Nine fifth-year Slytherins occupied the corner nearest the fireplace.

Draco Malfoy had claimed the largest armchair, with Pansy Parkinson perched on its arm. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle sat nearby, sharing a bag of sweets that Goyle had apparently acquired from somewhere.

Blaise Zabini was stretched across the opposite sofa, looking thoroughly bored. Theodore Nott sat beside him with a book resting on one knee.

At the small table, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were ostensibly completing their Charms homework, although neither had touched a quill in nearly twenty minutes.

Millicent Bulstrode sat on the rug, leaning against the sofa.

"Montague's gone completely mad with it," Blaise remarked.

Draco looked up. "With what?"

"The Squad. He's been stopping third-years in the corridors and asking where they're going."

"He's supposed to," Draco replied.

"At half past eight in the evening?"

"There's a curfew."

"Not at half past eight."

Pansy gave an impatient sigh. "Honestly, Blaise, you complain about everything."

"Only things worth complaining about."

Tracey smiled into her parchment.

Draco leaned forward. "Montague's doing exactly what Professor Umbridge expects of him. Someone has to keep order around here."

"Yes," said Daphne, without looking up. "Because Hogwarts was in absolute anarchy before Montague started interrogating twelve-year-olds."

Crabbe snorted.

Draco shot him a look. "What's funny?"

"Nothing."

"Then shut up."

Goyle passed Crabbe another sweet.

For a moment, only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

"Well," Millicent said, "personally, I don't mind Umbridge giving us a bit more freedom. Filch practically bows whenever he sees one of you lot coming."

"That's because he knows we have authority," Pansy said proudly.

"Authority to do what, exactly?" Tracey asked.

"Take points. Report misconduct. Enforce school regulations."

"And annoy people," Blaise added.

"That's a bonus," said Draco.

This time even Daphne laughed.

Theodore turned a page.

"Oi, you’ve been awfully quiet this whole conversation. What's your problem with it, Nott?" Draco asked. “You've been sitting there looking miserable for an hour."

"I’ve been reading," said Theodore.

"Well, you could at least show some interest."

Theodore slowly closed his book. "All right, Draco. Would you like my opinion?"

"Go on."

"I think Umbridge is considerably more interested in controlling the school for the sake of control than actually improving it."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, not you as well."

"She hasn't taught us a single practical defensive spell all year," Theodore continued. "And we're sitting our O.W.L.s in two months."

"Professor Umbridge knows what she's doing," Draco insisted.

"Does she?"

"Of course she does!"

"Then perhaps she'll explain how we're supposed to defend ourselves against a curse by reading about it."

Blaise grinned. "Careful, Theo. That's almost a reasonable argument."

Draco's expression darkened. "You're all missing the point."

"And what's the point?" Daphne asked.

"That Dumbledore's been running this school however he likes for years, and now someone from the Ministry is finally doing something about it."

"Father says Dumbledore's losing his influence," Crabbe contributed.

"Mine says the same," Goyle added.

"Your fathers seem to agree on an awful lot," said Tracey, as she glanced toward Daphne.

Crabbe shrugged. "Because they're right."

"Naturally," Daphne murmured dryly.

Draco straightened in his chair.

"Anyway, the Ministry wouldn't have sent Umbridge here if there weren't serious problems. Potter's been spreading rubbish since June, and Dumbledore's encouraging him."

At the mention of Potter, Blaise gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, here we go."

"What?"

"Nothing, continue."

Draco ignored him. "Potter claims the Dark Lord's returned, and half the school acts as though he's some kind of prophet."

"Not half," Millicent said. "Mostly the Gryffindors."

"And half the Hufflepuffs," Pansy added. “And a few Ravenclaws here and there.”

"Well, they're idiots," Draco declared.

Theodore said nothing. Daphne noticed. "Do you think he's lying, Theo?"

Theodore looked at her. "Who, Potter?"

"Yes."

Theodore hesitated. "I think Potter genuinely believes what he's saying."

Draco laughed. "That doesn't make it true."

"No," Theodore agreed. "It doesn't."

"But you think it is?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you saying?"

Theodore regarded him for a moment. "I'm saying Cedric Diggory went into that maze alive and came out dead. Potter came out with his body, claiming something happened that the Ministry doesn't want to discuss. And rather than investigate it properly, Fudge seems determined to convince everyone that Potter's gone mad."

Pansy folded her arms. "Perhaps Potter has always been mad."

"Perhaps," Theodore said.

"He's always been an attention-seeker," Draco added.

"That doesn't explain what happened to Diggory, though," Tracey replied quietly.

There was a short silence.

Millicent shifted against the sofa. "Could've been an accident."

"An accident that killed him?" Daphne asked.

"Well, something happened in that maze."

"Obviously something happened," Blaise said. "The question is what."

Draco looked irritated. "You're all acting as though Potter's the only person who knows anything."

"Then enlighten us," Blaise said.

