Slytherin Harry - Tumblr Posts
SLYTHERIN HARRY
HARRY AS A VAMPIRE
like dracula untold
SLYTHERIN HARRY POTTER
HARRY POTTER AS A CHILD OF DIONYSUS
Powers / Traits
PICREW ART
GOLDEN TRIO
+ FRED & GEORGE
https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/587862/complete#google_vignette
SLYTHERIN HARRY X RAVENCLAW HERMIONE FOR ANONYMOUS
Harry as severus snape's son (severitus au)
(Slytherin au)
Slytherin Harry. Inspired by "Sunspots" by @crowcrowcrowthing.
Read: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34675228/chapters/86331985
𝐌 𝐚 𝐬 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭
𝙰 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝙸𝚌𝚎 & 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎:
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚 (𝙏𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞:
https://jessicawhitlockswonderland.tumblr.com/post/659439904331382784/%F0%9D%99%8F%F0%9D%99%9D%F0%9D%99%9A-%F0%9D%99%82%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A1%F0%9D%99%99%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%A3-%F0%9D%99%8D%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A8%F0%9D%99%9A
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞:
https://jessicawhitlockswonderland.tumblr.com/post/659541880324980736/%F0%9D%99%8F%F0%9D%99%9D%F0%9D%99%9A-%F0%9D%99%82%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A1%F0%9D%99%99%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%A3-%F0%9D%99%8D%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A8%F0%9D%99%9A
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨:
https://jessicawhitlockswonderland.tumblr.com/post/660145273970049024/%F0%9D%99%8F%F0%9D%99%9D%F0%9D%99%9A-%F0%9D%99%82%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A1%F0%9D%99%99%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%A3-%F0%9D%99%8D%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A8%F0%9D%99%9A
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞:
https://jessicawhitlockswonderland.tumblr.com/post/660779290479198208/%F0%9D%99%8F%F0%9D%99%9D%F0%9D%99%9A-%F0%9D%99%82%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A1%F0%9D%99%99%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%A3-%F0%9D%99%8D%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A8%F0%9D%99%9A
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫:
https://jessicawhitlockswonderland.tumblr.com/post/662355360142721024/%F0%9D%99%8F%F0%9D%99%9D%F0%9D%99%9A-%F0%9D%99%82%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A1%F0%9D%99%99%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%A3-%F0%9D%99%8D%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A8%F0%9D%99%9A
𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛:
𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓐𝓭𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓼 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼
𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙊𝙣𝙚: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚
(Harry Potter-Addams x Reader)
❝𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩?❞ ❝𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩?❞ ❝𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙛𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡. 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙙,❞ ❝𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩.❞
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘗𝘶𝘨𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘶𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺'𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘻 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢 𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴?
𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛'𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝙷𝚘𝚐𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 - 𝙸 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢 - 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞??
𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙨
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙬𝙤: 𝙊𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙁𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚: 𝘿𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝘼𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙮
Harry Addams and the Philosopher’s Stone
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙞𝙭: 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙙𝙨
September 1st couldn’t have come quicker, in Harry’s mind. It was a hellish month. Everyday his aunt's family would spend all day out in the sun, holy seven circles of hell. They flew on broomsticks (which Harry excelled at, of course.) and played with gobstones and their neighbours. A giant, loud, family of gingers. He remembered how his aunt had pulled him away from his reading (Poisons, Hexes to Use on Your Enemies, & Easy Curses by Bertha Nightlock) to meet the family of gingers.
"Harry, dear," A smile was bright on Ophelia's face. "These are our neighbours, the Weasley's!" She spread her arms out as if she was on a muggle gameshow Grandmama liked to watch but was always disappointed when contestants either won or didn't get mauled by a mountain lion.
"Hello there Harry!" A plump woman with red hair and a round face bustled out from her family, holding her arms out, a smile on her face. "I'm Molly Weasley, and these are my children," She pointed to a tall boy with glasses and curly red hair, he was the only one wearing a matching robe set. "This is Percy," His arms were crossed and he stood tall, unlike the others—his face was tight and his lips pursed. He looked positively dreadful. "My twins, Fred and George,"
"Hey there Potter!" The twins said in unison.
"Say do you—"
"Have that—"
"Scar?" They finished together.
Harry simply stared at them, his eyes glazing over. The twins looked exactly alike, down from their faces right down to their shoes. They both sported the same haircut, same clothes, and shoes. It was like they were carbon copies.
"And this is my youngest son, Ron, and my daughter Ginny. Ron will also be attending Hogwarts this year!" Ron was tall, taller than any 11-year-old Harry saw. But his shoulders were hunched, and his face was downcasted, his blue eyes kept flicking up and down, as if he was insecure. No, he was insecure. Harry could tell.
