Hogtober2024 - Tumblr Posts
The Start of Something Great
Hogtober Day 1 - Ollivander's
Word Count: 723 Characters/Relationship(s): Percival Valley Setting: 6th year, Ollivander's Genre/Tags: Fluff, blatant disregard for how magic works
“Mr Ollivander?” Percival called into the seemingly empty shop. He heard a crash and Ollivander arrived around the corner with a wide grin on his face.
“Ah, Mr. Valley!” Ollivander waved him inside. “Come, come! Dud you bring what I asked?”
“Uh yeah,” Percival nodded. The 6th year pulled out a large dragon hide pouch he'd decided to use for transport just in case. “I'm not sure why you need an erumpet horn. They're extremely volatile.”
“Not to worry, I have plenty of protections in place,” Ollivander assured him. “Hm, yes, yes this should work. Perhaps you could help me.”
“I'm not really a Beasts expert,” Percival pointed out. “That's more Idris's thing.”
“Not with any beasts,” Ollivander waved him off. “Come with me.”
Ollivander led him to the back of the shop where there was a desk littered with various woods and tools.
“I understand you are quite gifted with charms, yes?” Ollivander said.
“I don't know about gifted-”
“Nonsense, our dear Professor Fig constantly raved about your abilities,” Ollivander replied. “I've long believed there are wand cores beyond what us wandmakers have become comfortable with. Many potential cores have been deemed too unstable to make a proper wand but I am determined to prove otherwise.”
“You decided to start with an Erumpent horn?” Percival stared at him dumbfounded. There were so many other things to start with that didn't explode if handled with anything other than cautious care.
“And people say Ravenclaws aren't daring,” Ollivander grinned. “Now, I know you've studied wand lore, perhaps you can give me a new perspective.”
“Okay…” Percival took the time to look over the woods that had been laid out before him. “Erumpent horns are unstable, so a wood that's temperamental wouldn't go well. They have to be handle with delicate care so it's probably particular. It needs something equally suited for whatever magic it performs best.”
“Exactly my thinking,” Ollicander agreed. “My conundrum comes with what magics this horn would be best suited for. The immediate assumption would be defensive or offensive magic however when paired with wands such as aspen and blackthorn the results were rather…catastrophic.”
“What about hornbeam?” Percival suggested. “It's one of the most adaptive wand woods, usually adopting to its owners best form of magic. Then you wouldn't have to find the horn's best magic at all.”
“Interesting,” Ollivander hummed. He shuffled around the back area of the shop until he pulled hornbeam wood from a drawer and carried it back to the desk.
Percival was quickly shooed back to the front of the shop while Ollivander worked, an action that reminded all too much of winter during his fifth year. But this time he wasn't waiting for a wand to save the Wizarding World, just the pursuit of magical discovery. It was nice to not worry for the fate of the world and instead wait curiously for an experiment to conclude. It was also much more exciting.
Just as Percival was thinking he had yet to hear an explosion Ollivander emerged with a cylindrical hornbeam wand in hand. Percival rushed over with a grin on his face as he took the wand to study it.
“It's as beautiful as ever,” Percival complimented the wandmaker. “And it didn't explode.”
“Quite the improvement from past attempts,” Ollivander chuckled. “I must say, you have quite the eye for wandmaking. Perhaps you should consider it when taking your NEWTs next year.”
“Wand making?” Percival shook his head. “Not for me, no. I've always found the relationship between woods and their cores and the differing behaviors of woods fascinating but more in the sense of the theory of it all. Actually making the wands isn't something I'm particularly interested in. I'm too attached to charms and potions.”
“Very well,” Ollivander. “If you ever change your mind do let me know, won't you? I like to keep an eye on my rivals.”
Percival laughed and handed back the wand. The idea of being a wandmaker wasn't unappealing. It was something he could see himself doing and being content. However there were other things that appealed to him more. Maybe he could return to it if he didn't find anything else to pursue. For now he simply began the trek back to Hogwarts with the thrill of invention on his mind. Maybe that was an idea instead….
