owls in the kitchen?”
“Wait, they— fuck!”
A series of thumps could be heard from the living room, and a moment later Ron Weasley stood in the doorway. He scrambled over to the table, where several owls sat.
“Could I just—“ he was cut off when an owl bit his finger.
“Ow! Well alright, just stay here if you want to be that way! Makes no difference to me!” He said, retreating. Hermione glared at him.
“It does to me! You think I want to cook with a dozen angry owls in my way?!”
“I was bluffing! Fat chance it’ll work now that you’ve exposed me!” He hissed, glaring right back at her.
“Ron, the owls aren’t going to fall for that. They’re not intelligent enough.”
“That’s what you think! They’re way too smart. Bloody scary it is. Remember Hedwig? I swear she understood every damn thing we said.” One of the owls screeched loudly, ruffling it’s feathers. Ron glanced at it with wide eyes, and quickly took another step back.
“See?! It knows!”
She rolled her eyes and stepped towards the owls, stretching her hand out to take the letters. “Ronald, they’re owls. And they just don’t like you because you— ow!”
She too got bitten, and rapidly retreated to her husband’s side, clutching the injury.
“See? They’re just grumpy. Not my fault.”
“Right. And how long has it been since you were last in the kitchen today?”
“Er…” he scratched his head, using the fingers on his other hand to count, “a long time…?”
She huffed. “But it didn’t even cross your mind that the owls might be angry because they’ve been here for possibly hours without food or water, waiting for you?” An owl hooted its agreement.
She stared at him. “Ronald Weasley, you are by far the thickest man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.”
“But you love me anyways,” he replied with a smirk. She tried, and ultimately failed, to keep a silly smile off her face.
“Yes. Yes I do.”
“Then it’s all okay.”
“Well, no, not really.”
He rolled his eyes, looking away with a shake of his head. “So indecisive.”
She placed her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Now—“
“I’m just joking, Hermione. I know what you meant.”
She just glared at him again, though halfheartedly, before turning back to the disgruntled owls. “Now, we really do have to get these owls out of the kitchen.”
“… Could we use our wands?”
Chapter 9: Bookshelf Relations Are At an All Time High
I POSTED LATE. AGAIN. WTF ARCTOID
Sighhhh well here’s some humor. Hopefully over the weekend I’ll get my posting habits sorted.
Leave a thingy and click the heart thingy so I can have happy chemicals
“Nothin’ in there,” Harry said, walking out of the master bathroom of Avery Manor. Ron grunted in response.
“Why are you hugging a bookshelf?”
Ron turned around and glared, his wand between his teeth. “‘Uck you,” he said, before returning to groping the bookshelf. Harry laughed, crouching down next to him.
“Any reason you decided to make out with this particular bookshelf?” He asked, idly leafing through one of the books. Ron growled, releasing it and plucking his wand from his teeth.
“I was trying to find a hidden door or something. It showed up positive.”
“So your first instinct was to hug it?”
“Well what you do you suggest?”
Harry shrugged. “I dunno. Let someone smarter than us take care of it? It’s not like its going to up and run away all the sudden.”
“Oh come on, just leave it alone. Yaxley and Avery might be here, and I personally don’t want to be lazing around here poking at bookshelves if we find them.”
“Exactly. Now c’mon, lets check the next bedroom. Maybe we can find another bookshelf for you to make out with.”
Ron groaned, following Harry into the hallway.
Chapter 10: In the Shadow of the Wolf
Hello! This is a long one, but I had so much fun writing this. I love angst. Hope you enjoy.
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives.
Lisa shivered, a cold creeping sensation in her bones. The same one that returned every night. In the dark, her monsters came out of their little corner to play.
She closed her eyes, trying to sleep despite knowing it would barely last a moment. She tried to ignore the faint screams, the howling, the cackling. She tried to ignore the shouts of ‘Crucio’, the green light that flashed across her vision. What she would give to be like the dozens of other Muggleborns who were lucky enough to be killed. Who had been embraced by the cold arms of death. Who didn’t have to live a tortured half-life.
With a growl, she fumbled for her wand, grabbing it off her nightstand and holding it to her head shakily, like she had a hundred times before. She knew it was unhealthy, but she was fine with taking the risk if it meant relief, even if for only ten minutes.
“Stupify,” she croaked.
The trees stretched in every direction, casting everything in darkness. The only light was the faintest sliver of moonlight that slipped through the foliage.
Her breaths came quick and shallow, the icy air biting her lungs as it was frantically sucked in. She glanced behind her, at the shadows that flickered in and out of vision, silhouettes backlit by fire. It writhed as a glowing orange snake one moment, roaring as a lion the next. She increased her pace.
An animalistic howl pierced her awareness, fear flooding into her mind. She ran even faster.
The shadows were closer. She could hear their breathing. They were right on top of her. She needed to go faster. Escape. And idea surfaced in the panic. She had never done it, but she needed to try.
Concentrating hard, she imagined the Leaky Cauldron. The worn wooden floors, the mismatched tables and chairs that had been pieced together. The warm firelight that flickered comfortingly.
She spun on her heel.
She grunted, landing on the ground. A sickening crunch emitted from her wrist. But she didn’t notice it, scrambling back to her knees. But it was already over.
A blow landed on the back of her head, knocking her to the ground. The air was forced out of her lungs, and her vision doubled for several moments. A spell was muttered, and she was bound, black rope restraining her. A boot struck her side, and a cry tore itself from her throat. She felt the pain now.
A rough hand grabbed her hair, yanking her around so that she was flat on her back. She screamed again, but this time a gag manifested in her mouth.
“Merlin, I thought you would never shut up,” a man growled, yellow teeth bared in a snarl. A couple other men and a woman approached her as well, looking largely the same as the first one: feral. Wizards that had once been normal, but had become nothing more that beasts with wands.
“Thought you could get away, did you? Maybe I’ll cut off your feet to teach you a lesson before I turn you over to the ministry,” he said with a grin, before looking up into the sky for a couple seconds. “The full moon’s in three days, you know. Maybe we’ll grant you a parting gift before we collect that gold. Three days of fun.”
The scene shifted around the man’s face, that sick smile staying firmly in place. She was in a cage, her hand chained to the outside. On the other side, the man stood, tapping his feet impatiently.
“You’re lucky. You’ll get to be blessed like the rest of us. You’ll be able to revert back to your primal roots. Predator and prey. How nature was supposed to have worked.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that he was delusional, but no sound came from her throat. She snapped her jaw shut, and the man laughed, before glancing at his watch. He shrugged.
“I have time. Crucio!”
The scene warped again, and a massive wolf was leaping at the cage. She struggled —tears streaming down her face and rasping— to get away from it, but she could not. The chain did not let her.
It bit her hand not for the first time —and definitely not the last— leaving her with nothing but bloodied stumps for fingers. She opened her mouth again, trying to scream, to express her pain. Nothing.
Blood dripping from its mouth, the grey-furred wolf eyed her hungrily. They locked gazes. It lunged.
Lisa was sprawled across her floor, the cool tiles refreshing against the sweat that coated her body. Everything was hazy and dim, like it always was after she woke from a Stupified sleep. She pushed herself up onto her knees with her stump, unable to put pressure on her other hand. Everything ached, like she had just been tortured again. Every nerve throbbed dully, and even her phantom hand hurt. She stretched, the cold sensation residing immovably in her bones despite the hot sweat she had woken up in. Every shadow danced and flickered, echoing with sadistic pleasure.
As always, she reached up, brushed the concave area in her throat, at the center of which was a hole. Gone.
Shaking her head, she climbed back into the bed with some effort, casting the blankets off the bed. Before she could settle back in for another troubled attempt at sleep, she heard the faint click of a lock. Instantly, her wand was in her disfigured, wavering hand. A second later, a weathered man stepped into the room, with his hands up.
“After I rescued you, the first thing I ever said to you was ‘I hope this blood isn’t yours, because that’d be slightly concerning’.”
She squinted at the man, before lowering her wand and placing it on her bedside table.
“Sorry… you still have… do that.”