"So is Harry! My sister, who lives in the States with her husband, sent Harry to live with us this summer so he could get used to the magical world." Aunt Ophelia explained, her hands moving as she talked.
"Oh how wonderful! Where've you taken him, Ophelia?" Molly and her children were invited inside the house, out of the summer heat. Harry tried to creep back up the stairs but a quick glare from his aunt (that was fairly similar to his own mother's glare) stopped him.
"He's been all over the Alley, and we've taken him to Hogsmeade!”
Ah, yes, thought Harry. Memories of his timely visit to the village outside of Hogwarts was boring and uneventful. The only thing that struck Harry as interesting was an old pub by the name of Hogs Head—he hoped there was an actual event where you took the head of a hog, but alas he was entirely let down—and an abandoned “haunted” house, dubbed by the locals the “Shrieking Shack”.
Thinking about the visit made something in Harry ache. He knew Wednesday would’ve loved to investigate and look into this haunted shack and summoned devils from the depths of hades with him. A part of him wanted to go home, to be away from his too-smiley aunt and her family. His cousin’s weren’t as bad as the other children back home, but they weren’t on the same page as Harry. They did not play with headless dolls, nor did they have a subscription to “Tortures Torture”. Beatrice was the only one who actually was worth being around. She seemed to be the only one to inherit some sort of Frump genes.
After the ghastly introduction of the ginger family, Harry isolated himself back in his room, waiting for the hours to pass.
★
There were only a few moments of his dreaded summer with his aunt and her family that Harry did enjoy. For example: Aunt Ophelia was a Potions Woman and she had her own home laboratory that Harry found himself walking into one rainy day in the English country. She wore a white lab coat and black gloves that went up to her elbows. At the sound of Harry shutting the door to her room, Ophelia turned. Her big black eyes were huge and bug-eyed under the googles she wore.
“Harry! Come in!” A smile spread across her face before she turned her attention back to her plants and concoctions. Harry slumped in, the shadows warming his skin in the dark and dank room. He took a sniff—Nightshade, ahh home.
Ophelia patted a stole she pulled out from underneath the workbench and Harry took a seat. Together, Aunt and Nephew worked as they made a simple healing draught for certain native poisons from Hungry. It was the first moment that Harry felt relaxed and realised how he could be related to this woman. How his mother and her lived in England all their young lives.
A flash of gold made him pause.
“You were in Slytherin?”
Ophelia smirked as she finished writing on her clipboard the shipping information for the crate of potions.
“Of course.” Her gloves and goggles lay off to the side, allowing her to grab the metal she received. “I won the Slytherin duelling championship, beating all the pesky inbred purebloods.” She sounded proud. Harry watched her dust off the metal, though he didn’t see why. “Tisha won for Ravenclaw, she had to sneak into Slytherin to sleep. Her housemates were playing dirty and she wasn’t allowing a single curse or “misguided” spell to keep her from that metal. When she wants something, she’ll get it. It’s why we never tried out for Qudditch, if we both made it the games would be brutal for both the teams and the rest of Hogwarts.” She smiled and chuckled here and there. “It was better for everyone if the Frump Sisters weren’t against each other, but on the same side.”
Ophelia placed the metal back on the wall that Harry realised were moving photographs of what looked like his mother and aunt in their Hogwarts uniform. The only reason why he could tell who was who, was the colours of their robes. Aunt Ophelia had black hair??
“Your hair…”
“Yep, black. I only started to dye in my sixth and seventh year. I wanted something to make us stand apart. I can’t believe how many times boys went to the wrong sister. I knew it made Tisha angry. She once hexed a boy’s bollocks and he was in the hospital wing for weeks.”
Another photo of the sisters, this time where Ophelia’s hair was blonde, and they sat in what looked like a courtyard full of statues. They were laughing and Harry saw a man with white blonde hair in the back of them staring at the pair of sisters.
A buzzing noise yelled through the potions lab.
“Oh! That’s dinner!”
(Aunt Ophelia gave Harry the brain along with mashed potatoes that night.)
September 1st couldn’t have come quicker, in Harry’s mind. It was a hellish month. Everyday his aunt's family would spend all day out in the sun, holy seven circles of hell. They flew on broomsticks (which Harry excelled at, of course.) and played with gobstones and their neighbours. A giant, loud, family of gingers. He remembered how his aunt had pulled him away from his reading (Poisons, Hexes to Use on Your Enemies, & Easy Curses by Bertha Nightlock) to meet the family of gingers.