Hogtober Masterlist
Day 1 - Ollivanders
Word Count: 723 Characters/Relationship(s): Percival Valley Setting: 6th year, canon, Ollivander's Genre/Tags: Fluff, blatant disregard for how magic works
Day 2 - Feldcroft
Word Count: 777 Character(s): Percival Valley, Idris Valley, Anne Sallow, Sebastian Sallow, Solomon Sallow Setting: 5th year, canon, Feldcroft Genre/Tags: Angst, curses
Day 3 - Sebastian Sallow
Word Count: 1482 Characters/Relationship(s): Ambrose Varyn, Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt Setting: 5th year, canon, Undercroft and Room of Requirement Genre/Tags: Angst, the start of what I like to call the "Sebrose Divorce Arc"
Day 4 - Arena
Word Count: 1482 Character(s): Odysseus Carrow, Theophilus Harlow, Phillip Prewett Setting: 5th year, canon, the Forbidden Forest Genre/Tags: Angst, fighting arena, blood, violence
Day 5 - Divination
Day 6 - Natsai Onai
Day 7 - Honeydukes
Day 8 - Vivarium
Day 9 - Poppy Sweeting
Day 10 - Ruins
Day 11 - Astronomy
Day 12 - Amit Thakkar
Day 13 - The Three Broomsticks
Day 14 - Centaurs
Day 15 - Scars
Day 16 - MC x MC
Day 17 - Goblins
Day 18 - Gringotts
Day 19 - Poltergeist
Day 20 - MC x Canon
Day 21 - Past/Future
Day 22 - Four Keeper Trials
Day 23 - Pensieve
Day 24 - Dragon
Day 25 - Mask
Day 26 - Forbidden
Day 27 - Poachers
Day 28 - Portraits
Day 29 - Crossed Wands
Day 30 - Catacombs
Day 31 - Haunted Shop
I Know The End
Hogtober Day 2 - Feldcroft
Word Count: 777 Character(s): Percival Valley, Idris Valley, Anne Sallow, Sebastian Sallow, Solomon Sallow Setting: 5th year, Feldcroft Genre/Tags: Angst, curses
While Idris moved to defuse Sebastian and Solomon's budding argument, Percival had tuned the two out completely. His vision tunneled. The only thing he could hear was Anne. There was a roaring in his ears and his very bones wanted to shiver from the cold. The lanterns seemed to dim and the world fell away. There was nothing left. He was back in those woods as the shadows killed his sister and ripped his parents apart.
But there was something else. The hook in his ribs was pulling him, dragging him. He couldn't control his body as he stumbled forward and pulled out his wand. It was a compulsion he couldn't fight. He put his wand to Anne's chest and felt that click as something fell into place. Something was creeping up his wand, leaving behind invisible white hot trails of pain as it latched onto his arm.
He didn't hear the yelling from Solomon or Sebastian demanding to know what he was doing or the concern coming back to Idris now that they were too confused to be mad at him anymore. He didn't see the lights of the house go out, he didn't feel Anne's racing heart or panicked breathing.
All he knew was he had to pull.
He tried but nothing happened. The pain only got worse and worse until Percival cried out. He couldn't even pull away now, it had completely latched onto him. It was crawling towards his chest and the Ancient Magic within him was rising up to meet it. He didn't know why but he knew he couldn't let it happen. This time he grabbed his wand with two hands and pulled. He stumbled back, and with him was a red and black tendril of magic.
It wasn't like the Ancient Magic. This Magic looked like it was smoking, it's movements were erratic as it thrashed to escape the hold Percival had on it. He could feel it, it needed something to latch on to without Anne. It wanted him, it wanted to consume him.
Then a hand touched his shoulder and his senses expanded again. His arm felt like it was on fire. The curse exploded out of Percival's wand, ricocheting off walls and windows and tables. Anne screamed and ducked as cracks appeared in the ceiling. Sebastian covered her with his body to shield her. Solomon kept trying to catch it but was only able to hold it for a moment before it escaped his grasp.
“Percy!” The hand shook him and he blinked, refocusing on his twin. Idris. “You have to get it back!”