He smiled at her, a stark difference from the insane smile of the man. Comforting and genuine, compared to foreboding and terror-inspiring. His whole face crinkled up, reaching everywhere from the dark rings beneath his eyes to his neglected, patchy beard. “It’s fine. I understand.”
She returned the gesture, baring her battered teeth in something that was more of a grimace than a smile. He stripped off his shirt, collapsing into their bed.
“Are you cool enough?”
She nodded, and he immediately snuggled up to her, wrapping her in his embrace with the precision and comfort that only a thousand such nights could gift. Everything drained from her instantly. The memories. The dream. The struggles. The monsters. Peace was where he was. Her savior kept the shadows away.
Smiling happily, she clutched him in return. No matter the scars they each bore, they still loved one another, something she found amazing. How do you find people like that? She wasn’t sure, but getting kidnapped and tortured worked pretty well for her.
She didn’t wake until almost a dozen hours later.
Chapter 11: Walking Into the Lion’s Lair
Oh. My. God.
For the first time (and probably not the last), I forgot to post for an entire day. It’s 1:30am here (though in Hawaii it’s still yesterday), so this is technically too late. Anyways, sorry, and I hope you enjoy
Kudos, comments, blah blah blah you know the spiel. I feel too fucking tired to copy paste it like normal
“Why are you here?”
“We came for you.”
Harry smiled mirthlessly, looking up from the book he’d been perusing while waiting for their arrival. Ron, Hermione, and another man he vaguely recognized stood before him. “To bring me back?”
Hermione nodded solemnly. “If possible.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, carefully marking his place in the book and stowing it on the adjacent table. His eyes opened again, and he surveyed the situation.
Ron and Hermione stood a couple yards from him, wands held at their side, tense. The man stood behind them, wand raised and face blank, as if it wasn’t Harry Potter in front of him. The man was obviously there to make sure affections didn’t get in the way once spells started flying. Harry could respect that.
“I don’t believe you’ve introduced me to your companion. Is he my replacement?” Harry asked smoothly, genuine curiosity making its way into his voice. Hermione’s eyes widened.
“Replacement? No, no, he’s just here for… for the mission. Contingency.”
He smiled internally, but kept his face blank, raising a single eyebrow and turning his attention to the man himself. “Who are you? I admit I cannot place your face, but anyone working alongside Granger and Weasley here is worthy of my attention.”
“Jacob Hathsby. Auror. You murdered my father,” the man responded flatly.
It clicked in his mind. “Ah, yes. William Hathsby, yes? Yes… he did put up quite the fight. You’re his son, you say?”
A nod, face still blank, though smoldering fury was alight in his eyes. Good, he thought, get him off kilter and angry. He looked back and Ron and Hermione, the former of which was glaring intensely at him. Harry knew that any shred of loyalty his old friend still might’ve had was gone; not like he cared a whole lot. They had parted ways, the days of being the Golden Trio in the distant past, shrouded by the horrors that resided in his memories. Hermione looked a mix of crushed, furious, and disappointed.
“Well, it is truly a pleasure meeting you. If you’re as good as your father was, I daresay this evening will be a mite bit more interesting than I’d anticipated,” Harry said conversationally. Jacob’s eyes flared even further. Ron growled and brought his wand to bear, which Hermione quickly grasped.
“Ron! We need to at least give it a try!” She hissed.
“Do you hear what he’s saying?! He’s talking about murdering Jacob’s father as if he’s discussing the sunrise!”
Harry rolled his eyes. And to think he sometimes missed those two bickering. “I can hear you y’know, and I’m not a fool. If you want to kill me, kill me. Or, at least give it a shot,” he smiled, his phoenix feather wand suddenly in his hand. He twirled it idly, and everyone whipped their own wands into a dueling stance. He grinned.
“Now you’re speaking my language. Any last words?”
With that, he sprang from his armchair, leaping towards Jacob in a move that had been planned out since almost the instant he had seen the man. Displaying impressive prowess, Jacob cast a Bone-Breaker at him, already rolling to the ground. The spell splattered against a wandless shield as Harry suddenly clenched his fist and punched upwards. A split second later, a fist of dirt thrust through the floorboards and into Jacob’s stomach.
He jumped behind another armchair, tapping it with his wand even as the wall behind him exploded, showering him with debris. The chair suddenly lunged forwards, ramming into Ron’s leg. He heard an audible snap. The redhead screamed, falling to the floor.
Harry sent a spell into Hermione’s torso, freezing her stiff as a board while she was distracted. His attention turned back to Jacob just in time to see the Auror climb to his feet.
Before the man could evade the spell, a green light collided with his back. Jacob crumpled to the floor, lifeless.
“Voldemort was a fool… but that spell is quite useful from time to time,” he mused mildly, largely speaking to himself. He turned to his ex-friends, one frozen and the other curled up into a ball on the floor, next to what was now a normal chair, save the blood splattered across it.
“You two have made a mistake. And it will be your last. I was fine with allowing you two to live largely untouched, as repayment for past services rendered. But invading my home with drawn wands? Too far.”
He gazed at the pair, a tinge of sadness in the green depths of his eyes, along with a glimmer of insanity.
“Goodbye, and thank you.”
A head thumped to the floor, and suddenly the whimpering stopped. Harry looked around his now ruined living room, sighing. Heart heavy, he strode over to his armchair, plopping down in it and reopening his book.
The title read, ‘Amino: the Dark Magic of the Mind’.
Chapter 12: I Spy With My Little Eye…
HA! I POSTED SEMI-EARLY! BOOM! I really subverted your expectations… *gets Rian Johnson flashbacks*
Er, anyways, I’m so very sorry for leaving all you faithful readers out to dry (what a weird expression, huh?); I was busy writing up a Star Wars themed storm. But, I’m back… for now. Please do go check it out if you’re into star wars
This was inspired by a random funny story that acdaniels (go check out her Star Wars fic; it’s awesome. I know, wrong audience, but still) said, and I decided to make a fic out of it. Enjoy!
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :)
“I spy with my little eye, that umbrella right there.”
Harry stifled a smirk, glancing at Ginny, who was similarly amused. He turned back to a giggling Teddy, who was pointing at a pink and green striped umbrella several dozen yards down the beach. Suddenly, the toddler’s eyes changed from brown to green, and he grinned. Harry grinned back.
He turned back to Ginny. “I dunno Gin, do you see an umbrella?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she responded, dramatically looking around the beach, “I think you win, Ted.”
Chapter 13: Sticky Eyeball
Blah blah blah words words words sorry I’m late.
Kudos. Comments. Hand them over, or else
Snarling, a grizzled, scarred man stumbled through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, clutching his eye. “Why couldn’t they have given it an automatic oil feature?” He huffed, slamming open the door to the Auror Office.
“Fuck off, Trainee!”
“Ooh, someone’s in a bad mood today. What, did an assassin poison your soup?”
“I will remind you, Trainee Tonks,” there was a sudden slurping sound, followed by a pop, “that my paranoia was vindicated last year when I was impersonated and locked up in my own fucking trunk.”
“Oh yeah, indeed. Now, how are those reports coming along?”
Chapter 14: You Smell Really Nice
What’s that? I’m late again? Why, I have no idea what you could possibly be on about. Stop spreading such slander.
More Hinny because why the fuck not
This snippet was inspired by a prompt from Niphredilien on tumblr, which found its way to me courtesy of cardinal events (also on tumblr)
Also, A War for Bones, a fic I’ve been really grinding away at lately in the hopes of getting it to y’all, is slowly but surely moving to the writing phase. It, along with Under the Stars of Tatooine and possibly Shattered, are the most likely of all the longfics I have planned to be released (or at least, to have begun to be released) sometime before the end of this year. Let’s all cross our fingers, eh?
As always, if you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“You smell really nice. Have I ever told you that?”
“Mm, no, you haven’t.”
“Well, you smell really nice.”
“You smell pretty good yourself,” Ginny responded, snuggling further into his chest. “Is that why you smell my hair all the time?”
A faint blush spread across Harry’s cheeks. “Oh, uh, yeah. It smells really flowery and… you.”
