Hogwarts Legacy Brainrot

The Petrov’s knew Anatoly was different when he was born. Even as a newborn, his wisps of hair changed. Blonde when he was happy, blue when he was sad, red when he was angry, the list kept going.

As he got older, he learned to repress his emotions so he could stay safe. If the Russian government finds out? God only knows what would happen to him…being poked and prodded at, flayed and torn apart…he didn’t want to think about it, but as the days passed it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Every day could have been Anatoly’s last. One slip up and that was it. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He made a decision: leaving Russia and emigrating to London permanently.

It was a hard decision, but it was one he had to make. He would miss his family dearly, but they all understood it was for his safety.

At the age of 15, he ran away. Nobody reported him missing, because they knew where he was going.

As he got closer to freedom, the more anxious he got. He tried to hide it, but the tips of his hair turning bright orange was getting difficult to keep secret.

Soon enough, a trio of officers noticed and began the pursuit. Ordering Anatoly to stop while he fled on foot.

He was faster than them, but only barely. One trip could be the end.

Eventually he was approaching the dock that lead to the open ocean.

Anatoly had no choice. He wanted to live.

Without thinking, he jumped into the ocean. Sinking just out of sight before hiding under the dock. The officers quickly considering him a lost cause and abandoning his capture.

Now relieved, Anatoly swam to the nearest ship and climbed aboard into the cargo, resting his fried nerves betwixt some crates.

Picrew link:

+ a bonus standalone Hogsmeade one i forgot to add 🙈

Step One: Change the weather to clear Skipping this step could result in clouds blocking proper lighting and the potential of you getting rained on and unable to get the rain spots out of the clothes, ruining your photos. It's a good habit to get in while taking outside shots.

Step Two: Change the time of day You don't have to adjust it to exactly where I put it, but mess around with it to get your wanted daylight. It depends on your location and where you are standing.

Step Three: Optional (Somewhat) Post processing You can mess around with the White Balance to make your photos warmer/colder, for daylight shots I prefer warm. Auto Exposure just makes the screen brighter, so if you were in daylight that was not as bright as the photo, you can somewhat fake the amount of brightness that's actually outside. I just have it a smidge up in this photo. And turning off the Vignette just looks better for bright photos.

Step Four: Turn on the Spotlight Can't have a lighting tutorial without it.

Step Five: Crank up Intensity Sometimes both don't need to be all the way up, but in this instance and most, they need to be otherwise the light WILL NOT show up. The outside brightness is brighter than the default spotlight setting so you will need to turn it up.

Step Six: Edit your spotlight Turn off the shadows, as it kind of defeats the purpose of this tutorial & change your channel lighting from channel 0 to channel 1. This allows the lighting to be more direct on your MC's face.

Step Seven: Attach your light to the camera You can do this by clicking that little camera icon that the arrow is coming from that I totally forgot to circle. Make sure your camera is on when you do this so you don't accidentally control your mc instead of the camera. Then, position the light directly on your MC's face as needed. If you would like more of these spotlights, simply hit the copy button that's right next to the camera button and also move those to the MC's face as needed.

Before & After:

In different lighting: (With auto exposure off. In this lighting, the surrounding is too dark and with the setting I had it on, the auto exposure will turn the screen white. Though you can adjust it to make it work if needed)

Conjurables:

Book set by @/ominouscorridors (instagram)

Sebastian's Wand by irondalepilfererniffler (instagram)

MEME from 'that 70s show' lmao:

By the time I shoved open the locker room door, our first Chaser, Luca Bellandi, was already standing on a bench.

“Today,” he announced dramatically, pointing at what he thought was his audience, “we prove once and for all that Hufflepuff is the superior house.”

A boot flew through the air, slamming into the wall behind him. I was pretty sure Althea Moonlace missed on purpose. Bellandi barely ducked out of the way.

“Get down before I throw the other one,” Moonlace barked.

Bellandi grinned. “Captain, your faith in me is inspiring.”

“My faith in you lot is nonexistent, seeing you joke around when we have one of the hardest games of the year. The younger Nott will be playing as their Seeker today.”

So Silas was actually letting Felix play for once. It was about time. He’s their best.

Not that I’d ever tell him. Or my team.

But my team didn’t need a reminder that this was going to be difficult.

Orpheus Kerr, our second Chaser, looked like he was attending a funeral. Or planning one. 