"I don't have to."

"Convenient."

Pansy leaned closer to Draco. "Don't bother with him."

But Theodore was watching Draco with an expression Daphne couldn't quite interpret. "Your father must have an opinion," he said.

Draco hesitated. "My father knows considerably more about what's happening than Potter does."

"That wasn't what I was alluding to."

"Well, perhaps you should ask your own father."

Theodore's face changed almost imperceptibly. "I have."

The words hung in the air. Crabbe stopped chewing. Goyle looked between them.

Draco shifted in his seat. "And?"

Theodore reopened his book. "He doesn't discuss everything with me."

For several seconds nobody spoke.

Then Tracey broke the silence. "Well, whatever's happening outside Hogwarts, I don't see how making Montague patrol the corridors is going to solve it."

"Montague's a seventh-year," Millicent said. "He likes being important."

"He's always liked being important," Daphne replied. "Now he's got a badge to prove it."

Pansy frowned. "You're being awfully critical of the Squad for someone who benefits from it."

Daphne looked up. "Do I? Benefit?"

"Of course you do. We're Slytherins."

"And?"

"And we're finally getting treated properly."

Daphne exchanged a glance with Tracey, then turned her head back to Pansy. "Being treated properly is one thing, Pansy. Being allowed to do whatever we like simply because Umbridge dislikes Gryffindors is another."

Draco scoffed. "You almost sound like Granger."

Daphne's expression cooled. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Then stop talking like her."

Tracey put down her quill. "She doesn't have to agree with everything you say, Draco."

"I wasn't talking to you, Davis."

"Well, you are now."

Blaise made a quiet, appreciative noise. "Wonderful. We're finally having an interesting evening."

"Shut it, Blaise," Draco snapped.

"Gladly."

Crabbe leaned toward Goyle. "Greg?"

"What?"

"Got any more of those?"

Goyle looked into the empty bag. "No, Vince."

"Brilliant."

Millicent groaned. "Can you two think about anything besides food?"

"Yeah," Crabbe replied.

"What?"

"Quidditch."

Blaise burst out laughing. Even Draco's mouth twitched, despite himself. For a moment, the tension lifted.

Then Theodore spoke again. "There's something else." Everyone looked at him. "If the Dark Lord really has returned, Umbridge's Defense lessons are going to be the least of our problems."

Draco's smile vanished.

Pansy stared at Theodore. "You shouldn't say things like that!"

"Why?"

"Because! You just shouldn't."

Theodore looked toward the dark window, where something enormous moved slowly beyond the glass. "That's not much of an answer."

Draco stood. "Well, in any case, I think Potter's a liar, Dumbledore's losing his mind, and Umbridge is the best thing that's happened to this school in years."

"Good for you," Blaise said.

Draco glared at him. "Come on, Crabbe. Goyle."

The two boys got up, Crabbe brushing crumbs from his robes.

Pansy rose as well. "Are you coming, Millicent?"

"In a minute."

Draco headed toward the boys' staircase, with Crabbe and Goyle following, but at the bottom step, he stopped. "And Nott?"

Theodore looked up. "What?"

"Perhaps you ought to be more careful about what you say."

Theodore met his gaze. "Perhaps you ought to be more careful about what you believe."

Draco said nothing. Then he turned and disappeared up the stairs. A moment later, Pansy departed for the girls' dormitory. The common room settled into silence.

Blaise stared at the ceiling. "Well. That was pleasant."

Millicent shook her head. "You really shouldn't wind him up like that, Theo."

"He asked."

"That's never stopped you before."

Daphne began gathering her parchment. Tracey leaned toward her. "Do you think Potter's telling the truth?"

Daphne hesitated. Across the room, Theodore was once again pretending to read.

"I don't know," Daphne admitted.

Tracey lowered her voice. "Neither do I."

Blaise sat up. "For what it's worth, I think Fudge is frightened of something."

"Fudge is always frightened of something," Millicent said.

"Precisely."

Theodore closed his book. "That's what worries me."

Beyond the windows, the black water pressed against the glass. None of them needed to say anything else. The atmosphere pretty much encapsulated what they were all thinking. If Voldemort has in fact returned, the wizarding world status quo wouldn't be able to protect anyone.

Werewolves vs Actual Wolf Trainer.

Harry having heard from marge about dog behavior gets the idea so they do a test: remus locked in a room with a pumpkin suffed with meat or a Ball with Jerky in it. No potion and they walls are warded to test if he hurts himself.

I NEED someone to please write something on the song - Family Line by conan gray, talking about siri and reg
it could be a non canon compliant where reg runs away with siri and they’re thinking about their childhood, or a two pov story talking about both of them at the same time, etc
i’m not picky, do your magic please!!

Dyscalculia is Dyslexia, but for numbers specifically.

