[Harry Potter] Malfoid Stories

[celsiussy]

Show me why would such a darling turn to be a tomboy at all if you want her to be 'one of the boys' instead of a girly girl who'd verbally rip her fellow students apart like the viper she is.

Click to shrink...

I filter fics and art I come across by a couple of criterias that are personal, but work fairly well, them being:

Do Malfoid and Hermione despise each other? And if they do, which one is proven right, if at all? Do they fight covertly like actual girls do?

Ginny is a toss up, because Book 2/4 Ginny and Book 5/6 Ginny are entirely different characters. If it's 5/6 Ginny, she's right there with Hermione in being a 'not like the other girls'.

Edit: TBF, that isn't enough. Malfoid needs to be portrayed as a genuinely nasty girl who'd do things like sneak magical ink bombs in Hermione's bag, steal or vandalise her things, and try to make her look petty and inferior in Harry's eyes.

But it's a good starting point.

 

[digcat]

View: https://x.com/Felipe__Weber/status/2111245024663114112

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View: https://x.com/PLeigh_Presents/status/2111364352649441640

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Competent Lockhart


View: https://x.com/LynkFormer/status/2111369578458849540

 

[CountvonBarnOwl]

Count back.

Moving swiftly along, let's get to the good shit.

Warning: The following fic contains out-of-character moments, in character moments, deliberate mischaracterization of dramatis personae, spelling, grammar, and syntax that look slightly better than what was typed up over the course of a single lunch hour, profusely blatant evidence that the author was more concerned with forcing cheap laughs and ham-handed wisecracks than he was with Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, Malfoid, Malfoid-posting, Malfoid Shipping and so on, an insufficient use of the words: bum, knickers, botty, and wee-wees to be included in the NSFW (which was where this idea started).

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Defense Against the Dumb Antics; The Tired Joke Extravaganza


Alastor Moody – the Dark Lord had mad sure to acquaint him with the dangers of even thinking of himself as Bartimeus Crouch – looked over his class. "Constant vigilance!" He barked, startling the students and getting the rise that he had desired out of them. He was no real teacher, no real Auror-emeritus, and that meant that his lessons had to be stacked high with impenetrable nonsense that he could boil down to one or two-word truisms to sound profound.


Which had, to Alastor's surprise, been hilarious. There was a joy to having people think that you were deep when you weren't even shallow. The dimwitted and the dishonest would always tell him that they understood him, and tried to pull meaning out of his words. He'd nod, smile, and even award a point or two, all the while laughing to himself knowing that each and every student who did had sourced their meaning from their own cavernous backsides in the way that he had sourced his teaching materials.


It was almost as funny as what he had planned for today's lesson, with all of the materials hidden under a large blue tablecloth out in the middle of the field.


"With that said, ordinarily I wouldn't be allowed to show you what I am about to show you until your sixth year. And I should, according to most of my predecessors, the Board of Governors, the Ministry, and the Headmaster – until I prevailed on him otherwise – just teach you the counter-spells without telling you what you're going to be using them against, how they work, or why."


"But a Dark Wizard is not going to explain the curse that he is going to throw at you in advance. He will not outline it in detail, explain its requirements and anticipated effects, or otherwise be polite. There is just going to be a whip of a wand and an incantation, some of you might be lucky enough to see them coming, the rest… oh I don't know… some rainswept alley, a dark room, or maybe just from behind a hedge or stone wall… and that will be that. So, the answer is Constant Vigilance. Forewarned is forearmed. You know the Dark Wizard's plan. So, you can plan around his plan. Of course, the clever ones will plan around your plans, so you have to plan around the plans that they planned around the plans that you planned around their plans. AND THE ORNERY ONES," Alastor curled his arms in and stomped his peg leg. He let an old hate that did not actually exist weigh on the students for a bit, "the ornery ones, they plan around the plans that you planned around the plans that they planned around the plans that you planned around their plans. So, you'll have to plan for those too." He added, as if it were an afterthought."


"Now, since you aren't actually my sixth-year class. I will not ask you to deal with what I am about to show you silently and windlessly." Alastor let that statement weigh on the students too, and from the way a few of them started to shake below the knees, it looked like it had weighed an ocean. "Not initially, anyhow." He appended.


With fear like a thousand-foot-high glacier that stretched off into the horizon on both sides bearing down on them at full gallop, a few students fainted. And each House lost two points per.


Alastor unveiled his lesson plan. It was a large burlap sack, sat next to a trunk, and atop the trunk, a bottle of pungent-smelling, dark brown liquid, and a House-Elf, vainly squirming at his magical bindings.


"Now, class, who can tell me what the Unforgivable Curses are?" Alastor asked, before instantly saying "Malfoy." It wouldn't do to have Lucius Malfoy's daughter silently resenting him for turning her into a ferret, when she had apparently mastered silent casting by the start of her fourth year, for no other outward purpose than to seemingly get a boy's attention. Of course, that boy was Potter, which forced Alastor to contemplate the possibility of the girl having ulterior motives that the Dark Lord would invariably smile on.


"Imperius, Cruciatus, and Old Reliable." She replied without pause.


"That is right, Miss Malfoy. The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and Avada Kedavra, also variously known as The Kedavra, the AK, Old Reliable, the Universal Counter-curse, Problem-Solver, Lickety-Split, the Fun One, or by its proper name, the Killing Curse. And yes, these will all be on the test." Alastor said, eliciting another collective groan from the students.


"Now, using any of these spells for any reason whatsoever on any other living, thinking, feeling being will usually lead to one of two outcomes. One, for members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight who are still flush with galleons and other assets. You just need to say that you were Imperius'd yourself by whatever self-styled Dark Lord has been occupying a recent news cycle, or by – and write this down – Unidentified Muggleborn Males. Everybody else will have to go to Azkaban and have their asses pounded both by the Dementors and their very large, temperamental, and sexually curious cellmates."


Most of the class displayed a level of maturity that one could reasonably expect in responding to his remark, and burst out laughing.


Mostly.


"Professor, Dementors don't do… that. They just take away your happiness and your ability to feel joy." The girl next to the Boy Who Lived saw fit to remind everyone. Of course, she had made the fatal error of leaving herself open.


"They do, Miss Granger, but did anyone ever tell you how the Dementors take away all of your happiness and your ability to feel joy?" Alastor replied, heralding a rise in the guffaws.


"The Kiss, the Kiss, Professor. Dementors Kiss you and suck out your soul." Alastor smiled, 'Merlin, bless this girl, she needs help,' he thought.


"Young lady, I've put away a lot of Dark Witches and Wizards in my time. I've seen more of that shivering rock than anybody should ever need." Alastor said, letting a haunted expression crease some parts of his face and pull other parts taut. "And let me tell you, no Dementor stops at first base."


Having had his laugh, Alastor got on with class, making sure to dock points from any student who had laughed him or her self unconscious as he turned everything Hermione said into a ribald crack. And then he docked another round of points for each student who failed to notice the tripping jinx that he had subtly cast during the exchange.


"Now, as I said, it is illegal to use any of the Unforgivable Curses against another sentient being, and it has been since 1717. And that rule used to be universal, until the 1993 Wizengamot session amended the statute to permit the use of the Imperius and Cruciatus curses on House-Elves currently and/or formerly serving the House of Malfoy, and who are named Dobby. Like Dobby here." Alastor explained, leaving many of the students slack-jawed. It would forever be a mystery to both Alastor Moody and Bartimeus Crouch Junior exactly what passed between Albus Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, the Minister for Magic, the DMLE and the whole rest of the Wizengamot for that to happen. But Alastor was happy that it did, whatever it was, as soon as he had tracked the hapless House-Elf down and unclamped him from that muggle car battery.


"Now I will show you all the Imperius." He said, "Imperio." There was perhaps, a golden wafting in the air at the tip of his wand, and a slight glazing-over of Dobby's eyes before Alastor undid the restraints. "You see, class? Completely unresponsive." He explained, going from waving his hand in front of Dobby's face to gently rapping his knuckles atop the House-Elf's head.


"You see, class, I am in complete control of Dobby's actions, observe. Ahem, Dobby, drink that bottle of hot sauce." Dobby unscrewed the cap and downed the entire bottle of brown-orange sludge in record time. Much to the astonishment of the students. "Now Dobby, jump off of the trunk, and do a double front flip on the way down."


Dobby took an impressive leap, and while none of the students particularly acquainted with the House-Elf knew him to be a particularly excellent gymnast, he found space enough in the air to tuck into himself and complete the full double rotation.


"Maybe I should have told him to stick the landing," Alastor muttered after the thud. "Wait, had I told him to stick the landing he would have stuck the landing. See class, even I have a few things yet to learn about…" Alastor trailed off as he pointed to the class with his free hand.


"Constant Vigilance," they all chorused.


"Perfect." Alastor said, "Now I can teach you all about the Cruciatus. But first – keep it down Dobby," the perspiring House-Elf swallowed on Alastor's command, "but first, I must release the Imperius." Alastor flicked his wand and the sweat-drenched, red-faced House-Elf immediately did the stop-drop-and-roll before hurriedly shoveling handfuls of loose dirt into his maw.


"Unlike this next curse, class, the Imperius can be fought against, and resisted. Don't tell anybody but I am going to try to sell the Headmaster on the idea of live-fire resistance training. I'm sure that if I can convince him that some if not all of you can learn to fight it off, then one or two in a safe, controlled environment won't be a big deal." Alastor droned. "This one, on the other hand, we will not be training for. Crucio."


Dobby went from being mid-swallow to doing an impression of a bug on a zapper.


"You see, class, the Cruciatus Curse requires real intent to cause pain, harm, suffering, or misery. Cruelty for cruelty's own sake. Wanting to harm somebody because they have done you wrong or taken somebody you love away from you will pretty much guarantee the spell's failure, or just make it tickle. So, you should all know, that anybody using the Cruciatus means to cause suffering, on purpose and for no reason per se." He casually explained, as Dobby seized and spasmed near his feet.


"I should probably stop now. Under a Cruciatus, the muscles seize and contract violently enough that they can tear themselves, shear ligaments, and even snap bones. This usually results in the death of the victim, by the account of having a broken bone puncture something, or a broken neck. There is a theoretical point where the pain permanently sears itself into the target's nervous system and renders them completely insensate, but I have only ever seen that twice, and it was achieved only with the copious use of magical and physical restraints." Alastor explained as he silently thanked the Lestrange family for their encyclopedic knowledge of binding jinxes and knot-tying.


"Anyway, Dobby here is starting to look a bit well-done around the edges," Alastor said, releasing the Cruciatus. "So now we will be moving onto the Kedavra. Or, something similar to the Kedavra. First, you need pure killing intent, kind of like the Cruciatus. Which is why I am confident that if all of you raised your wands, pointed them at me, and said, 'Avada Kedvra,' I wouldn't get so much as a nosebleed. You're all fourth-years in peacetime. You lack that raw killing intent. Your enemies, class, will probably not. Moving on, for most of human history, Avada Kedavra was believed to be the perfect spell. Near instantaneous. Easy to cast, what with its simple requirement of intention, and an incantation that every muggle off the street almost knows by heart already. There is no counter-curse, no ward or protection works against it. It is just a green light, and boom. It was also, once, believed to be always effective. With no documented case of miscast or failure, until Halloween night, nineteen-eighty-one. Check Mr. Potter's forehead if you wish to see proof."


The students gawked at the Boy Who Lived again, and bask in the legendary achievement that he could barely, if at all, remember as Alastor hefted the burlap sack onto the trunk before opening and starting to fish through it.


"Since casting the AK on any of you would make teaching you how to protect yourselves against it a moot point, and I don't want to find out what Dumbledore will do to me if I used it on Dobby, I went to a wholesaler and bought a few hundred wrenches and charmed them all to glow green." Alastor explained


"How are wrenches going to help us defend ourselves against an infallible curse?" One of the Slytherins asked as Alastor began fishing through the sack.