Right. Get it back. He had to get it back. Percival held his wand out and pulled his Ancient Magic to the surface again, letting it guide him. He followed its compulsions and thrust his wand out. The curse was pinned but it was still trying to escape. It kept yanking itself back towards Anne. Percival's heart dropped into his stomach.
“What is it doing?!” Sebastian cried.
“It wants to go back into Anne!” Percival shouted. “It needs a host or it's going to destroy Feldcroft!”
“I'll take it!” Sebastian volunteered immediately.
“No!” Anne protested. “It's my curse, I'll take it back!”
“You're finally free of it, I won't let it take you back!”
“It's my choice Sebastian! Percival, please!”
Percival glanced at Anne. The way her eyes were pleading with him made tears gather in his own. She just wanted her family to be safe. She already looked barely alive. This curse would kill her.
Then he looked at Sebastian, who's eyes were filled with determination. who just wanted to protect his sister and would do anything to do so but was doomed to lose her anyway.
Annabelle's body was on the floor, bloody and broken. Her eyes were empty as they stared right at him. He couldn't protect her. Why didn't he protect her? He should've protected her. Now the monster was back. He couldn't let it happen again.
“No.” Percival yanked his wand back, not towards Sebastian or Anne. He yanked it in. The curse flew across the house until it collided with his own chest.
The house was silent. No one moved. Finally the feeling was gone. He could think clearly again. He took a deep breath as he tried to reconcile with what he just did. He couldn't take it back, and he wouldn't even if he could. But the regret was beginning to build. Already he felt weaker than he ever had, like he could collapse right there.
“Percival what did you do?” Idris whispered. Percival met their eyes, an apology on his lips.
Then Percival screamed.
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
Hogtober Day 3 - Sebastian Sallow
Word Count: 1482 Characters/Relationship(s): Ambrose Varyn, Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt Setting: 5th year, canon, Undercroft and Room of Requirement Genre/Tags: Angst, the start of what I like to call the "Sebrose Divorce Arc"
“Now for the moment of truth,” Sebastian said. He was obviously nervous and Ambrose didn’t blame him. If this canvas didn’t fit into the Triptych…
“It has to fit,” Ambrose said.
He approached the triptych and lined up the canvas with the panel on the right side. As soon as he laid it out the canvas piece grew and mended itself until it fit the space so well it was like it had never left it. Ambrose heard Sebastian sigh in relief behind him.
The new view was a coastline, specifically a cliff face with trees lining the top. Ambrose had no idea where it was. He was incredibly lucky Sebastian grew up in the Hogwarts area or they would be completely lost.
“I don’t suppose you recognize the location in this bit of canvas?” Ambrose asked.
“The good news is, I do, in fact,” Sebastian answered.
“And the bad news?”
“We’re in for more trouble.”
Now it was Ambrose’s turn to sigh, though not in relief. Of course. Why could nothing be simple? Why did he have to blast his way through goblins and poachers to complete even simple tasks like retrieving a piece of a portrait?
“I know that coast,” Sebastian told him. There was an edge to his voice Ambrose didn’t like. “Ranrok has taken over a huge mine and the surrounding area. Marunweem has suffered for it. It’s as bad as Feldcroft’s become. Should we head there now?”
Ambrose’s impulse was to say yes and just go to get it over with. What was one more of Ranrok’s messes to clean up? After that he was sure there’d be another. Better to get on top of it and get the job done than whine about it.
Unless there was a better way. Maybe instead of cleaning up all of Ranrok’s messes Ambrose could stop him from making them at all. He already had another pair of eyes that would suit that exact purpose.
“We should wait,” Ambrose suggested.
“Why?” Sebastian demanded. Ambrose narrowed his eyes at the tone but he let it slide like he always did. Sebastian always got touchy around the subject of Ranrok and goblins, but Ambrose knew Sebastian well enough to know touchy was all it would be.
“We’ve been a step behind Ranrok this whole time,” Ambrose pointed out. “I may know someone who could help us get ahead.”
“Who is that?” Sebastian asked. See, he was already more on edge than angry, which was progress.