"Harry, dear," A smile was bright on Ophelia's face. "These are our neighbours, the Weasley's!" She spread her arms out as if she was on a muggle gameshow Grandmama liked to watch but was always disappointed when contestants either won or didn't get mauled by a mountain lion.
"Hello there Harry!" A plump woman with red hair and a round face bustled out from her family, holding her arms out, a smile on her face. "I'm Molly Weasley, and these are my children," She pointed to a tall boy with glasses and curly red hair, he was the only one wearing a matching robe set. "This is Percy," His arms were crossed and he stood tall, unlike the others—his face was tight and his lips pursed. He looked positively dreadful. "My twins, Fred and George,"
"Hey there Potter!" The twins said in unison. "Say do you—" "Have that—" "Scar?" They finished together.
Harry simply stared at them, his eyes glazing over. The twins looked exactly alike, down from their faces right down to their shoes. They both sported the same haircut, same clothes, and shoes. It was like they were carbon copies.
"And this is my youngest son, Ron, and my daughter Ginny. Ron will also be attending Hogwarts this year!" Ron was tall, taller than any 11-year-old Harry saw. But his shoulders were hunched, and his face was downcasted, his blue eyes kept flicking up and down, as if he was insecure. No, he was insecure. Harry could tell.
"So is Harry! My sister, who lives in the States with her husband, sent Harry to live with us this summer so he could get used to the magical world." Aunt Ophelia explained, her hands moving as she talked.
"Oh how wonderful! Where've you taken him, Ophelia?" Molly and her children were invited inside the house, out of the summer heat. Harry tried to creep back up the stairs but a quick glare from his aunt (that was fairly similar to his own mother's glare) stopped him.
"He's been all over the Alley, and we've taken him to Hogsmeade!”
Ah, yes, thought Harry. Memories of his timely visit to the village outside of Hogwarts was boring and uneventful. The only thing that struck Harry as interesting was an old pub by the name of Hogs Head—he hoped there was an actual event where you took the head of a hog, but alas he was entirely let down—and an abandoned “haunted” house, dubbed by the locals the “Shrieking Shack”.
Thinking about the visit made something in Harry ache. He knew Wednesday would’ve loved to investigate and look into this haunted shack and summoned devils from the depths of hades with him. A part of him wanted to go home, to be away from his too-smiley aunt and her family. His cousin’s weren’t as bad as the other children back home, but they weren’t on the same page as Harry. They did not play with headless dolls, nor did they have a subscription to “Tortures Torture”. Beatrice was the only one who actually was worth being around. She seemed to be the only one to inherit some sort of Frump genes.
After the ghastly introduction of the ginger family, Harry isolated himself back in his room, waiting for the hours to pass.
•••★•••
There were only a few moments of his dreaded summer with his aunt and her family that Harry did enjoy. For example: Aunt Ophelia was a Potions Woman and she had her own home laboratory that Harry found himself walking into one rainy day in the English country. She wore a white lab coat and black gloves that went up to her elbows. At the sound of Harry shutting the door to her room, Ophelia turned. Her big black eyes were huge and bug-eyed under the googles she wore.
“Harry! Come in!” A smile spread across her face before she turned her attention back to her plants and concoctions. Harry slumped in, the shadows warming his skin in the dark and dank room. He took a sniff—Nightshade, ahh home.
Ophelia patted a stole she pulled out from underneath the workbench and Harry took a seat. Together, Aunt and Nephew worked as they made a simple healing draught for certain native poisons from Hungry. It was the first moment that Harry felt relaxed and realised how he could be related to this woman. How his mother and her lived in England all their young lives.
A flash of gold made him pause.
“You were in Slytherin?”
Ophelia smirked as she finished writing on her clipboard the shipping information for the crate of potions.
“Of course.” Her gloves and goggles lay off to the side, allowing her to grab the metal she received. “I won the Slytherin duelling championship, beating all the pesky inbred purebloods.” She sounded proud. Harry watched her dust off the metal, though he didn’t see why. “Tisha won for Ravenclaw, she had to sneak into Slytherin to sleep. Her housemates were playing dirty and she wasn’t allowing a single curse or “misguided” spell to keep her from that metal. When she wants something, she’ll get it. It’s why we never tried out for Qudditch, if we both made it the games would be brutal for both the teams and the rest of Hogwarts.” She smiled and chuckled here and there. “It was better for everyone if the Frump Sisters weren’t against each other, but on the same side.”
Ophelia placed the metal back on the wall that Harry realised were moving photographs of what looked like his mother and aunt in their Hogwarts uniform. The only reason why he could tell who was who, was the colours of their robes. Aunt Ophelia had black hair??