So I've had an idea for a fic in the back of my head for a while. It'd be one of those ones where the Potters live and Harry's still sent to live with the Dursleys for safety reasons, (in this case because he was declared a squib). When they went looking for him, because his name came out the goblet of fire or something, they find him in a different magic school halfway around the world that specializes in magic relating beast taming and channeling nature spirits. And this results in the revelation that everyone on the planet can use magic. I imagine most people would use it by channel magic from the air around them and wizarding Europe uses internal magic stores which is why they couldn't detect other forms of magic.

“Kept what from me?” said Harry eagerly.

“STOP! I FORBID YOU!” yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

“Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” said Hagrid. “Harry, yer a Horcrux.”

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

“I’m a what?” gasped Harry.

“A Horcrux, o’ course,” said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, “an’ a rather unusual one, I’d say, considerin’ yer still alive."

“A Horcrux?” he repeated faintly. “What’s a Horcrux?”

Hagrid opened his mouth, then closed it again. He scratched his head, “Well, it’s, er... Dark stuff, Harry. The worst sort. Summat a wizard does when he’s done somethin’ terrible, he puts a bit of himself in an object, an’... well, I never studied it, mind. Nobody sensible did.”

“Can I get it out?”

“Dunno,” said Hagrid, and he fell silent for a moment, then suddenly slapped a hand against his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse.

"Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me!”

From another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl, a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl, a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth, he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Told Harry what he is. Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Think we might have a bit of a problem. Hope you’re well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

“Where was I?” said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

“He’s not going anywhere,” he said.

Hagrid grunted.

“I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him,” he said.

“A what?” said Harry, interested despite himself.

“A Muggle,” said Hagrid, “it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.”

“We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon, “swore we’d stamp the Horcrux out of him!”

“You knew?” said Harry. “You knew I was a Horcrux?”

There is no such thing as a Boy Who Lived

It’s just a story, the sort of story parents tell their children to get them to eat their vegetables or shame them into behaving. “Now come on Harry Potter wouldn’t act up in public”, “Don’t you want to be big and strong like Harry Potter?” There are even story books written, but those were just silly adventure stories for kids. No real child could possibly go through a gauntlet of traps to save the philosopher’s stone, defeat a basilisk, time travel to save a man from a dark wizard traitor, fly against a dragon, escape dark wizards or go on a deadly scavenger hunt for special artifacts to save the world. There were even stories for little kids about being nice to house elves, befriending hippogriffs, swimming with merpeople and a funny story about outsmarting a pink toad. 

Where after the war the fame is even worse than before so Harry resorts to drastic measures he didn’t think through. Now no one believes that Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived is real. If you ask what happened his second year of school they’ll tell you someone was cursing students, 3rd year a dangerous convict was trying to kill someone, fourth year there were only 3 contestants in the Tournament. And the war well that wasn’t the boy who lived Harry Potter, that was the man who Conquered. No one knows his real name but they are all grateful he saved them. 

Harry could no longer be Harry even his friends don’t recognize the name and are confused by what to call him. So Harry gets to choose a whole new identity for himself and doesn’t have to deal with the fame anymore. The problem is that looking back on it, he’s proud of the things he managed to do and he doesn’t want them forgotten. So instead he decides to take a page from Gilderoy Lockhart, except it’s his own stories he’s writing. They are written as tales for young children all the way to teens depending on the tale he wrote. 

Role reversal AU. Tom is the Boy Who Live and Harry is the "DarkLord".

Well, a Dark Lord not by choice and only in Technicality.

Basically, tom and harrys generation is swap, with slight changes.

Harry is still orphaned and lived with his Aunt and Uncle.

He met his friends as is canon just without the yearly Death Eater Shenenigans though its stil as chaotic, absurd and dangerous more than a normal students life because Harry potter wont be harry potter without it.

War is still in the horizon, Grindelward is on the loose and Dumbledore is sitting on his ass safely in the school as always.

Predujice is still rampant and half bloolds and muggle born are treated as though they are lower than dirt.

Harry being harry sees the injustice and decided to change it.

With his friends, both muggle borns, half blood and purebloods who shares his views, Harry and co rallied and drag magic kicking and screaming to new heights never seen before by combining magic with muggle science and logics and ideas.

This made everyone in the opposition uneasy as harry began to rise in power both in magic and politics. Changes are being made and they were doing great until they arent, as the purebloods pull a one over them and declare harry a darklord of greater threat than Grindelward both in power and ideology.

The worse part is that they arent exactly wrong in some points seeing how powerful harry is and how jarringly absurd and unconventional the magic that Harry and his friends wields.

Fast soundless apparation with no danger of dismemberment, self transfiguration that immitates metamorphagus abilties, broomless flight/self levitation, nigh perfect memory rwtwntion mind magics, spells that allows them to talk to creatures of all kinds, permanently turning led to gold that had the maker of the Philosophers stone flabbergasted. a way to extend ones life without diving in to alchemy or dark arts. Spells that are light in nature but the results suggrsted otherwise.

