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𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐭

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross. Yet she sported a warm gaze in her hard eyes. When her eyes landed on a few of the first years, her posture softened before turning back into a statue. Y/n knew from that moment he liked her. 

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid, his voice a bit gruff.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” She pulled the door wide. Y/n gasped and took in the surroundings. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. 

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, their footsteps echoed, and Y/n smiled. He could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.”

“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.” “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose, and a young chubby red-headed girl’s messy hair. Y/n and Harry shared a glance and then nervously tried to flatten their hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.” She left the chamber. Harry swallowed. “How exactly do they sort us into Houses?” he asked Ron. “Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.” Y/n’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he or Harry didn’t know any magic yet — what on earth would they have to do? He hadn’t expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learned and wondering which one she’d need.

Harry tried hard not to listen to her, while Y/n also went over what spells he might need and tried to remember the wand movement, but did it in his head. He’d never been more nervous, never, not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him and his brother to his doom.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

“What the — ?” He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. Y/n jumped into Harry, trying to avoid the ghosts that seemed to be arguing. 

What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?”

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered. “New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?” A few people nodded mutely.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said Friar. “My old House, you know.” Y/n smiled at the ghost as the Friar winked at him. 

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.” Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.”

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Y/n got into line behind a boy with brown hair with the girl with auburn-hair behind him, and Ron was in front of him, and Harry was in front of Ron, behind a boy with sandy hair, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Y/n had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Y/n looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He smiled and he heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens.

Y/n quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Y/n thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. 

Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, 

But don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find 

A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. 

There’s nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can’t see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. 

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; 

You might belong in Hufflepuff, 

Where they are just and loyal, 

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true 

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

 If you’ve a ready mind, 

Where those of wit and learning, 

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none) For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Y/n heard Ron whisper to Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Y/n smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Y/n didn’t feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!” A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause — “HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Y/n saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her, and Y/n watched as older Hufflepuffs greeted and welcomed the girl.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah, and just like Hannah, the Hufflepuffs greeted and welcomed her as well. Throughout the ceremony, with each sorting of Hufflepuff, they would greet and welcome their new housemate. 

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.  “Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but 

“Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling.

“Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin. And Y/n watched as a few Slytherin’s greeted the girl and welcomed her to their house. Although some of the older students did look a bit unpleasant and bored. 

Y/n was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered how he and Harry were picked for teams during gym at his old school. And they’d always been last to be chosen, not because they were no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked them.

“Douglas, Charlie,” 

The brunette boy Y/n shared a boat and walked out from the crowd of first years. He looked nervous and glanced at the hat and gulped. He sat on the stool and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head and he jumped slightly, and his green eyes became wide. 

“SLYTHERIN!” 

The boy looked relieved and his shoulder relaxed and he smiled at the Slytherin table, he looked pleased and walked over to them. 

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Sometimes, Y/n noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

“Fawcett, Sarah,” 

A girl with tawny brown hair and eyes, strode up to the stool and sat down. 

“RAVENCLAW!!” Cheers from the Ravenclaw table sounded and she smiled widely before she jumped off the chair. 

“Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. “GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat. Ron groaned. Y/n clapped for her and gave her an encouraging smile. She smiled at him, before striding over to the Gryffindor table and sitting down next to a boy with the same ginger hair as Ron and his twin brothers. 

A horrible thought struck Y/n, as horrible thoughts always do when you’re very nervous. What if he wasn’t chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he’d better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to: “Malfoy, Draco,” 

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!” Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren’t many people left now.

“Moon, Aurora,” . . . , “Nott, Theodore,” . . . , “Parkinson, Pansy,” . . . , then a pair of twin girls, “Patil, Padama” and “Patil, Parvarti,” . . . , then “Perks, Sally-Anne” . . . , and then, at last —

“Potter, Harry!” As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. 

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

“Where’s his brother, Y/n Potter?” 

“The Potter twins?” 