“Your hair…”
“Yep, black. I only started to dye in my sixth and seventh year. I wanted something to make us stand apart. I can’t believe how many times boys went to the wrong sister. I knew it made Tisha angry. She once hexed a boy’s bollocks and he was in the hospital wing for weeks.”
Another photo of the sisters, this time where Ophelia’s hair was blonde, and they sat in what looked like a courtyard full of statues. They were laughing and Harry saw a man with white blonde hair in the back of them staring at the pair of sisters.
A buzzing noise yelled through the potions lab.
“Oh! That’s dinner!”
(Aunt Ophelia gave Harry the brain along with mashed potatoes that night.)
•••★•••
“Only one week until September 1st!” screamed Cordelia from her bedroom at the crack of dawn. Out of all of the Harrisons in the household, Cordy was the one who never ran out of energy. From dawn to dusk, she was up and about, zooming around her home and outdoors, playing with the Weasleys or Fawcettes. Her best friend, Sarah, joined her on a spy mission today. Their target? Harry Potter—er, Addams. Her cousin.
Sarah almost “shit-a-brick” once she found out he was staying over at her house. It was actually hilarious that Sarah, who swore off all boys after the Ronald Weasley crush fiasco, was now acting like a love-sick puppy. Her blue eyes were constantly on him, watching Harry in a star-struck manner.
“Shh,” hissed Cordy as Sarah inched closer to the crack in the bedroom door. Harry was sitting on the floor, reading a book that looked old and worn. He wore his weird clothes again. With a twitch of his hand, sparks flew from the tip of the wand he got.
“Wow!” breathed Sarah. Cordy rolled her eyes. Girls.
“Harry!” Her mothers voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “Your mother is on the phone!” The girls scrambled—tried to at least—away from the doorway as the boy with long legs rushed out and bounded down the stairs. Cordy just stared, her eyes must’ve deceived her. Because in the midst of chaos, her cousin had smiled and for once looked happy and joyful, his cold indifference left behind.
Harry spoke with his family for hours. Uncle Fester was back! A woman found and brought him back to the family. He could hear the joy drip from his fathers smooth tongue. Even his mother was happy for her husband. Harry had never met the famed uncle his father spoke about fondly. The only one he’s met is his aunt, his fathers and uncle Fester’s little sister, Tristessa.
The only one who wasn’t thrilled at the fact that Uncle Fester was found was his little sister.
“I don’t think he is truly his Uncle Fester Harry.” Wednesday spoke with a clipped tone. There was no room to argue or disagree. “Why do you think so, Spider?”
“He… smells off.” Harry understood what she meant. All her life, Wednesday was able to tap into her senses, if someone's smell was off, there was something wrong. Harry wondered if that was her magic coming through or if that was just her weirdness.
“Watch him. Closely. Don’t allow him to hurt our family, you’re in charge Spider.”
“I will brother. Write to me.”
•••★•••
Harry was thankful he asked Aunt Ophelia to cover his thrice-damned scar with the bangs he’d grown over the summer. For once, he was hidden within the crowd, looking … average. Standing on the mysterious platform with Beatrice, while his aunt and uncle fussed over their children, Cordelia and Olivia. Cordelia complained and whined about not being able to leave with Harry and her older sister, while Olivia tried to use popping sticks to scare older wizards and witches. (She succeeded, multiple times. Harry was so proud.)
“OK children, you’ve got your wands, familiars?” aunt Ophelia asked. She once again wore a hideous gown of blues and greens. Harry’s nose wrinkled in disgust.
“I have my wand.” He said. The wand in question was in his black satchel “backpack”. Beatrice nodded her head too, voicing her own response before checking the cage of her pet toad, William.
“Oh my loves,” Ophelia smiled sadly at the two young wixen. She brought Harry and Bea into her arms, hugging them close as Harry’s eyes widened and squirmed out of her hold, freeing himself. His green eyes were set in a narrowed gaze, all while Ophelia ignored him and led them both onto the train. Richard was in charge of their other two children, while his aunt levitated their luggage behind them.
The three searched for an open compartment, crossing over to the next car as they passed older students. Harry’s eyes watched on, taking in every movement, every person. His fingers twitched at his side. The noise of laughter and joy echoed in his head—what a horrendous and ear-scratching sound.
Soon, the trio found an empty compartment. Ophelia levitated Harry’s and Beatrice’s luggage on the rack above them, and with a final goodbye, she left, leaving the two on their own. Without words, the cousins opened their respective carry ons, taking out whatever they thought necessary for the long trip ahead of them. William croaked a high-pitch noise that Beatrice clarified was “singing” beforehand, yet Harry still glared at the amphibian creature. His fingers twitching at his side.