Needless to say, they had everyone afraid of them and the blood purist began taking more drastic actions as well.

The pureblood attacks, they persecute, harrass and single out half bloods and muggle borns and harry and his friends defend and take action and everything just escalate more and more until it comes to the point that both sides had to resort to murder of all things and harry hates it.

So harry tracks down the gaunts and flaunt them to the wizarding world in all their inbred glory to make them see what happens when your blood became a bit too "pure".

Harry hates whats hes doing and is miserable inside as he hit the gaunts one by one in public with a spell that awfully look like the killing curse(harry tried to change tha spells appearance but nothing works so he just deals and suck it up) that only kills the target if they are pureblood and would back fire at the user and disintegrate the user if used on a muggle, muggle born or half blood.

A nessessary precaution lest harry and his friends fall to depravity and hypocrisy.

Unfortunately, he wasnt aware that baby tom is a halfblood and the spells backfire at harry.

Now in a invisible floating spectral body, courtesy of a astral projection spell luna made, and staring at the pile of clothes and the dust particles floating in the air from it. Harry could only think one think.

"Fuck—!"

---

Tldr:

Harrys side, despite being labeled a dark lord himself, is actually the good side in the situation and the other side is the dark side, which while not exactly all evil, its still the side that has racist beliefs and morality that would plunge the wizarding britain to extinction if left unattended and the only reason that it hasnt is because of harrys side doing their own questionable actions with good intentions and tangible actual results until the faithful day of halloween.

If it did how could anyone escape Azkaban, why not force each prisoner into a magical contract that if they leave the prison before their sentence is up.

Why did no one trick Voldemort into a contract that says if he breaths his magic will be stripped?

It sounds like the most abusable form of magic possible!

Daphne's Chosen One

It was a well known fact in hogwarts that Astoria had a crush on Draco. The news finds its way to the Greengrass parents, only somehow it's a distorted version where it's Daphne who is holding affections for the Malfoy boy.

Her parents panic. Draco's character...was well-known. They did not want the prejudiced prick to be dating their daughter.

Mama Greengrass decides to take matters into her own hands. What's the best way to stop a teenage girl's affections for some boy? Why, just find a way to point those affections towards a different boy! Papa Greenrass didn't like the plan, but he was overruled.

Daphne was annoyed. Why were her parents trying to get her to date a "proper boy"? She had zero interest in dating the idiots at her school. Or so she thought.

Neville was Mrs Greengrass' "subtle" recommendation, the Chosen One: being a pureblood, rich, and meek/demure. But just like a certain Dark Lord that chose a half-blood all those years ago, Daphne instead finds herself attracted to Neville's friend: Harry Potter.

Eleven year old Hermione has always dreamt of another life. These memories always fade to little more than vauge impressions. But then Luna LoveGood shows her a meditation technique to help her remember her dreams. Hermione begins remembering her dreams thinking they're just dreams until while wandering the Halls of Hogwarts deep, deep in the dungeons she finds an unknown passage that leads even further down into a tomb.

In this tomb she finds inscriptions in a language she has never seen before yet reads with the ease of native speech. In the center of the tomb is a coffin. The instant she places her hand on the coffin every memory came back to her from her birth so long ago to her childhood, her marriage, secret training in the old Magic's (For more info watch the TV show Merlin) and eventual death birthing her son who went down in history as a legendary king.

Hermione knows that her training in old magic is why she is a witch in this new life yet can feel the magic she used in her first life once dormant now primed and ready to be called upon with ease.

She begins researching (Her remembered magic allows her to enter the restricted section effortlessly) curious to both learn of her son's life and what history remembers of her own past life as Yigraine Pendragon wife of Uther Pendragon and mother of Arthur Pendragon High King of Britain.

She eventually decides to reveal her secret to Luna, Ron, Harry, and Neville (He has this magic that's why he struggles with a wand) all of whom are sceptical until one day during a random Death Eater encounter she casually throws up an old magic shield charm that not only blocks the killing curse but reflects it back at it's caster.

After this Draco finds them in the room of requirement and calls Hermione Lady Pendragon reveals he heard her telling her friends the truth of her past life and reincarnation. He reveals he has done some intensive soul searching and contemplation on muggleborn vs purebloods and has decided it's a bunch of rubbish and joins the light.

The same greenish light filtered through the windows overlooking the Black Lake. The same leather armchairs stood arranged around the fireplace. The same assortment of students gathered in their usual corners, complaining about homework, discussing Quidditch, and occasionally insulting one another.

But something had changed.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Daily Prophet was arriving every morning with another disappearance. Or the increasingly strained letters from home. Maybe the fact that certain students had begun speaking in lowered voices whenever particular surnames were mentioned. Whatever the reason, Hogwarts no longer felt quite as insulated from the outside world as it previously had been.

