Untitled Fanfic
by Sophie Z.
"Harry, you know what Snape said! Only toadroot and whespine can become successful poliwogs! If you
add fly's wings you might blow us all up!"
"But Hermione, it says right here: 'Apply the fly's wings to the mixture when it becomes lukewarm, then
proceed to stir the brew five times clockwise.' I'm only following the instructions!"
"Then you must be on the wrong page! Snape said page 364, paragraph two. So-“ As Harry and
Hermione argued, neither of them noticed Professor Snape slinking through the rows of desks towards
them. With a flick of his barely protruding hand, both Harry and Hermione’s potions vanished in a wisp
of emerald smoke.
“Now, Granger and Potter, I respect the absence of noise in this classroom. Therefore, unless you want
to end up like Weasly in detention- and yes, I heard about the little scandal- I suggest you both get
working on your potions in silence. Oh, and Potter, next time listen to what page the instructions are on.
Ten points from Gryffindor.”
“But professor-“ Hermione objected.
“Another five points from Gryffindor. And that is my final word.”
***
As Harry and Hermione strolled over towards the Gryffindor common room, they met up with Ron
running from the other direction.
“There you are! But I must ask, why did McGonagall give you detention for being late if you told her that
you were talking to professor Flitwick?” Hermione questioned.
“That was just a pretext- the detention, I mean. She just wanted to tell me something in private. Oh,
you’ll never guess what! I’m on the quidditch team- a chaser! Malfoy was furious when I told him! He
was passing me in the hallway during my ‘detention’ and that’s when I let him know.” A grin split Harry’s
face as he high-fived Ron. That grin vanished, however, when Hermione suddenly cried out.
“Wait! Ron, you said you saw Malfoy in the hallway while Harry and I were in potions. But Harry, Malfoy
was in Snape’s class with us, and he never left the classroom! How is that possible- unless…”
“Polyjuice potion?” Harry questioned. But if so, which Malfoy is the impostor, who are they really, and
what do they want? Ron, which direction was Malfoy- or his imposter- headed?” Ron proceeded to
point towards the east. At this, the trio followed the hall until it branched into three paths.
“Hufflepuff common room, Flitwick’s office, or east exit to the grounds.” Hermione muttered. “I’d
assume that he’d have taken the east exit.” She exclaimed, so there they went through the hall and out
onto the grounds.
“Wait! Is that him, over there?” Harry cried. After pulling out his ‘ExpandoSpecs’, Harry glanced in the
direction he had pointed. “That’s Malfoy all right. But wait- he’s carrying a key!” the three friends were
all thinking the same thing: what was Malfoy- or his impostor- doing with a key, heading into the
Forbidden Forest?
Untitled Fanfic
by Ashley D.
“Harry, we’re in the hospital on Christmas eve just because you wouldn’t let Ron win in musical chairs.
Now be quiet and go to the front desk.” Hermione was facing Harry, who had a large cut on his head and
possibly a broken rib.
“Hermione, we could’ve taken care of this at home. I don’t need special doctor help.” he was holding a
cloth to his head and was slightly pouting.
“Harry! Just… Fine. I’ll do it!” Hermione got up and walked to the front desk. The nurse smiled at her.
“Hello, welcome to Smith County Memorial Hospital. What do you need help with?” She was typing on a
computer at the same time.
“Hi. My friend is hurt. He needs to see a doctor.”
The nurse looked up. “You will need to fill out a form first.” She handed over a clip board. The witch
went back to Harry and started to fill it out. Half way down she looked up. “It asks how you got injured.
What do I say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Say ‘We were playing musical chairs and my best friend decided to push me over to
get the chair so I pushed myself onto the chair with him and he shoved me off. Then he thought we
should wrestle but my other best friend didn’t think that was good so she used her wand and magical
witch powers to send me flying across the room. And that’s how I ended up with a bleeding head and
sore rib.’ Is that good?” Harry was glaring at her.
“Harry. Honestly. We can’t tell the doctor that I have powers, and you were the one who started
fighting. Not Ron. And it's not a sore rib. Its probably broken.”
“So why can’t you fix it?”
Hermione sighed. “This is not a joke. We can’t use magic when we’re under seventeen.”
“Come on! Just once? You fix my glasses.” Dean cut in.
“No! Glasses is one thing. A whole rib? Do you remember what happened with your arm?” she said,
glaring at the paper.
“But that was an inexperienced wizard who didn’t know the correct spell.”
“He was our teacher! He wasn’t inexperienced. Besides, I probably would get it wrong.” Hermione
huffed and continued to glare at Harry.