Ignoring the creature next to him, Harry settled in, leaning his back against the window and he splayed his long legs out. Beatrice did the same except her ankles were crossed, keeping her modesty in check. A book laid open on Harry’s lap as he read silently, memorising the wand strokes of each spell they were to learn in Charms. Beatrice read a muggle book, her eyes glued to the page as she read with William next to her. The train started to move and neither cousin got up to wave goodbye to their family, instead they took solace in the silence each provided for the long journey ahead.
(Y/n) learned long ago to ignore her cousin when he was with his Pureblooded friends. While Draco entertained these buffoons, (Y/n) and Nott, read their books silently, ignoring the bigoted conversations. Though she knew the reason why Draco was talking like this; his father, Uncle Lucius, threw around the phrases and the like without a care. Aunt Cissa never did, she would agree with her husband and his colleagues, but never use such phrases and names like they did. A part of (Y/n) wondered if the reason was Aunt Cissa’s sister and her family, or maybe something to do with that mark. Nevertheless, (Y/n) never grew used to the bigoted names and thinking and hated it whenever her cousin, her best friend, would say such things.
“Anything off the trolly dears?” (Y/n) didn’t hear their compartment door sliding open, not until the old witch who worked the magical train spoke in her hypnotic voice. Crabbe and Goyle rushed up to the woman and shoved a pouch full of money and grabbed whatever they could get their hands on.
She waited until the two pigs had sat down before she grabbed her own sweets, Draco whining loudly in the back, and giving some to the gaunt and skinny Theo. Soon the compartment was silent except the loud mouth sounds coming from Crabbe and Goyle. Hugging herself, she turned her attention to the wixen fairytale, trying to drown herself in the lyrical written word.
It was dark when the train pulled into the station. A while ago a voice had echoed all through the train for the students to change into their robes. That was where (Y/n) met a bushy haired girl named Hermione. They were the only ones who changed early—well, only girls that is—and they spoke in (Y/n)’s compartment while the boys were in the bathroom/changing room.
The girl—Hermione, (Y/n) reminded—was quite animated. Spoke with her hands and had excellent vocabulary and had a posh attitude. But if you looked deeper, (Y/n) could tell she was scared. Nervous. She was a muggle-born, and (Y/n) asked questions of her home life in exchange what growing up in a Wizard home was like. Of course she left out the feeling of homesickness, of longing for life she never quite knew. “Black? As in Sirius Black?” Hermione asked when (Y/n) finished explaining the Family Tapestry of Malfoy Manor—If Uncle Lucius was here he would’ve hexed her for telling their secrets to a muggle-born—and mentioned that her aunt was of the Black family.
“Erm… yes. That’s her cousin.” Hermione raised a brow. She didn’t ask what her last name was. She was grateful. In only just a few moments, soon the whole entire school of Hogwarts would know that she was a Black. And there were only two Blacks in the UK. If she was born in France and was of the French Blacks—the smaller branch—she would be going to Beauxbatons and wouldn’t have the dark cloud hanging over her. Since it was common knowledge that her Uncle Regulus disappeared and her grandmother had a traditional Pureblood funeral and it was all over the papers, there was only one Black that could be her Father. The man that had crashed the funeral and drank himself silly before being hauled out of there by his best friend and best friend's mother, Dorea Black (who got an invite because she wasn’t kicked out of the family).
Soon everyone would know that Sirius Black’s daughter would be in Hogwarts. Her stomach turned.
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years! Firs’ years, overhear!” The man was a giant. Wonderful. A slow smile crept on Harry face as he watched the bushy-bearded man wave a meaty paw at them, waving them over to the docks. Beatrice turned to look at her cousin, her bottom lip caught in between her teeth.
“Okay Harry, I’ll be heading over there–” she pointed to a few girls and a boy waiting by a carriage that was being pulled by skeletal horses he knew his parents would’ve wanted—”and you’ll go over to Hagrid—he’s the game keeper here at Hogwarts—and I’ll see you in the Great Hall for your sorting, kay?”
Harry nodded. “Be careful going in the boats Har, a few firsties last year fell overboard and got acquainted with the friendly squid that lives in the Black Lake.”
With a final warning, his cousin scampered over to her friends and began chatting with them as they climbed aboard the carriage.
“What are those?” questioned a weak voice.
“What are what, Nott?”
“You don’t see them?
A blonde, a brunette, and a black/(h/c) souls stood next to Harry, looking at the strange creatures.
“What are you two looking at?! I don’t see anything!” complained a white-blonde boy, his lips pouted. He scoffed. “Whatever. Crabbe, Goyle, let’s go.” He swaggered off with two big boys trailing behind.