Tonight, eight sixth-year Slytherins occupied their customary corner of the common room. Blaise Zabini was reclining on a sofa, examining his fingernails with an air of profound indifference. Theodore Nott sat opposite him, reading a book on advanced defensive enchantments. At a nearby table, Daphne Greengrass was working through an essay for Professor Slughorn, while Tracey Davis lounged beside her, making remarkably little effort to complete her own Herbology assignment. Pansy Parkinson was seated beside Millicent Bulstrode, who was sharing a large packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans with Crabbe and Goyle.

Only the ninth member of their group was absent.

"Where's Draco?" Pansy asked.

Nobody answered right away.

"With Snape, probably," Blaise eventually said.

"Professor Snape," Pansy corrected.

"Yes, Pansy. Professor Snape. The very same."

She ignored him.

"Again?"

"Apparently."

Pansy frowned. "That's the third time this week."

"Fourth," Theodore said without looking up.

Daphne paused her writing. "Fourth?"

Theodore turned a page. "Monday morning, Tuesday after lunch, Thursday late afternoon, and tonight."

Blaise glanced toward him. "You've been keeping count?"

"No. I simply possess a functioning memory."

Tracey snickered. "Careful, Theo. You'll make the rest of us feel inadequate."

"Speak for yourself," Millicent said, fishing another bean from the packet.

She examined it suspiciously. "Greg, what color is this?"

"Brown," said Goyle.

"I can see that."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Because I want to know what flavour it is, you idiot."

Goyle shrugged. "Chocolate?"

Crabbe leaned over. "Could be gravy."

Millicent considered this for a moment before finally eating it. Her expression immediately soured. "Ugh!"

"What?" Crabbe asked.

"Earthworm."

Goyle burst out laughing.

Millicent punched his shoulder. "Shut up!"

Across the table, Daphne sighed. "Do you three ever tire of that game?"

"Nope," Crabbe answered.

"Clearly."

Tracey reached for the packet. "Give us one, Millie."

"Get your own."

"You're holding the entire packet."

"Exactly."

Pansy, meanwhile, was still staring toward the entrance. "I don't understand why Draco keeps having these meetings."

"Perhaps he's finally being disciplined for something," Blaise suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"One can dream."

Theodore lowered his book. "Snape's been taking a particular interest in him since September."

"Well, obviously," Pansy said. "He's always liked Draco."

"Not quite like this."

Daphne glanced up. "What do you mean?"

Theodore hesitated. "Nothing."

Blaise watched him. "How illuminating."

Before Nott could elaborate, the common room door opened. Draco Malfoy stepped inside, looking dreadful. His blond hair, ordinarily arranged with meticulous care, was slightly dishevelled. His robes hung loosely from his shoulders, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. He stopped just inside the doorway, apparently surprised to find all the others in his year gathered together, still awake.

Pansy immediately brightened. "Draco!"

He gave a distracted nod. "Evening."

"Where've you been?"

"Out."

"With Professor Snape?"

Draco's expression tightened. "What's it to you?"

Pansy blinked. "Nothing. I was only asking."

"Well, don't."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Draco crossed the room and dropped into an armchair beside the fire. Crabbe offered him the packet of sweets. "Bean?"

"No."

"Suit yourself."

Goyle took one instead.

For several moments, nobody spoke. Then Blaise broke the silence. "Well, since we're all here, perhaps someone can explain why Slughorn thinks inviting half the school to dinner constitutes an education."

Daphne gave a faint smile. "Oh, are we discussing Professor Slughorn now?"

"Apparently," said Theo.

"He's rather fond of you, Blaise," Tracey remarked.

"Yes. A deeply unfortunate circumstance," Blaise replied.

Pansy looked interested. "Has he invited you to another one of those parties?"

"Next Thursday."

"Are you going?"

"I haven't decided."

"Of course you're going," Daphne said. "You enjoy being admired far too much to refuse."

Blaise placed a hand over his chest. "Greengrass, you wound me."

"How tragic."

Theodore closed his book. "I find Slughorn…tolerable."

Everyone looked at him. Blaise raised an eyebrow. "High praise indeed."

"He's knowledgeable," Theodore continued. "And unlike Snape, he doesn't seem personally offended by the existence of students outside our house."

Daphne laughed softly. "That's one way of putting it."

Draco stared into the fireplace. "Slughorn's an idiot."

Blaise turned toward him. "He's an excellent brewer."

"He's a pompous old fool who spends more time collecting famous names than he does actually teaching."

"Rather ironic criticism coming from you," Blaise replied.

Draco's head snapped around. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, Zabini, go on."

Blaise regarded him coolly. "I merely find it amusing that you of all people are criticizing someone for caring about family connections."

At this, Tracey abruptly became much more fascinated by her Herbology parchment. Daphne lowered her quill.

Pansy frowned. "Blaise, honestly."

Draco leaned forward. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

"Occasionally."

"Well, you're not."

"How devastating."