“Yeah, but there are others that could do it. Arthur? Molly would be happy to do it! What about one of
Ron’s brothers?”
“You are getting a doctor to look at it. No choice. Now what should I say happened?”
“I fell down the stairs?” Harry looked at her, questionably. She nodded.
“More believable.”
When they were done at the hospital, they returned back to the Weasley house. Harry was settled on
the couch with some hot chocolate Molly had made. She was still fussing over how she could’ve fixed it.
“I mean, I guess it was good that you got a muggle to look at it, but still… I do have some handy
medicines.”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry smiled at her, grateful for all she has done. “You’ve already let me stay
here over winter break. You don’t have to fix me up for every little thing I do.”
Someone spoke behind them. “Bloody hell, Harry. Will you be okay?” Ron’s eyes had widened.
Harry was about to speak when Molly cut in. “No help from you! What were you boys even doing?”
Ron looked guilty. “Playing musical chairs.”
“A muggle game.” Harry said when Molly looked confused.
“Just get some rest, Harry. And as for you, Ronald…” she started walking towards her son.
Harry laughed as Ron’s face began to match his hair. He loved being around the Weasley’s.
This was how Christmas was supposed to be.
That's Sir to You
by Yi Nuo C.
You’re invited!
To the Wedding of
Lily Luna Potter & Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy
The first time Lily brought Scorpius home, Harry nearly had an aneurysm.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Ginny, Harry.” The boy (who bore a startling resemblance to his father Draco)
shook both their hands.
Harry stiffened and drew his hand back. “That’s sir to you, Scorpius.”
Dinner that night was a rather strained affair, with Ginny and Lily doing most of the talking to fill up the
awkward silence Harry’s speechlessness brought on. Meanwhile, James and Albus wouldn’t stop
shooting weird looks at their little sister, who pretended not to see them. When Scorpius left, Lily
turned to Harry with an ecstatic grin and sparkling brown eyes. “I think he’s the one, Dad.”
After that, Harry had to go lie down.
On many occasions, when Lily came to visit from her flat across the city, the topic of
conversation would turn to Scorpius. Lily would spill endless tales of how Scorpius was so funny, or
smart, or kind, while Harry did his best not to vomit. Ever the peacekeeper, Ginny patted Harry’s arm
reassuringly and offered Lily some more tea to quiet her down.
It wasn’t that Scorpius was a bad person. From Lily’s accounts, he treated everyone with
respect and consideration, was a perfectly respectable and hardworking curse breaker at Gringotts, and
was overall “A good man, Dad, give him a chance”. Scorpius was completely contrary to the Malfoy
stereotype. But that was just it- he was a Malfoy!
That was why, when Lily and Scorpius had their first fight, Harry gave a silent cheer. When
Scorpius showed up at Lily’s door a couple days later with a bouquet of pink lilies and a sincere apology,
Harry was somewhat disgruntled.
And when, a year after that first awkward dinner, Scorpius came to Harry and asked him for his
permission for his daughter’s hand, Harry panicked and slammed the door in his face.
“With all respect, sir, I’m going to stand on your porch until you say yes. I love her.” Scorpius’s
mellow but firm voice floated through the keyhole. Harry couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or
creeped out.
Battling Lord Voldemort was one thing, but facing the prospect of his precious daughter united
in holy matrimony with a Malfoy was truly terrifying for Harry. Conflicted, he searched his head over
and over for a good reason to prevent the engagement, but couldn’t find a single one. Scorpius Malfoy
was not his father’s son. Shutting his eyes, Harry slowly edged the door open and sighed.
“Alright, you have my permission.”
From that instant, a flurry of movement and excitement swept up the Potter household,
intensifying week by week as the dreaded wedding day drew near. Preparations were made; a charming
little orchard was rented, caterers and bakers were contacted, the monumental dress was acquired. Ah,
the dress. Harry had never quite understood all that hubbub about one simple dress. At his own
wedding, Ginny had looked radiant in a floor-length gown of silk and lace, but she was always beautiful
no matter what she wore. Invitations delivered, decorations bought, the list went on and on.
Harry often found himself shaking his head with a suppressed smile, then looking over at Scorpius only
to find the younger man with the same bewildered yet happy expression. There were tears of
frustration, shared laughter at three in the morning, arguments over trifle matters. The Weasleys would
come over often, all nine cousins and two older brothers- and all their spouses and children- revolving
around Lily. Although, they did not come all at once, for the Potters’ house would not fit all of them. It
filled Harry with pride to see his youngest surrounded by so much happiness, support, and family, even
if the cause of it all was a Malfoy.