“A friendly goblin,” Ambrose said, completely thoughtlessly. Maybe the rest of the situation could have been avoided had he put a little more thought into his words and the boy in front of him. “He won’t-”
“A friendly goblin?” Sebastian exclaimed. “You know goblins cursed my sister to shut her up. Said she should be ‘seen and not heard’.”
Ambrose did know that. He bit back another sigh. Sighing seemed to be all he did nowadays.
“I do,” Ambrose replied patiently. “But not all goblins-”
“Not all goblins what?!” Sebastian cried. “Have you forgotten Feldcroft? Have you forgotten the mine we just went through?”
Ambrose felt his fingers clenching into a fist as he tried to control his frustration. Sometimes Sebastian reacted in anger in a way he didn’t mean. All Ambrose had to do was stay calm and the anger would pass. But with Sebastian continuing to interrupt him he wasn’t sure how long his patience would hold.
Ambrose hated being angry. It made him feel dirty and wrong. He especially hated acting on his anger. That made him feel like his mother. His patience was his virtue. It kept him calm, collected, and had saved multiple tense situations from escalating.
But over the last few months he hadn’t been able to wish away his anger. He pushed it away but it just stored itself in the back of his mind. His frustration, exhaustion, irritation, even the pure rage he felt when the Poachers attacked his brother. He was on the edge of snapping already and Sebastian was making it hard.
“No, Sebastian, I haven’t,” Ambrose assured him. “But you aren’t listening to me.”
“Why would I listen to someone so ignorant?!”
Ambrose swung.
His fist collided with Sebastian’s jaw, sending him stumbling into the wall behind him. Before he even realized what he was doing Ambrose swung again, hitting him in the temple and leaving him sprawled on the ground.
“How fucking dare you,” Ambrose growled. “Ignorant? Me?! After everything I’ve done for you? I was right there next yo uou through your tempter tantrums and outbursts and stupid decisions, having your back you ungrateful child. I ask you for this one thing, to have an open mind and be reasonable, and you called me ignorant?!”
“You are so full of spite and bitterness you don’t even see it. How your darkness infects everyone around you. How ignorant you are. I clung to you anyway, so sure I could help you. For once not because I thought it was my responsibility, but because I wanted to because for some reason I care about you. I wanted to be your light but now I’m not even sure you deserve it. You don’t deserve my patience. You don’t deserve my trust. And after that you don’t deserve my friendship.”
“Then keep it!” Sebastian shouted back. “I don’t want it anymore if you’re going to think like this! I don’t want to be saved! I don’t need saved! Anne does! And if you aren’t going to help me get justice for her or save her then stay out of my life.”
Ambrose wanted to stay. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe to apologize. Maybe to yell more. Maybe to try and reason with him. But none of those things happened. None of those things would matter. Sebastian would hear none of them. So he left Sebastian there on a floor with an already forming bruise on his jaw and Ambrose’s broken heart right next to him.
He didn’t really expect anyone to look for him. No one else knew what happened to him. He assumed he could spend the rest of the night right where he was and just gather himself in the morning. As always, he underestimated his boyfriend.
When Ominis found him the Room of Requirement had been completely torn apart. As soon as Ambrose had stormed in he’d sent Deek away so the house elf wouldn’t have to see it, then he started throwing things to the ground and casting every destructive curse he knew. By the time he’d sank to the ground on the staircase, broken and defeated, there was nothing left intact.
His desk was in charred pieces. The potions stations had been demolished, spilling ingredients, glass phials, and deformed cauldrons onto the floor. Dirt covered half the room after he cast bombarda at his plants. Most of them were on fire now. The banners and statues he used to decorate the room had been torn apart.
When the door opened Ambrose didn’t bother to move other than to turn his head. Ominis stood there, wand lit with red light. He seemed frozen, trying to take in however much of the damage his wand could pick up. Ambrose wanted to warn him to be careful since he wouldn’t be able to see things like embers and glass, but his voice didn’t seem to work.
“Reparo,” Ominis casted. The spell worked perfectly. He’d need new ingredients and seeds but everything else fixed itself right before his eyes, down to the Slytherin banners on the wall. He felt sick looking at them now. His brain kept going back to the Scriptorium, where he’d let Sebastian torture him only for everything to end like this.