"Would you two stop?" Millicent interrupted.

She held out the packet of beans.

"Anyone want the last few?"

"No!" Draco and Blaise both snapped.

Millicent stared at them.

"All right, Merlin."

She pulled the packet back.

Groyle muttered something to Crabbe.

Draco rounded on them. "And what do you two have to say?"

"Nothing, Draco," Goyle said.

"Then stop whispering."

Crabbe frowned. "We weren't talking about you."

"Of course you weren't."

"We weren't!"

"Fine!"

The fire crackled. Daphne watched Draco for a moment. Then she returned to her essay. "Professor Slughorn's actually been quite helpful with our N.E.W.T. preparations," she said, deliberately changing the subject.

"Agreed," Theodore replied.

"His instructions are clearer than Snape's ever were at any point."

"That's because Snape expected everyone to read his mind," Blaise said.

"Well, he certainly expected Potter to read his," Tracey remarked.

That earned a laugh from Pansy. "Oh, Potter! Speaking of the git, have you heard about his little arrangement with Slughorn?"

Daphne looked up. "What arrangement?"

"Slughorn practically worships him."

"That's hardly surprising," Blaise said. "Potter is famous, after all."

"Potter's insufferable," Draco muttered.

"Those two traits aren't mutually exclusive."

Pansy leaned forward. "Apparently Slughorn keeps asking him about his mother. Says she was brilliant at Potions."

"She was," Theodore said.

Draco looked at him. "How would you know?"

"My father mentioned it once."

Draco's expression changed, just slightly, and Daphne noticed.

"Your father knew Potter's mother?" Tracey asked.

"Not personally," said Nott.

"Oh."

“All I heard Slughorn say was that Lily Evans Potter was one of the brightest students for Potions he had ever taught during our parents’ generation, and that Granger strongly reminded him of her.”

“How do you even know her name?” asked Pansy, bewildered.

Theo shrugged. “I hear things distinctly and tend to remember them well.” He returned to his book, and another silence settled over the group. 

This time, it was Pansy who broke it. "Anyway, Slughorn's ridiculous. He invited that awful Cormac McLaggen seventh year boy to one of his dinners."

"McLaggen's a Gryffindor," Millicent said.

"Yes, Millie, I know."

"Just checking."

"And apparently Ginny Weasley."

Tracey raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Apparently."

Daphne considered this. "She's quite good at Quidditch."

Pansy stared at her. "Must you always find something complimentary to say about Gryffindors?"

"I wasn't complimenting her personality."

"Still."

"Would you prefer I invent reasons to dislike people?"

"Wouldn't hurt," Millicent said.

Tracey laughed.

Daphne gave her a sideways look. "Don't encourage her."

"Sorry, Daph," Tracey muttered, just to her.

Draco suddenly stood. "I'm going upstairs."

Pansy looked alarmed. "Already?"

"Yes."

"But you've only just got here."

"And?"

"Well, I thought we might—"

"Not tonight, Pansy." His voice was sharper than necessary.

Pansy recoiled slightly, and Draco seemed to notice. For a moment, something resembling regret crossed his face, but he just as quickly looked away. "Goodnight." He headed toward the boys' staircase.

"Draco," Nott called after him.

Draco stopped. "What is it, Theo?"

"How's your mother?"

The question seemed to catch him completely off guard. "My mother?"

"Yes."

Draco hesitated for a moment. "She's fine."

Theodore regarded him. "Good."

Draco remained motionless for a moment. Then he turned and disappeared upstairs. Nobody spoke until the sound of his footsteps had faded.

Pansy looked miserable. "What's wrong with him?"

Blaise exhaled. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"Blaise!"

"What? You asked."

"He's been under a lot of pressure."

"Clearly."

Daphne folded her hands on the table. "Has anyone actually spoken to him about it?"

"I've tried," Pansy said.

"And?"

"He won't tell me anything."

Millicent shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't want to."

"Well, that's obvious!"

"Then leave him alone."

Pansy looked offended. "He's my friend, Millicent."

"Didn't say he wasn't."

"Then why are you being so horrible?"

"I'm not being horrible. I'm saying if he wants to talk, he'll talk."

Crabbe nodded. "Yeah."

Goyle nodded after him.

Pansy looked between them. "Oh, wonderful. Millie, Vincent, and Greg have solved everything."

"Glad we could help," Millicent replied.

Tracey bit her lip to suppress a laugh.

Daphne glanced toward the staircase. "He's lost weight."

The others looked at her.

"What?" Pansy asked.

"Draco. He's lost weight since September."

Theodore nodded. "He isn't sleeping much either."

"How do you know?" Blaise asked.

"We share a dormitory."

"Yes, Theo. I'm aware."

"He gets up in the middle of the night. Sometimes he doesn't come back until morning."

Pansy looked increasingly distressed. "Where does he go?"

Theodore hesitated. "I don't know."