She flipped around, gazing up at him with a soft smile. “Smells like me, huh?”
“Well, I’m flattered that the Chosen One thinks so highly of my shampoo.”
“Well, your shampoo isn’t the only thing the Chosen One thinks highly of.”
“Oh? What might these other things be?”
He grasped her by the hips and setting her on his lap. Her eyes lit up.
“Why don’t we find out?”
Ah! Sorry to my (absolutely awesome) subs; if you just got emailed 3 times for the same chapter, then that’s because I accidentally broke AO3 via sheer sarcasm. In all seriousness, sorry!
Chapter 15: The Price of Change
Hi. Late again. As normal. Yada yada yada.
Yet another prompt from Niphredilien. If you’re reading this, thank you for your awesome prompts
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :p
“Do you regret it?”
Harry barked a sudden laugh. “Do I regret it? Of course I fucking do. I regret it every damn day. I regret it when I see her on the front page, or an interview with him.”
He took a long swig of the drink, savoring the burn it left as it flowed down his throat. He slammed the bottle back down with an exhale, staring at the faded label.
His mouth curled into a snarl. “It needed to be done, and everyone else was too fucking weak. Even them.” He turned and met her hard hazel eyes. “Everyone except you.”
Tracy was silent for several moments. “Would you do it again? If you could go back and redo it?”
He stared back, unflinchingly. “Yes.”
A second ticked by, memories playing in his head, the same ones that kept him awake at night. Reminders of the price of change. Another second. “Yes.”
She nodded after a moment, before smiling. “Good. No self respecting Dark Lord would chose otherwise.”
He rolled his eyes, scowling. “Fuck off; I’m busy trying to have a pity party.” He shook the mostly empty bottle for emphasis.
She snatched it away from him before he could react, something which wasn’t that much of a feat considering his state. “Well, I’m sorry to say, but the pity party’s over. We have a big day tomorrow, so you need sleep. A hangover will be bad enough on its own.”
“I mean, let me drink enough and sleep won’t be a problem…” he withered under her glare. “Okay, I’m going, I’m going.”
Chapter 16: Do Not Disturb the Ginny
Uh. Yeah. Idk wtf this is. So, uh, enjoy? Maybe. Idk. I feel so fucking tired I don’t give two dancing shits. Also, sorry for taking so long to post. I got sucked into doing SW snippets (check those out, they cool). Worldbuilding sucks.
Anyways, leave a comment, or don’t, doesn’t matter because the next time I’ll be awake enough to care will be in like 12 hours.
(Jk I want internet points)
Harry blinked. “Er, what?”
“I said shut up! I’m focusing.”
Wisely, Harry stayed silent, stepping into the room. He cautiously approached the witch, trying to catch a glimpse of what had her attention so fully.
“Almost… almost… done!”
She stood up, and he looked down. There, completed in all its glory, was a jigsaw puzzle of a ginger cat.
“What do you think?”
Harry nodded. “I do believe that is the finest puzzle I have ever seen. By the way, the Harpies sent a letter.”
She pointed to the pile of other puzzles off to the side. “Tell them that unless Barclay is dying, they need to wait until I complete those.”
Chapter 17: Battle Royale: Furniture Edition
This chapter is brought to you by: boredom!
Aaaass always, if you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :p
“Are the tables and chairs meant to be fighting?”
Sirius cursed, dropping the book he was reading and scrambling to his feet. He rushed past Harry, who followed a second later. Sirius sprinted down the stairs, and in into the living room, before swearing again.
Harry watched as Sirius leapt into the fray, battling cushions and desk lamps in a furious skirmish. Though, Harry thought with a wince as a table leg struck Sirius’ head, the furniture had a considerable advantage: not being able to feel pain.
With a growl, Sirius took out his wand, dissolving a pair of footrests. He turned around, casting and explosive curse on a table, then a chair.
By this point, the furniture had started to learn. A two yard long, dark green sofa was trying to hide in the corner. Harry snorted, watching it futilely attempt to make itself as compact as possible. It got turned into a pile of ash for its trouble.
About a dozen curses later, Sirius stood panting at the center of a graveyard of ash, fluff, and shredded fabric. He huffed, shaking his head.
“Stupid Bellatrix. Always had a weird obsession with making furniture murder each other,” he muttered, before his eyebrows knit together. “I wonder happened to those exploding floorboards…”
Harry summoned his broom.
Chapter 18: Arnold the Conversationist
I’m late again.
Here’s a fic.
By the way, from August 1st to 7th I’ll be doing a SW fandom challenge, so don’t expect any snippets for this series
“So… er, how’ve you been doing?”
A small squeak was the only response he got.
Harry sighed, glancing down at the pink pigmy puff at his side. “What the hell am I doing with my life?”
Arnold brushed up against his arm. Harry smiled, reaching over and petting him.
“Thanks, little guy,” he said, before sighing again. “I should probably be worried that I’m holding a prolonged conversation with an animal, shouldn’t I?”
Arnold squeaked again.
Before Harry could respond, the door opened, and he looked up.
He smiled. “You look great. I’m just about ready.”
Ginny returned the expression. “Alright. I’ll be by the door.”
As the door clicked shut again, he swiveled back to Arnold, who was licking his hand.
“Ok, I got to go, alright?”
Arnold squeaked, doing a little dance. He chuckled, standing up.
“Try not to trash the place, yeah?”
Chapter 19: You Are a Fool
Woooo this is the first snippet from A War for Bones (though whether it’ll end up being featured in the actual fic is unknown)
The characterizations will make sense in context
Also, late again.
The fire flared up, and a stoney-faced Sirius White stepped into the office. Dumbledore looked towards him with a nod.
“Sirius. I did not expect you here so early. Why, Harry hasn’t even arrived yet.”
Sirius ignored him, lowering himself into the chair across Dumbledore’s desk. His dark eyes locked with Albus’ blue gaze.
“I do not have time nor the patience to deal with your shit. I have come with a warning.”
He leaned forward, and Dumbledore steepled his fingers.
“I am leaving Harry in your care purely because I have no better option. So, if, next summer, he is not happy and healthy, there will be hell to pay, and you will be the one paying.”
Dumbledore opened his mouth, but Sirius cut him off.
“I do not want to hear more claims that this school is safe!” Sirius snarled. “It is filled with the children of the most dangerous and powerful dark families! You are a fool!”
Sirius stared him in the eye, daring him to retort. He did not.
“And, do not forget your end of the bargain. You may disagree with my methods, but it makes no difference. There is no alternative. At least, none that your conscience would allow, is there, Albus?”
Dumbledore’s jaw tightened, but otherwise he displayed no reaction. “I have not forgotten. You have made it rather hard to do such a thing.”
Sirius stood. “Good.” He strode back to the fire, summoning a handful of floo powder from the jar on the desk. He paused, turning back to Dumbledore.
“Oh, and do try and keep your pet war criminal leashed; it would be tragic if he had to disappear.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter 20: Snorkack Hunting
Here is thing. Luna’s first appearance. Hope you enjoy. Also, the next several chapters will likely be fight scenes, because I feel a bit lacking in that area and want to try and hone my skill
If you like the chapter, please gift a desperate writer (hem hem) a kudo and a comment. Contributions like yours save lives :D
Harry turned to see where Luna was pointing, badly suppressing a smile. “Where?”
She huffed. “There.”
“You’re talking about that oak?”
“No, no, that one. The elm.”
He squinted. “Ah, I see. Are we going to get closer?”
She shook her head. “No, it’ll sense us and flee. The angle their horns are crumpled at is perfect for maximal teleportation capabilities. We’ll never catch it.”
Harry gave up on not smiling, and laughed. She turned to him, a questioning look on her face. He hugged her fiercely. “Never change, Luna.”
She loosened in his grasp after a moment, before hugging him back. “You too, Harry.” A long second later, she mumbled in his ear. “Now, can we get back to watching the Snorkack? He might get away.”