"How do you think, Mr. Zabini?" Alastor said, fixing a mad-eyed stare onto the student, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" As he shouted he brought up a pipe wrench, and in a single, fluid motion, sent it hurtling through the air toward the bridge of the Gryffindor Seeker's glasses.


Harry Potter, having the awareness and reflexes of career Seeker dropped as soon as he saw the wrench airborne. Neville Longbottom, who had been standing behind him and having the awareness and reflexes of a Seeker for the Chudley Cannons, dropped as soon as the wrench connected.


"Two points from Gryffindor." Alastor announced, socket wrench in hand. The snakes, quicker on the uptake, scattered first. Not that it was of very much help, as the Gryffindors joined them running circles in the field fractions of a second later, just as Alastor's socket wrench caught Theodore Nott in the ribs.


"Two points from Slytherin." Alastor said as he primed another pipe wrench, already zeroing in on Dean Thomas whose wand was already halfway up. "Avada Kedavra has no counter-spell, don't try it!" Alastor barked as the wrench's heavy, adjustable head slammed into the knuckles of Dean's wand-hand. The boy fell and curled up into a ball of pain and tears to the sound of another "Two points from Gryffindor," while Alastor picked out his next target.


Harry Potter proved himself to be a slippery, limber, hoppy bastard to Alastor, and between knocking the wind out of seven students, concussing another three – four if he counted Longbottom again – kneecapping six Slytherins, giving two girls the sort of a facelift that would ruin their Yule Ball, and ensuring that Ronald Weasley would not be following his sire's example, Alastor had wasted scores of wrenches trying and failing to connect.


Lyra Malfoy had proven even harder. She moved like a Seeker too, albeit one who had far fewer compunctions about using her classmates as cover and a pair of bodyguards who had decided that Dobby and Longbottom made excellent shields, and – once the lady Malfoy gave the order – projectiles.


"Neutralize!" She yelled, and Dobby intercepted a Klien wrench midair and Alastor made for the bag to grab another. Alastor smirked, Gregory Goyle seemed not only to have not yet grown to his father's terrifying size, but also lacked a good measure of the dark wizard's wits. But where was he? Alastor Moody looked, only to see Neville Longbottom coming in hot. Alastor was not surprised, skull-faced Crabbe's son Vincent was built like a hippopotamus and was probably about as strong. Getting a classmate over his head and airborne was probably an easy thing for him without magic.


Alastor dodged, as best he could. But even four times concussed, Neville Longbottom was rather large and he could not completely withdraw his arm from the bag in time and get away cleanly. With a feral swing of his trailing arm, Alastor clocked Frank and Alice Longbottom's son with another Klien, but his grip had been poor, and the alignment of his swing awkward. He lost the wrench, and his balance when the tumbling student ended up taking his peg leg out from under him.


Then came the hippo. Vincent Crabbe's fat face did not have the sunken blue eyes, pronounced jaw, and flat, wide proboscis that made his father look like death warmed over. But the diabolical grin stretched across it made him no less terrifying.


Tree-trunk arms wrapped around Alastor's midsection and the student planted him in the dirt. As if having a meat loaf that measured over five and three-quarters feet any which way dropping itself on top of him had not been enough, every Gryffindor that was still able to move (barely half a dozen) surged forward and flung themselves onto the pile.


"Tell me, professor," Lucius' daughter said in a sing-song voice, "what happens when we get your bag of wrenches?" She was smart, he noted, the fact that she had her other ox holding it.


Seeing that he could not penalize her for holding the wrenches, Goyle-the-younger's smile was starting to look troubling in the way his goatee-sporting sire's did – especially with the way that the boy was holding that wrench aloft like Thor's own hammer, he would be needing his hip flask soon, and the weight on top of him was becoming unbearable, Alastor chose to lose with grace.


"Very good, very good students." He said, "Ten points to Slytherin, five points to Gryffindor, two more for each of you still standing, two for every student who successfully played possum or silently escaped my attention. You're all free to go for the day, and leave the cleaning up to me, but do help your classmates to the infirmary if they appear to need it." Alastor said.


As the students got off of him to collect their classmates, and turn a very disoriented Neville away from the Forbidden Forest and back toward the castle, mis-dilated eyes and all, Alastor called out again. "Good work today class. A few more weeks of this and you kids will be dodging Unforgivables in your sleep." Then, to the tune of teenagers groaning and occasional quiet sobbing, he turned about, and began to pick up after his class.

---

Tune in next week or some other time thereafter for Defense Against the Dumb Antics 2; Playing in Traffic


Also Yandere-Malfoid vs Umbrage is still forthcoming. It ended up being a multi-chapter thing but I already have C1 done.

I think it will run for a total of 6.

 

[digcat]

Count back.

Moving swiftly along, let's get to the good shit.

Warning: The following fic contains out-of-character moments, in character moments, deliberate mischaracterization of dramatis personae, spelling, grammar, and syntax that look slightly better than what was typed up over the course of a single lunch hour, profusely blatant evidence that the author was more concerned with forcing cheap laughs and ham-handed wisecracks than he was with Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, Malfoid, Malfoid-posting, Malfoid Shipping and so on, an insufficient use of the words: bum, knickers, botty, and wee-wees to be included in the NSFW (which was where this idea started).

---

Defense Against the Dumb Antics; The Tired Joke Extravaganza


Alastor Moody – the Dark Lord had mad sure to acquaint him with the dangers of even thinking of himself as Bartimeus Crouch – looked over his class. "Constant vigilance!" He barked, startling the students and getting the rise that he had desired out of them. He was no real teacher, no real Auror-emeritus, and that meant that his lessons had to be stacked high with impenetrable nonsense that he could boil down to one or two-word truisms to sound profound.


Which had, to Alastor's surprise, been hilarious. There was a joy to having people think that you were deep when you weren't even shallow. The dimwitted and the dishonest would always tell him that they understood him, and tried to pull meaning out of his words. He'd nod, smile, and even award a point or two, all the while laughing to himself knowing that each and every student who did had sourced their meaning from their own cavernous backsides in the way that he had sourced his teaching materials.


It was almost as funny as what he had planned for today's lesson, with all of the materials hidden under a large blue tablecloth out in the middle of the field.


"With that said, ordinarily I wouldn't be allowed to show you what I am about to show you until your sixth year. And I should, according to most of my predecessors, the Board of Governors, the Ministry, and the Headmaster – until I prevailed on him otherwise – just teach you the counter-spells without telling you what you're going to be using them against, how they work, or why."


"But a Dark Wizard is not going to explain the curse that he is going to throw at you in advance. He will not outline it in detail, explain its requirements and anticipated effects, or otherwise be polite. There is just going to be a whip of a wand and an incantation, some of you might be lucky enough to see them coming, the rest… oh I don't know… some rainswept alley, a dark room, or maybe just from behind a hedge or stone wall… and that will be that. So, the answer is Constant Vigilance. Forewarned is forearmed. You know the Dark Wizard's plan. So, you can plan around his plan. Of course, the clever ones will plan around your plans, so you have to plan around the plans that they planned around the plans that you planned around their plans. AND THE ORNERY ONES," Alastor curled his arms in and stomped his peg leg. He let an old hate that did not actually exist weigh on the students for a bit, "the ornery ones, they plan around the plans that you planned around the plans that they planned around the plans that you planned around their plans. So, you'll have to plan for those too." He added, as if it were an afterthought."


"Now, since you aren't actually my sixth-year class. I will not ask you to deal with what I am about to show you silently and windlessly." Alastor let that statement weigh on the students too, and from the way a few of them started to shake below the knees, it looked like it had weighed an ocean. "Not initially, anyhow." He appended.


With fear like a thousand-foot-high glacier that stretched off into the horizon on both sides bearing down on them at full gallop, a few students fainted. And each House lost two points per.


Alastor unveiled his lesson plan. It was a large burlap sack, sat next to a trunk, and atop the trunk, a bottle of pungent-smelling, dark brown liquid, and a House-Elf, vainly squirming at his magical bindings.


"Now, class, who can tell me what the Unforgivable Curses are?" Alastor asked, before instantly saying "Malfoy." It wouldn't do to have Lucius Malfoy's daughter silently resenting him for turning her into a ferret, when she had apparently mastered silent casting by the start of her fourth year, for no other outward purpose than to seemingly get a boy's attention. Of course, that boy was Potter, which forced Alastor to contemplate the possibility of the girl having ulterior motives that the Dark Lord would invariably smile on.


"Imperius, Cruciatus, and Old Reliable." She replied without pause.


"That is right, Miss Malfoy. The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and Avada Kedavra, also variously known as The Kedavra, the AK, Old Reliable, the Universal Counter-curse, Problem-Solver, Lickety-Split, the Fun One, or by its proper name, the Killing Curse. And yes, these will all be on the test." Alastor said, eliciting another collective groan from the students.


"Now, using any of these spells for any reason whatsoever on any other living, thinking, feeling being will usually lead to one of two outcomes. One, for members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight who are still flush with galleons and other assets. You just need to say that you were Imperius'd yourself by whatever self-styled Dark Lord has been occupying a recent news cycle, or by – and write this down – Unidentified Muggleborn Males. Everybody else will have to go to Azkaban and have their asses pounded both by the Dementors and their very large, temperamental, and sexually curious cellmates."


Most of the class displayed a level of maturity that one could reasonably expect in responding to his remark, and burst out laughing.


Mostly.


"Professor, Dementors don't do… that. They just take away your happiness and your ability to feel joy." The girl next to the Boy Who Lived saw fit to remind everyone. Of course, she had made the fatal error of leaving herself open.


"They do, Miss Granger, but did anyone ever tell you how the Dementors take away all of your happiness and your ability to feel joy?" Alastor replied, heralding a rise in the guffaws.


"The Kiss, the Kiss, Professor. Dementors Kiss you and suck out your soul." Alastor smiled, 'Merlin, bless this girl, she needs help,' he thought.


"Young lady, I've put away a lot of Dark Witches and Wizards in my time. I've seen more of that shivering rock than anybody should ever need." Alastor said, letting a haunted expression crease some parts of his face and pull other parts taut. "And let me tell you, no Dementor stops at first base."


Having had his laugh, Alastor got on with class, making sure to dock points from any student who had laughed him or her self unconscious as he turned everything Hermione said into a ribald crack. And then he docked another round of points for each student who failed to notice the tripping jinx that he had subtly cast during the exchange.


"Now, as I said, it is illegal to use any of the Unforgivable Curses against another sentient being, and it has been since 1717. And that rule used to be universal, until the 1993 Wizengamot session amended the statute to permit the use of the Imperius and Cruciatus curses on House-Elves currently and/or formerly serving the House of Malfoy, and who are named Dobby. Like Dobby here." Alastor explained, leaving many of the students slack-jawed. It would forever be a mystery to both Alastor Moody and Bartimeus Crouch Junior exactly what passed between Albus Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, the Minister for Magic, the DMLE and the whole rest of the Wizengamot for that to happen. But Alastor was happy that it did, whatever it was, as soon as he had tracked the hapless House-Elf down and unclamped him from that muggle car battery.


"Now I will show you all the Imperius." He said, "Imperio." There was perhaps, a golden wafting in the air at the tip of his wand, and a slight glazing-over of Dobby's eyes before Alastor undid the restraints. "You see, class? Completely unresponsive." He explained, going from waving his hand in front of Dobby's face to gently rapping his knuckles atop the House-Elf's head.


"You see, class, I am in complete control of Dobby's actions, observe. Ahem, Dobby, drink that bottle of hot sauce." Dobby unscrewed the cap and downed the entire bottle of brown-orange sludge in record time. Much to the astonishment of the students. "Now Dobby, jump off of the trunk, and do a double front flip on the way down."


Dobby took an impressive leap, and while none of the students particularly acquainted with the House-Elf knew him to be a particularly excellent gymnast, he found space enough in the air to tuck into himself and complete the full double rotation.


"Maybe I should have told him to stick the landing," Alastor muttered after the thud. "Wait, had I told him to stick the landing he would have stuck the landing. See class, even I have a few things yet to learn about…" Alastor trailed off as he pointed to the class with his free hand.