“Ambrose?” Ominis called into the room, grip on his wand so tight Ambrose could see his white knuckles from across the room. Right, Ambrose probably blended into the chaos Ominis had fixed for him.
“Over here,” Ambrose muttered.
Ominis approached him, putting a hand out to feel the staircase. He slid down to sit next to Ambrose. For a few minutes nothing happened. Neither of them moved or spoke or even touched. Just being around Ominis helped him relax some. It was hard to be angry around him. Not that he had much anger left. Now he just felt lost. At least with Ominis he didn’t feel alone.
“What happened?” Ominis asked quietly.
“Sebastian Sallow,” Ambrose answered, but calling his mumbles speech may be a stretch.
“I see,” Ominis sighed.
He scooted closer and Ambrose turned to rest his head on Ominis’s shoulder. Ominis set down his wand to wrap his arms around Ambrose’s shoulders and just held him. Maybe Ambrose should have cried. He probably needed to. There was no better time to do it. But he didn’t have tears or rage left. All of it was gone along with Sebastian.
The Arena
Hogtober Day 4 - Arena
Word Count: 1482 Character(s): Odysseus Carrow, Theophilus Harlow, Phillip Prewett (@rypnami ) Setting: 5th year, canon, the Forbidden Forest Genre/Tags: Angst, fighting arena, blood, violence
Odysseus didn't feel like a fool very often, but after being lured into some sort of arena he was pretty close.
He'd defeated a Poachers’ camp with relative ease, only for one of them to make a break for it. He didn't want to risk the scout returning with backup, so he'd gone after him. The Poacher had run right into an arena. The gate magically locked behind him and he had a feeling he couldn't use alohomora.
The arena was on a floor of packed dirt, surrounded by a wall that was too high to climb. Even so it was covered by a grid of rope, so he couldn't even levitate or fly himself out. The arena was ringed with tiers of seats, almost like the charms classroom except they were wrapped around the entire perimeter. They were filled to the brim with Poachers and villagers, some of whom he recognized from Hogsmeade. The thought made his hand tighten on his wand. He was more relieved than ever that he decided on the persona of the Owl.
Odysseus quickly scanned the room, not with his eyes, but with his mind. It was mostly just various expendable Poachers but there were two that stood out. The first was Theophilus Harlow, unaccompanied by his better (or at least smaller) half. Odysseus could feel his excitement. He was almost hungry to see Odysseus’s attempt to fight.
The second was none other than Phillip Prewett. Odysseus almost fell as he quickly retreated from his boyfriend's mind before his presence could be recognized. Surely Phillip wasn't here to watch the fight, was he? Everyone else here was willing to watch him die for their entertainment or wanted him to die. Phillip didn't want those things…did he? Odysseus had retreated before he could find out.
“Owl,” Harlow grinned in a predatory way that made Odysseus incredibly uncomfortable.
“Theophilus,” Odysseus replied casually. “Fancy seeing you here.”
What a lot of people didn't realize was that the Owl wasn't just the armor and the physical mask. Odysseus couldn't risk any indication for who he was in case a rumor started. So he faded into a personality, just another mask. A cocky, ruthless, and sarcastic mask.
“I could say the same,” Harlow said. “You've been a thorn in our sides for too long. I think it's past time for you to prove yourself when you aren't attacking from the shadows.”
“It's not my fault you leave so many shadows lying around,” Odysseus shrugged.
“This ends now,” Theophilus growled. “And when we finally see who's under there, we'll send your family your regards.”
If Odysseus's family found out who he was, they'd be glad he was dead. His entire winter break had been spent listening to his uncle and even mother rant and complain about the Owl. His eldest sister Ambrosia even chimed in once or twice, and she was one of the best people he knew. That piece of the threat was practically useless now. If it weren't for the fact it would immediately reveal his identity he'd even tell Harlow that, just to piss him off.
“Open the gates!” Harlow yelled, causing the crowd to cheer.
The gate opposite the one Odysseus had entered through slid upward with a creak. What came out was a beast much too large for the arena.