Chapter 21: Shit Goes Down
This was inspired by a conversation between me and myself at 1am
“Mate, you should’ve seen that duel I had with Nott. Shit was going down,” Harry said, taking a draught of his beer. Ron nodded seriously from across the table, before cocking his head.
“Why does shit always go down? Why not up?”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Mm… I don’t know. Gravity, maybe?”
“But, gravity doesn’t work on words,” Ron protested.
“Yeah but, like, I dunno.”
Ron snorted. “Excellent argument, Harry.”
“Fuck off,” he drawled in response, taking another drink.
“… but seriously, why doesn’t shit go up?”
“You’ve had too much beer.”
Chapter 22: A Bloody Bathtub
Here’s a thing. So, uh, enjoy. Idk what happened
The blood disappeared, leaving the bathtub looking completely normal.
“Oh, thank god. I thought I’d have to deal with a bloody bathtub for the rest of my lease…”
She shook her head, turning away from it and walking out of the room. “Now,” she stared down at Caleb’s body, “what to do with you?”
She gave it a moment of consideration, before dragging him into the closet, closing the door.
“He wasn’t a very good boyfriend anyways…”
Chapter 23: Practice Makes You Not Dead
I’m a couple minutes late, ik. Blame apple. And my school
James growled, but slipped back into a ready stance anyways.
He took a second to think, a plan forming in his mind. Then he moved.
He didn’t stop to see if it landed; he was already on the floor, rolling to the side. Debris struck his face as he heaved himself to his feet, stumbling forwards.
“Good! But you can do better!”
In response, the Potter silently cast a salvo of spells, leaping behind a pillar. He heard a rhythmic clunking. His opponent was on the move.
He leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding what appeared to be some kind of cutting curse. He shook his head, wondering where the Auror had learned some of this stuff.
A crash sounded behind him, and he spun around, instinctively firing a pair of spells. He saw nothing. His eyes widened, but it was too late.
“You’re dead,” a voice said from behind him, and he felt the prick of a wand against his throat.
James dropped his wand. “Alright Moody, I get it, I suck.”
The man laughed. “Not once I’m done with you, you won’t. Now pick your wand up and let’s go again.”
Chapter 24: Can I Have a Dragon?
“Mummy, can I have a dragon?”
Ginny smiled, glancing at a similarly amused Harry. She turned back to the girl.
“Well, that would be a tad problematic. For one, the house would get burnt down.”
Lily shrugged. “We could just keep it outside.”
“Then it’d just fly away,” Harry explained, “and other houses would get burnt down.”
She pouted. “Hmph. Then can we at least get a manticore?”
Chapter 25: Echoes
Too lazy to write an AN or even copy paste my normal bs
“You’re a dead man, Potter.”
Harry growled. “Just fuck off already. Or are you that desperate to get back in your precious master’s favor, Malfoy?”
Draco bared his teeth. “Even in the depths of defeat you still manage to ruin everything! I will not stop until my revenge has been wrought!”
“Oh, you’re a poet now?” He muttered. Shaking his head, he focused back on Draco, even as he tried to calculate if his draw time would be fast enough.
“I thought you could change, Draco. I never wanted it to end this way. But… you’re forcing my hand.”
“Change?” He barked a mirthless laugh. “My parents are dead! Because of you! And now even the lowest Death Eater spits at the Malfoy name!”
Harry realized that Draco was shaking, his eyes darting around, tears gathering in his eyes. Broken.
“I am nothing…” the blond boy said, a crack of thunder echoing from outside the cave. “But your cold body will restore my honor… it will earn me acceptance…”
Harry gazed upon Draco with sadness. So much potential. Seemingly impossible now. Still…
“It won’t bring you what you believe it will. What you think you need. Just more pain, more suffering. You don’t have to do this.” Harry stretched out a hand. Draco gave it a cold glare. “Please, Draco,” he asked, desperate.
Malfoy gave him a long, hard look, before shaking his head. “No… there’s only one way this’ll end…”
Harry sighed, retracting his hand. “So be it.”
In an instant, he was firing off spells. Cutting Curses, Reductos, Bat-Bogeys, stunners, disarming spells, and Confringos. A hasty shield was put up by the Death Eater, barely blocking everything, but another salvo was already on the way.
“Comfringo!” Again. This time at Draco’s feet. He had no time to dodge, nothing.
Harry crawled over to the bloody corpse of the one who once might’ve been his friend. He carefully tried not to jostle his knee, lying beside his old schoolmate.
“Sorry Draco, just… business. Had to do it.”
“Just-“ the man hacked up blood, but did not pay much attention, “just… make sure Pyxis lives… safe…”
Harry sighed, wondering for a moment —just a moment— how bad it’d really be to die there. To be done with it all.
He sighed, cautiously climbing to his feet. Apparently he had a ‘Pyxis’ to take care of. And he wasn’t going to abandon something just because he felt like it.
Well, not yet.
Chapter 26: A Confused Quest
“Professor, I really don’t think-“
“Nonsense. This is an excellent idea, and I really do not understand your misgivings.”
Harry glanced over the cliff, second guessing Dumbledore’s sanity. “You really want to jump… into that?” He cringed slightly at the sight of a massive wave smashing against the rocky face. Dumbledore stroked his beard.
“Well, we must get the horcrux, and this is where it is.” His brow furrowed. “Or maybe in that other cave back there… hm…”
Harry gave him a flat look, and resolved to make sure the old wizard knew where they were going next time they went somewhere.
“Or… maybe it’s in over on the other side of the outcropping…”
Chapter 27: I Just Want An Ending
Another short one
“I don’t expect a happy ending. I just want an ending.”
Neville placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “You’ll get one. It’s not as hopeless as it seems,” he said, carefully ignoring his own growing despair.
John snorted. “Yeah? What’s Harry gonna do, single-handedly take out You-Fucking-Know-Who?”
“We can make a difference, even without Harry.”
“Right…” he traced the brand on his forehead, wincing, “but for how long?”
Neville didn’t answer.
Chapter 28: Dancing to the Dead
This is the end of HBP from Snape’s perspective. Enjoy!
A whisper. A plea.
Snape’s eyes met Dumbledore’s.
His face twisted, and he strode forward, shoving Draco out of the way. A second later he was snarling down at the old man before him. The man who thought he could make the world dance to his tune. The man who thought he could make Snape dance to his tune.
And as much as he hated it, he still danced.
Burn in hell, he thought.
Chapter 29: Limits Unknown to All But One
This one was fun. This is set in an AU of some sort, though idk the specifics. Enjoy
“Hello, Potter. I’m pleased that you are here.”
Harry stayed silent, glaring up at Voldemort, who stared down at him with a curious look. As if he was studying Harry.
“My, my, Harry, where are your manners? I welcome you into my home and you say nothing,” he said after a moment.
“Your home?” Harry asked, glancing around the grandiose dining hall. “I was under the impression this was the home of our friend Lucius, though I suppose his would be much smaller.”
Malfoy bristled, though Voldemort laughed, something that Harry resolved to never listen to again if he could help it. “Amusing, Harry. Quite amusing. Lucius?”
Lucius’ mouth continued moving, but made no sound. Fear and joy fought to become the dominant emotion in Harry’s mind.
The man froze, then bowed rapidly, before hurrying out of the room.
Voldemort leaned forward as the doors slammed closed, leaving the two alone in the grand hall.
“You know, I’m curious as to what you thought you would achieve coming here.”
Harry barely managed to keep his features blank, but Voldemort laughed. A shudder tore through the young wizard.
“I know everything, Harry. No plan is safe. Especially not one so prominent in your mind as ‘kill Voldemort’.”
Harry avoided eye contact, instead gazing evenly around the room. It was dim, the only light coming from cracks in the curtains, the fireplace, and a few candles scattered about the confused mess of furniture, relics, paintings, and books. All of which were stacked as high as the vaulted ceilings.
“All from the Hogwarts library.”
Harry started. “Excuse me?”
Voldemort displayed rows of pointed teeth, motioning around him with a gaunt hand. “Everything in here is from the Hogwarts library. The only things to survive.”
Harry blinked. “Why?”
