The Parallels Ahahahahh

the parallels ahahahahh

shibuya incident arc in a nutshell:

megumi: in trouble

sukuna:

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬

Y/n pushed open the glass door and took a deep breath as a bell chimed, letting the owner know that she/he/they had a customer. Harry turned his head to look at Y/n - who was not looking at his brother, but in fact staring at all the clothes, dress robes, cloaks, and people in the quaint little shop.

Y/n’s eyes travelled up the small flight of stairs in the back, leading to a loft area where teens were shifting through the racks of clothes. The young eleven-year-old boy smiled at the sight. His aunt never let him or Harry browse through high-end cloth shops, only taking them to discount and thrift stores. Apparently, she didn’t want to run into anyone she personally knew and tarnish her (already low) reputation. A smile played at Y/n’s lips as he looked around.

A large group of elderly women were crowded around a rack of amethyst and emerald cloaks with a sign above it saying: “DISCOUNT CLOAKS―LINE WITH CHIMAERA SKIN/FUR”. A few of the old crones were speaking in hushed whispers while others were taking out each cloak and holding it up.

“Hogwarts, dears??” Y/n tore his eyes away from the group of old women and saw a squat woman with greying black hair in a tight bun on her head, with round spectacles that sat on the bridge of her nose. She had a kind smile on her face with crow's feet in the corner of her eyes, as if she lived a happy life and found something daily to smile about. She wore a floor-length mauve a-line skirt that flared out at her hips, with a white long sleeve with puffed sleeves that were cinched at the wrists, and a black apron tied around her full waist.

“Um yes―” started Harry before being interrupted by the lady.

“Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.” She sighed before continuing. “Well, come on, let’s get you two fitted, shall we?”

Y/n turned his head to Harry―who shrugged his shoulders―before both of the boys were ushered over to the back of the shop, where a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

“Excuse me, but are you Madam Malkin?” asked Y/n as the witch stood Harry on a stool next to the boy. “Well, yes dear!” she smiled at him before pointing to the other witch next to her. “And that right there is my apprentice, Vanessa Snape,” Y/n turned his head towards the other witch.

Vanessa had long black hair with a sharp pointed nose with thin lips and pale skin. Like Madam Malkin, she wore a floor length a-line skirt that too flared out at her hips, but emerald green with the same white long puffed sleeves and a black apron tied around her waist.

Miss. Snape was pinning a few pins in a long black robe in the other boy’s robe when Y/n finally registered that there was another person there.

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Harry (rather rudely).

“My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice that would make anyone around him hang onto his every word. Y/n’s brows furrowed at his statement, but continued to watch and listen to him.

“Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one, and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” Harry rolled his eyes as the boy turned his attention to Y/n, his cold grey eyes meeting his warm e/c. “You’re going to bully him? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t it be more effective to just ask him politely instead of forcing him?” asked Y/n, a confused expression on his face.

For eleven years, he’d watch Dudley bully his parents into getting him what he wanted, and it always worked, but look how that got Dudley. He’s a spoiled little pig, bullying and picking on the weak. (But to be frank, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursely were nitwits anyway, so it was no surprise that they were dimwitted enough to even listen to Dudley, let alone his whining.) But in Y/n’s mind, parents were supposed to be caring and nice, and when their children asked them for something politely, they most likely said yes.

The boy just stared at Y/n, a curious look on his face, before turning his head back to Harry.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on.

“No,” said Harry.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry said again, sharing a look with Y/n. Both were wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

“I do—Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“Um . . . No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute, while Y/n shook his head.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin. All our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” said Harry (wishing he could say something a bit more interesting). Y/n noticed that Miss. Snape rolled her eyes at the boy’s remark before making a few notes on her loose bit of parchment.

“I say, look at that man!” said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Y/n, pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn’t come in. Y/n smiled at Hagrid, who smiled back at him. A flush appeared on his cheeks as passing witches and wizards were staring at him.

“That’s Hagrid,” said Harry, who sounded pleased to know something the boy didn’t.

“He works at Hogwarts.” piped in Y/n as Madam Malkin urshed Harry off the podium and nodded to Y/n to step up. She smiled at Y/n as he lifted his arms and she placed some black robes over him and started pinning at the right measurements.

“Oh,” said the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” scowled Harry. He liked the boy less and less every second.

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“We think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly, as he glared at the boy, ignoring the glare his twin sent him.

“Do you?” said the boy with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” said Harry and Y/n, shortly. Harry didn’t feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

“They died when we were very young,” explained Y/n as the boy shot him a confused look. A flicker of emotion passed through his grey eyes before reverting back to the empty and cold look he kept up through their conversation.

“Oh, sorry,” said the boy, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean,” said Harry, a scowl permanently on his face, his scrawny arms crossed over his chest.

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways.” the blond turned his head to stare at Y/n. “You know, some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine.” Y/n’s brows furrowed together as he thought about what the boy said.

There are others who didn’t know they were magical? We weren’t the only ones?

“I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

“Pott―”

“That’s you done, my dear,” interrupted Madam Malkin, and Y/n hopped down from the footstool. As he did this, Y/n noticed how both the boy and Miss. Snape was watching him, Miss. Snape held a curious gaze as she ranked him down with her eyes. He gave her a bashful smile and her eyes widened, almost in . . . recognition?

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the blond boy.

“See you at Hogwarts,” said Y/n and gave him a smile. After he turned around, the blond boy had a ghost of a smile on his face.

(Notes: Hi!! So I've literally packed this story full of OC's and Vanessa Snape is one of them! She's our lovely grumpy asshole's little sister—aka the light and the insanity of his life. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and I am still working on the tag list for this story, so if you wish to be part of the tag list let me know and I'll add you to my list once I find the time to make it lol.)

I fucking love fanfic writers that do rewrites of shows. Like how big and beautiful is your brain to be able to writing an amazing story from a show that fucked itself over?

Sukuna: don't worry,babe. I'm here.