It was easily the size of an elephant, though the front of its body was more similar to that of a lion. The tail was frilly but it was clearly strong and the length of a giant python. It was covered in cuts and scars, including one that made one of its eyes cloudy. Even Odysseus felt sympathy for the creature.
Until it roared and lunged for him with a mouthful of teeth the size of his arm. Odysseus dove out of the way to raucous cheers from the crowd. That was going to get irritating quickly.
The beast whipped around, the tail forced to curl around the length of the arena. As the beast chased Odysseus around the tail was slowly closing in, giving him less and less room to maneuver. He didn't want to use spells on the beast, sure it had been through enough, but he was starting to think he didn't have a choice. Worse, he couldnt read the thing's mind like he could a Poacher, leaving him at a disadvantage he wasnt used to.
The tail finally came at him. He wasn't prepared for it to move so it swept his feet out from under him. He landed on his back hard, knocking the wind out of him. His head hit the dirt with a thud, immediately making his vision swim. It gave the beast the perfect opportunity to lunge again. The fangs bit right through his armor and into his leg and stomach, making Odysseus scream out in pain. Distantly he could hear cheers from the crowd. That was the last straw.
He hit the creature point blank with a bombarda. It shrieked and frantically backed away from him, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. Odysseus raised his wand, Ancient Magic already swirling around it just waiting his command. Then he remembered. Phillip was watching this. He still didn't know why but he just couldn't bring himself to hurt the thing while Phillip was there.
He cursed and brought his wand down from the sky. Lightning bright with the blue of Ancient Magic struck in between him and the Beast. The thing shrieked again, less in pain and more out of fear. It scampered out of the arena and back through its grate. It hit Odysseus again with its tail on the way out but he begrudgingly decided not to hold that against it.
Odysseus fell to one knee and fruitlessly held a hand to his side to stem the bleeding at least partly. It made no difference. His vision was swimming and his stomach felt like it was spinning. His leg was on fire. He could fall asleep right there on the arena floor. But he heard the jeering and booing of the crowd mixed with the cheers of those who didn't want him dead.
Odysseus scanned the room again, only for the minds he'd latched onto before. He kept it light, only to see if they were in the area and get a basic read on their emotions. Harlow was fleeing the building already, frustrated and irate but also a tiny bit intimidated. That made Odysseus feel a little better.
Poor Phillip was terrified. Odysseus had no idea how he'd gotten there or why but he didn't seem in pain so Odysseus retreated. He could conveniently check on Phillip later, without his mask.
Odysseus channeled the Ancient Magic he had left into two spells. One, to blast the grate he'd come through into a melted, broken hunk of metal. The second was the most powerful incendio he'd ever cast, directly up into the air. The entire arena became wreathed in flame, quickly climbing up the seats. A chorus of screams quickly reached his ears but Odysseus only waited long enough to make sure Phillip got out before he bolted back the way he came.
He was only able to make it out of the arena before his leg gave out again. He spilled onto the ground, wand falling out of his hand. No, he was too close to the arena, he had to keep moving. He'd crawl if he had to.
He ripped off his cape and tied it around his leg to stem the bleeding. He put his hand against his side to do his best there. He was desperate not to leave a blood trail but he wasn't sure he had a choice.
Odysseus forced his feet back under him. His leg tried to buckle again and his side felt like it was tearing itself in two but he didn't let his leg collapse. He took one step forward, then the next, then another. He stuck his wand in his belt so he could lean on the trees he passed.
He wasn't sure how long he stumbled aimlessly, in whatever direction put distance between him and the Poachers. He had yet to learn how to apparate and he didn't dare fly in his state. Wiggenweld potions would do nothing against these wounds.
He would probably bleed out right there in the woods. He knew his darkening vision had nothing to do with the night. His brain was so fogged from pain and blood loss that he didn't even care. He idly had the thought that hopefully his siblings, Ominis, and Phillip would be okay. But at the moment all he cared about was getting far enough away his body wouldn't be found and he couldn't be unmasked.
He tripped over a tree stump and barely felt himself fall. His vision went dark and it didn't brighten again.