Y/n’s cheeks became inflamed as eyes in the Hall eyed his twin and started looking for him. There were only a few students after him and soon he would be sorted. Y/n watched as Harry shuffled over to the stole and the hat. He watched his brother speak to the hat for a few minutes before the hat shouted: “GRYFFINDOR!!” 

The Gryffindor table exploded in cheers as Harry smiled widely. He looked happy and relieved that he was put in Gryffindor, and he slipped the hat off his head and walked over to the table as the Gyffindor’s cheered and the Weasley twins shouted: “We got Potter!! We got Potter!!” and Harry had his hand shaken by a Weasley. 

“Potter, Y/n,” 

The hall became quiet again, and everyone’s eyes were trained on his form as Y/n gulped and walked off to the stool. He sat on the four-legged stool and blushed at the eyes that were on him. Professor McGongall sat the hat down on his head and he jumped at the voice that he heard in his head. 

“Ah! Potter! Unlike your brother, who would’ve done well in Slytherin, you do not. No, I see a heart full of loyalty, bravery, honesty . . . a heart of gold, eh? Kindness is flowing through your veins, just like your mother,” 

Y/n perked up at the mention of his mother and he felt his heart become heavy. 

“Yes, though you’ll do good in Gryffindor, I see more . . . . yes, that’s where I’ll put you,”  This time the hat spoke aloud and shouted: “HUFFLEPUFF!!!”

Authors Note:

I hope you enjoyed it though!! I was a bit offline for a bit due to me on vacation with zero internet access and I write on my chromebook, but I do have a few chapters already written and working on more!

I hope you enjoyed it though!! I was a bit offline for a bit due to me on vacation with zero internet access and I write on my chromebook, but I do have a few chapters already written and working on more!

if you want to be part of the tag list, please respond to this post!

taglist:

@officialsaturn

@mysticanxy

why do all smut scenes have some sort of variation of this scene??

"you ripped my panties! those were expensive!"

"i'll buy you new ones~,"

me: *rolls eyes and looks into the invisible camera like i'm from the office*

underappreciated fandom moment: when you read a fic on ao3 and see a lot of familiar names in the kudos. like. the gang's all here ❤️

The Lost Princess Chapter 2

Jotun!Loki x female plus size reader eventually

Partial Steve Rogers x female plus size reader

Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Jotunheim and Asgard are on the brink of war, only a marriage of convenience between the two worlds can unite them. The only problem is, Odin does not have a female heir, or does he?

A/N: This is canon divergent, after Loki discovers his true heritage in Thor, he returns to Jotunheim and becomes the crown prince. Odin also cheated on Frigg with a human

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for the rest of this series or any other writing I do!

Warnings: smut, size difference, breeding kink, violence, shitty fathers, pseudo-incest? (Loki was adopted but he refuses to acknowledge Thor as his brother and Odin as his father and now has returned to his biological family), fat-shaming, fluff, arranged marriage, first time, loss of virginity, angst, torture, experimentation (not the good kind), d/s dynamics, pregnant reader, pregnancy, slow burn, Odin slamming, enhanced!reader, swearing, slightly unhealthy relationship, Loki is an emotionally stunted person, age gap (I wrote reader as being in her early twenties but can be read as any age), mention of dead parents 

Minors DNI 

WC: 2.8k

Chapter 2

Discoveries

“Wake her up, now.” A slap landed harshly against the girl’s face. She gasped and she tried to reach up to alleviate the sting but her arms had been tied down.

“Come on now girl, it’s time to wake up.” A heavy Russian accent said close to her ear. Y/N cringed away from the horrid breath as she struggled to open her eyes, the drugs given to her still working through her system. A bright light flashed into her E/C eyes as they focused on what’s around her.

Keep reading

The Lost Princess Chapter 1

Jotun!Loki x female plus size reader eventually

Partial Steve Rogers x female plus size reader

Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Jotunheim and Asgard are on the brink of war, only a marriage of convenience between the two worlds can unite them. The only problem is, Odin does not have a female heir, or does he?

