Narcissa's Wake-up Call(Malfoid)

[NonsensicalRants]

Just letting you know i'm enjoying this immensely. This Malfoid kick has got me thinking.

Does anyone remember something about Molly helping Ginny make Harry a bunch of cookies over the summer? The same Molly who's aunt used potions on a muggle to make him love her? It's been an age since i recalled that last.

Click to shrink...

Your line of reasoning was a very popular trend in character bashing fics for a very long time. If you want to continue down that theorizing there is no shortage of fics out there. But they got old for me very fast and its why I pretty much never character bash. I always try to make - even the villains - have redeeming qualities and understandable motivations/tactics.

 

[digcat]

The whole Molly and Ginny used a love potion on Harry thing is so stupid. Plus the Ron used them on Hermione nonsense.

 

[FoxGirlFan]

Your line of reasoning was a very popular trend in character bashing fics for a very long time. If you want to continue down that theorizing there is no shortage of fics out there. But they got old for me very fast and its why I pretty much never character bash. I always try to make - even the villains - have redeeming qualities and understandable motivations/tactics.

Click to shrink...

This is my first time really getting invested into the Potter Verse. My last time reading the books was 20…12? I think? And the occasional fanfic. It took me until a few weeks ago to realize that someone remarking on Harry wanting to become an auror and thus becoming a bad guy was current day politics coming from, well, Berkeley college thinkers.

 

[VividSkies]

This is great!

The additional world building details and general feeling of warmth makes this a really pleasant read so far.

Especially when it comes to Lyra's unique characterizations, making this not just a simple Draco gender swap.



Thank you for writing!

Can't wait to so how this develops!

 

[digcat]

Melfoid and the patronus

Spoiler

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View: https://x.com/Felipe__Weber/status/2110786461586886818

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 4:
​

---

Severus Snape sat behind his desk, regarding the parchment in his hands with an expression of profound suspicion. He looked at the parchment, then at his goddaughter, then at the enormous black dog sitting beside her chair.

Lyra Malfoy smiled angelically. She held her hands clasped in front of her face as if in prayer to match her pleading expression.

"He's a very good dog, Uncle Severus," she assured him. "Honestly, I've never met one so well behaved. He knows all sorts of commands, he doesn't bark at people, and he's perfectly accustomed to magic. I cleaned him up myself, and he didn't even flinch!"

Scarfoot sat perfectly still, his great shaggy tail wagging across the dungeon floor.

"And he was in such a dreadful state when I found him. Starving, filthy, and his poor paws were all cut up. I couldn't possibly leave him wandering around Hogsmeade like that, could I?"

Snape's gaze drifted toward the dog's paws, which Lyra had spent some time tending to with his own wiggenweld stock.

"Besides, there are four empty beds in our dormitory, so he won't be taking up anybody's space. And I promise I'll feed him and walk him and clean up after him. You won't have to do a thing."

He raised an eyebrow as an invitation for her to continue. She seemed to interpret it as disbelief.

She pouted and must have decided her pleading alone was insufficient.

"Scarfoot, beg!"

The enormous dog rose onto his hind legs, balancing with remarkable ease, and lifted his front paws before his chest. He made a little beckoning motion with them, as though imploring the Potions Master to take pity on a poor, unfortunate creature whose entire future depended upon his generosity.

Lyra beamed.

"See? Isn't he wonderful?"

For several seconds, Snape stared at the dog. Scarfoot stared back, his paws still raised in supplication. Then Snape looked at Lyra, whose expression suggested that refusing her request would be an act of cruelty unmatched in the history of wizardkind.

"Hm."

He picked up his quill, signed his name at the bottom of the form, and slid it across the desk.

"Oh, thank you, Uncle Severus!"

Lyra sprang from her chair, snatched up the parchment, and hurried around the desk to give her godfather a kiss on the cheek. Snape endured the affection with the air of a man who had long ago accepted that certain indignities were unavoidable.

"I promise you won't regret it!"

She turned toward the dog, who had finally lowered himself onto all fours.

"Come along, Scarfoot! You're officially a Hogwarts dog now!"

Scarfoot followed her toward the door, but paused on the threshold to look back at the man behind the desk. For a moment Snape thought the mutt winked at him, but from the side view he could only see one eye so it was probably just blinking.