"Constant Vigilance," they all chorused.


"Perfect." Alastor said, "Now I can teach you all about the Cruciatus. But first – keep it down Dobby," the perspiring House-Elf swallowed on Alastor's command, "but first, I must release the Imperius." Alastor flicked his wand and the sweat-drenched, red-faced House-Elf immediately did the stop-drop-and-roll before hurriedly shoveling handfuls of loose dirt into his maw.


"Unlike this next curse, class, the Imperius can be fought against, and resisted. Don't tell anybody but I am going to try to sell the Headmaster on the idea of live-fire resistance training. I'm sure that if I can convince him that some if not all of you can learn to fight it off, then one or two in a safe, controlled environment won't be a big deal." Alastor droned. "This one, on the other hand, we will not be training for. Crucio."


Dobby went from being mid-swallow to doing an impression of a bug on a zapper.


"You see, class, the Cruciatus Curse requires real intent to cause pain, harm, suffering, or misery. Cruelty for cruelty's own sake. Wanting to harm somebody because they have done you wrong or taken somebody you love away from you will pretty much guarantee the spell's failure, or just make it tickle. So, you should all know, that anybody using the Cruciatus means to cause suffering, on purpose and for no reason per se." He casually explained, as Dobby seized and spasmed near his feet.


"I should probably stop now. Under a Cruciatus, the muscles seize and contract violently enough that they can tear themselves, shear ligaments, and even snap bones. This usually results in the death of the victim, by the account of having a broken bone puncture something, or a broken neck. There is a theoretical point where the pain permanently sears itself into the target's nervous system and renders them completely insensate, but I have only ever seen that twice, and it was achieved only with the copious use of magical and physical restraints." Alastor explained as he silently thanked the Lestrange family for their encyclopedic knowledge of binding jinxes and knot-tying.


"Anyway, Dobby here is starting to look a bit well-done around the edges," Alastor said, releasing the Cruciatus. "So now we will be moving onto the Kedavra. Or, something similar to the Kedavra. First, you need pure killing intent, kind of like the Cruciatus. Which is why I am confident that if all of you raised your wands, pointed them at me, and said, 'Avada Kedvra,' I wouldn't get so much as a nosebleed. You're all fourth-years in peacetime. You lack that raw killing intent. Your enemies, class, will probably not. Moving on, for most of human history, Avada Kedavra was believed to be the perfect spell. Near instantaneous. Easy to cast, what with its simple requirement of intention, and an incantation that every muggle off the street almost knows by heart already. There is no counter-curse, no ward or protection works against it. It is just a green light, and boom. It was also, once, believed to be always effective. With no documented case of miscast or failure, until Halloween night, nineteen-eighty-one. Check Mr. Potter's forehead if you wish to see proof."


The students gawked at the Boy Who Lived again, and bask in the legendary achievement that he could barely, if at all, remember as Alastor hefted the burlap sack onto the trunk before opening and starting to fish through it.


"Since casting the AK on any of you would make teaching you how to protect yourselves against it a moot point, and I don't want to find out what Dumbledore will do to me if I used it on Dobby, I went to a wholesaler and bought a few hundred wrenches and charmed them all to glow green." Alastor explained


"How are wrenches going to help us defend ourselves against an infallible curse?" One of the Slytherins asked as Alastor began fishing through the sack.


"How do you think, Mr. Zabini?" Alastor said, fixing a mad-eyed stare onto the student, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" As he shouted he brought up a pipe wrench, and in a single, fluid motion, sent it hurtling through the air toward the bridge of the Gryffindor Seeker's glasses.


Harry Potter, having the awareness and reflexes of career Seeker dropped as soon as he saw the wrench airborne. Neville Longbottom, who had been standing behind him and having the awareness and reflexes of a Seeker for the Chudley Cannons, dropped as soon as the wrench connected.


"Two points from Gryffindor." Alastor announced, socket wrench in hand. The snakes, quicker on the uptake, scattered first. Not that it was of very much help, as the Gryffindors joined them running circles in the field fractions of a second later, just as Alastor's socket wrench caught Theodore Nott in the ribs.


"Two points from Slytherin." Alastor said as he primed another pipe wrench, already zeroing in on Dean Thomas whose wand was already halfway up. "Avada Kedavra has no counter-spell, don't try it!" Alastor barked as the wrench's heavy, adjustable head slammed into the knuckles of Dean's wand-hand. The boy fell and curled up into a ball of pain and tears to the sound of another "Two points from Gryffindor," while Alastor picked out his next target.


Harry Potter proved himself to be a slippery, limber, hoppy bastard to Alastor, and between knocking the wind out of seven students, concussing another three – four if he counted Longbottom again – kneecapping six Slytherins, giving two girls the sort of a facelift that would ruin their Yule Ball, and ensuring that Ronald Weasley would not be following his sire's example, Alastor had wasted scores of wrenches trying and failing to connect.


Lyra Malfoy had proven even harder. She moved like a Seeker too, albeit one who had far fewer compunctions about using her classmates as cover and a pair of bodyguards who had decided that Dobby and Longbottom made excellent shields, and – once the lady Malfoy gave the order – projectiles.


"Neutralize!" She yelled, and Dobby intercepted a Klien wrench midair and Alastor made for the bag to grab another. Alastor smirked, Gregory Goyle seemed not only to have not yet grown to his father's terrifying size, but also lacked a good measure of the dark wizard's wits. But where was he? Alastor Moody looked, only to see Neville Longbottom coming in hot. Alastor was not surprised, skull-faced Crabbe's son Vincent was built like a hippopotamus and was probably about as strong. Getting a classmate over his head and airborne was probably an easy thing for him without magic.


Alastor dodged, as best he could. But even four times concussed, Neville Longbottom was rather large and he could not completely withdraw his arm from the bag in time and get away cleanly. With a feral swing of his trailing arm, Alastor clocked Frank and Alice Longbottom's son with another Klien, but his grip had been poor, and the alignment of his swing awkward. He lost the wrench, and his balance when the tumbling student ended up taking his peg leg out from under him.


Then came the hippo. Vincent Crabbe's fat face did not have the sunken blue eyes, pronounced jaw, and flat, wide proboscis that made his father look like death warmed over. But the diabolical grin stretched across it made him no less terrifying.


Tree-trunk arms wrapped around Alastor's midsection and the student planted him in the dirt. As if having a meat loaf that measured over five and three-quarters feet any which way dropping itself on top of him had not been enough, every Gryffindor that was still able to move (barely half a dozen) surged forward and flung themselves onto the pile.


"Tell me, professor," Lucius' daughter said in a sing-song voice, "what happens when we get your bag of wrenches?" She was smart, he noted, the fact that she had her other ox holding it.


Seeing that he could not penalize her for holding the wrenches, Goyle-the-younger's smile was starting to look troubling in the way his goatee-sporting sire's did – especially with the way that the boy was holding that wrench aloft like Thor's own hammer, he would be needing his hip flask soon, and the weight on top of him was becoming unbearable, Alastor chose to lose with grace.


"Very good, very good students." He said, "Ten points to Slytherin, five points to Gryffindor, two more for each of you still standing, two for every student who successfully played possum or silently escaped my attention. You're all free to go for the day, and leave the cleaning up to me, but do help your classmates to the infirmary if they appear to need it." Alastor said.


As the students got off of him to collect their classmates, and turn a very disoriented Neville away from the Forbidden Forest and back toward the castle, mis-dilated eyes and all, Alastor called out again. "Good work today class. A few more weeks of this and you kids will be dodging Unforgivables in your sleep." Then, to the tune of teenagers groaning and occasional quiet sobbing, he turned about, and began to pick up after his class.

---

Tune in next week or some other time thereafter for Defense Against the Dumb Antics 2; Playing in Traffic

Click to shrink...

Perfect

 

[digcat]

How do you think a magic village would look.

Spoiler

 

[Leo 123]

If Crabbe and Goyle have been trained to protect the Malfoy heir, wouldn't it be good to give them at least one moment to look cool when they actually manage to do that? Maybe in the final battle, a dark wizard attacks Harry and Dracaena, but Crabbe and Goyle step in front of them and say they'll handle it while they go confront Voldemort? Even though they're still basically kids compared to the dark wizard who might have been a veteran of the war, the pair have been training together to defend Dracaena since they could hold a wand. The two of them defeat their opponent together with flawless teamwork and unexpectedly good duelling skills, honed though their years of training for exactly this kind of fight at home together.

Besides, the two of them have been shipping Harry and Dracaena for years by this point, they don't want anything to mess that up.

While we're on the topic of Crabbe and Goyle, what are everyone's opinions on giving them the R63 treatment too? I'm undecided myself, I can see good arguments for keeping them male, but also for giving Dracaena a mean girl squad. Either could work well in my opinion.
Or do you go 50/50 and make one of them a girl and keep the other a boy so you can pair them up in the background?

 

[digcat]

I'd say leave them male there are other girls to use for a girl squad if you wanted.

---

I probably find this funnier thin i should.


View: https://x.com/UnstableGen1/status/2111571960891351544

---

View: https://x.com/ironclock_4488/status/2111503448961069063

 

[celsiussy]

Also Yandere-Malfoid vs Umbrage is still forthcoming.

Click to shrink...

Was thinking over this since you mentioned it a few posts ago. Honestly dunno how vulnerable Malfoy would be to Umbridge's machinations.

I think it depends on how much of a viper pit her parents trained her for. Canon pure-blood society is a monolith because of Rowling's "eww, classism and oppressors", but by all rights it should be a viper pit.

HP is a folktale that doesn't concern itself with logistics, the opposite to the likes of Tolkien, who used logistics to make his folktale. Instead, JKR uses Rule of Cool, but doesn't like Cool People, so Rule of Cool becomes Rule of Lame Asspull.

I did think about Harry noticing Malfoid growing more miserable over Fifth Year for drama, but nothing about Narcissa as seen through Cool Tinted Glasses™ tells me she wouldn't prep her daughter to be a socialite Xenomorph who'd Alien: Isolation Umbridge by the end of the year.

Yandere Malfoid as the bully and queen bee she's imagined as would do something far more cruel to Umbridge in the end than Hermione. Likely not in any physical way, but a more 'end your career, end your social life' way.

Although, the key point here is that it must be something that doesn't require Lucius being big daddy with money stick, because he's going to Azkaban by year's end, which is Cool.

Or, because this is an AU anyway, just avert that. Hell, if I was Voldemort, I'd keep Lucius back because he's my best agent in the Ministry + old boys club.

But oh no, logistics. HP's bane.

It really depends on where on the spectrum between 'canon cowardly Draco with a Super Crown' and 'this is a pure-blood princess who has Narcissa as a mother and Bellatrix as an aunt and a queen bee raised to be the most important girl in the room' you place her on.

While we're on the topic of Crabbe and Goyle, what are everyone's opinions on giving them the R63 treatment too?

Click to shrink...

Nah for me. I like to see her leading the girl posse we never met in canon. Not just Pansy, but Daphne, Tracy and Millicent too.

 

[Cybershadowninja2]

View: https://youtu.be/tNFlYTNr0Lw
Lyra: *Is dancing in an empty room like no one is watching*
Harry: *Walked in and was in fact watching* Um…
Lyra: *blushes embarrassedly* You saw nothing!

 

[digcat]

Spoiler

 

[Cybork]

Do Malfoid and Hermione despise each other? And if they do, which one is proven right, if at all? Do they fight covertly like actual girls do?

Click to shrink...

I imagine there'd be plenty of initial conflict thanks to Malfoid's jealousy over Harry and yes, they would fight covertly, much to Hermione's detriment. Unlike Hermione, Malfoid is well connected and presumably not a complete sperg when it comes to making friends. Eventually I think Malfoid would lay off her when Harry starts to notice what she's doing and gets pissed off that one of his friends is being bullied. Hermione probably wouldn't bring it up herself as it feels petty compared to most of Harry's problems and she thinks she can handle it herself/ignore it and that Harry can't really help anyway. She enthusiastically complains about Malfoid a lot, but Harry doesn't pick up on the reason behind the growing resentment.