His jaw ticked as he stared at the floor. The guy looked ready to murder our opponents with his bare hands, as if we’d already lost the game. Man, have a little faith in us.

Our third Chaser didn’t look much better, though there was less violence in the way he tightened the straps on his gloves. Not yet, at least. 

Soren Falkner was a contradiction I didn’t know what to do with. Calm and composed even when I told him his Potions looked like utter rubbish, but on the field?

Man went nuts.

The somersaults he pulled off when enemies sent Bludger after Bludger his way made me question whether he had secretly been trained by tightrope walkers.

Liam Calloway appeared out of nowhere, startling me slightly, carrying enough food to feed an army. One could think he was our personal cook when he should really have my back as the second Beater on the field.

“Eat.” 

I looked at the sandwich being shoved into my hands. “I’m not hungry.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ve said that every practice for three weeks.” 

“And?”

“And you’re eating the sandwich.”

I opened my mouth to argue. He pushed the sandwich against my face anyways.

“Eat.”

I took a bite and Calloway nodded with satisfaction before immediately moving on to terrorize someone else.

The fucker still didn’t know I was allergic to nuts, and thank the gods above he hadn’t put any into his vile creation this time. I had to fake diarrhea the last time he force-fed me. Didn’t want to hurt the asshole’s feelings.

Lupin Engel was still half asleep in the corner. His broom rested across his knees while his eyes remained closed.

“Is he sleeping?” Bellandi asked.

“Probably,” Kerr answered.

“We start in ten minutes.”

“Then he’s power napping.” 

Engel raised one thumb without opening his eyes. Our Seeker was fucking nuts.

Moonlace clapped her hands once, and everyone immediately shut the fuck up. Our captain barely reached most of our chests, but somehow managed to be more terrifying than facing Scribner after returning a book a day late. I called that the Althea Effect.

“If you’re done acting like idiots,” she said.

Bellandi raised a hand. Althea shot him down with a single look. Hot.

“We’ve practiced for this match all month. Falkner. Bellandi. Keep the Quaffle moving. Don’t let Slytherin pin you against the hoops.” The two Chasers nodded.

“Kerr.” His eyes lifted. “Try not to kill anyone.”

“No promises.”

“Wonderful.” Her voice suggested it was, in fact, the exact opposite of wonderful.

“Calloway. Brooks.” Her commanding voice startled both of us. “Protect Engel.”

“We always do,” Liam said.

Not true. My goal was to launch as many Bludgers at Nott as possible. Both Notts, actually.

“Engel.” He actually opened one eye. “Catch the Snitch.”

The eye closed again. “Working on it.”

I snorted audibly. Working on it in his dreams. If I hadn’t seen him catch a fucking Snitch with half an arm hanging off after taking a Bludger hit from some Gryffindor bloke, I’d have assumed he’d won his position in a lottery. The bastard was absurdly good. Which somehow made the whole sleeping thing even more annoying. The fucker looked half-dead in a patch of sunlight all day, only to suddenly wake up and bring you a bird twice his size. Hopefully, he’d bring us a small golden bird today.

Normally, I’d have bet my entire savings pouch on Lupin catching the Snitch before the opposing Seeker even knew it was there.

But would he be better than Felix?

Silas had benched him until now. Whether it was because he didn’t trust his little brother not to show off and lose them the match, or because he was secretly holding back a weapon, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Based on previous antics between the two of us though, I was willing to bet it was the latter.

If Silas chose to unleash the pup on the field today, we were in for a hell of a ride.

We flew together from time to time, whether it was to blow off steam after a particularly demanding Potions class with Sharp or because we needed a Butterbeer from Hogsmeade on a Friday night.

Half the time, he looked less like he was flying and more like he was falling in exactly the right direction.

The first time I’d seen him pull out of a dive, I was fairly certain he’d die.

The second time, I was fairly certain he was showing off for the purple-eyed witch watching our late-night training session.

The third time, I’d realized he was just insane.

Unfortunately, insanity worked surprisingly well in Quidditch.

A towel hit me square in the face. I pulled it off and found myself staring into Althea’s cerulean eyes.

“Focus, Brooks.”

“I am focused.”

“Your hair’s purple. You’re clearly not.”

Right. Grey was for focus. Purple was for… whatever.

Luca nearly fell off the bench laughing. Unfortunately for him, Althea’s attention immediately shifted.