Snape went back to his paperwork and ignored the continued oddity that was his goddaughter.

---

The Slytherin common room was famed for being among the most quiet and peaceful, rivaled only by the Ravenclaw private library. Lyra Malfoy entered it knowing full well that the black dog at her heels would break that peace and quiet, yet she did so anyways.

"Lyra, what on earth is that?"

Pansy Parkinson was sitting on one of the green leather sofas with Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracey Davis. Daphne was across the room with her little sister, and both of them gave the new Slytherin mascot scrutinizing looks as well.

"This," Lyra announced proudly, "is Scarfoot. My new familiar."

Millicent's eyes widened.

"Oh, he's beautiful!"

"Isn't he?" Lyra beamed. "And he's such a gentleman, too. Come on, Scarfoot. Say hello!"

Scarfoot padded obediently into the room, his enormous paws making scarcely a sound against the stone floor. Several older students looked up from their conversations, and a couple of boys playing Exploding Snap abandoned their game to appreciate him.

An inter-year crowd gathered around to compete for the chance to pat him. Some more exuberantly than others. Scarfoot seemed to be patiently tolerating it all. Which she thought was very unlike a normal dog who ought to get excited from all the attention. But perhaps that was part of his training? She was starting to think he was a drug sniffing hound or somebody's support animal.

Pansy whispered into her ear as they watched the dog get way more attention from the boys than any of them ever had.

"When I suggested you find a new hobby now that you've quit Quidditch, Lyra, I wasn't imagining dog walking."

Lyra gave her a wounded look.

"He's not a hobby, Pansy. He's a member of the family!"

"You've had him for less than a day."

"And he's already made a better impression than most of my relatives."

Tracey snorted.

"Does your father know you've adopted a dog?"

"Not yet. But Uncle Severus has signed the paperwork, so it's official until summer break at least."

Pansy stared at her.

"Professor Snape let you bring that enormous thing into Hogwarts?"

"Of course he did."

"Just like that?"

"Well, I had to ask nicely."

Panzy exchanged a look with Tracey, who appeared to be struggling not to laugh.

Millicent, meanwhile, had already abandoned the sofa and was crouching beside Scarfoot, trying to steal an ear scratch between the storm of hands all over him. He gave her a wet nose and she recoiled, giggling. She retreated back over to Lyra so Blaise could have a turn.

"Where did you find him?" Millicent asked.

"Near the Shrieking Shack. The poor thing was absolutely filthy, and he was so hungry he practically swallowed my lunch whole."

"You gave him your lunch?" Daphne asked.

"Well, obviously. Look at the size of him! He must have been starving for months."

Lyra settled onto the sofa beside Pansy, leaving Flint of all people to fuss over Scarfoot.

"He was covered in mats, too. I had to work half of them out by hand before I could clean him properly. And his paws were in a dreadful state. Cracked all over, with this horrible great cut on one of them. Don't worry, I got some Wiggenweld Potion from Uncle Severus. They're much better now."

"Did you find out who he belongs to?" Tracey asked.

Lyra shook her head.

"No collar, no identification, nothing. I completely expect to find his owner and have him returned by the end of the school year. I doubt my father would let me bring him home. I'll write him tomorrow and ask if he can put the word out for a lost dog."

"Perhaps somebody abandoned him," Daphne suggested.

"Well, if they did, they don't deserve him back," said Tracey

"Exactly!" Lyra declared, happy her classmates just put her sincerest hopes into words.

"So you found a stray dog, fed him your lunch, cleaned him, and decided to bring him home? Just like that?"

"Not quite. Weasley showed up while I was looking after him."

"Which Weasley?"

"Ronald."

Pansy's nose wrinkled.

"What was he doing near the Shrieking Shack?"

"Probably avoiding his brothers and brat of a sister. I would, if I had to live with those two."

That earned a few laughs.

"Anyway, he took one look at Scarfoot and started joking about the Grim."

"The what?" Tracey asked.

"Some ridiculous death omen Professor Trelawney's been frightening Potter with. Apparently it's supposed to look like a great big black dog, and Potter's convinced he's seen one."

Only in that moment did she realize that not a single Slytherin in their year was taking divination. Yet another point of pride for the house of serpents. It sounded like a waste of time.

"That explains a few things," Daphne remarked.