Speaking of the Malfoys, Astoria, Scorpius’s mother, often came to help out with the wedding. Harry
didn’t mind Astoria at all. She was an orderly, stately woman, who spoke gentle words in a soft voice
and seemed very fond of her daughter-in-law-to-be. Lily, Astoria, and Ginny got along famously. The
fact that Draco was nowhere to be seen sweetened the ordeal for Harry. He hadn’t spoken to his old
foe in decades, and was filled with trepidation at reuniting with him. Draco must have felt the same
way, for he never showed at the Potter house.
Finally, the big day arrived. Even though Harry was already fed up to the point of tears of this wedding
business, he made no complaint when Ginny dragged him to the orchard at the crack of dawn. Lily,
Scorpius, and a huge chunk of the Weasley family were already there, setting up decorations and
fretting over the finest details.
Harry stood by the barn where the reception was to take place, idly staring down at the dew-tipped
summer grass. Nobody really paid him much attention. Hermione flew by with a murmured “Good
morning, Harry”, her arms full of pink lilies and satin ribbons. Albus and James passed him with similar
greetings, carting several chairs.
Ron arrived later, forehead laden with perspiration. He was pulling a rack of plastic-covered garments
behind him. “Blimey, Harry, they’ve given me the bridesmaids dresses to look after. I’d better be
careful. Hermione and Ginny will kill me if anything happens to them.”
Harry suppressed a laugh at the sight of his good friend gingerly tugging the rack over the cobblestone
path, as if the pink dresses were bombs that could go off at any second. Then, his mirth was abruptly
cut off as he glimpsed a flash of silver-blonde hair. Draco?
No, it was Scorpius. “Good morning, sir.”
Harry nodded. “Scorpius.”
They exchanged the usual pleasantries, then drifted off onto other totally relevant topics such as the
weather, the current financial state of the Ministry of Magic, and gasoline prices. Scorpius did most of
the talking,while Harry only begrudgingly muttered feeble responses.
After an eternity of horribly mundane conversation, Harry had had enough. “Alright, I know you didn’t
come here to talk about these things. What is it that you want to say, Malf- Scorpius?”
“Sir, I know my father and you have had your differences in the past,” Scorpius said, a bit sheepishly,
“And from what I hear, that was mostly my father’s fault. I can’t take back what my father and
grandfather have said and done, but I’m trying to build a bridge across the gap between the Potters and
the Malfoys. I know you don’t like me much, sir, but I love your daughter. I don’t want us to live in
disagreement with each other.”
Harry said nothing.
“For Lily?” Scorpius offered his hand for Harry to shake.
“...For Lily.” Squashing down any remaining feelings against Scorpius, Harry took his hand and shook it
firmly.
“And, sir, I want to apologize for my father’s absence in the planning of the wedding. He’s… I’d say he’s
ashamed of himself for what happened at Hogwarts all those years ago.”
Well, he certainly should be, thought Harry. But he kept listening.
“He’s going to be here today. Sir, maybe you could let him know that you forgive him? My father can
be a difficult man, and he’s not likely to say sorry, but he really does feel bad.”
Harry blinked. Draco, wanting for his forgiveness? And after all this time. “Yes. Yes, I forgive
him.” And it was true.
“Thank you, sir. I’m glad our families don’t have to be enemies.” Scorpius grinned. The warm morning
sunlight beamed past the apple trees, casting a soft glow onto the boy’s white-blonde hair. Scorpius’s
smile was broad and contagious, and Harry felt himself grinning back at his future son-in-law. For the
first time, Harry relaxed at the prospect of his daughter spending the rest of her life with this boy. He
might be a Malfoy, but not only did he not fit the mold, he was working to change the shape of it.
As Scorpius bid a temporary farewell and turned to go, Harry called, “Scorpius.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Call me Harry.”
Untitled Fanfic
by K.M.
Harry's screams and Bellatrix's shrill laugh. The last things Sirius would know of his life.
Through the veil he fell, an eternal serenity. He would no more know pain or fear. He would no longer
need to hide from the ministry.
His one regret, the one thing that kept him tethered still to his mortal life was Harry.
His godson would never move in to Number 12 Grimmauld Place with him, he would never see his
godfather's pride regained.
In the minds of the ministry and of Wizardkind, he would always be a traitor. Liar. Murderer.
Sirius Black would never hold his grandson in that life ever again.
Should Harry succeed in defeating Voldemort, it would be many years before Sirius would see his
grandson once more. It would be too soon
The strings connecting him to the mortal world of the living snapped and he basked in a blinding white
light.
"Thank you," Were the first words he heard. Lily. Her voice rang familiar through the glow. "for taking
care of our son."