“I see them too, Theo.” said the girl, she touched the brunette's arm, stroking it? Harry sneered.
“Oi! You three! C’mere!” The giant shouted, waving his lantern.
Harry rolled his eyes as he walked towards the man, leaving behind the boy and girl. Climbing into the unoccupied boat—well, except for a boy with straw blonde hair and a long face who was hiding the fact he was crying—as the man exclaimed “No more’n four in a boat!” as the boy and girl got in the only available boat with Harry.
“Everyone in?” Harry looked behind him and saw no one standing on the platform. “Right then! FORWARD!” He shouted, causing some students to jump at both his thundering voice and the sudden movement of the boats.
Students all around him ooooed and awwed at the display of magic and the majesty of the castle, Hogwarts, on the hill. Harry stared. His green eyes take in the dark surroundings. His mother studied here. As did her sister, and his biological parents. Though he never associated or thought of himself as the name he carried on his birth certificate. But a part of him, deep inside, knew that this was the place where he would get all the answers he needed. He needed to know who his parents were. Needed to know them beyond the fact they were war heroes and they died at Voldemort’s hand.
“HEADS DOWN!” The curtain of ivy kept the entrance of the boathouse hidden, Harry wanted to scoff. His parents, his father, had a better entrance to the family vault than this.
The boats docked and soon students were clambering about, while the giant handed the sniffling boy Harry shared a boat with a toad called Trevor. Memories of Beatrice's toad singing non stop while on the train made Harry want to chuck this toad into the lake. Harry and the rest of his future classmates walked behind the giant as he led them into the castle and up some stairs to reach a door, which the man knocked with a forceful thrust. It creaked open to reveal a woman, a mature woman, wearing emerald green robes and a black pointy hat he recognized. Grandmama rocked that hat during the forties while she was young, travelling the world.
“I’ve gotten them Professor McGonagall! The Firs’ years!” He puffed. Professor McGonagall flicked her cat-like eyes in their direction, landing on Harry for a brief second.
“I see that Hagrid. Well, come on then. Follow me.” She spoke with a Scottish accent, Harry noted. She led them through the castle, the marble staircase and suits of armour, with portraits of famous witches and wizards, monarchs, and animals, lined the walls, and creatures of myth were carved out of stone. Lit torches lined the walls and chandeliers hung from a high ceiling.
McGonagall stopped in front of a door, this was located through a lounge where knitting needles moved on their own, cups floated in the air still steeping, books and quills flipped their pages and wrote, and a few animals lay fast asleep in front a great fireplace.
“Now, through these doors lay your future. Your future housemates, your house, your teachers, and your future education. Before you start attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you must be sorted into your houses. Your house, dear students, will be your family through the duration of your stay. There are four houses here at Hogwarts, and each house has a long and magical history. There are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin.”
She smiled, though Harry was not comforted by that smile.
“Your triumphs here at Hogwarts will earn you and your house points towards the House Cup, while your misbehaviour will lose your house points. The rules of Hogwarts are posted outside the Great Hall. After the start-of-term banquet, your House Prefects will give you all maps of Hogwarts, and direct you to your common rooms, and will assign you a group of students and a junior prefect to be your guide for the first month of term.”
Her beady eyes looked at everyone. “Now, any questions?”
A ginger haired boy—Ron, Harry realised—raised his hand.
“We don’t have to fight trolls or anything like that in order to get sorted now do we?” A few students laughed, a bushy haired girl among them, while others looked on nervously. Harry rolled his eyes. Honestly, he comes from a family of wizards and witches and he has to ask that question?
“No, Mr. Weasley, you do not have to fight a troll or any magical creature here at Hogwarts whether to get sorted or not. We have a sorting hat to do that. I believe that your brothers have something to do with your question?” She raised an eyebrow and Ron flushed red.
“Does anyone else have any questions?” No one raised a hand or asked.
“Right then, I shall pop in to let them know we're ready for you.” She opened the door and disappeared for a few moments before coming back in, leading them through.
The Great Hall exploded in colour, Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, with dashes of Purple and Orange as the first years walked in being led by Professor McGonagall. Students gasped and searched the crowd, Severus knew who they were looking for. He was looking for him too. He was looking for a boy with messy black-brown hair with square glasses and hazel eyes with a swagger in his step, overtaking McGonagall and cutting in front of everyone to place that blasted, raggedy hat on his head, and for it to scream GRYFFINDOR. But he wasn’t there?
Potter's brat wasn’t there to be found. But Severus knew him to be here. He knew his name was on the list and knew McGonagall sent him an acceptance letter.