"Doesn't it? Well, Weasley thought it would be the funniest thing in the world if Potter came face-to-face with Scarfoot. So he offered me a Galleon to adopt him."

"A Galleon?"

"One whole Galleon," Lyra repeated indignantly. "As though I'd sell my dignity for pocket change!"

Pansy considered this for a moment.

"Personally, I doubt Weasley even had a Galleon to give you."

The girls burst into laughter.

The crowd began dissipating and the Grengrasse sisters saw their opportunity. They went over and gave him some scratches of their own.

"That dog has some serious patience," Tracey complimented.

"You haven't seen anything yet!" Lyra exclaimed. "Scarfoot, come here!"

The dog rose, making both Greengrasse sisters jump, and crossed the room, stopping obediently in front of her. Still, the sisters followed him over.

"Sit!"

He sat.

"Shake!"

He offered his paw.

"See?"

"That's not terribly unusual," Pansy pointed out.

"Fine, then. Scarfoot, up!"

The enormous dog rose onto his hind legs, towering over the seated girls. Tracey gave a startled squeak. He was much bigger than his shy posture hinted and rearing up he resembled a lion. Or that Griffon that nearly gored her.

"Now beg!"

Scarfoot raised his front paws and made the same imploring motion that had persuaded Professor Snape to sign his registration.

"Oh, that's wonderful!"

Even Pansy looked impressed, although she seemed determined not to admit it.

"All right, I'll admit he's clever," Tracey conceded. "I've never seen a dog do that before."

"Thank you!" Lyra replied, looking almost as pleased with herself as she was with Scarfoot.

"I still think you've lost your mind," Millicent said, shaking her head in amusement. "You've barely known him a day, and you're already treating him like a prince."

"You're just jealous because your cat can't do that."

"My cat has more dignity," Millicent retorted. "She wouldn't go begging for treats like some common street animal."

"Your cat begs for food every time we eat," Pansy pointed out.

"That's different."

"How?"

"She doesn't beg. She demands."

That earned a laugh from the girls, while Scarfoot lowered himself onto all fours and gave Millicent a look of such apparent indignation that Lyra couldn't help laughing herself.

"See? You've hurt his feelings!"

"Oh, honestly!" Millicent protested, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears. "I was only joking, you great lump."

Scarfoot accepted the apology with a wag of his tail, and Lyra decided that was quite enough teasing at her new familiar's expense.

"Come along, Scarfoot. Let's get you settled in. There's plenty of room upstairs."

Scarfoot dropped onto all fours and gave Pansy a look that Lyra could almost have sworn was offended.

"See? You've hurt his feelings."

"Oh, honestly!"

Lyra laughed and rose from the sofa.

"Come along, Scarfoot. Let's get you settled in. There's plenty of room upstairs."

"Upstairs?" Daphne repeated.

"Of course. We've got four empty beds in our dormitory. He can have whichever one he likes."

Daphne looked doubtful.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Lyra challenged.

"He's rather large."

"All the more reason to give him a proper bed. Come on!" she said, expecting the dog to follow her order.

Lyra started toward the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories. She was halfway up the steps before realizing that the dog hadn't followed her from the seating area.

"Scarfoot?"

He looked up at her.

"Come along."

He remained where he was and Lyra felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"Don't be silly. You're allowed upstairs."

Scarfoot sat down in an additional act of disobedience.

Pansy giggled.

"Perhaps he's afraid of stairs?"

"He wasn't afraid of the twenty different flight of them we climbed on the way here."

"Maybe he doesn't like these ones?" Tracey offered.

Lyra descended and took hold of his collar.

"Come on, you great lump. There's a lovely warm bed waiting for you."

She gave a gentle tug but Scarfoot didn't budge. She tugged again, a little harder this time and the dog planted his paws firmly against the floor and leaned backward.

"Honestly! You've been perfectly obedient all afternoon!"

"Perhaps he doesn't want to sleep upstairs," Millicent suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous. Where else is he supposed to sleep?"

Scarfoot glanced toward the fireplace.

Lyra followed his gaze.

"Oh, no. You're not sleeping on the cold stone floor."

She tried again, this time enticing him with a piece of biscuit left over from lunch.

"Look what I've got!" she said, waiving it towards the stairs.

He looked thoroughly unimpressed and didn't go for the bribe. Instead he trotted over to the fireplace and laid down in front of it.