A/N: This is canon divergent, after Loki discovers his true heritage in Thor, he returns to Jotunheim and becomes the crown prince. Odin also cheated on Frigg with a human

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for the rest of this series or any other writing I do!

Warnings: smut, size difference, breeding kink, violence, shitty fathers, pseudo-incest? (Loki was adopted but he refuses to acknowledge Thor as his brother and Odin as his father and now has returned to his biological family), fat-shaming, fluff, arranged marriage, first time, loss of virginity, angst, torture, experimentation (not the good kind), d/s dynamics, pregnant reader, pregnancy, slow burn, Odin slamming, enhanced!reader, swearing, slightly unhealthy relationship, Loki is an emotionally stunted person, age gap (I wrote reader as being in her early twenties but can be read as any age), mention of dead parents 

Minors DNI 

WC: 3.5k

Chapter 1

Beginnings

The Avengers tower was bustling with people, the noise was incredibly overwhelming to the young woman that had just entered the lobby. She cautiously approached the front desk, nervously tapping her fingers against the desk while she waited for the secretary to finish her call.

“Sorry for the wait, some people just don’t know how to shut up,” The older woman chuckled before looking up, “How can I help you today?”

“Hi, um, my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I have an appointment to meet with Ms Pepper Potts.”

Keep reading

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭

Hagrid immediately noticed that something was wrong with the twins. For one, they were rather quiet. Nothing like their usual selves this morning, asking question after question about the Wizarding World. Secondly, Y/n was staring off into the distance with a faraway look in his eyes with a flush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears, while Harry was eating his ice cream solemnly when he should’ve been more enthusiastic about the ice cream since he never had any at his Aunt and Uncle’s, due to Dudley eating the pint in a day. 

“Alright, ‘tat’s enough,” muttered Hagrid before clearing his throat and looking at the twins with a cornered gaze. “What’s up?” Y/n snapped out of his trance and noticed his cone of ice cream was melting, getting chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts all over the ice cream parlor’s tables. 

“Nothing,” Harry lied. “Yeah, it’s nothing Hagrid.” piped in Y/n, as he wiped up the ice-cream mess. “We’re just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.” Harry nodded his head in agreement, thankful that his twin piped in because the look in Hagrid’s eye told him that he didn’t believe Harry when he said nothing was wrong. “Alright, but if somethin’s the ‘atter, you can tell me.” 

“We well Hagrid, thank you,” Y/n gave the giant and smile before licking a stripe of his ice cream, moaning in delight at the flavor. “Oh, this is excellent. Thank you, Hagrid. Tis delicious,” Hagrid smiled before sniffling and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. 

Once they finished their ice cream, they stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote, while Y/n almost bought out the entire shop―color changing ink, rainbow ink, pastel ink, feather quills, peacock quills, raven quills, thick parchment, a pack of different color parchment, thin parchment, stationary cups and holders, and a quill/ink cleaning kit―and Harry had to drag him out of there before he could spend more. 

When they had left the shop, Harry asked, “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”. Y/n looked up from his purchases and looked at Hagrid, his eyes lighting up in curiosity. Hagrid looked at Harry with an aghast face before shaking his head and mumbling: “Blimey, Harry, Y/n, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know — not knowin’ about Quidditch!” He shook his head once more that reminded Y/n of a wet dog.  

“Don’t make me feel worse,” mumbled Harry before He and Y/n told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin’s. 

“— and he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in —” exclaimed Y/n, with a slight shake of his head. “Yer not from a Muggle family. If he’d known who yeh both were,” Hagrid made a gesture with his hands before continuing. “— he’s grown up knowin’ both of yer names, if his parents are wizardin’ folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh.” The memory alone made Y/n blush in embarrassment. 