“You.” He straightened so fast I thought he’d pulled a muscle.

“If you miss an open goal again, I’m making you run laps until those arms are too tired for all your dramatic gesturing.”

His expression turned horrified. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

“That’s cruel. I’ve already been doing extra training sessions.”

“That’s Quidditch.”

Calloway patted his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’ve only missed six this week.”

Bellandi looked genuinely betrayed.

The locker room erupted into laughter.

Even Kerr smirked. Just a little.

Falkner shook his head, though I caught the corner of his mouth twitching as he tightened his gloves one last time.

For all her threats and thrown footwear, Althea was smiling too. Tiny. Barely noticeable. But it was there. She believed we’d win.

Not because she thought Slytherin was weak. Not because she was delusional. Because she believed in us.

In Luca, who couldn’t stop talking. In Liam, who mothered half the bloody team. In Soren, who flew like a man possessed whenever a Quaffle was involved. In Orpheus, who looked like he wanted to start a fistfight before every match but somehow always kept his head in the game. In Lupin, who was probably asleep again.

And, somehow, in me. 

Looking around the room, I realized I did too.

I wouldn’t call them friends. That sounded far too sentimental. But if someone else called them my friends, I probably wouldn’t argue. Most of the time, the fuckers were pretty decent company.

Then Althea opened the door. The roar of the crowd crashed into the room as her gaze swept over each one us one last time. 

“Let’s try not to embarrass ourselves.”

Coming from our captain, that was practically a heartfelt speech.

And useless. 

The game went to shit remarkably fast.

Not immediately. For the first few minutes I was still foolish enough to believe we stood a chance, foolish enough to think that maybe today would be the day Slytherin got knocked off their throne, but that illusion lasted exactly until Silas Nott sent a Bludger at my head hard enough to make me see my ancestors.

From that point onward, the match became deeply personal.

Which was unfortunate for the rest of my team because I spent the next hour returning the favor with religious devotion.

I vaguely remember Althea shouting strategies at us from somewhere across the pitch. I vaguely remember Bellandi scoring at least once. Maybe twice. Honestly, I couldn’t tell. 

My entire world had narrowed down to one objective: Make Silas Nott miserable. The bastard seemed to share that goal.

We spent so much time trying to murder each other with Bludgers that I’m fairly certain we forgot there was an actual Quidditch match happening around us.

Every time I sent one his way, he knocked it back.

Every time he sent one mine, I returned the gesture.

At one point we nearly collided midair while both trying to redirect the same Bludger and exchanged insults that would’ve earned us detention if any professor had been close enough to hear them.

Much to my dismay, Silas was annoyingly good. To make matters worse, so was the rest of his team.

Whenever I managed to tear my attention away from my ongoing blood feud, I caught glimpses of the disaster unfolding around us.

Calloway was having the worst day of his life trying to keep Sebastian Sallow occupied. Every time he successfully drove away one Bludger, Sallow somehow had another one flying toward our Chasers before Liam could even catch his breath. 

Falkner, meanwhile, was performing miracles.

The bastard flew through defenders as if they were little more than inconvenient weather, sending Quaffle after Quaffle toward the hoops with a precision that should’ve earned him a personal apology from every single one of us.

Unfortunately for Soren, Slytherin’s Keeper was an absolute menace.

I watched shot after shot get denied by fingertips, broom handles, knees, elbows and, at one particularly insulting moment, what appeared to be divine intervention.

Arthur Montgomery couldn’t possibly have been that good.The fact that he clearly was only made it worse.

Kerr looked one missed goal away from committing an actual crime, Bellandi‘s grin had long since disappeared, and somewhere behind us Althea was probably reconsidering every life choice that had led her to captain this team.

Rei was watching. 

There she was, seated between Larissa Shelby and Ominis Gaunt, seemingly narrating the game to both of them with equal excitement, her amethyst eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun whenever something on the pitch caught her attention.

Or someone.

She wasn’t wearing yellow.

But at least she wasn’t wearing green either.

True to herself, she’d refused to wear anything green outside the classroom, so she’d charmed her clothes purple once again. The color caught every stray ray of sunlight, making her stand out even amongst a sea of silver and emerald.

Even seated in the Slytherin bleachers, obviously there to cheer for Felix, she still looked entirely, stubbornly like herself.