Things could come to a head during their third year as a parallel to the canon Malfoy/Hermione fight. Hermione finally loses her shit at the subtle bullying and it turns into a proper catfight. Harry finds out through Hermione's tearful admission as to what's been going on.

If Crabbe and Goyle have been trained to protect the Malfoy heir, wouldn't it be good to give them at least one moment to look cool when they actually manage to do that?

Click to shrink...

I don't think Crabbe and Goyle would be part of Malfoid's core friend group. Pansy and Daphne would fit better. We know nothing about the latter, other than she's presumably from a respectable pureblood background. Pansy is a standard mean girl herself, like Malfoid. This would make a good female counterpart to the original gang, who instead of force and the threat of violence use their looks and social games.

 

[TastyHuman]

There are probably sillier videos out there, but I haven't found them yet.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVf0alKHQD8

---

This is a Snape song, technically, but it's part of the extended universe.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSBLiIcNzBg

Edit: Okay, how do you get videos to go in the embedded player? Seems to be broken for me...
Edit 2: Many thanks Cybork.

 

[Cybork]

Edit: Okay, how do you get videos to go in the embedded player? Seems to be broken for me...

Click to shrink...

Go to the Insert drop down menu, last but one on the right above the post text box. Select Media. Paste the non-shortcut address.
Alternatively, replace the video code here and swap the round brackets () with square ones [].
(URL unfurl="true" media="youtube:lSBLiIcNzBg")https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSBLiIcNzBg(/URL)

 

[Leo 123]

I don't think Crabbe and Goyle would be part of Malfoid's core friend group. Pansy and Daphne would fit better. We know nothing about the latter, other than she's presumably from a respectable pureblood background. Pansy is a standard mean girl herself, like Malfoid. This would make a good female counterpart to the original gang, who instead of force and the threat of violence use their looks and social games.

Click to shrink...

It's been forever since I read the books or watched the movies, but I was under the impression Crabbe and Goyle were from families long associated with the Malfoy and were "assigned" by their parents to be Draco's friends. Thus they would still have been assigned if Malfoy was R63'ed. But in that case, she'd treat them a lot differently to how male Malfoy treats them. Much more like servants and bodyguards than friends.

 

[digcat]

bodyguards

Click to shrink...

I've seen a few have them as bodyguards/friends

---

Dumbledore: Remember Harry elves aren't people and should regularly be reminded of that.
Harry: (you don't have to listen to all that S.P.E.W crap) Sure Dumbledore sir.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Voldemort: "Barty, my faithful servant. You will infiltrate Hogwarts as Moody. You must fool everyone."

Barty: "Yes, Master."

Voldemort: "You will ensure Potter falls into my clutches at the appointed hour so I may be reborn, stronger than ever."

Barty: "Yes, Master."

Voldemort: "And most importantly... You will ensure Potter and Malfoid become romantically involved."

Barty: "... Master?"

Voldemort: "Did I stutter?"

Barty: "No Master, forgive me. As always, you know best. It shall be done. They will be married by year's end!"

Voldemort: "No no no, that's far too fast! It needs to develop organically! Give them the right pushes at the right time so they are dating! This is absolutely crucial! Do not fail me."

Barty: "Of... Course Master?"

---

Voldemort: "Report, Barty."

Barty: "Master, I have successfully infiltrated the school. Even Dumbledore doesn't suspect a thing. And I have gained young Potter's trust."

Voldemort: "Really? How?"

Barty: "When the Malfoy heiress tried to hex him, I turned her into a ferret and made her bounce up and down."

Voldemort: "Barty... How does this further our ends?"

Barty: "I made sure that when I turned her back, she would land in Potter's arms! He caught her and held her protectively!"

Voldemort: "Did she blush? Did she look like she was going to squeal in delight but held back?"

Barty: "Yes Master, and then she jumped out of his arms and yelled at him angrily! You were correct, she is clearly madly in love with Potter but just won't admit it! It's maddening, but also captivating!"

Voldemort: "Barty, when I return to my full power, you shall be my right hand man."

Barty: "Thank you Master!"

Voldemort: "And you doubted it could be done, Wormtail."

Wormtail: "I'm sorry Master!"

Voldemort: "Sorry's not good enough! CRUCIO!"


---

Voldemort: "Report, Barty."

Barty: "Master, I have put the students under Imperio as part of the DADA classes."

Voldemort: "I see. Now we can make Potter come to the cemetery as part of our plan!"

Barty: "Unfortunately Master, that is not feasible. He is able to throw off the Imperius Curse."

Voldemort: "He is?! Well... The Boy who defeated me is clearly made of sterner stuff. We will have to go with the alternative plan."

Barty: "Yes Master, I will see to it."

Voldemort: "And of Malfoy and Potter?"

Barty: "I first thought of making Malfoy confess her feelings in front of the class. This, however, was not subtle enough. I merely commanded her, via Imperio, to say something nice about Potter, under the assumption she would never do this of her own free will."

Voldemort: "And?"

Barty: "She spent the next minute listing off everything she liked about him, from his muscles to his hair to his heroism. I did preserve her dignity by stating that obviously, she would never say such things while not under the Imperius Curse. I did manage to take her aside and tell her to not be ashamed of her feelings. Which of course she loudly denied she had."

Voldemort: "Potter's reaction?"

Barty: "Disbelief, some embarrassment, but while the others were laughing, he was not. He actually showed concern for her welfare!"

Voldemort: "PERFECT! You have done well, Barty."

Barty: "Thank you Master."

Wormtail: "Master, since it is good news, perhaps you won't Crucio me this time?"

Voldemort: "Of course Wormtail, I would never-PSYCHE! CRUCIO!"

Wormtail: "ARGGGH!"


---

Voldemort: "Barty, report!"

Crouch: "Master, it is done. I have put Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire. The spells you suggested worked-He is now the fourth Triwizard Champion."

Voldemort: "Excellent! I had no doubt you would succeed, my most faithful servant."

Wormtail: *grumbles*

Voldemort: "Now now Wormtail, no need to be jealous. Crouch is simply competent and you are not."

Wormtail: "I-I found you in Albania, Master! Brought you here!"

Voldemort: "So could a taxi driver. Anyway Barty, as for the other project?"

Crouch: "Well, Malfoy made a lot of 'Support Cedric Diggory/Potter Stinks' badges and distributed them to the rest of Slytherin."

Voldemort: "Hmmm... This is unfortunate!"

Crouch: "However, after I briefly explained how incredibly dangerous the Triwizard is to my classes and how likely it was a plot to get Potter killed, she left an anonymous note of support for him."

Voldemort: "Was it signed with a heart?"

Crouch: "She tried to sign it with a heart, fretted about it for hours, then signed it and left it for him."

Voldemort: "Aw... So adorable... WORMTAIL! Why didn't you do anything to support their romance?!"

Wormtail: "Master, they were too young at the time!"

Voldemort: "SAYS THE MAN WHO SLEPT WITH UNDERAGED BOYS!"

Wormtail: "I-It-It wasn't like that, Master, I swear-!"

Voldemort: "CRUCIO!"

---

Voldemort: "Barty, report!"

Barty: "Master, I have prepared Potter for the First Task. I worked with Hagrid to let him see the dragons they are using, along with the other students. I also advised him to use his flying skills."

Voldemort: "Good, good... How will he get his broom though?"

Barty: "Granger is training him in the Summoning Charm.""

Voldemort: "Hrrrmmm... She's getting closer to him, Barty."

Barty: "Master, she is a flat Mudblood know-it-all. No sex appeal at all-"

Voldemort: "She's got the lines of a classic British beauty, Barty, no matter how small her tits are or mid her looks! She might get him with her 'personality' and making the foolish boy think she's more 'attainable'! And with Weasley off sulking over Potter in the Triwizard she has unprecedented access to him! We cannot allow her to take him to the Yule Ball!"

Barty: "Well Master, you'll be pleased to know I managed to push Malfoid into practicing flying with Potter for the First Task."

Voldemort: "Really?"

Barty: "Yes. I made it seem like her own idea. She goaded him into flying against her on the Quidditch Pitch to 'blow off some steam'. I ensured they crashed into eachother and were in a heap on the pitch! Malfoid landed right on top of him! They were a blushing mess! She got off and ran away, a hand over her heart!"

Voldemort:"BRILLIANT BARTY! WORMTAIL!"

Wormtail: "Master?!"

Voldemort: "Why can't you be more like Barty here? Take some initiative?"

Wormtail: "I-I was just a rat, Master!"

Voldemort: "Just like you are now. CRUCIO!"

---

Voldemort: "Barty, report!"

Barty: "Master, Potter has passed the First Task. He scored second place for effective flying."

Voldemort: "Excellent. And his friends?"

Barty: "He has reconciled with Weasley."

Voldemort: "Good! He can occupy the Ironing Board Mudblood's time!"

Barty: "Actually, Granger has taken up with Viktor Krum?"

Voldemort: "Seriously? Ugh, it's like Edward VIII slumming with that bloody Yankee all over again. 'Oh, she's so exotic!' Yeah, so is yellow fever!"

Barty: "Ha! Good one Master!"

Voldemort: "Thank you. Now, as to Potter and Malfoy?"

Barty: "She did mock him at the start saying she bet he would last five minutes... But then sent him a paper note in the tents, anonymously, that she wished him luck and didn't want him to get hurt."

Voldemort: "Ha, prideful girl..."

Wormtail: "Honestly, she's the only one who sends him origami paper messages. You'd think the boy would be smart enough to figure out she's the one messaging him!"

Voldemort: "You'd think, Wormtail, but the boy is a fool."

Wormtail: "Yes Master! An utter fool! Why, only an idiot would fail to overcome him!"

Voldemort: "..."

Wormtail: "I'm going to get Crucio'd now, aren't I?"

Voldemort: "Yes. CRUCIO!"

---

Voldemort: "Barty, report! The most critical phase of the plan... Save for the ending... Is upon us!"

Barty: "Yes Master. Things were somewhat complicated for a time."

Voldemort: "What happened?"

Barty: "Well, first I had to discourage a number of girls from asking Potter to the Yule Ball. Especially that Weasley brat."

Voldemort: "Ugh, fangirls. They're the worst. What then?"

Barty: "Well I steered Granger towards Krum, as said, and he asked her."

Voldemort: "Excellent! I will not have some Mudblood tart upset my plans!"

Barty: "Then Potter asked Cho Chang to the Ball-"

Wormtail: "And he succeeded and you failed!"

Voldemort: "Silence Wormtail! What happened?"

Barty: "She was already going to the ball with Diggory. Now, Malfoid did approach him smugly but Potter shot her down."

Voldemort: "No!"

Wormtail: "Well now what did you do?!"

Barty: "Took some doing, but I convinced Potter she was sincere, and got Malfoy to listen. There was a very long row between them, so melodramatic, but... Long story short... THEY ARE ON FOR THE YULE BALL!"

Voldemort: "YES! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!"

Wormtail: "S-So did I! The whole time!"

Voldemort: "You have done well, my most faithful and competent servant!"

Barty: "Thank you, Master! It was a challenge but those are my specialty!"

Voldemort: "Phew... That Chang bit had me worried for a moment."

Wormtail: "You know master, the yellow fever joke you made before would have been more appropriate for Potter's attempt with Chang... You know... Because she's Asian and... All?"

Voldemort: "Yes it would. Thank you Wormtail."

Wormtail: "I live to serve, Master!"

Voldemort: "WHY DIDN'T YOU THINK OF THAT SOONER YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL?!"

Wormtail: "It-I mean-But-!"

Voldemort: "CRUCIO!"

---

Voldemort: "Barty, report! The Yule Ball is absolutely critical to my plans, tell me everything!"