“Anyway, what does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ’em in a long line o’ Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!” At the mention of their Mother, Y/n and Harry exchanged a look of sadness. A flash of green eyes and red-hair flashed before Y/n’s eyes, making his heart clench. 

“So what is Quidditch?” asked Harry, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. 

“It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like — like soccer in the Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks and there’s four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules.” Harry nodded his head, the wheels in his head turning. 

“And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?” asked Y/n, his eyebrows were drawn together on his forehead as his (e/c) watched the giant. 

“School Houses.” Hagrid and the twins walked around a large company of witches sporting matching jumpers with a crest on their left breast. The crest, Y/n noted, had a wand raised up with a vial, with the words: “Sanitatem, Cinium, Herbis.”. Below the crest was: St. Mungo Witch's Institution, written in a fancy script. 

“There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but —”

“I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily, making Y/n glare at his brother. 

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know- Who was one.” Y/n narrowed his eyes in suspicion as Harry spoke. 

“Vol-, sorry — You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?”

“Years an’ years ago,” said Hagrid with a shake of his head. 

“So anyone could potentially be a bad witch or wizard? Regardless of their house?” asked Y/n as they walked down the cobblestone street. “Well, er, I suppose so. But ‘tat would be ‘ery unlikely,” 

“Why would that be unlikely, Hagrid? I believe everyone has the potential to be “evil”, even the best of us can be turned to the dark side. To be tempted by it.” Hagrid blinked at the eleven-year-old boy, shocked by his words. Harry gave his twin a glare before returning his gaze back to Hagrid. 

“Where to next Hagrid?” he asked. 

Together, all three went to buy Harry’s and Y/n’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. 

Y/n was in heaven at the magical creature section of the bookstore. He bought several books about dragons and other magical creatures. Poor Harry had to drag his twin away from the aisle before the (h/c) boy had a heart attack. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these, though Harry as he dragged his twin away from the fully stacked shelves. Later, Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian, while Y/n looked on in awe. 

“I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.” Harry tried to explain as Hagrid sent him a disapproving glare. “I’m not sayin’ that’s not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances.” Harry looked away, his bottom lip slightly out in a pout. “An’ anyway, yeh couldn’ work any of them curses yet, yeh’ll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level.” 

Hagrid wouldn’t let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either (“It says pewter on yer list”), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope (Y/n was extremely excited about the telescope and shouted “I’m a pirate of the seven seas!!” in the store, which caused them to get many funny looks in the store.).  

Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. Harry wasn’t fond of this store at all, while his twin was giddy; rocking back and forth with a smile on his face as his eyes were lit up with so many questions and awe. 

While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the twins, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

All while Y/n was right by Hagrid, asking the wizard behind the counter question after question about the different herbs and items they sold. 

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry’s and Y/n’s list again.

“Just both of yer wands left — oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.” 

Y/n and Harry felt themselves go red.

“You don’t have to —” started Harry but was interrupted by Hagrid. 

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer both an animal. Not a toad,

toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at — an’ I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.” 

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been

dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn’t stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell. Although Y/n was a bit bummed that cats made Hagrid sneeze, he was extremely happy with his choice of owl. Y/n carried a cage that housed a sleeping barn owl, its face was white with deep brown eyes that carried wisdom and curiosity. It’s feathers on its body were brown with little spots of grey and other shades of brown. His name was Patroclus. 

“T-t-thank you s-s-so much H-h-hagrid!” stuttered Harry as he looked at the giant with gratitude in his eyes. “Don’ mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta presents from them Dursleys.” Hagrid gave the twins a smile of his own, and in his eyes, you could see the joy brimming in them. He was happy. Happy to give them their owls. 

The giant cleared his throat before speaking again. 

“Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.”

A magic wand . . . this was what the twins had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. 

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Y/n felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Both Harry and Y/n jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

“Er -- hi,” greeted Y/n, he lifted his hand and gave a little awkward wave, as he sat Patroclus in his cage down. 