Pansy was laughing openly by now.

"I think he's won."

"He has not!"

Lyra tried ordering Scarfoot to stand, which he did immediately. She told him to follow, and he obediently walked beside her until she reached the first step, at which point he stopped so abruptly that she nearly tripped over him.

"Well, this is absurd!"

Millicent knelt beside the dog and stroked his head.

"Maybe he's been trained not to go into bedrooms?"

Lyra paused.

"Do you think so?"

"He does seem very well trained. Perhaps his old owners didn't allow him upstairs? Or trained him to guard bedrooms from the outside?"

Lyra regarded Scarfoot thoughtfully. The dog regarded her back with an expression of perfect innocence.

"Oh, you darling boy," she said at last. "Is that it? Have you been taught not to enter people's bedrooms?"

Scarfoot wagged his tail, surely more from the doting tone in her voice than the words.

"Well, aren't you just the most considerate gentleman!"

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Or he's stubborn."

"Nonsense. He's being polite."

"He's a dog, Lyra."

"And a better-behaved one than most boys I know."

"That's not a high standard," Daphne observed.

"Exactly!"

Lyra crouched and wrapped her arms around Scarfoot's enormous neck.

"All right, buddy. You don't have to come upstairs if you don't want to. We'll find you somewhere comfortable down here."

With Millicent's help, she gathered a few spare cushions and an old blanket from one of the common-room cupboards, arranging them into a makeshift bed beside the fireplace, in a corner that used to hold a reading chair. Said chair found it's new home in an alcove by the stairs to the girls dormitory. Scarfoot watched the preparations with interest, and when Lyra patted the finished arrangement, he approached confidently.

He circled on top of it and dropped like a brick onto his makeshift bed. The sigh he gave was so deep you'd think he just lowered himself into a hot spring after a day of hard labor. It had been quite a day for him, Lyra admitted.

"There!" she declared triumphantly. "Much better."

Millicent sat beside him and scratched his ears.

"We should get him a proper dog bed."

"Oh, absolutely. I'll write to Father and have one sent over. Something enormous, with a nice thick mattress."

"And perhaps a few toys," Millicent added.

"And a collar with his name on it! Instead of this… is this conjured?" Daphne asked, examining the featureless leather collar.

Lyra could readily admit that it wasn't her best work. Then she remembered she walked right past the Hogsmeade pet store in her eagerness to get him back to Hogwarts. She'd have to owl them for a collar, and some other dog necessities. Actually, the newspaper and magazine racks next to the notice board probably had a product catalog hidden in it somewhere. If not they definitely had one for the Magical Menagerie. But that could wait for tomorrow.

The poor thing was already knocked out and she'd want to ask his opinion as she rifled through the magazines.

---

Oliver Wood called it reconnaissance, although Harry was beginning to suspect that Fred and George had a different understanding of the word. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had occupied a section of the bleachers overlooking the pitch, bringing enough sandwiches, sweets, and drinks to feed a small army. Dean had even brought several bags of Muggle snacks, including something Doritos, which George was examining with suspicion.

"Why are they orange?" he asked, holding one up to the light.

"Cheese," Alicia answered.

"Cheese isn't orange."

"Some cheese is."

"Not any cheese I'd trust," George declared, before popping the triangle into his mouth and immediately reaching for another.

Below them, the Slytherins were preparing for their Quidditch tryouts. Dozens of glowing rings had been conjured into a winding obstacle course above the pitch, while Marcus Flint barked instructions at a group of nervous-looking hopefuls. Wood had brought parchment and a quill, and was attempting to convince his teammates that they ought to be taking notes rather than arguing over sandwiches.

"Oliver!"

Wood turned to find Roger Davies climbing the bleachers, a broad grin on his face.

"Roger!"

"Heeeeeey! Roger!" the Gryffindors chorused, raising their drinks in greeting like pints of beer.

Roger spread his arms theatrically. "My adoring public! How I've missed you all!"

"We played a pickup game last week!" Katie called.

"An eternity, my dear. An eternity."

He settled beside Wood, helped himself to a sandwich without asking, and surveyed the obstacle course with an appreciative whistle.

"Flint's put the narrow rings immediately after the steep climb. Nasty piece of work, that. Half these poor sods will be dizzy before they reach them."