McGonagall dragged a three legged stool over to the raised dias, the magical hat appearing in a flash, and she whipped out the parchment of names. The parchment of which his nemesis’s son’s name was on.
But before she could start calling out names, the hat sang a song. Severus rolled his eyes at the hat and its antics. He didn’t have time for this. His leg bounced up and down in anticipation. Finally, the hat stopped singing, and the sorting began.
“When I call your name, I will put on the hat and you shall be sorted.” McGonagall shouted.
She cleared her throat.
Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor—Severus sneered at the girl who looked overjoyed.
Finally, they got their first Slytherin. Though, Bulstrode wasn’t that much to brag about. Her father was a dimwitted business man and his parents had to go abroad to find him a wife. Sadly the girl received her fathers porky figure. (Damn all his gossip sessions with Narcissa.)
“Black, (Y/n)!” Severus perked up. His godson’s cousin and his other nemesis child. Sirius Black was a terror who got off on Severus' suffering, and he hated him. However, his child was innocent and got the brains from her mysterious mother. She was like a newborn baby deer, her legs shook as she took a few steps to the stool. He could hear the whispers of her name from the older students—her father was famous.
The Hat looked confused. She was a hat stall then. For ten minutes she sat on the stole, as she looked to be arguing with the hat. McGonagall shared a look with Severus and Albus, worried etching across her face. Severus inwardly scoffed. Of course she was worried for her. She was the child of one of her precious Cubs. Lioness Minnie wanted to march and break down Black's cell and got into a few arguments with Albus about his wrongful imprisonment.
“—SLYTHERIN!!!” Black looked upset as her robes magically changed to the Slytherin uniform. Two snakes.
She marched down the steps after ripping off the hat and headed to his House’s table as the Gryffindors made hissing noises—the Weasley twins, he mused.
The sorting continued, Severus barely paid attention, only clapped when Slytherin gained a new student. Draco was easy, the hat had barely touched his head when it shouted Slytherin. Nott’s boy took a few minutes before it settled on Slytherin as well. When they reached the P’s, Severus’s back seemed to grow straighter.
Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin…
Parkinson draped herself on Draco, trying to smile prettily for his godson. Severus did not envy Draco. As the Scion of the Malfoys, he would be well sought after from brides and their families, Parkinson was one.
“Potter, Harry.”
Severus drew a breath. A boy, tall and lanky, wearing his black robes with a crest pinned on his left, walked up, confident steps with a cold indifference. Before sitting down his voice rang out as he addressed McGonagall.
“Addams.” She raised a brow.
“Excuse me, Mister Potter?”
“My surname. My surname is Addams, and I would prefer to go by that instead of Potter. I was raised by the Addams family.” Gasps flew from Poppy and Flitwick, and Severus sneaked a glance at Albus. The twinkle died out from his blue eyes.
“V-Very well, Mister Addams.”
Satisfied, Potter sat on the rickety stool.
“—SLYTHERIN!”
Harry smirked.
No one made a sound. The hall was quiet. No one clapped and Harry relished in turning these people into speechless birds. No longer did they squawk, he clipped their wings and freedom was snatched away from them. How wonderful~
The Lyndworm Animagius Harry Potter Au Brainrot that I can't escape
my au is very specific and won't get out of my head, idk if I'm gonna write a fic but if I do it'll start in 4th year probably or be told in snippets
Now it's ur problem too! :)
Harry takes anchent runes in this au
That's how he made the cat shapeshifting necklace. It was plan B.
(Harry is slytherin in this au, and personally has never trusted Albus Dumbledore)
He wanted to have an animal form for stealth and sneaking purposes since dumbles doesn't give him the cloak in this au cuz hes in Slytherin
But his animagus form said FUCK STEALTH
It may be the smallest species of dragon to ever exist, but it's still way to fucking big for stealth.
Sooo.. cat amulet/necklace thing. Unfortunately this is also not the best either cuz his fur is very unique and rememberable.
(also he thinks his fur's kinda a dead giveaway for who he is, yet somehow Snape is the only one who recognizes him on sight??? Like how?? It's so obvious???? Harry lives in constant confusion at the actions of the wizarding poplulas)
And since Lyndwurms are usually very sneaky looking that's where Harry gets the parseltounge ability, all the snakes think he has a weird growlly-growllish accent.
The wings flap like- alternately? (When the front ones go up the back ones go down and vice versa) And when they rub together fast it creates static electricity' otherwise his movements are just kinda floaty like a fairy fly, (which is a real thing, microscopic fly that basically swims thru air with it's giant fairy wings hence the name.)