“I’m a bit sentimental, I must admit. And this all… this is my childhood. I spent most of my time in the library.”
Voldemort turned back to him, red eyes burning against the sickly pale skin of his face. “This room is what shaped me into who I am. What I am. This, you must understand, or you will never unlock your full potential. You will never know your true bounds.”
“Oh? I think I know well enough. And I didn’t have to collect furniture to find out.”
Voldemort’s lip twisted. “Do you? Do you really? Because I do. I’ve seen it all. Every memory, every emotion. I’ve seen everything, Harry Potter. Your head is an open book to me.”
He stood, stepping off his dias. Away from his throne. Harry’s heart pounded, but did not recoil. The stench of death, the perfume of rot. It assaulted Harry like a tidal wave.
“I know just how far I can push you. Just how much pressure I can apply. Until,” three white fingers raised, snapping. The sound echoed around the room, “you break. Just like that. The Boy-Who-Lived, broken and beaten.”
Harry spat in his face.
Red eyes narrowed.
“It seems a demonstration is in order to fully… drive the point home.”
Against his will, a shudder tore through Harry.
Chapter 30: The Rumble of Thunder
Late again. Yada yada, enjoy the angst
Thunder crackled dully in the distance as rain splattered against the ground. Draco stared into the dark sky, letting the water strike him full in the face. His eyes were closed, concealing the haunted echo that lived in his eyes. Thunder cracked again, this time closer. Louder.
He felt it in his bones, reveling in it, yet hating the feeling. The feeling of life.
He wanted it to be over. But he was weak. Too weak to do it. So cursed he was. Cursed with the half-life of a fool. Cursed with the vengeful ghosts of the past.
Something that no amount of money, no amount of clout, could fix.
What use was being a Malfoy, he wondered as he felt the cold touch of nature, if all it bought you was suffering. Suffering wearing the guise of power.
His Muggle jeans and jumper clung to him, soaked through. If there was one thing the Muggles were good at, it was comfort.
Something he could not attain.
Something he did not deserve.
‘Who is more the fool: the fool, or the fool who follows him?’ the Muggles said. He had been both. Did that make him doubly foolish?
The thunder crashed again, closer than ever this time.
He sighed, clenching his jaw. Oh well, there was nothing to be done for it now.
All he could do is his best as he bore the consequences.
Chapter 31: Accidental Filth
What is this? No idea
Ngl I’m debating whether or not to drop the copypasta leave a kudo and comment spiel entirely, seen as I haven’t been doing it lately anyways. *shrug*
Filch stomped down a stone corridor, his lips curled and eyes narrowed.
“Bloody poltergeist… gonna exorcise…” he muttered, throwing open the door to his office. It was dim and cold, barely the size of a broom closet. He squeezed in between the piled of confiscated items, making his way to his desk.
“Hmph… I’ll complain… Dumbledore’ll hear of this…”
He rabidly scribbled across a yellow parchment piece, which looked as aged as himself. He slammed the quill down on the table, and stood up.
And then he heard a rumble.
His eyes narrowed even further, and a snarl made itself comfortable on his face. “What’s going on out-“
A wave of water rushed past his door, beginning to rapidly flood his office.
“Heh, sorry Filthy. Was an accident,” the laughing voice of Peeves said from behind him.
Before he could answer, a box of confiscated Tickling-Toothbrushes fell on Filch’s head.
Chapter 32: A Void of the Soul
She couldn’t cry anymore.
Her tears had been spent. Her pain emptied. Now all that was left was a soul-numbing chill, permeating her entire body. The absence of heat. A void where he should have been.
She laid alone on a queen-sized bed, waiting for someone who would never come home. Never crawl into bed and whisper his love into her ear as they cuddled again. Someone who would never steal the blankets from her as she slept again. Someone who would never comfort her after a nightmare again.
Someone she would never see again.
Lost. His ashes gathered by death as her world burnt down.
Sometimes she’d scream and weep, smashing things. Her neighbors probably thought she was off her rocker.
They probably were right.
She just wanted answers.
Why him? Why not her? Why not them both?
She glanced at the knife on her nightstand, glittering there under the soft moonlight. Taunting her.
She shook her head. She wouldn’t give in.
Chapter 33: Flash and Boom
*shrug* twas raining last night
Harry started counting, silently mouthing the words so as to not wake his dorm-mates up.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Harry felt a rumble, the sound from the lightning finally reaching him. He smiled slightly, peering through the rain-covered window with anticipation.
He twiddled his thumbs, eyes still glued to the window.
He grinned, and began counting again.
One. Two. Three.
This one was louder, shaking his bones ever so slightly. His grin grew wider, if possible.
Another flash, and he eagerly began counting.
Chapter 34: The Echo of Love
I did this, I guess
These ANs are becoming more and more weird lol
Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Triwizard Champion.
Hailed as the next Dumbledore. Possibly the most famous wizard in the world.
Yet, despite all of it. All the titles. All the achievements attributed to him. Despite it all, he hadn’t been able to save her.
In that moment, he had just been a boy. Just Harry. He’d had no secret weapon, no ultra-powerful love spell, no dark magic. Nothing that could save her.
So he just had to watch. Helpless.
Watch as the sickly green struck her. Watch as the light faded from her eyes. Watch as her body tumbled to the floor, limp.
And then he laughed. Voldemort laughed. Laughed at her death. Laughed at her pain. Laughed at his pain.
What was the point of being the savior of the wizarding world if you couldn’t even be the savior of one girl?
So he let her die.
Dead in the physical. A corpse on a cold stone floor. But still alive. A ghost.
A ghost haunting him. Haunting his heart.
He almost preferred that she be all the way dead. Erased from his memory. Truly gone.
But no, he was cursed. Cursed with the burden of what should lay on the shoulders of nothing short of an army. Cursed with the expectations of a world. Cursed with a destiny he was helpless to stop.
Cursed with the echo of love.
Chapter 35: Promise Me
“Promise me, when I die, you’ll have me cremated. Promise me you’ll spread my ashes around a tree. I don’t need an expensive hole in the ground, or a rock with my name on it.”
John paused, and looked down, meeting her unblinking eyes. “Luv, you won’t-“
“Promise me. Please.” Her voice was a whisper among the trees that surrounded them, but he heard it clear as day. He nodded.
“Aloud. Say it.”
She sighed, leaning back against his chest as she flexed her hand, watching the stumps where her fingers had been twitch and bend. A spike of guilt shot through him.
She dropped her arm, nuzzling further into his arms. She quickly grew still, only her ever-so-slightly moving chest signifying life. He smiled fondly at the sleeping woman in his arms, the gold light of the sun playing in her brown hair, caressing the skin of her pale face. He gently ran his fingers through the mass of her hair. “I will protect you, darling. You will not die for a long, long time,” he whispered. He was surprised as her laugh rumbled against him.
“Your dedication is sweet, but your naivety is just that: naivety. I’m a muggleborn, and one who has repeatedly escaped their grasp.”
“Well, that’s where I come in,” he smirked. “I’m the human shield extraordinaire, remember?”
She whacked him, despite chuckling. “This is serious, John.”
He grinned. “I am serious. Remember DADA class in our fifth year?”
Her chuckle turned into full laughter, and a peaceful smile set itself on his face. No matter what was happening, they were together.
And that was all that mattered.
Chapter 36: Ineptitude Is in the Air
I have once again neglected you all. Whoops. Anyways, here’s a thing. Wanted to give Snape a shot, and I think I did him fairly well. Enjoy
Harry’s head snapped up from his potions textbook, looking at the greasy shadow that was looming over him. “Yes, Professor?”
“What is that foul concoction you call a potion?”
He glanced at his cauldron, which was filled with a wildly bubbling, yet almost syrupy orange liquid. “Um, it’s the Elixir of Awe, Professor.”
Snape’s lip twisted. “The Elixir of Awe is supposed to be a soft orange; not that hideous color. Why, you’re almost as bad as Longbottom. Moreover, it is far too thick. Why, it’s almost as dense as yourself and Longbottom,” he sneered, his wand materializing in his hand. With naught but a swift movement, the two boys’ cauldrons were empty. Harry’s jaw clenched, but kept his face carefully blank, unwilling to incur the wrath of his potions professor.