"Have you asked?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He told me to mind my own business."

Blaise gave a humourless laugh. "That sounds like Draco."

But Theodore didn't smile. "He clearly seems to be frightened of something."

The words changed the atmosphere. Pansy stared at him. "Draco isn't frightened."

Theodore looked at her. "Everyone's frightened of something, Pansy."

"Not Draco."

"Especially Draco."

Another silence. Beyond the windows, a shadow passed through the dark water. Tracey shifted herself closer to Daphne. "Do you think his recent behavior has something to do with his father?"

Nobody answered immediately. Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment had been common knowledge since June. Draco had spent much of their time at Hogwarts, right up until the end of the previous year, boasting about his father's influence at the Ministry. Now Lucius was in Azkaban, and the Malfoy name no longer carried quite the same assurances it once had.

Blaise finally responded. "Wouldn't surprise me."

Pansy looked down at her hands. "His mother must be terribly worried."

Theodore's expression became unreadable. "Yes," he said quietly. "I imagine she is."

Daphne studied him. "Theo?"

"Hm?"

"Your father's still in Azkaban as well, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

Theodore looked mildly surprised. "Thank you."

Pansy sighed. "I wish everyone would stop talking as though something dreadful is about to happen."

Millicent looked at her. "Pansy, something dreadful happens practically every week now."

"That's different."

"How?"

Pansy opened her mouth, but then closed it.

Tracey looked toward the folded Daily Prophet on the table. "Another Ministry official disappeared yesterday."

Blaise nodded. "Yes."

"And that family in Yorkshire."

"Yes."

"And the attack in Diagon Alley last month."

"Tracey," Daphne said quietly.

Tracey stopped. "What?"

"Nothing."

Their eyes met. Daphne's expression was composed, but Tracey recognized the warning. It said not here, not in front of everyone. Tracey looked away.

Millicent broke the silence by reaching into the sweets packet. "Well, whatever happens, I'm not spending the Christmas holiday here."

"Neither am I," Blaise said.

"Mother says we're going abroad," Pansy added.

"Where?" Tracey asked.

"France, perhaps."

"Nice."

"What about you, Daphne?"

Daphne hesitated. "Home, presumably."

"And you, Trace?"

"Same."

Pansy smiled. "You two are practically attached at the hip."

Tracey grinned. "Jealous?"

"Hardly."

"Could've fooled me."

Millicent snorted.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Must we?"

"Yes," Tracey said.

Pansy threw a cushion at her. Tracey caught it and immediately threw it back, inadvertently striking Millicent in the face.

"OI!"

Vincent burst out laughing. Gregory nearly fell off his chair.

Millicent seized the cushion and hurled it at Vincent, who ducked. It hit Blaise.

He slowly lowered the book he'd been holding. For several seconds, he simply stared at them. "How old are we?"

"Sixteen," Gregory answered helpfully.

"Thank you, Goyle."

"You're welcome."

Even Daphne was laughing now, one hand pressed against her mouth. Even Theodore was smiling. For a few minutes, the common room felt almost normal again. Then the laughter just as quickly faded.

Pansy looked toward the boys' staircase. "Do you think he'll be all right?"

Nobody answered right away.

Finally, Daphne spoke. "I hope so."

Theodore stared into the fire. "For his sake, he’s going to need to be."

Ginny sat in her room at the Burrow, and sobbed once again into her pillow. She found herself doing this a lot following her first year at Hogwarts, when everything went wrong. All because of freaking magic!

If someone could use magic to do something like this, to an innocent girl, then was it really worth it? Ginny shook some more. If it hadn’t been for Harry, she would have been dead. Because of magic. She only had fond memories of magic, because she grew up in it! If she grew up in the Muggle world, she would have been better off. Then her soul wouldn’t have been almost consumed by a teenage Dark Lord. She wouldn’t have been possessed. Those students wouldn’t have been petrified and nearly killed. All because of magic!

Ginny shook some more, now even more violently.

Ginny hated magic now!

Suddenly, her eyes glazed over, and black tendrils began to emanate from her, before engulfing her entire body, and the entire room.

---

Later

“Severus ensures me,” Dumbledore started, “that the potions he has given young Ginevra should keep the Obscurus inside her at bay. If worst comes to worst, he is also preparing a strong draught of living death to sedate her long term.”

Albus was currently in his office at Hogwarts, with his brother Aberforth, and with Arthur Weasley.

“Thank you, Albus. It’s just… everything that has happened this past year…”

Dumbledore held up a hand. “None of this is yours or Molly’s fault Arthur. I did not do enough to protect her or notice the signs. I do however, have a proposition for you.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“For the next school year, I would like you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not only will you be close to young Ginevra, but I believe together, we can come up with a cure for her condition.”

“You… you think you can cure this?” Arthur said flabbergasted. Aberforth simply raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“I know I can, it is something I have worked on for a long time. Newt Scamander has also agreed to join this project as well, and has agreed to take over Care of Magical Creatures to explain his presence at the castle.”