Barty: "Master, at first everything went well. Malfoy and Potter went dancing, and Potter actually enjoyed himself. Malfoy navigated the social scene perfectly, guiding him through conversations with the Minister, foreign dignitaries-All perfect. He even had good table manners. Delacour actually tried to get a dance with Potter but Malfoy refused her. That made the Veela very mad, let me tell you! It was hilarious. Potter did throw a few looks at Chang but Malfoy kept him focused on her."

Voldemort: "Good, good, what next? What next?"

Barty: "Then Potter actually took her outside into the gardens. Under the moonlight, all the Christmas decorations... She was obviously after a kiss, and even Potter started to figure it out... They leaned in..."

Voldemort: "And then? And then?!"

Barty: "And then bloody Snape went cockblocking a few young couples nearby, and argued with Karkaroff about the Dark Mark. That killed the mood."

Voldemort: "DAMNIT! Karkaroff will DIE when I rise again! And Severus-Damnit Severus!"

Wormtail: "Severus always did hate any happy couples nearby."

Barty: "He was always weird. I visited his house once, Spinner's End. Found a closet full of nothing but Muggle redhead pornographic magazines. He had changed all the men in them into replicas of himself."

Wormtail: "Guh...! I knew he had a thing for Lily but that's just disturbing!"

Voldemort: "Well, is that all you have to tell me, Barty?!"

Barty: "No Master. Potter and Malfoy argued, she ran off in tears. Potter looked depressed... I stepped in, gave him the old 'when some girls run off, it's because they want you to chase them!' routine. He found her nearby the statue of Marion the Merciful-"

Voldemort: "The Witch who Invented the Angel Wing Charm to allow her to fly in disaster areas where Apparation wasn't possible?"

Barty: "The same! They talked, mostly about her family, obligation, blah blah blah... They argued a bit more... Malfoy insulted him, he insulted her...! Then...!"

Voldemort: "What? WHAT?"

Barty: "He finally shut her up properly by kissing her! And she kissed back!"

Voldemort: "HAHA! YES! YES! Well done, Barty, well done! Well done! Do you have pictures?"

Barty: "I do, Master."

Voldemort: "YES! SO CUTE and... Perfect for my evil plans, mwahahaha! Again, well, done Barty, well done!"

Barty: "I can't take all the credit. Apparently Potter got some advice from Black."

Voldemort: "I'm almost going to regret killing that fool. Almost."

Wormtail: "You should have just told him to talk to Black. Man was insatiable about women! Got more tail than even Lupin, and he kept using the 'Grr, I'm a werewolf, I'll only hurt you, stay away' routine."

Voldemort: "DAMNIT WORMTAIL! That was critical information needed for this operation! Why did you hold it back?!"

Wormtail: "W-Well it's not like Black's tactics led to long term stable relationships, Master! He was a playboy! You could tell when he was in the hospital by how many nurses were using birth control potions!"

Voldemort: "Hm, good point. Nevertheless, CRUCIO!"

---

Voldemort: "Barty, report!"

Barty: "Well, Potter and Malfoy are dating. They went on a Hogsmeade outing."

Voldemort: "And...?"

Barty: "Aside from a few arguments, and Potter's friends trying to interfere, it went well. Weasley's proving to be a problem: His date at the ball was a disaster."

Voldemort: "What, is he jealous?"

Barty: "More of the relationships his friends are having. Perhaps more of Granger getting closer to Krum. Shall I eliminate him?"

Voldemort: "No, no... Honestly, he has so many older brothers and not one of them taught him about girls? His father has, what, eight children? He didn't spare a moment to sort him out?"

Barty: "Sorry Master."

Voldemort: "Drop a hint to Malfoy to get one of her girls onto Weasley, that may end this situation. Now... The Second Task."

Barty: "All is prepared Master. Diggory gave Potter a hint for the egg, and will figure it out with the help of his friends and my secret advice."

Voldemort: "You're sure Malfoy will be his hostage?"

Barty: "Of course Master! And I encouraged the Judges to put crystal eye recorders down around the Merfolk village so the audience could actually see what's happening."

Voldemort: "Seriously, their original plans were just to have the audience stare at the lake for an hour?! WHO COMES UP WITH THIS NONSENSE?! The Wizarding World should be begging for my return! At least my sporting events will allow the spectators to see what's going on!"

Barty: "Yes Master."

Voldemort: "This also means we will get to see Potter rescue Malfoy! Ohhh, it will be so cu-sweet to see their bond deepen so that I will eventually use it to destroy him!"

Barty: "Yes Master!"

Voldemort: "What of Lucius, Barty? How has he reacted to the relationship?"

Barty: "Reportedly, not well. He is threatening to send Malfoy to Beauxbatons if she does not break off things."

Voldemort: "Ugh... I shall have to deal with him, too. Still, makes for a smashing film, doesn't it Wormtail?"

Wormtail: "Was... Was that a Monty Python reference, Master?"

Voldemort: "Of course it was you fool! And speaking of pythons-"

Wormtail: "ACK! PLEASE MASTER! NO CRUCIO! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING I SWEAR!"

Voldemort: "... No. No, that would make no sense for me to Crucio you after that joke. What are you, stupid?"

Wormtail: "Oh... Thank you Master."

Voldemort: "But Nagini says you got her some very bad rats for dinner so I'm going to let her bite you for a while to teach you a lesson. Nagini?"

Nagini: <With pleasure, Master.> *SNAP!*

Wormtail: "AAARRRRGGHHHH!"

Voldemort: "Honestly, following up a Python reference with a Crucio? Leave the jokes to the professionals, Wormtail."

---

Voldemort: "Barty, report!"

Barty: "The Second Task is complete. It was quite a show, Potter placed around second place again thanks to the use of Gillyweed. I've even been offered a job with the Department of Magical Sports as a broadcaster with a very lucrative deal-"

Wormtail: "HA! So willing to turn your back on our Master!"

Voldemort: "Says the man who only sought me out after living as a rat was no longer an option."

Wormtail: "Er..."

Barty: "Master, mere riches cannot tempt me away from your service. You know that."

Voldemort: "I do, but let's keep it in mind for later-It may yet prove useful. Now, before Wormtail interrupted us... The details! Malfoy was Potter's hostage, right?"

Barty: "Yes. He got extra points for staying behind to ensure all the hostages were saved, and got Malfoy and Delacour's hostage, her little sister, out last."

Voldemort: "Foolishly heroic, as expected of the boy. Malfoy's reaction?"

Barty: "Well, when Delacour was about to kiss Potter in thanks for saving her sister, Malfoy grabbed him and kissed him in public!"

Voldemort: "HAHA! Take that, you French tart!"

Wormtail: "But Master, aren't the Malfoy technically French given their Norman ancestry-?"

Voldemort: "They've been here long enough to be British, Wormtail! CRUCIO!"

Wormtail: "ARGH!"

Voldemort: "That's for bigotry!"

---

Voldemort: "Barty, report!"

Barty: "Well, I killed my father-"

Voldemort: "Great, fantastic, everyone should do it at least once. Third Task preparations?"

Barty: "Ready, Master. Are you?"

Voldemort: "Despite Wormtail's inability to drive without running into a lightpole, yes!"

Wormtail: "I didn't get a lot of practice with... With Lily, Master. And we can't Apparate because of your condition-"

Voldemort: "Silence! Barty, are you completely sure?"

Barty: "Master, have you any reason to doubt me?"

Voldemort: "None, but it always helps to review just in case no matter how competent you are."

Barty: "Very well. The Goblet has a preset Portkey system. I merely adjusted it to Portkey the champion who touches it to the cemetery instead of the winner's podium. Right where you and Wormtail will be waiting."

Voldemort: "And the maze itself?"

Barty: "I will curse obstacles out of Potter's path and use Imperio on the Champions to take out others. Thus clearing the way for Potter."

Voldemort: "Excellent. And what about Potter and Malfoy?"

Barty: "Lucius attempted to get her to end the relationship. He visited in person with his wife to try and get her to break it off."

Voldemort: "How does Narcissa feel about it?"

Barty: "She's very enthusiastic about the pairing. I arranged for Potter to run into them while arguing. Potter took Malfoy's hand and said he loved her, the first time he has."

Voldemort: "And Malfoy?"

Barty: "Oh, she flat out melted. Lucius wanted to curse them right then and there but Narcissa intervened. She scolded him and he acquiesced to the relationship... For now."

Voldemort: "HA! She always did wear the trousers in the family. What of Severus?"

Barty: "He's had them work together in Potions class several times, yet constantly disparages Potter. He's very difficult to read, Master."

Voldemort: "He always was. Still! I will give him some consideration when I am resurrected and not simply kill him."

Wormtail: "But I'm pretty sure he's a traitor, Master!"

Voldemort: "So are all of you who didn't go to prison for me, Wormtail. Shall I execute all of you?"

Wormtail: *gulp* "I-I would prefer you not, Master?"

Voldemort: "Of course you would. Now. Cr-"

Wormtail: "AH! NO MASTER! PLEASE!"

Voldemort: "... Crate up the materials we will need, we need to get to the cemetery on time!"

Wormtail: "Oh... Thank you Master..."

Voldemort: "... Cr-"

Wormtail: "AH!"

Voldemort: "Cru-"

Wormtail: "AH!"

Voldemort: "CRU-!"

Wormtail: "AHHH!"

Voldemort: "Heh."

---

After Voldemort is resurrected, duels Harry, and Harry escapes…

Voldemort: "Well Wormtail, Lucius... Tonight did not go as planned."

Wormtail: "M-Master-!"

Lucius: "I assure you-!"

Voldemort: "It seems the boy is pluckier than we thought! And Priori Incantatum... The mysteries of magic remain ever opaque. Dumbledore may have had a hand in that, or it was fate. Either way... Potter escaped. And Barty has been Kissed by a Dementor, so I have lost one of my greatest servants."

Wormtail: "Please, Master, don't-!"

Lucius: *cringe in fear*

Voldemort: "But... I am returned to my full power and I am immune to the protection cast by Potter's Muggleborn mother. And even better..."

Voldemort grinned.

Voldemort: "When I taunted Potter about his girlfriend Malfoy, he fought even harder and escaped! Ah, the power of true, young love. It's so amazing!"

Lucius: *twitch* "Yes, well..."

Voldemort: "Lucius! How could you reject their relationship?!"

Wormtail: *smug* "Yeah Lucius! How could you?"

Lucius: "Master, I am only acting as a proper father should. The fact that Harry Potter is your mortal enemy gives me more than enough pause to try and impede their relationship."

Voldemort: "Hmmmm... True. Their romance would be boring if there were no obstacles. You have served me well, Lucius."

Lucius: "Thank you Master!"

Wormtail: "But... But Master... Isn't it more interesting how they get on after their relationship is established?"

Voldemort: "Not without outside obstacles!"

Wormtail: "Aren't their different upbringings sufficient obstacles to keep the relationship interesting?!"

Voldemort: "THAT'S NOT ENOUGH, WORMTAIL! YOU HAVE TO KEEP THE DRAMA GOING FROM MULTIPLE SOURCES! CRUCIO!"

Wormtail: "ARGH!"

Lucius allows himself a small sigh of relief.

 

[CountvonBarnOwl]

How do you think a magic village would look.

Spoiler

Click to shrink...

Village looks beautiful. I definitely like it.

---

Also I found Malfoid fanart that I am trying to work inspiration for into my Malfoid vs. Umbrage series.

Spoiler: Malfoid Quidditch attire

There are so many little things about this piece that I like.

One, those excessive, extravagant earrings. I am definitely including those in my future references to her physical description. They're excessive and imposing in the way that they should be. The hair bangle matches too. That is a good thing for writing characters. Especially female characters, have them change their hairstyles as it suits them. Malfoid braiding her hair to play Quidditch sounds about right, tying it back wouldn't be enough for her. It doesn't have to be often, but Yor in SpyXFamily and Marcille in Dungeon Meshi are onto something. It makes the setting look more lived-in.

The Long black nails work well for her, so to do the snake fangs. You can see her Charisma of Yearning really coming through with those two features combined.