“Your ineptitude is suffocating, Potter. Next time, do try and actually read the instructions on the board.”
Snape turned away, stalking off to terrorize some other student.
Chapter 37: The Blond One
This is not beta’d. Read at your own risk
Also, more ultra short shit. You’re welcome, or something
“Hey… where did the prisoners go?”
Lucius turned towards her, pausing his discussion with Bellatrix. “They disapparated, as you just bloody saw!”
“No, the blond one and Ollivander. Where did they go?”
Lucius’ eyes widened.
Chapter 38: The Cost of Victory
This is not beta’d, and I will probably regret posting this tomorrow when my brain is actually functioning. But, uh, anyways, here is thing
The Boy-Who-Lived slowly crept back to consciousness, his eyes fluttering open. He stared blankly at the bushy haired girl standing over him, before his mind ground its way back up to speed. “Hermione?”
She smiled. “Thank Merlin you’re okay; we were worried sick.”
His brow furrowed. “What happened?”
Ron chimed in. “You don’t remember?” Harry shook his head. “Ah, well, a Bludger caught you by surprise. Looked nasty. Got you right in the head.”
Hermione twisted her hair furiously as Ron gave his explanation, examining Harry’s body. “Hey, I’m fine, Hermione,” he said, noticing her concern.
She nodded. “I know, I know, it’s just-“ she made a vague hand gesture. Ron awkwardly glanced at her, then at Harry, as silence overtook the trio.
“So, er, at least we won,” he said, several seconds later. Harry smiled, but Hermione turned and smacked him.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“You’re hopeless, Ronald.”
Chapter 39: Step Out of the Kitchen
More Harry Potter I guess
“Gin, I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”
“Hey! It’s not that bad!”
Harry’s eyebrow raised as he inspected a plate of eggs. “Really? I’m fairly sure these are inedible.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she grabbed a fork. He smirked, watching her take a bite. Her eyes widened, and she spat it out on the plate. “Oh… eugh, Merlin…”
“You were saying?”
Chapter 40: She Liked It!
Shit… late again
As Harry flicked through the letters, a small envelope caught his attention and his heart began to pound.
She had responded.
His hands began to shake slightly and he carefully cracked the seal, setting the stack aside. Slowly, he extracted the parchment, and unfolded it. His breath held, he began reading.
A long moment later, a grin spread across his face. “She liked it… she liked it…” he whispered, looking up from the letter, beaming out the window. He laughed. “She liked it! Woo!”
“Boy! What’s all that racket about?” His uncle roared, and Harry’s eyes widened. A swear slipped from him as he scrambled to open the door. “Sorry, uncle!”
“You’d better be! I want my car washed by the end of the day! The board is visiting tomorrow!”
Vernon stomped off without waiting for an answer. Harry slumped, staring at the pristine wallpaper. He sighed, shutting his door and walking back to his desk. He plopped down, glancing over the letter, and a small smile began to form on his face again.
“She liked it,” he said once more, nodding. He reached for a pen and paper, and began composing his reply.
Chapter 41: Scheming
Idfk what this is
“This is rather… unfortunate. I would have wished you had not discovered my schemes, my boy. But, as we both know, the past cannot be changed. The future, on the other hand…” Dumbledore whipped out his wand, and before Harry could react, he had been Obliviated.
Dumbledore began cackling evilly, as he watched Harry drool all over his robes. “Soon… soon I will have the Potter fortune all to myself… well, and for Molly. And young Ronald. Hm, yes, I will have to get around to paying them sometime, won’t I…”
Chapter 42: Just Don’t Destroy Anything
“Mummy! I’m bored!”
Anna sighed, glancing down at her pleading toddler. “Look, luv-“ she stopped herself, an idea forming. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but it would get Shane off her back. “Here,” she handed him her wand, “take this. Just don’t destroy anything.”
She turned back to her cooking as James ran off. Shaking her head, she grabbed a cutting board full of onions and dumped it in, before moving over to the pan.
“Uh oh. Mummy?!”
Chapter 43: All for Naught
Ayyyy mah beta is back. Which means my writing won’t read like shit (hopefully) for now. Anyways, here’s a thing
The attack was over in seconds.
Harry’s heart froze as he watched Hermione get dragged before Voldemort. The pale man cackled.
“Come out, Potter! We have your pet Mudblood!” He spat into the dark. Harry’s jaw tightened. He knew he shouldn’t. So many had died so he could survive. So he could win. But if he died here… it’d all be for naught.
But a voice buried deep, deep under the scars and the guilt, the grief and the pain, fought back. If you let her die, she’ll be yet another one dead for your sake, it said. You can’t just leave her.
Suddenly, screams tore through the air, assaulting him in a tide of guilt, fury, and fear. He hesitated for another moment, and made his decision.
“Stop!“ He cried, rising from his hiding spot. He watched as Voldemort turned, his slitted pupils locking onto him. The image of fire flickered in the Dark Lord’s eyes, a mere reflection of the magic-fueled blaze surrounding them. A pointed grin formed.
Hermione’s screams ceased.
A breath of relief left Harry, and he trudged forwards, wand held at the ready. Several seconds later, he was standing within a dozen feet of his enemy. “Well, Tom, you wanted me. Here I am.”
Voldemort’s grin grew wider. “Indeed I did, Potter. I must admit,” he motioned to the wreckage of what used to be a house, “hiding here was quite ingenious. It took longer than I anticipated to find you.”
Harry did not respond. Voldemort shook his head. “And to think I expected an opponent worthy of my respect from you.”
Suddenly, he had a wand in his hand, and before Harry could even react, a Killing Curse raced towards him, and struck.
Chapter 44: The Epitome of Fine
“Uh, you good, mate?”
Harry glanced down to where Ron was staring. “Oh, that?” He gestured to his leg, which was bent at an unnatural angle. “Totally fine. Don’t you know? This is how legs are supposed to be.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “I was just asking.”
“And I was just answering. Now, help me up to the hospital wing; I don’t want to be upright when the shock wears off.”
Chapter 45: A Figure in the Darkness
Finally, I write an actual fucking snippet instead of some lame late night word shit
Also, context? Pfft, who needs that bullshit
A bolt of green rushed towards Hermione as she struggled against her bindings. She squeezed her eyes shut.
And then she heard a small noise, as if a miniature explosive had gone off.
She waited a moment, before carefully opening her eyes. She immediately noticed splinters of wood scattered across the floor, and glanced around, her brow furrowed. Was she still alive? Voldemort’s figure drew her gaze, as his face contorted in confusion, then caution, and finally, fury.
Ok, so, no, not the afterlife.
She peered into the darkness that surrounded her, trying to find her savior, when a pile of debris was blasted at Voldemort. The dark lord reacted quickly, throwing up a shield. Her breath caught as she watched a brilliantly glowing stag appear behind Voldemort. He whipped around.
“Hello, Tom,” it said.
A barrage of dark spells tore through the apparition, but it remained unharmed. Hermione’s eyes widened, as everything clicked into place.
Apparently it had for Voldemort, as well.
Tom Riddle spun back around just in time to avoid a Reducto, but only barely. A figure emerged from the darkness, casting several spells one after another. Voldemort stumbled back, most curses missing him. He howled as one caught his leg, and began limping.
The figure did not pause, continuing its approach with unrelenting confidence.
Voldemort quickly regained his balance and twirled his wand high in the air and summoned a deep black mist around him. The figure stopped, standing still for a second, watching the roiling cloud. Hermione racked her brain, attempting to remember what spell the evil sorcerer had employed.
And then, from the figure’s wand, a flame roared to life.
Hermione finally caught a glimpse of the figures face, and gasped as the rapidly growing inferno illuminated his form. Green eyes peered coldly out from behind a pair of spectacles, and untamed black hair peeked out from under his hat.
Again, her breath was stolen from her as the now titanic blaze coalesced into a lion, bellowing mightily. It charged at the mist, the sheer heat dispelling it nearly instantly.