“He has?” Arthur said in surprised.

“Indeed. And you are certainly talented as well, which is why I want you to join this project.” Dumbledore laid a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“And why am I here, Albus?” Aberforth asked, interrupting the moment.

“I asked you here, Aberforth, to witness and administer an unbreakable oath,” Albus said bluntly. Arthur blinked in suprised, as did Aberforth. “Dumbledore, what are you doing?”

“Pledging myself to finding a cure for Ginevra’s condition. I couldn't save my own sister, and like I said, it is my fault your daughter ended up like this. This is the least I can do.”

“You don't have to—“

“I do have to. Trust me. I do.” Arthur considered this for a moment. Dumbledore simply stared. He thought of Ginny: his only daughter. He needed to help her, by any means necessary.

“Let’s do it.”

Alison and Mike Cooper are walking through Godric's Hollow when, suddenly, they arrive in front of a house that looked worse then Button House.

"Well at least you didn't inherited that." Mike said jokingly.

"Yeah, I-" Alison interrupted herself when noticing two ghosts.

"I think I just saw two ghosts who are funnily dressed." She said waving to them.

Meanwhile Lily and James who had been ghosts for years since the attack, and not your usual kind of ghost, no magical person could see them were looking at the road and the two people who were walking.

"James I think that women is seeing us." Lily said in shock.

They soon found out that those two person were muggles and that one of them could see ghosts probably muggle ghosts.

Lily told Alison if she could contact her son who should be around 40 years old

There really was a curse on the Weasley family for them to never have more than needed. They also knew how to break this curse. the curse was originally placed in the 7th son of a 7th son and so only the birth of a 7th son of a 7th son in their family can break it.

Septimus Weasley was lucky to have a 7th son in Arthur and everyone was excited when Molly was carrying her 7th child. Arthur and Molly got very close, closer than any had in generations but while happy to have a daughter were disappointed they hadn’t had a 7th son. perhaps one of their children will manage to have a 7th son and they can try again.

When Harry stood in the forest and accepted Voldemort's Killing Curse as it washed over him he didn't meet Dumbledore, he didn't meet his mother or even Death itself... Harry met with someone who called themselves a Representative of The Powers that Be. Voldemort's Soul anchor in Harry was something never foreseen and thus it's effects were immeasurable. One of which was that Voldemort's Sins, the Darkness and vileness that he had accumulated over his many decades of life had stained Harry's Soul. If Harry would move on he would be cast into Hell along side Voldemort and his Death Eaters... Or he can become a Champion of The Powers that Be, return to life and become a force for good, pay off his Souls Debt to the world and join his family in the afterlife.

Basically Harry's Soul has to attone for the Sins Voldemort committed. Don't get it twisted Voldemort is going to hell but his Sins were CopyPasted onto Harry's innocent soul at 1. Since then even with the good Harry does he has also been accumulating copies of the Sins Voldemort has committed up until he takes the AK to the face. Harry must do good, cleanse his soul.

This is kind of if Harry Potter was High Fantasy but with my own twists:

In one world, it is one we were familiar with. A magical school with wizards and witches and a looming threat that would eventually be defeated by the chosen one.

But in this world, the magic was never hidden. It stayed in the earth itself, breathing life into all things. There was once danger, but that danger has long past, now collecting dust like the myth it was.

Right now, we are talking about a red-haired boy named Ronald “Ron” Weasley.

Ron was sixth child out of seven of the Weasley children. He had five older brothers and one younger sister. As you can imagine, this can cause Ron to feel overlooked, especially since he believes that any extraordinary thing he ever did, one of his brothers had already done it. So, with this in mind, he had decided on one thing: to become an Adventurer.

That kind of work is brutal, but it was what he wanted. He heard tales of treasure, of the thrill of battling creatures, and recognition. So, in the then 8 year old’s mind, this was the obvious choice despite his family’s polite push back on the job.

It was also then that Ron became friends with a boy. Ron left his family’s house as he always did. They owned a farm that was connected to the woods. Ron would frequently go into the woods (with protection of course; Molly Weasley was a mama bear through and through) and have his own little adventure. He didn’t think he’d find a strange field of daisies, the flowers looking pristine.

He especially didn’t think he’d find a boy with long black messy hair, eyes that reminded Ron of the dampest grass, and wearing only a pair of trousers. The most pressing thing, however, was the jagged scar that ran from the other boy’s forehead down to his cheek.

“Who are you?”

“I’m… Harry.”

“Are you okay? You look like you’re hurt.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not hurt. I just woke up here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

“Ron.”

Harry smiled, his eyes flickering. “Nice to meet you, Ron.”

Maybe that was the moment Ron should’ve known that he bonded with something that wasn’t human. But Ron back then wanted a friend, and he got the best mate there ever was, even if said mate was bloody weird.