"That's precisely what we're here to assess," Wood said importantly.

"Of course. Is this ham?"

Harry had seen Davies play often enough to know he was an excellent Chaser, but he had never spent much time talking to the Ravenclaw captain. Roger seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to make himself comfortable wherever he went, even among players who would be trying their hardest to defeat him in a few weeks.

A few minutes later, Cedric Diggory appeared with two Hufflepuff teammates, and the entire performance repeated itself.

"Wood! Davies!"

"Heeeeeey! Cedric!" they chorused, repeating the drink raising motion from earlier.

Cedric laughed at the reception, although his amusement turned to suspicion when he noticed how cheerful everyone seemed to be.

"Oliver, have you lot been drinking?"

"Certainly not!" Wood replied with rather more indignation than the question warranted.

Beside Harry, Katie discreetly slipped a small metal flask beneath her robes. Harry noticed the movement but pretended not to. He gathered that whatever the older students were enjoying, they had no intention of sharing it with him.

More Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gradually joined the gathering, and by the time the first Slytherin hopeful mounted his broom, the bleachers had acquired the atmosphere of a small sporting festival. A second year boy managed the first few rings easily enough, but came badly unstuck when the course demanded a steep climb followed by an abrupt turn.

"He's turning with his shoulders," Roger observed as the boy narrowly avoided colliding with a goalpost. "Watch the tail of his broom, Harry. See how it swings out before he changes direction? He's fighting the broom."

Harry watched the next candidate and saw exactly what Roger meant. The boy's broom drifted sideways before he had even begun his turn, forcing him to overcorrect and miss the next ring.

"You're good at spotting things like that," Harry remarked.

"I'd hope so. They made me captain after all. One day you'll be captain when all of your seniors graduate."

"Shouldn't wood be grooming him?" Fred pointed out.

"Can you imagine how terriby that would turn out?" George added.

Wood threw a sandwich crust at him, which Angelina caught and ate.

The next interruption came from Fred, who had spotted two familiar figures approaching the stands.

"Well, well! Look who's come to join the civilized world!"

Lyra Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were making their way along the bleachers, apparently having come to watch their housemates try out. Both looked surprised to discover that the other three houses had practically organized a picnic around the proceedings.

"Come join us!" George called, shifting aside to make room.

Lyra hesitated only briefly before accepting the invitation, settling beside Roger while Pansy found a place among the Gryffindors. Harry scarcely noticed where either of them sat, being more interested in the next group of hopefuls taking to the air.

"Malfoy!" Davies greeted her. "Tell me Flint's found someone competent to replace you."

"Considering I beat you last year, Davies, I wouldn't be too particular about it."

"Wounded! And here I was about to offer you a sandwich."

"I'll take it anyway, thank you."

"That's the spirit."

Alicia handed her one while Cho Chang, who had joined the crowd a little earlier, leaned forward to address Lyra.

"Who's trying out for Seeker, then?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Lyra admitted. "But Millicent's definitely getting onto the team."

"As a Seeker?" Cho asked doubtfully.

Pansy burst out laughing, while Lyra shook her head.

"No, she's trying out for Beater or Keeper. Personally, I think she'd make a magnificent Beater."

"Bulstrode?" Roger asked, looking thoughtful. "Third year, rather broad girl?"

"That's her," Pansy confirmed. "And she's stronger than half the boys in our year put together."

"Strength is useful, but it doesn't necessarily make a good Beater," Cedric observed. "She'll need to control her broom while swinging the bat, and that's way harder than chasing or seeking."

"Different strokes for different folks." said Anthony Ricket, nudging his captain.

"Yeah, we're useless at anything but," said Dungan Inglebee, indicating Jason Samuels and himself.

"Perhaps you should all watch before making predictions," Lyra suggested sweetly.

Roger chuckled and leaned back to await the next portion of the tryouts.

Flint eventually dismissed the last of the disqualified hopefuls from the obstacle course and brought out a pair of practice Bludgers. The prospective Beaters were required to ping pong them back and forth with the current beaters.

Millicent was among the first to take her turn. Harry had never seen her fly before, and was surprised by how confidently she handled her broom. She might not have possessed the elegance of a Seeker, but she climbed rapidly toward the approaching Bludger and struck it with a tremendous crack that echoed across the stands.