And then it was gone.
A towering monster of fire —now a wolf— stood alone, naught but ashes surrounding it. The man’s wand made a downward slicing motion, and a second later, the creature keened, dropping to its knees and lashing out, tongues of flame scorching the earth around it. She noticed that its form ebbed and flowed between animals, though every iteration was an equally terrifying predator.
Nevertheless, it died down, shrinking the the size of a bonfire, then a candle, and then it puffed out of existence.
The man strode forward, inspecting the area, even as it smoldered. Eventually, he nodded, and turned to her. A second later, he stood in front of her, eyes running over her form. “Are you okay?”
She stared at him. “You’re dead.”
“Oh…” he grimaced, “yeah, I forgot about that.”
“… at least cut these ropes so I can punch you properly.”
Chapter 46: Hagrid Made Arrangements
Sorry I’m late; math was curb stomping me
Dumbledore turned expectantly to McGonagall.
“What, exactly, is your plan regarding the stone?”
The great wizard smiled benignly. “I’m sure it will be fine. I had Hagrid make arrangements, so I am quite certain everything will be foolproof. Lemon drop?”
Chapter 47: Of All People
Holy shit, this week has been a nightmare. Tgif
“I think Ginny’s my soulmate,” Harry said suddenly. Ron gave him a flat stare, before shaking his head.
“Why would you tell me, of all people, that?”
Chapter 48: Points From Gryffindor
When in doubt, write Snape being a dick.
Snape narrowed his eyes. “Five points from Gryffindor for attitude, Potter. And ten more for tracking mud around school grounds.”
“Ten points for talking back, as well. Pray I do not take more.”
Harry scowled, but kept his mouth shut, brushing past Snape.
“Fifteen points from Gryffindor! You are excused when I say you are excused!”
Chapter 49: Night Is When Demons Come Out To Play
This was fun.
Ginny jerked awake, shivering despite the copious blankets piled on her bed. Tears prickled in her eyes. “No, Tom,” she whispered, her eyes darting around the pitch black room. Her heart began to race, and she stumbled out of bed. Where was she? Where was Tom?
She threw the door open, looking frantically around. No one was there. Why was no one there? Were they sleeping? Were they dead? Had she killed them? Or, rather, had he killed them?
She couldn’t bear even the possibility, instead slipping as quickly as she dared down the long stairwell, whispering to herself all the while. “He’s dead. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you. Harry stabbed him.”
But what if that hadn’t killed him? She’d been possessed, hadn’t she? What if he was still there? Was she even Ginny anymore?
She reached the foot of the stairs and broke out into a full run, dashing to the door. She had to leave. She was dangerous, she knew it. She had to tell someone. Dumbledore. Or Harry. And then they could lock her away where she’d never ever hurt anyone again.
She was pelting through the grass, gasping and panting. She shivered again, a thought popping into her head. Had Harry stabbed him? Was it all just a dream? Was the diary still in her trunk?
A branch tripped her, and she tumbled to the ground in a heap. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pushed herself to her knees, before collapsing again.
“I don’t want to go back, Tom… I don’t want you…” she said aloud, as if she was going to get an answer. “I’m scared, Tom…”
Only the trees replied, rustling frightfully as the wind picked up. How to interpret that, she didn’t know. She shivered.
Shakily, she gathered herself and rose to her feet, turning around just in time to see a frantic Molly Weasley running towards her. Her mind flashed for an instant, contemplating her options. She could run. Hide. Get lost in the wild. She could do it. Her friends and family would be safe. Harry would be safe.
And then the instant was gone, and she was crushed in Molly’s arms.
Chapter 50: Descent Into Hell
Honestly, I don’t quite know if this makes sense, but I hope it does. Enjoy more Ginny angst
“Ginny… what happened to you?” Ron asked, his eyes wide as he tracked her mussed form.
The girl’s eyes narrowed, her head cocking to the side in a cascade of long ginger locks. “What happened to me?” A giggle escaped her, then a chuckle, then she was caught by a laughing fit. “What do you think, Tom?” She asked. “Should we tell him? I think so. I want him to know.”
She stepped forward, her right hand suddenly twirling her wand. Ron stumbled hastily back.
“What happened, brother, was a diary. An evil, brilliant, twisted, murderous diary!” She leaned towards him, her brown eyes burning with an intense off-ness. “That fool, that bastard Malfoy. He did this! But it could have been stopped. It could have been fixed. How, you might ask?” She snarled. “By you! Or any of my other worthless brothers! All you had to do was just be there for me! But no, you were above that. You were friends with Harry Potter. Why would you be bothered with little old Ginny?
“So I clung to the one friend I had. Tom. He told me everything I needed to hear. Everything I should’ve heard. He took care of me. Taught me things. And then, he exacted his price. The price of his friendship.” She curled her lip. “You know this part.
“And then Harry saved me. On the brink of death, he saved me. And killed Tom. My fucking hero. Tom was gone, you all realized the wrongness of your ways, and everything was just fine. Absolutely brilliant. Oh, except the nightmares. Oh, yes, the nightmares.”
She pushed right up into his face, smirking up at him. “In every one, I started alone in the Chamber. There are not words for the terror that I would experience every night. Sometimes the snake was dead, sometimes Harry was dead, sometimes they both were. But the diary was always there.”
She stared at him, her eyes reflecting fear for the first time. “And then Tom would come. Out of the diary he slithered, and he would hurt me. Words, stones, spells. Everything. When he took breaks, he would stand above me, and tell me that he was my friend.” Her voice cracked. “He told me no one else would stay with me like he would. That he’d never leave. And then, once he got bored, he’d kill me. So many ways to die. I experienced them all.
“Then I’d wake up.” She turned away. “Never screaming. Never making a sound. Mum just thought I needed time.”
She laughed aloud, whipping around to face him once again. “This happened every night. Over. And over. And over. And then school started again. I thought it’d be different.” She gave him a dead look. “It wasn’t.
“You, Harry, everyone, you all just assumed it was fine. You assumed I was fine! You fucking liars said you were sorry when you had to, spouted all the right platitudes, but it meant nothing. Nothing!” She was screaming.
“So, I was back. Alone. Except for Tom. Tom, who still came every night.”
Something must have shown on his face, because she grinned. “Ah, you’re starting to understand. Since you have the pieces to the puzzle, why don’t you try putting them together?”
He gulped, and shook his head. Her eyes narrowed, and her wand snapped up. He gulped again. “Um, you… stayed lonely?” It was sad. He knew it. But she seemed not to notice.
“Not only that, I faced ridicule daily. Have you ever thought how being the sibling of Harry Potter’s friend can affect people’s perception of you? Fred and George might not have cared, but I did!” She shrieked, her hands fisting. “And then, it happened. Tom told me to do it. Yes, yes he did. Told me the nasty buggers deserved it.” Her breathing started coming faster. “I killed them. All three. The bastards. They deserved to die, and I tore their throats out with my bare hands! Just like Tom showed me…”
She swayed, her eyes gazing unerringly past his shoulder. Suddenly, she began crying, collapsing to the floor in a heap. He froze. What was he supposed to do?
After a second, his brotherly instincts took control, and he knelt down to comfort her. “Hey… it’s okay…”
Her head snapped up, eyes unfocused and face streaked with tears. “Okay…”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Okay.”
She giggled, an unnerving sound which made every cell in his body want to flee. “You hear that, Tom? It’s okay.” She giggled again.
And then, a flash of a wand, his throat had opened. He heard cackling as he slumped to the floor, clutching his neck.
“Oh, Tom, use that one on me tonight. It looks fun!”
Chapter 51: In My Defense
Not getting much sleep, so this is all I can muster for now
“Harry… what happened to the cloak?”
Harry grimaced. “So… turns out, maybe I shouldn’t have snapped the Elder Wand so soon…”
“Okay, look, in my defense, it’s not my fault.”
Hermione gave him a flat stare.
Chapter 52: Midnight Whispers
Harry jerked awake, gasping for air as shivers tore through his body.