Spoiler: Also get a load of this awesome Patronus.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-mEnY9lxTs

I could not have imagined Malfoid having a Patronus like that in a million years.

Right, somehow, I started writing Malfoid vs Umbrage, and a chapter and a fifth in, I realize that it somehow became Percy Weasley trying to solve a murder and maybe, if he's lucky and I am feeling generous, stop a dark ritual. It will still be a fun story. And I will have, or try to have scenes where Lyra interacts with Umbrage - I am only sort of realizing that the actual character's name isn't spelled that way, but since umbrage is a word that I use on a somewhat regular basis when describing things that I take issue with, or exception to, my muscle memory is too trained to type the word 'umbrage' in the proper way.

---

If Crabbe and Goyle have been trained to protect the Malfoy heir, wouldn't it be good to give them at least one moment to look cool when they actually manage to do that? Maybe in the final battle, a dark wizard attacks Harry and Dracaena, but Crabbe and Goyle step in front of them and say they'll handle it while they go confront Voldemort? Even though they're still basically kids compared to the dark wizard who might have been a veteran of the war, the pair have been training together to defend Dracaena since they could hold a wand. The two of them defeat their opponent together with flawless teamwork and unexpectedly good duelling skills, honed though their years of training for exactly this kind of fight at home together.

Besides, the two of them have been shipping Harry and Dracaena for years by this point, they don't want anything to mess that up.

While we're on the topic of Crabbe and Goyle, what are everyone's opinions on giving them the R63 treatment too? I'm undecided myself, I can see good arguments for keeping them male, but also for giving Dracaena a mean girl squad. Either could work well in my opinion.
Or do you go 50/50 and make one of them a girl and keep the other a boy so you can pair them up in the background?

Click to shrink...

I honestly pulled this idea out of my ass and fell in love with it. Crabbe and Goyle being bodyguards I mean. It is the only way I can conceive of for Lucius to let his kid have friends. You know, if he is paying them money or anything like that to toady for his heir, and they're magic, all of a sudden the Crabbe and Goyle families have all of the leverage in the world over Lucius. So, my explanation quickly became that there is a long-running magical contract or alliance between their houses with the Malfoys being descended from one of William the Conqueror's knights, Armand Malfoy - or in its proper French rendering, probably Armand Mal Foi (meaning Faithless/Lying Armand or Armand the Untrustworthy) - He appears to be some mage-knight (probably earning him a dishonorable reputation among the muggle French Chivalry, I do not think William would have given him that massive honking estate if he had been leading a one man charge in the wrong direction at the Battle of Hastings). That is my theory; Armand threw in his lot with Guillaume I Rollonides (in his proper French rendering). Plus with Crabbe and Goyle senior following Lucius the way their sons follow Draco/Malfoid the idea came to me that they are younger, less prominent families riding on the Malfoys' coattails, with magic contracts thrown in a century or two ago to prevent fuckery.

Plus, it would not surprise me that since Lucius Malfoy - the Lucius that Lucius Malfoy is named after - was one of Queen Elizabeth I Tudor's failed suitors (who subsequently cursed her to die a virgin), that the Malfoys are likely (on paper - because that kind of wealth needs sustenance and maintenance or it will vanish "from shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves/rice farming to rice farming/begging to begging/however-else-you-heard-it in three generations" became a saying in a lot of countries and cultures well before any of them had any documented contact with each other for a reason) lower British nobility (the magic and muggle governments know each other exist, William handed out more than a few counties and baronies to his subordinates and companions, and Thomas Seymore - the suitor who put Elizabeth I off of sexual relationships IRL - was a baron, which would be fitting for the Malfoys, since Armand and baron, both derive from words in that great mass of Classical Latin and proto-Germanic that probably meant something similar to each other and have similar meanings) but I will speak on the theoretical secret muggle double-lives of most wizarding purebloods, and my theory that the more of an "expert" the Wizarding World considers you on muggles, the more inept you are with anything non-magical.

Where was I, oh yeah, what it comes out to, at least by my reckoning, is that the families of Crabbe and Goyle are basically something like Malfoy bannermen.

So, if the Malfoys are some sort of baronial family (Viscount at most, but since the Malfoy heraldry lacks a crown or anything I think that may be pushing it) - seeing that William I gave Armand a lot of land (specifically a lot of land in Wiltshire, he did not give them Wiltshire itself - which if they were a Counts/Earls because Count sounds like something else when you say it with a British accent) and the title of 'Knight' is not hereditary, plus the Malfoy family's Coat of Arms has supporters on each side, and for families, that only happens for barons and above, then Crabbe and Goyle have to be scions of the wizarding analogues of some sort of Landed Gentry (baronets, knights, esquires, gentlemen).

So yeah, that is my theory based on King William the Bastard and his mage-knight, Sir Lying Armand. These two sound like they were legitimately good friends.

Back to what little characterization we get from Crabbe and Goyle in the books. Vincent Crabbe is the larger and probably crueler of the two. His sadistic streak is highlighted more often than Gregory Goyle's, and reading their pages on the wiki the nasty curses seem to have come to him a tad easier. He is also routinely and consistently described as being and moving faster than Gregory, Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Big guy sounds like a dynamo. He is also far and away the smarter of the two for his generation because...

Gregory Goyle is canonically only semi-literate. And I do not mean that in a pejorative way. I mean that in the clinical/educational/developmental sense. He is canonically barely able to read and write and multiple characters express surprise that he is able to read at all. However, he is almost as large as Crabbe and apparently more competent at stealth, sneaking around, and the Disillusionment charm.

These aren't just two guys Lucius is bribing with cool/expensive toys to play with his kid. And Lucius' relationships with the older Crabbe and Goyle generation are different, with the elder Goyle seeming to be the more outspoken and cunning of Lucius' subordinates, and Crabbe being both more sychophantic and explosively bloodthirsty. They seem to be of similar height and build (Crabbe and Goyle the elder) but old Goyle the one who gets his height compared to the other Death Eaters to emphasize his stature, so I think he is the bigger one between the two.

So, personally I favor the bodyguards approach.

As to your actual question; giving them a cool moment where they get to do their jobs

Was thinking over this since you mentioned it a few posts ago. Honestly dunno how vulnerable Malfoy would be to Umbridge's machinations.

I think it depends on how much of a viper pit her parents trained her for. Canon pure-blood society is a monolith because of Rowling's "eww, classism and oppressors", but by all rights it should be a viper pit.

HP is a folktale that doesn't concern itself with logistics, the opposite to the likes of Tolkien, who used logistics to make his folktale. Instead, JKR uses Rule of Cool, but doesn't like Cool People, so Rule of Cool becomes Rule of Lame Asspull.

I did think about Harry noticing Malfoid growing more miserable over Fifth Year for drama, but nothing about Narcissa as seen through Cool Tinted Glasses™ tells me she wouldn't prep her daughter to be a socialite Xenomorph who'd Alien: Isolation Umbridge by the end of the year.

Yandere Malfoid as the bully and queen bee she's imagined as would do something far more cruel to Umbridge in the end than Hermione. Likely not in any physical way, but a more 'end your career, end your social life' way.

Although, the key point here is that it must be something that doesn't require Lucius being big daddy with money stick, because he's going to Azkaban by year's end, which is Cool.

Or, because this is an AU anyway, just avert that. Hell, if I was Voldemort, I'd keep Lucius back because he's my best agent in the Ministry + old boys club.

But oh no, logistics. HP's bane.

It really depends on where on the spectrum between 'canon cowardly Draco with a Super Crown' and 'this is a pure-blood princess who has Narcissa as a mother and Bellatrix as an aunt and a queen bee raised to be the most important girl in the room' you place her on.

Nah for me. I like to see her leading the girl posse we never met in canon. Not just Pansy, but Daphne, Tracy and Millicent too.

Click to shrink...

You figured me out pretty darn well with the sort of pedestal thing. You aren't wrong. I basically base Malfoid off of various otome villainesses from manhwa that I had consulted as well as whatever anime had been running where the type of character looked right. I stack the sort of archetypal mold that I got off of those (minus the screaming, browning-her-pants-reincarnator bit) high with archetypal tsundere ojou tropes. She's basically the perfect Otome Game Villainess. Beautiful, intelligent, talented, comes from the most wealthy/powerful families in the setting, born and bred for success, Narcissa probably read The Prince and Romance of the Three Kingdoms to her before bedtime... Also because of the Yearn bit of the meme I took some inspiration from Fate's Morgan le Fay and that is in there too. As you probably figured out, I don't do things by half measures.

The only things she lacks are that she isn't much of a stand-out witch beyond

And basically 'perfect otome villainess with the deck stacked every which way in her favor' is as far as I get before I give into my urges and go full-stupid with my plot.

As to your point on Narcissa and Bellatrix, good catch.

Lucius, well, you can kind of see what I and a most people think when they think of Lucius, basically an older, whinier version of Draco. So I gave him a shotgun and some enthusiasm. Eventually the joke will be Lucius Malfoy will start to look more and more like Georgy Zhukov (actor joke) what with his chest full of 'Harry made me a grandfather' medals.

And then there is the fact that House Black pussy has a way of making the whole fandom act unwise.

We know the fanfics, we know all the tropes, but I won't get into them. If Bellatrix can sit chained up in a chair look regal and aura-farm at her trial for torturing two people into being absolutely insensate, then I am going to run with that being a quirk of the bearing and breeding of ladies of House Black, we all know Sirius would have a hard time pulling it off. Of course, that is only Bellatrix when she is able to sit still and shut up. Which, being a gibbering lunatic, she is not very good at.

Narcissa is the saner, more prudent, and likeable one. The eldest daughter of a 1500 year old house, marries the wealthy heir - later head - of a 1000 year old house. She must logically know and understand the value of being a catch, and part of her job ensuring that both her and her husband's houses can hold on to power, is making sure that her daughters compound all of her advantages on that front.

Spoiler: But I picture a lot of the teaching moments went something like this

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlVEJ3Z8UMQ


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=caFu493_f3E

So I kind of struggle to visualize Malfoid as anything besides the perfect ojou otome villainess cranked up to the Nth, and the Malfoys basically became sort of Wizarding House Harkonnen in my head.

But since I am not adept at writing human interaction and protracted campaigns of social sabotage devised and implemented by someone who has the scheming mind of the floating fat man, my brain goes: "She's going to notice those new scars on Harry's hand and...

Spoiler: lose control.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzN3qO-qc8U

I filter fics and art I come across by a couple of criterias that are personal, but work fairly well, them being:

Do Malfoid and Hermione despise each other? And if they do, which one is proven right, if at all? Do they fight covertly like actual girls do?

Ginny is a toss up, because Book 2/4 Ginny and Book 5/6 Ginny are entirely different characters. If it's 5/6 Ginny, she's right there with Hermione in being a 'not like the other girls'.

Edit: TBF, that isn't enough. Malfoid needs to be portrayed as a genuinely nasty girl who'd do things like sneak magical ink bombs in Hermione's bag, steal or vandalise her things, and try to make her look petty and inferior in Harry's eyes.

But it's a good starting point.

Click to shrink...

This here is a good thing to do. You're probably in the right. She should be written as a genuinely nasty piece of work - and the villainess is always so-called for a reason - and the characters around her should handle her like a nasty piece of work.

Of course, my problem is that I try to write fast and write funny. So there is a lot that I forget to translate onto the page. But again, for serious fics, you've made a very well-received point.

 

[digcat]

Voldemort: "THAT'S NOT ENOUGH, WORMTAIL! YOU HAVE TO KEEP THE DRAMA GOING FROM MULTIPLE SOURCES! CRUCIO!"

Wormtail: "ARGH!"

Click to shrink...

Always nice to see the rat suffer.

 

[celsiussy]

Sirius would have a hard time pulling it off

Click to shrink...

IIRC, I think he does, under more impressive circumstances.

It's when Fudge recounts meeting him in Azkaban. Sirius casually asks him for the Daily Prophet because he says he misses the crossword puzzle. Even after twelve/thirteen years in there, Fudge describes him as acting horrifyingly normal.