The iron ball went wide of Lucian Bole's position, so her aim was off.

"Blimey," Fred muttered appreciatively.

"That's some arm," Roger agreed.

She had a few more tries and managed to almost hit Peregrine. After that the other Beater hopefuls had their turns. To nobodies surprise Millicent did go onto the final elimination, along with Vincent Crabbe.

"Wait, Goyle isn't trying out?" he asked, turning to Pansy.

"Nah, his grades have been atrocious and his parents won't let him do any after school activities until he gets them back up to an Acceptable." said Pansy.

"He had his heart set on the keeper position too," said Lyra who was taking a tentative sip of Dr Capsacin.

The final round of elimination prove the most entertaining. Millicent and Vincent were now directly competing to see who could hit the most bludgers through the goal posts. The two of them found themselves converging on the same Bludger. Crabbe attempted to cut across her path, apparently expecting her to give way, but Millicent simply accelerated and drove her shoulder into his side.

The collision nearly rolled Crabbe off his broom. He managed to cling on, but by then Millicent had already swept past him and struck the Bludger cleanly toward another target.

The stands erupted in cheers and startled exclamations.

"That's a foul!" somebody protested.

"No, it isn't," Roger replied immediately. "Shoulder to shoulder, and she didn't grab him or strike him with the bat. Perfectly legal, although I doubt Crabbe enjoyed it."

Harry had to agree. It was exactly the sort of maneuver he had come to expect from Slytherin: rough, aggressive, and calculated to discourage anyone from challenging them again. But it had been legal, and Harry understood the distinction better than most. People sometimes spoke about Quidditch as though it were football played on broomsticks, when the sport actually involved, nay, required more physical contact. With iron balls flying around specifically to knock people out of the sky, it was much closer to rugby in the air. Quidditch was, in fact, an out and out contact sport.

"Well?" Lyra demanded, looking triumphantly toward Roger.

The Ravenclaw captain raised both hands in surrender. "I concede the point. If Flint doesn't recruit her, he's a bigger idiot than I thought."

Wood looked less pleased. "She's going to be aiming at our Chasers."

"That's generally what Beaters do," Katie observed.

Roger leaned toward Harry. "A little advice, Potter. If Bulstrode comes after you, don't try to outmuscle her. Make her turn instead. You're smaller, lighter, and much faster."

"Are you giving Gryffindor tactical advice?" Cedric asked, amused.

"I'm giving Harry advice on how not to die. Once Ravenclaw plays Gryffindor, he's entirely on his own."

Harry laughed, although his attention was soon drawn to two more familiar figures climbing the bleachers.

"Harry!"

Ron and Hermione were approaching together, and Harry waved them over enthusiastically. Ron paused briefly when he noticed Lyra sitting among the spectators, giving her a peculiar look before continuing toward Harry. He supposed Ron was still getting accustomed to Malfoy's increasingly friendly behavior, although he seemed to be making an effort to accept her company.

"Hold on a moment," George said as they approached. "Are you two speaking again?"

"Yes," Hermione answered in a chilled tone.

"We've made up," Ron confirmed, sounding rather defensive.

"Thank Merlin," Alicia declared. "That was getting ridiculous."

"And we're not discussing it," Hermione added firmly, forestalling whatever Fred had been about to say.

The twins exchanged amused looks but wisely left the matter alone. Harry was just relieved to have his two best friends together again, especially after the miserable weeks of arguments over Scabbers and the Firebolt. Ron and Hermione settled on Harry's left, opposite Pansy, and quickly became absorbed in the tryouts. Below them, Millicent sent another Bludger hurtling across the pitch with enough force to dent one of the hoops.

"Blimey," Ron said.

"That's what we said," George replied.

Roger had meanwhile begun explaining to Cedric how he would position Millicent during a match, using several Doritos to represent Chasers and a sandwich crust for the opposing Seeker.

"Keep her near the middle of the pitch," he explained, arranging the crisps along the bench. "Make the other team fly around her. With an arm like that, she could control half the field without needing to chase anyone."

"You're assuming she can hit moving targets as well as stationary ones," Cedric pointed out.

"She hit Crabbe."

"Crabbe wasn't a target."

"Could've fooled me."

Wood confiscated the sandwich crust before Roger could finish demonstrating his proposed formation, provoking another round of laughter from the assembled players.