“Hey, hey, I’m here,” a voice said, and he immediately felt calmer. “I’m here.” He felt his mattress shift beside him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, even as he continued shivering.
“Voldemort is dead. Bellatrix is dead. Malfoy is in Azkaban. The Horcruxes are gone. You won,” the voice whispered slowly and methodically, with the confidence that only repetition grants. A soft, warm hand grasped his own. His breathing slowed.
“I’m safe. Hermione is safe. Ron is safe. It’s August, nineteen-ninety-eight,” the voice continued. Harry exhaled forcefully, and nodded, squeezing the hand. It let go, and soft footsteps began retreating. He smiled slightly, lying back down.
“Thank you, Ginny.”
Chapter 53: Come Close
I hate nanowrimo lmfao. Don’t expect anything good from me for the next 29 days or whatever
A rasp in the darkness. “Potter.”
Harry stopped, turning as his brow furrowed.
“Come close, Potter.”
Harry peered into the cell, attempting to catch a glance of who it kept captive. He did not move closer.
A snarl. “You bastard. You put me in here, and now you won’t even grace me with your fucking full presence.” Harry heard a pair of teeth gnashing, and marveled at this person’s relative sanity. “I will kill you, Potter. Oh, yes, yes I will. I will kill you, after I murder your pretty little wife,” the person’s laughter turned into a hacking cough. Harry’s breath quickened, and he turned, rushing down the dank hall. Away.
“Beware, Potter! The game is up, and even the dead cannot be locked here forever!”
Chapter 54: The Need for Blood
Huzzah! I actually fucking wrote something substantial! Here’s hoping for more shit like this
“Do you bleed, Potter?”
Harry gave the dark wizard a derisive look, despite the precarious position he was in. “Last I checked, yeah. Most people do,” he spat.
Voldemort laughed, surprising Harry. “Indeed. And, what do you think of that?”
Harry blinked. “What?”
“How do you feel about blood? Its necessity?”
Harry gave Voldemort a flat stare. “I don’t know? I don’t just sit around pondering the existence of blood, though you seem like the type of psycho who would.”
Voldemort shook his head, before grabbing an ornate knife. The jewels glittered in the dim lamplight as he held it in front of Harry’s face.
“Sparkly,” Harry remarked.
Voldemort’s face twisted unpleasantly. “You are… difficult.”
“No shi-“ he yelped, interrupting himself. His gaze snapped down to his arm, where a fresh cut was present. He looked up, and saw Voldemort inspecting the knife with a smile. The dark lord met his gaze.
“You see? Blood. Your life-force. Just…” he waved a hand, “trickling away.”
Harry grit his teeth. “Get to the point, snakeface.”
Quick as a flash, the knife embedded itself in Voldemort’s pale arm. Harry cringed, but it was rapidly replaced by curiosity and the slightest dash of fear.
Voldemort chuckled seeing his reaction, before pulling the blade from the wound. A sick feeling arose in Harry’s stomach.
“You see, I have transcended the need for blood.”
Chapter 55: Soaked
Huh. Actual content. Odd
Anyways, tada, here’s a thing. Enjoy
And, christ, this title sucks
Harry looked up from his book, hearing the door open, and then slam shut.
“Yeah?!” He replied.
“Where are you?!”
A moment later, she peeked into the room, entering.
“Gin, what are you-“ he was interrupted when she leapt onto him and immediately began wriggling under the blankets. “Ginny! You’re soaked!”
“Yep!” She snickered, snapping her head back and forth, pelting him with water and hair. He sputtered, wiping his face. He opened his mouth, but seeing her look made him sigh and close his mouth.
“At least let me put the poor book away next time.”
Chapter 56: Shut Up and Be Helpful
“This is fine- this is fine- this is how it should look like,” she said rapidly, waving her wand over the wound. Another scream.
Harry glanced at her. “I don’t-“
“Shut up and be helpful,” Hermione snapped.
“Ok. Tell me what to do.”
“Bind the more minor injuries,” she ground out, digging through her bag, before uncapping a green-blue potion. He nodded, and began scrambling to conjure bandage after bandage, struggling against Ron’s thrashing.
“Merlin, this curse is stubborn!” Hermione exclaimed, her hair frizzy and hands bloody.
“Can you lift it?”
She glanced at him. “Lift it? Not before he dies. But I can halt it before it damages his organs irreparably. We can work on lifting it later.”
He nodded. “Do you need help?”
“Petrify that area. Right there- no, not there, that’ll kill him- yes, there.”
He muttered the incantations, before scooting out of the way for the witch. She inspected it.
“Ok, ok, good job. Now, if I can just-“ she started waving her wand in a complex pattern, and many long moments later, she sighed. “Alright, that’s it. We need to move him, now.”
Harry got up, cracking his neck. “Ok, where?”
Chapter 57: There’s Always A Bigger Fish, So Where Is It?
“Hands up! Palms facing the ceiling!” Harry cried, stepping through the splinters that used to make up a door. The wizard whipped around, his eyes wide as he watched a half-dozen wand-bearing Aurors file in. His arms snapped up, and Ron silently bound him.
“Alright, let’s haul him out. Bones, Boot; secure the building. The Freezers’ll be here in a couple minutes.”
Harry sighed, watching his team stun the man and drag him out. So many fish. All of them too small to cause bites so big. His pocket burned, and he pulled a small rectangular box from it. He peered through the glass face, inspecting the liquid as it shifted into a rune. He nodded.
Maybe this time they’d finally figure out how it was all connected.
Chapter 58: The Importance of Gun Safety
*sigh* smh Arthur
“Look at this, Molly! It’s a guh-nuh. Or is it a goon?”
“And when you press this thing, it shoots metal at things really fast. It’s like the killing curse, but messier!”
“Arthur, not in the-“
A deafening crack sounded, cutting her off. Arthur’s eyes widened, and the gun slid from his hands, thumping to the floor.
“Uh, mum? What happened?” Ginny asked, poking her head in the room, before her eyes found the hole in the wall. “Oh…”
Chapter 59: High Stakes Race
“You want to broom race me?”
Ginny grinned. “Hell yeah. I’m not a professional Quidditch player for nothing.”
Harry gave her a mock glare. “I’ll have you know I was the best in the school, once upon a time.”
She shrugged.“Every broom’s a Nimbus when racing a hummingbird.”
He narrowed her eyes at her for a moment, silent. “Alright. Loser gets tickled.”
Chapter 60: Excessive Regulation
Context: people were getting annoyed at the Ministry for their very lax regulations so in response they went a bit overboard. Idk look I wrote it at 1am, and this ain’t the place to be if you want quality work
“Looks like the Ministry is passing another round of regulations.”
She shook her head. “Ridiculous. What do you think they’ll be banning this time?”
He glanced at the paper. “It says these ones are directed against murders.”
Her eyebrows raised. “What? Why? Murders barely even happen. Like, there was the one with the singing teapot, and the one with the bloke who got impaled with a wand. That’s literally all I can think of.”
He shrugged. “Maybe they’ll ban wands with pointy ends, or teapots, or something. It’s the Ministry. Who knows?”
She sighed. “The Wizengamot probably don’t even know.”
Chapter 61: Babyproofing
No, I haven’t died. Yet.
The baby gurgled happily, waving around the beheaded toy as his hair flashed through a rainbow’s worth of color. Harry sighed. “Was beheading really necessary? Your grandmother is getting tired of having to Reparo that thing.”
He received no response for a moment, before the toy burst into flames.
Chapter 62: Necromancy, But Even More Questionable
Stupid, but I love it
“So… what happened with you?”
The skeleton sighed, rubbing the back of his skull. “Well, there was a necromancer involved, among other things.”
Harry nodded. “Makes sense. Did they forget you were down here, or something?”
“No.” He sighed again. “The bastard figured out how to make zombies and decided I’m not good enough.” The undead shook his head. “Stupid corpse-fucker.”
Harry gave him a stare.
Chapter 63: Spellcasting
Don’t mind me. Just running out of ideas
The green bolt immediately disappeared, and Harry gave the Dark Lord a smirk, spinning his wand. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“… Avada Ke-“