He doesn't say it lightly, too, because literally every other Azkaban inmate has been turned into a screaming, crying and gibbering lunatic due to the Dementors.

Sure, could've been an Animagi thing (he says the simpler mind helps), but I honestly doubt it. Despite fanon, there's nothing about Sirius that implies he was ever abused growing up. He likely grew up far more like Draco. Dude was a pure-blood prince with a diamond spoon in his mouth, and I question if the Dementors had any deep trauma to latch onto.

Like, that's not the action of a submissive prisoner. It's the closest to a lord of the manor he can appear as in Azkaban.

Black family buff is no joke. Really makes me wonder what Regulus was like for Sirius to describe him as 'soft'.

 

[Master of Squirrel-fu]

So I decided to try categorizing the Malfoids since there seems to be a few major but somewhat conflicting versions.

First there's the classic Malfoid that started it all. What I dub the Elegant Villainess Malfoid.

Spoiler: Art

Cool, calm, collected, but rocking that sinister energy. The gentleman's Malfoid. She gives off the vibe not to dissimilar to Makima, always acting with poise and in control of herself. She'd look down on Harry at first, judging him for his company but would be someone who could be won over with a show of competence. Unlike other Malfoids she would be not only be entirely honest with her interest in Harry but actively pursue it. She's also the only one that could reasonably bring Harry more to her way of thinking rather than the inverse.

Immediately after Villainess Malfoid we started seeing that transform into Vanilla Malfoid.

Spoiler: art

Smug, spoiled, a mean girl who can't be honest. The basic tsundere that most people started latching onto. She can be molded into various sub archetypes but the vanilla version is great for it's versatility as it can be wholesome, funny, and dramatic as is needed. This is the Malfoid who tries to pick a fight and blushes and runs off when she loses while also at the same time the Malfoid who'd be crying mascera running during the Cutting Curse scene and eventually standing with Harry during the final battle. To call it vanilla is not an insult, it means it is the flavor of Malfoid most capable of accepting addons. The Romancing of this Malfoid is a real enemies to lovers route, she would no doubt start off as an antagonist only to be slowly revealed to be much more than she seems as she starts acting against such a shallow role, this is a Malfoid that grows and changes over time letting the romance Mature with her over the course of a story.

Then one of the more popular variants is the Romcom Malfoid.

Spoiler: Art

Ranging from sweetheart who can't be honest to sassy brat the Romcom Malfoid is indeed a Tsundere but unlike the vanilla brand this Malfoid is rather more specifically geared towards a more lighthearted affair. Pure romance and hilariously adorable shenanigans are it's forte. This Malfoid's interest is clear to everyone from the very beginning even if she's constantly denying it. This Malfoid pairs best with a more competent and mature Harry to act as her foil, where she is entirely attack he can easily ignore it to slip pass her defenses with ease. Her romance with Harry is one where she's constantly on the backfoot as Harry is either able to read her like a book or his calm reactions reactions to her antics completely sidestep her expectations letting him score a critical hit against her.

An evolution stemming from Japan is the Bratty Princess Malfoid.

Spoiler: Art

A smug sassy child and kusogaki, characterized often by her large exposed forehead. The bratty princess Malfoid is a younger variant who is much farther along the Tsun axis of the Tsundere spectrum. Aggressive, proud, and very susceptible to being bullied despite trying to be in the position of the bully. This Malfoid has the aura of an uppity Chihuahua, constantly barking, ineffectual bites, and makes you want to yeet it when it inevitably latches onto your ankle. Hers is a cute childish romance with Harry you would watch over amused and knowing.

Lastly is the Sweetheart Malfoid

Spoiler: Art

The Yearner's Malfoid, the Malfoid you tend to reach at the end of the route once the romance is completed. Happy, loving, wholesome, while she can be a bit Tsundere she's like 90% dere. This is the Malfoid maximized for Yearning. Ultimately you want a little bit of this Malfoid in any other variant, the sweetness once you reach the peak moments of romance or heartwarming. The Sweatheart Malfoid is the Malfoid that is that sweet girl by default, at least when she's with Harry. She might still act more proud and cool while in public but when it's just them it's all smiles and tenderness.

 

[digcat]

View: https://x.com/UnstableGen1/status/2111934387994628493

---

Spoiler

 

[Leo 123]

As to your actual question; giving them a cool moment where they get to do their jobs

Click to shrink...

You forgot to complete your thought.

Yeah, the idea that they are from subordinate families in some way just makes sense. I can't remember where I heard the idea but I've thought something along those lines for a while. It seems most people prefer to let the other Slytherin girls become Dracaena's mean girl squad while Crabbe and Goyle stay male, which makes sense to me. Gives the background Slytherin girls some more screen time. I wonder what Crabbe and Goyle were threatened with by Lucius if they upset his daughter of tried anything with her lol.

 

[celsiussy]

Narcissa is the saner, more prudent, and likeable one. The eldest daughter of a 1500 year old house, marries the wealthy heir - later head - of a 1000 year old house.

Click to shrink...

Ah, it's kept a bit vague in both the books and movies, but Narcissa is the youngest sister. Bellatrix is the oldest, Andromeda is the middle child, and Narcissa the baby.

I can't remember where I read it, but I think they got along quite well. Before Andromeda eloped with a muggleborn and Bellatrix went full loon, of course. And Cissy isn't even a Death Eater.

It's partly why I like Malfoid scenarios having a happy ending with the in-laws. Lucius and Narcissa are a bizarrely normal, healthy and utterly loyal couple in the middle of, well, everything.

Also, wow, that history lesson. I'm largely ignorant on the intricacies of European history, so that was a doozy.

Of course, my problem is that I try to write fast and write funny.

Click to shrink...

It's the only way to write a HP fic tbh. The other end of the spectrum is the 'logistical' stuff that half the fandom has opinions on.

I know this because half of my thoughts about a Malfoid rewrite is chewing on the need to make Hermione anything other than a Deus Ex Machina, Harry an actual hero who isn't a cameraman going through plot tool checkpoints, and to conceptually separate the two because they're Rowling's narrative-siamese-twin self inserts.

It's mainly because I can't think of Harry as a guy who'd be wholeheartedly embracing Malfoid at the end otherwise.

 

[Reman Septim]

Umbrage? Or Umbridge? It's Umbridge.

 

[digcat]

Spoiler

 

[AndrewJTalon]

They rose together into the cold air above the Shrieking Shack, the weathered boards shrinking beneath them as the wind caught their brooms and pulled. The late light turned the treetops gold and the distant village a scatter of warm windows. Harry leaned forward on the Firebolt and felt the familiar surge of speed answer him. Lyra matched him for the first long stretch, her Nimbus cutting a clean line beside his, ponytail streaming.

He banked hard left. She followed, tighter than he expected, the edge of her turn shaving past the crooked chimney of the Shack. Harry grinned into the wind and pulled up, then pitched the Firebolt's nose almost vertical. The broom shuddered. For a heartbeat the air seemed to stall against him the way he had described at the table—speed bleeding away, the world tilting—then he dropped the nose and drove forward again. Lyra shot past him in a rush of red jumper and pale hair, close enough that he felt the slipstream tug at his sleeves.

She did not overshoot for long. A barrel roll carried her up and over him, inverted for a clean second, then righted and diving back onto his tail with a laugh he heard even over the wind. Harry answered with a sharp climb that took them both higher, the Shack and the fence falling away until the village was only a smudge of light below. She stayed with him on the turns, cutting inside his wider arcs, forcing him to bleed speed or risk losing her entirely. The Firebolt was faster on the straight. Her Nimbus answered quicker when the air grew complicated.

They chased each other through the fading light until Harry's arms ached and Lyra's laughter came in short, breathless bursts. He pulled another stall-and-drop that left her cursing and grinning in equal measure. She answered by skimming so low over the Shack's roof that loose shingles rattled, then climbing straight at him until he had to roll clear or collide. Neither of them slowed. The cold bit at their faces. The wind tore at their clothes. For a little while the rest of the day—the shop, the argument, the careful lines they usually kept—fell away beneath them, and there was only the sky, the brooms, and the bright, uncomplicated joy of trying to catch each other.

Lyra dipped low over the Shack again, lower than the last pass. The Nimbus caught the edge of a loose tile. The broom jerked. She spun, the world tilting hard, and Harry was already diving. He came in beside her, one arm locking around her waist, and eased them both down in a controlled arc that ended with their boots on the frost-stiff grass. They were both breathing hard. The Firebolt hovered, steady, under them until he swung off and set it down.

"I… I could have handled that—!"

"You were about to crash."

"I was not! And if I was, it was because of you!"

He scowled. She scowled back. They were close enough that he felt the warmth of her breath against his mouth, close enough to see the faint freckles across her cheeks and the way a strand of hair had stuck to her lower lip.

"Me? I saved you."

"Oh, you did not—!"

"Yes, I did. Just like I did on the Quidditch pitch—"

"You didn't save me!"

"Of course I did, and I saved you right now. You're just too stubborn and arrogant to admit it."

"I'm stubborn and arrogant?!"

"You're the definition of stubborn and arrogant—"

She kissed him.

It was sudden and unpracticed. Her mouth pressed against his, warm and certain, and the heat that went through him felt less like warmth and more like a current. He leaned into it. She did the same. Their teeth knocked once. Neither of them pulled away. It was clumsy and imperfect and, for the length of it, the only thing either of them seemed able to do.

They broke apart still breathing hard, foreheads nearly touching, eyes locked.

"I… I…"

"I…"

Lyra stared at him. Harry licked his lips. Every word he reached for refused to leave his mouth.

"MALFOY!"

Crabbe and Goyle came over the rise at a run, Millicent a few paces behind them, looking resigned.

"I'm sorry, Lyra," Millicent said. "They broke loose—"

"Get your hands off her!" Goyle shouted. "Her da will have our hides if you—!"

"Both of them!" Crabbe added.

"I said that—!"

"Shut up, Goyle! He'll kill you first!"

"Not if I sell you out first—!"

"You two stop that at once—!" Lyra snapped.

"I didn't—!" Harry started.

"HARRYYYY!"

Ron crested the hill at a dead run, eyes wide. "Harry! Hide me! Loan me some money—I gotta get out of here!"

"What?! Why?!"

"Ron Weasley, you get back here and snog me right now!" Daphne's voice carried, somehow still deadpan even at volume. Hermione appeared behind her, flushed and furious.

"Don't you dare, Greengrass!"

"He's mine! Go off and be one of those weird lesbians in London!"

"I am not a lesbian!"

Tracey and Pansy followed, both shouting.

"Daphne! You're mental for going for a Weasley—!"

"I tried, Lyra! Daphne's gone mad—!"

"I have found my perfect wizard!"

"He's not yours!"

"Then claim him yourself, coward!"

Hermione went scarlet. "No!"

Lyra's eyebrow twitched. She raised her wand and fired a sharp, cracking blast of sound into the air. Everyone flinched. The shouting stopped.

"Look at yourselves," she said, voice cutting and clear. "We're supposed to be Hogwarts students and you're acting like a pack of baby goblins who found a bit of tin. Crabbe. Goyle. I told you, I choose Potter. To go out with. In this instance. Go back to the carriages."

"B-but Lyra, he told us to—"

"Did either of you slay the Dark Lord? Or a basilisk? Or a hundred Dementors? No? Then I think I'm fine. Go. Millicent, make sure they go."

Crabbe and Goyle slunk off. Millicent gave Lyra a small, approving smirk and followed. Lyra turned to the remaining Slytherins. Daphne had frozen mid-step toward Ron, who was still half-hidden behind Harry.

"Daphne. Sort out your romantic issues with Weasley at the castle."

"I suppose I'll just need to use the Body-Bind. That way he can still talk."

"You will not—!" Hermione started.

"Sort out your feelings too, Granger!"

Hermione went brighter. "I do not have any feelings—!"

