GHOST

london 2016 / tom riddle is in control of the ministry. the order is but a fractured group of vigilantes. muggleborns are taking a stand. they’re all ready for war. welcome to ghost.

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“Perhaps not exterminated,” you say, with careful dispassion– a flick of your hand sends the tea spoon spinning. “But ruled over. Muggleborns possess magic, however diluted it may be. Rather than letting it go to waste, we could instead cultivate it, build a society guided by pureblood hands. Noblesse oblige. After all, when retained in the magical world, they beget loyal halfbloods such as Master Snape, do they not?”

You are gaining momentum now, hands moving in fluid, quick gestures. “We could reclaim magical talent from squib lineages, raise up those of extraordinary power and skill…“

She looks at you (and sees a void staring back; empty, blank) with something between suspicion and disbelief. “You would question the Dark Lord?”

A misstep. You blink in confusion, careful, crafted, hiding your disappointment. “No– never. The very idea is–”

“Regulus, Regulus,” she sighs (Regulus, she says, like a chiding mother). “This idealism of yours is pleasant enough, but this is the real world. One only has to look to history to see what the masses will do to their betters at the slightest provocation.”

You freeze, a retort half-formed on your lips (twisted quickly, masterfully, into a smile). “Of course,” you say, apologetic. “Ours is still the righteous path.”

Of course.

you move in with your best friend, fresh out school, into a dingy two-bedroom apartment with musty furniture and ceilings so low you can’t help but bump your head. but it’s his and it’s yours and there’s always pie, so you’re pretty sure that it’s (almost) all your dreams come true.

(there’s one in particular about a short brunette with a sharp tongue and mean fist that you can’t quite get out of your head. )

he tells you that he’s joined the order on a sunday. he’s staring at you, over soggy bacon and eggs and flat pancakes, and there’s a long moment where you can’t hear anything but the sound of your own heart beating. and then it all comes back, the long chatter of the diner patrons around you and the grill cook yelling in the back, and still the steady thump, thump of your heart. it takes a while for you to realize that he expects you to say something in return; to offer congratulations or thanks or something, but you do none of that. instead you shove a piece of bacon in your mouth and ask him why.

he asks if you remember the stories; the ones that your mothers used to tell, as they tucked you in at night, about the swashbuckling pirates and knights in shining armor and the heroes. didn’t you ever want to be a hero, marc?

no, no, no. because the heroes always die. everyone has to die sometime, he says.

and maybe that’s true. but you come here, almost every day after practice, to this terrible diner with the soggy food and terrible service and awful atmosphere with gena. you know all about the waitress, with her three kids and diabetic cat, but if this building were ever raided by death eaters, you wouldn’t hesitate. wouldn’t even glance in her direction. you’d grab gena and you’d get the hell out.

(he dies on a sunday. on tuesday, you set fire to the moldy couch in the living room. then you lock the door to his bedroom and flush it down the toilet)

ethereal - challenge one

relationship with the wizarding world

ethereal - challenge three

patronus - lynx

The secretive lynx represents controlled power, individualism and sharp-slightness…

molly weasley’s boggart / her family dead before her 

ghost development challenge: day three, rhapsodic

it was just supposed to be a trial mission, a test to see how well he can handle his wand in stress situations. as he approached the white house, so clean and quaint and everything a family home should be, he could feel his insides turn to ice. just a trial mission, nothing major. trash the house, cast a dark mark, go home. he steps inside. a woman screams. trash the house. on instinct, flashes of green. trash the house. a family falls to the floor. trash the house. they weren’t supposed to be home. trash the house.

he burns it.

AMELIA // DEATH AND ALL HIS FRIENDS