“Hello,” said Harry. He too was extremely awkward. His eyes drifted to his brother for a second, before following suit and placing his own owl down as well. 

“Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you two very soon. Harry and Y/n Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes, Harry. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Y/n watched as the old man looked at his brother, and he wished the old man would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

Finally Mr. Ollivander tore his silvery eyes away and placed them upon Y/n, chilling him to the very bone with his blank stare. 

“You, on the other hand, have your father’s statue . . . and his eyes . . . but you have your mother’s curiosity . . .” Mr. Ollivander trailed off, as he stared into Y/n’s e/c eyes. Y/n did not know what to think about the man in front of him. He had his father’s eyes?? No one -- not even his aunt and uncle had told him that. Although, they never spoke about their parents. Not until yesterday. 

“Your father, on the other hand,” said Mr. Ollivander, who finally snapped out of his stupor and turned to look at Harry; his eyes never leaving Y/n’s twin. “--favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.” As he spoke, Mr. Ollivander had started leaning his face close to Harry once more, and he had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. 

This man . . . (or was he really a man at all?) scared Y/n. 

“And that’s where . . .” Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. Before turning to Y/n and doing the same to his forehead, making him flinch. 

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it . . . to both of you,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and- a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . .”

He shook his head and then, to both Harry’s and Y/n’s relief, spotted Hagrid.

“Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”

“It was, sir, yes,” said Hagrid.

“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

“Er — yes, they did, yes,” said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. “I’ve still got the pieces, though,” he added brightly.

“But you don’t use them?” said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

“Oh, no, sir,” said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

“Hmmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. “Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?” He said looking directly at Harry. 

“Er — well, I’m right-handed,” said Harry.

“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

As he said this, Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own, all while Y/n watched in awe at the sight of more magic being done. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. “That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. 

“Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.” Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —” Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

“No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” Harry tried. And tried. Y/n had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. 

The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.” 

Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped, as Y/n cheered and hugged his brother. Harry made a oof sound before smiling and wrapping his arms around his brother. 

Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . .” He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious . . . curious . . .” Y/n’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion at the mutterings of the old wizard.

 “Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?” 

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you and your very own brother that scar.” Harry and Y/n swallowed. Y/n’s stomach curdled at that relation. 

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.” Y/n shivered. He wasn’t sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. Harry paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, before Mr. Ollivander turned his sights onto Y/n. 

“Hold out your wand arm,” said Mr. Ollivander. Y/n held out his arm as the tape in the old wizard’s hand began to measure him like it did with Harry. Once Mr. Ollivander received his measurements, he started digging around in the many boxes for a wand. 

Mr. Ollivander turned on his heel and placed a couple of boxes down on the counter. A spark was lit in his eyes. “If you’re anything like your brother, Mr. Potter, you too will probably be a tricky customer.” He opened one of the lids and pulled out a wand. 

“Here’s a nine-and-a-half inches, maple wood, and a dragon heartstring core. Slightly springy.” He handed the wand to Y/n and he gripped it firmly in his hands. Y/n tried to give it a wave but the magic that burst out of it was not pretty indeed. A gust of wind blew out from it, making a stack of papers sitting on the far corner of the counter spill onto the floor. Mr. Ollivander hummed, snatched the wand out of Y/n’s hands and used his own to place the papers back on the counter. 

“No . . . that’s not it. How about . . .” he grabbed another wand from the stack. “Here, ten inches, Yew wood, and a unicorn hair core.” Y/n barely had a grip on the wand when Mr. Ollivander snatched it away . . . again. Muttering under his breath, Mr. Ollivander finally pulled another wand out. 

“Here, Mr. Potter, try this one. Fourteen-and-a-half-inches, hawthorn wood, with a phoenix feather core -- like your brother -- and it’s slightly springy and flexible.” Y/n turned to look back at Harry, his eyes wide with nervousness. Harry gave him a small nod of encouragement and Y/n took a deep breath before wrapping his hand around the wand’s handle, gripping it tightly. 