Harry was still chuckling when he noticed that Ron had gone very quiet. His friend was staring past him with an expression of absolute horror, his eyes wide and his face drained of color. Harry recognized that look. He had seen it only once before, when they had found themselves surrounded by enormous spiders in Aragog's nest.

"Ron? What's wrong?"

Ron did not answer. Instead, he slowly raised a trembling hand and pointed over Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned to see what had frightened him and found himself face-to-face with a large, snarling, black dog.

---

Thanks again to Seru continuing to comission this story, and to my patrons. And of course to reviewers, one of whom I stole a joke from. Tried asking his permission but he never got back to me.

Anyways, 4 chapters down, and we're finally seeing Harry and Malfoid in the same scenes together again. Much more of that on the way.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Excellent. I enjoy the interplay, the Quidditch discussion, all of it. It feels... Real, for lack of a better term. Followed and eagerly looking forward to more.

 

[Puga]

Tftc

 

[BlueCladOne]

Excellent. I enjoy the interplay, the Quidditch discussion, all of it. It feels... Real, for lack of a better term. Followed and eagerly looking forward to more.

Click to shrink...

A lot more real feeling than any of Rowling's Quidditch scenes, that's for sure.

She's by no means a bad writer, but she was better at mysteries and adventure instead of worldbuilding or characterization. (She also didn't have any sports experience)

 

[BlueCladOne]

The whole Molly and Ginny used a love potion on Harry thing is so stupid. Plus the Ron used them on Hermione nonsense.

Click to shrink...

By strict canon reading, it's alarmingly plausible, given how casual witches and wizards were about them. Add Rowling's frankly terrible writing with any romantic interactions? It's a recipe for conspiracy theories.

At the same time, I'd only ever use it in a very specific kind of fic. 99% of the time, I'm just going to modify things. Either the casual behavior gets addressed as a real problem (why the hell would Hermione start a crusade about House Elves but giggle about love potions?) or I simply have people treat them differently from the start, and write the characters more sanely.

Rowling did a lot of character inconsistent writing as she rushed the last books and also condensed what would have been a much longer story into the contractually obligated seven.

(On the other hand, even by conspiracy standards, Ron using them on Hermione is still stupid - it would be Molly "harmlessly" helping with his crush like she "got Arthur's attention.")

 

[NonsensicalRants]

By strict canon reading, it's alarmingly plausible, given how casual witches and wizards were about them. Add Rowling's frankly terrible writing with any romantic interactions? It's a recipe for conspiracy theories.

At the same time, I'd only ever use it in a very specific kind of fic. 99% of the time, I'm just going to modify things. Either the casual behavior gets addressed as a real problem (why the hell would Hermione start a crusade about House Elves but giggle about love potions?) or I simply have people treat them differently from the start, and write the characters more sanely.

Rowling did a lot of character inconsistent writing as she rushed the last books and also condensed what would have been a much longer story into the contractually obligated seven.

(On the other hand, even by conspiracy standards, Ron using them on Hermione is still stupid - it would be Molly "harmlessly" helping with his crush like she "got Arthur's attention.")

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I always felt that love potions main use was as marital aids. Same for polyjuice. You just know people keep a stock of their own hair throughout their life, to use to spice up their bedroom. We can both go back to looking how we did on our wedding night. Or as we were in high school. Same for love potions.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

I always felt that love potions main use was as marital aids. Same for polyjuice. You just know people keep a stock of their own hair throughout their life, to use to spice up their bedroom. We can both go back to looking how we did on our wedding night. Or as we were in high school. Same for love potions.

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Same. There's a difference between using a love potion to just get someone's attention, and using them to enslave people.

Wizards can tell the difference, Muggles wouldn't have the context for that.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Same. There's a difference between using a love potion to just get someone's attention, and using them to enslave people.

Wizards can tell the difference, Muggles wouldn't have the context for that.

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No I was saying already married couples would use love potions willingly. Especially during slumps in the relationship. That's how i'd use it. Remind myself why I chose this woman to be the mother of my children.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

No I was saying already married couples would use love potions willingly. Especially during slumps in the relationship. That's how i'd use it. Remind myself why I chose this woman to be the mother of my children.

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Ah, right. Just saying that they were just little enhancements to feelings and so on. That's their legal use.