"Hey Padfoot." James.
"Hey Prongs." Sirius answered.
When his vision cleared, Sirius smiled. He stood in a familiar space, a ghostly, gleaming version of King's
Cross. And he stood not alone, but surrounded by his best friends.
And there they would smile and laugh and talk many years until the day Harry would join them and they
could be a family once more.
Once Said
by Ashley T.
Author’s Note: This is a Dramione fanfiction I wrote, kind of angsty and of all that.
He finds her in the choir room, playing a soft, soothing melody on the grand piano (she deserves the
best). He shuts the door quietly and stands there, basking in the music. Once the song is done, his
mouth forms her name in murmur.
"Granger."
He hopes for a reaction, acknowledgement of his presence but she turns a page in her book and begins
to play a pulsating but angry song. He feels his temper rise.
Stomping across the room like a mad-man, he arrives at the lid prop and smacks it. The lid slams shut
and startles both parties, causing them to look up, of course immediately drawn to each other's eyes.
Grey clashes with hazel, a honey like colour as he had once said. She stares back down at the piano's
keys before abruptly standing up and glaring, hard. Straight. At. Him. He gives a sheepish grin before
grabbing her wrists, with her protesting about the beginning of abuse, sitting them down on the steps.
He glances up at her, after an awkward silence, and concentrates on her features, memorizing them, as
if his life depends on it (maybe it does). After all, getting married to another woman (who is not your
true love) is hard enough. But leaving your true love hurts like nothing else.
"I wish that this wedding was for us you know," she finally states, "You and I, the Slytherin Prince and
the Gryffindor Princess."
He responds with hope, "It could be. If I break the engagement contract, we could have it all."
The rational part of her brain takes over, "No, you are to marry Astoria. It will save your family's image
and I am not willing to put you at risk of your father’s wrath. I can settle with knowing that you're safe."
He stares, again, and nearly screams in frustration. Why is she so stubborn? "I don't want you to settle!"
She merely replies with ease, "If I can't have you, I won't have anyone else. If I have to, I will settle for
just half of your heart because even half of you makes me happy."
"You will always have all of my heart... Hermione."
She whips her face up towards his, shocked that he said her first name, which gives him the opportunity
to steal a kiss.
Soon, they are wrapped up in an embrace that only two people so in love, it hurts to be apart, can
experience.
She straddles him and arches her back giving him access to her neck. His mind is focused on her, senses
consumed by her. Her scent fills his nose, her touch sets him on fire, her taste, unmatchable. She makes
his heart pound, and seeing her sends him into a whirlwind.
He tries not to let negative thoughts in. He tries not to let the insecurity of her finding someone else
consume him but the thoughts and feelings overwhelm him. Losing her just hurts. That feeling in your
stomach when... something is about to happen, it makes him cringe. But soon his mind drifts to a day
that he has always dreamt about: their wedding day.
She would be in a beautiful, white dress, hugging her curves. She would be smiling at him as she walked
down the aisle. They would join hands and after the vows were done, he would gather her into his arms
and just kiss her.
He is pulled from his daydream just as her lips leave his. She looks hurt. He realizes that he wasn't kissing
her back, too lost in what could be, and what won't be. She breaks his hold on her and stalks out of the
room, Apparating away. He grabs onto her arm quickly and feels the pull in his stomach. They land in her
room.
She pulls her hand away and goes around busying herself with cleaning up. It soon comes to his
attention that she is packing. Putting things in boxes, organizing, and throwing things away, like a
picture of them. She had picked up the photo of them wrapped up together, at Ginny and Blaise’s
engagement party, and began walking to the trashcan.
He accios the picture, dragging her along with it till she is seated in his lap and he is holding the picture
to his chest. She glares, gets up, and starts packing again. All he can do is watch until she is suddenly
standing in the centre of the common room, with all her belongings shrunk down, and put into a larger
box.
His throat closes up. She really is leaving isn't she?
She turns around and stares into his eyes. She still can't read him. After months on frolicking around she
realizes she loves him. But while she might be the "Brightest Witch of Her Age", she still can't get
everything she wants, no one can. But she realizes that all she wants is him. She doesn't want anything
else. Why can't she just have him?
She turns and apparates away with all her things.
When the reality of the moment hits him, his gaze focuses on the exact place where she stood.
19 Years Later
When they see each other at the train station, he has to steal a glance at her. She is standing tall and
strong beside the Weasel. He feels his heart sink. What did he expect though? That she would be waiting
for him with open arms and invite him over whenever the Weasel wasn't there? They catch each other’s
eye, staring back intensely, and grey clashes with hazel--a honey, as he had once said.