He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. And a bright, glowing light spewed out from the tip of the wand. Y/n gasped in amazement as the light lit up the dusty and dark shop. Y/n could feel a connection, a spark, between him and the wand. As if the wand laid a claim on him. As if it chose him. 

Once the light dimmed down, Harry and Hagrid clapped joyously. “Bravo Y/n!!” said Hagrid, as Harry smiled brightly at his twin. Y/n’s cheeks redden in embarrassment. 

“Yes, excellent Mr. Potter.” Mr. Ollivander plucked the wand from Y/n’s hand and examined it. “It appears you and your brother have a close connection with the phoenix.” His grey eyes twinkled before he placed his wand back in its box and handed it to Y/n. 

Y/n paid Mr. Ollivander eight gold Galleons, all while smiling and thanking him for his help. “Oh . . . you’re welcome . . .” he looked startled, as if no one had ever thanked him before. But Y/n continued smiling at him, even as they all walked towards the door (of course not before picking up Patroclus’s cage and reminding Harry to take his owl as well) and Mr. Ollivander bowed as they left his shop, with a smile on his old ancient face.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Y/n,Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Y/n was happy as ever, a smile was still glued on his face as he talked and babbled to Hagrid, speaking of all the things he couldn’t wait to see. Patroclus even looked as if he too was listening and understanding what his new owner was saying. 

While Y/n was excitedly talking, Harry didn’t speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn’t even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry’s lap, and Patroclus asleep in his own cage on Y/n’s lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,” he said. 

He bought Y/n and Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around, while Y/n ate his burger in content. To Harry, everything looked so strange, somehow. 

“You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,” asked Hagrid, concern dripping his gruff tone. Y/n even turned to look at his twin, worry in his e/c eyes. Harry wasn’t sure he could explain. He’d just had the best birthday of his life — and yet — he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

“Everyone thinks I’m -- we’re --- special,” he said at last. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander . . . but Y/n and I  don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? We’re famous and we can’t even remember what we’re famous for. We don’t know what happened when Vol --, sorry — I mean, the night our parents died.” 

Y/n’s mood immediately changed and his shoulders slumped. He didn’t realize that his brother had all this on his mind. He didn’t realize that Harry was right. They weren’t special. All they had was cool scars on their foreheads and they somehow killed a dark wizard (okay that is pretty cool, but that’s not the point). So why was everyone thinking that they were indeed special. They acted like he and Harry were King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. But they weren't. They were just two orphan boys whose parents had died and by some magical reason they survived a dark wizard attacking them. 

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile. “Don’ you worry, Harry. You and Y/n will learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll both have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, ’smatter of fact.” Y/n gave Hagrid a weak smile, but his mind was still raging with thoughts. How could they be special?? 

Hagrid helped Harry and Y/n on to the train that would take them back to the Dursleys, then handed him and Harry an envelope.

“Yer tickets fer Hogwarts,” he said. “First o’ September — King’s Cross — it’s all on yer tickets. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with one of yer owls, they’ll know where to find me. . . . See yeh soon, Harry, Y/n.”

The train pulled out of the station. Y/n and Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; they rose in their seat and each pressed their face against the glass of the window, their hot breath making it fogging and their noses were against the window -- which wasn’t the best feeling in the world --, but Y/n blinked and Hagrid had gone.

Well, hello there! It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry I haven't updated in a bit. I've been busy with life (projects, holy crap), and hadn't had the time to write for this story. I've been writing my own original stories while consuming all the fanfiction and manga I can get. But I'm here! I'm still active and will update, but for the meantime, due to my muse being a bitch---updates will be whenever I get the vibe. However, I am excited about this series and I can't wait to show you all the oc puffs I've created to be (y/n)'s friends!! I love you all and please take care of yourselves! Also!!! Please respond to this post to be added to the taglist i'm creating!! Thx!