"Hermione," Harry said, quieter. "Come on. Let's… let's not make any more scenes, okay?"

She scowled, but after a moment she nodded. Lyra's glare moved to Pansy and Tracey.

"We did nothing wrong! Honest!" Tracey said.

"Except spy on you," Pansy added.

"Spy on us better next time. Honestly. This is pathetic."

"…True," Pansy muttered.

They took Daphne by the arms and pulled her away. Daphne smiled, small and unbothered, and winked at Ron as she went.

"Floo me!"

Ron gaped, ears red. Lyra turned to Hermione and Ron.

"Same to you. How do you sneak out of the common room so often?"

"That's… I mean…" Hermione glanced at Harry, worried.

"…It's okay, Hermione." He shrugged, heat still in his face. "It… well…"

Understanding crossed her expression. She nodded, then glared at Lyra. "You try anything—"

"I won't."

"…Good. Ron?"

He peered out from behind Harry. "…Do you have romantic feelings for me too, Hermione?"

She went scarlet. "N-no! Not at all! I—I just think you can do better than Greengrass!"

"Well… I mean, I do like playing chess with her, before she went mad—"

"Beat it!"

"Okay, okay! We're going! We're going!" Ron shook his head, muttering uncomplimentary things about the fairer sex as he headed for the hill. Hermione followed. She gave Harry a small, careful smile before they disappeared over the rise with everyone else.

The field went quiet. Wind moved through the grass. Harry and Lyra stood where they were, close, neither quite sure how to close the remaining distance or whether they should.

"I… I uh…"

"…Lyra, I… the truth is… this date and all, it…"

"…Yes, Harry?"

He had used her name. She had used his. He liked the way it sounded from her.

Her eyes were wide, open in a way he had not seen before—hopeful, careful, and something warmer underneath.

He licked his lips. "…I… I want to do it again."

"…M-me too."

"And… maybe… other things. Besides Hogsmeade."

Color flooded her face. "H-Harry! I—I can't—not—I mean, I've thought about those things but—but we're so young—but—I—I mean if you really wanted to—"

"I meant, you know, kissing. Hand-holding. Um. That… sort of thing." He blinked. "What were you talking about?"

"…The same. Same thing." She was bright red.

"I'm just… worried about your father."

"I know. He… might be an issue, but…" A small smile returned. "Dating the Boy Who Lived can't be a bad thing for my family image, now can it?"

He laughed, short and surprised. "Well. As long as it's not just for that."

"No. Not at all." Harry sighed through his nostrils.

"So… How do we… Do this?"

Lyra flushed.

"I… Don't know," she admitted. 'I like kissing and handholding, so… We can just do that?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Y-Yeah… Totally fine with that."

They stood there, close, unsure how much closer to get, and still together. Harry leaned his head lightly against hers. The cold air moved around them, something warm keeping the chill at bay. They held hands. She smiled at him again and his heart pounded like a drum.

Best prank ever, he thought, and did not examine the thought too closely.

---

The cottage sat at the end of a rutted lane in Yorkshire, half its roof still patched with temporary charms and the rest waiting for Sirius's next attempt at proper mending. Inside, the single main room smelled of woodsmoke, old paper, and the sharp green scent of the potion ingredients Remus kept drying near the hearth. Sirius had claimed the better chair and was paging through one of Remus's anonymously published monographs with the expression of a man determined to find something worth arguing about. A wand he had acquired in Brazil rested on the arm of the chair, still faintly warm from the last round of repairs.

"You think you can use a Patronus as a… 'Punch Ghost'?" Sirius said. Remus, finishing some patching on a window, rolled his eyes.

"A very crude descriptor—"

"But accurate," Sirius pointed out.

Remus sighed and flicked his wand at a stack of plates, sending them flying back into the cupboards. "It is not a 'Punch Ghost.' You can use a sufficiently powerful Patronus to affect physical matter. And anyway, most Patroni don't have hands, so they can't punch."

"Punch Ghost sounds better than Hit Ghost."

"Don't use either of them."

"I'm going to."

"Of course you are." Remus set the plates into their correct nooks with more force than necessary. "So. What did you talk to Harry about?"

Sirius snorted.

"Girl troubles. What else?"

"Oh?" Remus's mouth twitched. "That Malfoy girl?"

"Yes!" Sirius laughed. "God, she's obsessed with him!

"She absolutely is," Remus chuckled, "But this is the first year they could do something about it. Though Dumbledore thought they would take until fifth year to figure something out. Minerva thought the same. Pomona thought-"

"Bloody hell," Sirius chuckled, "is the entire school in on it?"

Remus smiled wanly.

"Heh. Pretty much. I think even Severus had a wager or two."

Sirius stared. "No kidding. Well… I helped him out."

"As I told you to," Remus said with a smile. Sirius grinned.

"Oh trust me… I gave him everything he needed."

Remus's expression shifted into the particular blend of exasperation and scolding that Sirius had known since they were eleven. "Padfoot. You didn't tell him about—"

"Oi, oi! I kept it age appropriate!"

"You tried to sneak into the girls' Quidditch locker rooms at his age!"

"I was an early bloomer! Clearly Harry's going to take his time. I was perfectly responsible!"

Remus gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

"I'm his guardian! I need to be responsible!"

The look deepened.

Sirius shifted. "I just imagined things you would yell at me for and didn't put those in."

"All right. What about things I would hex you for?"

"None of that either. I promise."

"Padfoot—"

"What? I did my best. I think it's all going to work out fine—"

The two-way mirror in his pocket chimed, Harry's voice cutting through the room. "Sirius!"

Sirius fished it out and tapped the glass twice. Harry's face appeared, windblown and bright-eyed.

"Harry! How'd it go?"

"G-great! Just great! Um… you know… we uh…" Harry grinned, sudden and unguarded. "We kissed."

Remus paused with. "Today?"

"Yes!"

Remus grinned.

"Oh, that's fantastic, Harry!"

"Yeah." Sirius winked at the glass. "Told you it would work. So… what's next?"

"Ah… well… I mean… we're going to the Yule Ball and a second date at Hogsmeade. We're trying to keep it quiet since her father and all…"

Sirius winced.

"Oh, yeah. That's a bother."

Remus's smile was faint and knowing. "Indeed."

Harry looked at them, hopeful.

"So… you think you can give me more advice?"

Sirius grinned. "All the advice you want, Harry. Promise."

Remus's scowl arrived on schedule. Sirius coughed.

"Tomorrow. You gotta get some sleep, or Moony'll beat me. Such an abusive spouse. I slave all day in the kitchen for him and this is the thanks I get?"

"I will not beat you, Sirius. I'm in too good a mood. And I was the one slaving all day!" Remus turned back to the mirror, beaming. "Congratulations, Harry."

"Thank you! Stay safe, please!"

The mirror went dark. Sirius turned it over in his hands and raised an eyebrow at Remus.

"You're uncharacteristically cheerful, Moony."

"Why shouldn't I be happy that Harry had his first kiss?"

"Oh, you are. But you're happy about something else. Something related to it—"

A Hogwarts owl battered its way through the half-open window, wings laboring under the weight of a very large, clinking bag. It landed on the table with an exhausted thump. Remus fed it, paid it, and watched it groggily launch itself back into the night. Then he opened the bag. Galleons spilled across the scarred wood in a bright, heavy pile.

Sirius stared. "…Moony. By any chance did you place a bet in the pool?"

Remus's smile was the picture of innocence. "…Maybe."

"And did you by any chance encourage me to write to Harry to help him with this… just so you could win it?"

An innocent shrug. "Well. I was helping Harry at the same time I was helping you both, so…"

Sirius laughed until he had to brace a hand on the table. "God, Moony. I missed you."

"Same, Padfoot." Remus began stacking the coins with quiet satisfaction. "Same."

"Still, you needed me to actually get it done," Sirius stated.

Remus sighed in annoyance.

"Yes, I did."

"And this is why I'm the godfather and you're not!" Sirius crowed.

Remus gave Sirius the least impressed look yet.

"You're the godfather because you rigged the coin toss!"

Sirius just smirked.

"Prove it!"

 

[wildredlifer]

I'm Cheering for Daphne in her pursuit of Ron.

 

[ExFelineServer3]

Well here's a twofer.

---

Harry and the not self aware Ronnie

---

Pulling out of the water, Harry dragged an equally water soaked Ronnie out of the lake. Both shivering, and holding onto each other once they were firmly on land. Harry with one arm around Ronnie, who was fully hugging Harry for warmth.

"We are n-never doing that again mate."

"N-no. Never again, no matter how Hermione threatens us."

"Y-yeah. I don't care if she threatens to stop helping us with homework. W-we could always ask L-luna, or even M-malfoy since you seem to be on good terms with her." Halfway up to the castle, Ronnie pressed into Harry as much as she could for warmth.

"I-I suppose, you sure you'd be fine with that. Considering."

"Being warm and her bitching at us, or Hermione occasionally pulling stuff like this. G-gee, I wonder."

"Hard to argue with that logic." With a red face, Harry finally got into the warmth of the castle with Ronnie clutching his side. Still a bit wet, most assumed that was the only cause of the red face after the previous years.



"So Harry, this racoon named Franklin showed up and said I needed to get some bolt cutters. Also he was curious about that thing earlier." Oliver Wood came across Harry not long after he had a shower. "He wanted to know how much your face was because of the water or Ronnie."

From somewhere nearby the chittering of a racoon could be heard. "He's got money on a bet, for some reason."

"I...think it was twenty five seventy five, maybe. And not in the water's favor." Red faced again, Harry held his face while leaning against a wall.

"Well there you go. Now, where is this kid and when do I get to fly the deadliest fighter known to mankind." Glancing around, Oliver tried to figure out where the Racoon noises were coming from.

---

How are my flowers Harry

---

1st year

Harry: Those are some nice flowers there Nellie, were they hard to grow?

Nellie: N-no, not with P-professor Sprout's help. J-just a couple of sunflowers. Looking away occasionally, with eyes covered by her hair, she needs to look up at Harry to meet him in the eyes.

Harry: That's good, they look like they're growing pretty well.

Nellie: Y-yeah, they still have some time before they're done growing.

Harry: Well I'm sure they'll do well under your care.

Nellie: T-thanks. Would you like to try feeling the petals? I-if you're gentle it should be fine.

Harry: Hey, they do. Smell kind of nice too, a little faint though.

Nellie: O-oh, thanks. I'm g-glad to hear it.

---

6th year

Nellie: Having hit her growth spurt she now has to tilt her head down to look Harry in the eyes. Ah Harry I'm glad I've found you. Some of my roses have just bloomed. I thought you'd like to see.

Harry: Oh, of course Nellie. They look wonderful.

Nellie: I'm glad you think so. Come, why don't you give them a feel and sniff. They're quite pleasant.

Harry: They certainly do feel nice, you must've taken good care of them to get them this size.

Nellie: Oh, it was just natural. That's all.

Harry: And they even have a nice smell, very pleasant.

Nellie: Well, I did want to make sure you got to see my best.

Harry: Oh, I'm sure all your roses are pretty great too.

Nellie: Yes, my roses. They're all quite nice to see.


Ronnie: You know, I can never tell anymore if she's speaking plainly or is making one of those entendre things.

Lyra: Hmph, well I doubt a gargantuan brute such as her could even consider anything so clever.

Ronnie: You mean for a Gyffindor, right?

Lyra: ...

Ronnie: Ah, I see...we may need to team up.

Lyra: ...Okay, but I call first to start kissing.

Ronnie: Fine, only if I get hugs first.

Lyra: *tch*

Click to shrink...

FRANKLIN, you great furry CIA agent bastard! What are you doing using the joint project between Lockheed Martin and Grumbybear ending up here? The Kid has been looking for you, Uncle Sam is getting concerned and Grandpa Buff says he won the bet!

 

[digcat]

 

[Reman Septim]

You know, with how few purebloods and even the Sacred Twenty-Eight are left, I think polygamy is still legal and moral in the British Wizarding World. So, Harem Ron, perhaps?