This species of dragon mostly eats birds and fish and is a very good swimmer- Just picture like- an electric eel crossed with a dragonfly.
it is also very very extinct so everyone is confused in the beginning except Charlie the token dragon nerd who has read every dragon book ever.
He is also a pretty boy, because I said so. Harry deserves to be pretty. He has heterochromia? (Is it called that when it's just the hair?)
Blue of Blood
Being a Slytherin wasn’t always easy. Balancing pureblood politics, house rivalries and inter-house friendships with ‘mudbloods and blood traitors’ often made for a rather eventful school life. Being related to the most infamous family of Necromancers in Britain and a close friend of the Boy Who Lived on top of that just called for disaster.
Lynea had hoped accepting her fate and serving Death would be the end of her struggles – dealing with the living was nuisance enough. So if the rest of the wizarding world could get over themselves and start behaving like responsible adults already, instead of blotching up even the simplest of tasks (and maybe stop being so bloody afraid of Death along the way, honestly, it was just a serial killer mutilating their victims) that would be much appreciated.
On AO3.
Part two of Old Magics.
A Touch of Death
When a Dark Lord refuses to announce his return and the Ministry decides your headmaster is just a barmy old man telling lies, what do you do? And the Dark Lord was back, he had been over for tea, after all – Lynea would recognise that face anywhere.
Well, as long as he didn’t go around murdering people, she supposed it was fine. He wasn’t even attacking Harry, despite the two of them being prophesised to clash because ‘neither can live while the other survives’ or something like that. If the Dark Lord had decided to lie low, maybe they could actually focus on more imminent threats – like the pink toad that was going around torturing students or the Necromancer family from the continent that actually cursed people for fun. But who was Lynea to judge that?
On AO3
Sequel to Blue of Blood and part three of Old Magics
It began like this:
On the night of the 1st of November, little Harry Potter was placed on the doorstep of Mr and Mrs Dursley’s house at Number 4, Privet Drive. The next morning, a scream woke little Harry when Mrs Dursley opened the front door to put out the milk bottles and found him lying there, a letter tucked into his blankets.
Had this been an ordinary baby, the poor thing would have died of hypothermia. But Harry was not an ordinary baby, nor would he grow up into an ordinary child, no matter how much the Dursleys tried to beat the freakishness out of him. Little Harry grew up knowing he was a freak and that he had to keep his freakishness hidden. The easiest way to do so, he found, was to keep his head down and his emotions in check. The anger stopped soon enough. The constant fear he managed to keep close to his chest.
In which a small change in the Dursleys’ treatment of Harry brings about rather significant consequences.
Slytherin!Harry is one of my fav AUs Mostly if it has slowburn Drarry 😌
Academic Rivals AU: After being sorted into Slytherin, Harry learned to put his cunning to use and followed the laws of survival of the fittest. Most people knew not to get in his way, but that Granger girl from Ravenclaw always glared at him when he passed her in the hallways. Little did he know that he had beat her by one point in DADA class and that it would be the start to years long rivalry. 😏
I’d want this rule first started in Ootp. I want Harry and Ron to be 100000% confident they will end up in Gryffindor again. Then I want Hermoine Granger to choose Ravenclaw this time around and send the golden trio into chaos.
Then I want it to be Harry’s turn. Everyone would be so nervous and curious. (Angelina, Fred, and George would be giving him warning stares). Harry would obviously be shouting in his head at the sorting hat wondering what it said to convince Hermoine to go to Ravenclaw. Harry would be sitting on that chair for 37 minutes. Then the sorting hat would put him in Slytherin.
Ron would be so confused. He’d feel so blind sided. I don’t think Ron would go to Hufflepuff. But I do think he’d consider going to Slytherin for Harry’s sake. But the sorting hat would refuse immediately because it wants the three of them separated. I think Ron would go back to Gryffindor but it will not be a happy sorting. He’d be miserable there for a little while.
And Hermoine would do this because she believes now more than ever that Hogwarts needs to be united, and feels they already have Gryffindor’s support and can reach Ravenclaw better if she’s there personally. And to the sorting hat’s song about House unity just confirmed everything.
I think Ron will defend Harry to Seamus and the rest of the Gryffindors when they question his story. But I think he’ll be angry at both Hermione and Harry. I think when Gryffindor has classes with Ravenclaw and Slytherin, he’d avoid them for a while. On the other hand, I think Harry and Hermione would choose to sit together at every chance. I also think the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables in the Great Hall are next to one another and they will sit back to back so they can turn and talk to each other.
I think hogwarts sorting should happen twice in a witch or wizard’s life. Once in first year. And once in fifth year.
ive started on the forbidden "slytherin harry" cosplay