A small victory. Pathetic that I’d count it as one, but I’d take what I could get.

A flash of yellow caught my eye just in time to see a Bludger slam into Calloway‘s ribs with enough force to send him clean off his broom.

Liam folded instantly, disappearing into open air while the Hufflepuff stands erupted in horrified shouting. Madam Kogawa‘s whistle rang across the pitch, but before I could spare the situation another thought, a Bludger screamed past my ear.

Fuckass Nott.

I jerked my broom sideways, narrowly avoiding the shot, and whatever concern I’d had for Calloway was immediately replaced by the considerably more urgent problem of Silas Nott trying to cave my skull in.

Then there was Felix.

Silas hadn’t unleashed a Seeker. He’d unleashed a golden retriever with absolutely no regard for his own safety.

Felix dove after the Snitch with the enthusiasm of a man chasing a thrown stick, throwing himself into turns that should have snapped his broom in half and pulling out of dives so late that half the audience screamed before he casually recovered and kept going.

He shot past me with that stupid, wide puppy grin of his.

“TRY ME, GRANDAD!”

Fucker.

Grey bled through my hair, the color of focus. I was very focused right now. Not distracted in the slightest by Rei. Or him. 

Not by the way his laugh carried over the pitch even with the crowd roaring around us. Not by the sunlight catching on the edges of his honey brown hair.

I was about to send a Bludger straight into his sinfully carved mouth when his fuckass brother blocked it again and scored in the same movement.

Of course he did.

Slytherin was on fire. Not literally, sadly. Also not like my hair, where angry red had already started creeping through the tips. But they were absolutely beating our asses.

We were about to lose.

Even Engels, with all his catlike grace, couldn’t keep up with Felix today. Not with his brother feeding him perfect opportunities. Not with half the school screaming his name from the stands.

Especially not today, when his girl was watching.

His girl.

Apparently, he and Rei now were a thing. At least, that’s what everyone kept saying.

We were so far behind now that even the Snitch couldn’t save us. A victory on the scoreboard was gone.

A victory in the war Felix and I had been fighting ever since we’d both crashed into the same purple-eyed witch in the library?

That one was still up for grabs.

I shot toward the Slytherin stands before the match had even properly settled, ignoring the eruption of cheers around me.

“Nott! Nott! Nott!”

Of course the bastard had caught the Snitch.

Fine.

I’d catch his girl instead.

I landed in front of Reika and forced my hair purple. Her favorite color.

“A little cheering up for the loser?” I asked.

Her smile appeared instantly. Gods, that smile.

“Oh, don’t feel bad. You played great.”

“Not as great as you look today.”

The blush that spread across her cheeks did ridiculous things to my stomach.

Unfortunately, I knew that grin on Larissa Shelby’s face. Knew the arch of Ominis Gaunt’s eyebrow. Felix was already on his way over.

I leaned in just a little closer… 

Then he pulled up beside us, balancing lazily on his broom with the Snitch dangling from one hand. His robes were a mess. His hair was worse. There was a scratch on his cheek he probably hadn’t even noticed.

My eyes caught on it anyway.

“You could’ve just said hello,” I said. “No need for the theatrics.”

“I am saying hello,” he answered, not even sparing me a glance.

Oh, he was absolutely getting punched later.

Rei’s blush deepened. Her eyes flicked to him. Then back to me. For a brief second, I caught something that looked suspiciously like apology there. Then she looked back at Felix. 

Always back at Felix.

“You know, you could’ve just asked for my attention,” she said to him when I am literally standing right here asking.

“I did,” Felix said, lifting the Snitch. “Loudly.”

You did not, shithead.

“Asking someone usually involves a question.”

Smart girl.

“Rules? From you? At a time like this?”

Yes. Keep talking. Keep digging your own grave. 

“Felix.”

The warning in her voice should’ve worried him. Instead, it made him grin.

“Right. Question. Can I kiss you, or do I have to keep dangling here until gravity finally makes me clever?”

Reika laughed. The kind of laugh people only gave someone they already belonged to.

I didn’t stay to watch what happened next and I ignored the part of me that wasn’t sure which one of them I couldn’t bear to look at.

The walk back to my teammates was miserable.

Getting your ass handed to you in front of the entire school was one thing. Getting your ass handed to you while your best friend caught the Snitch, got the girl, and somehow managed to look annoyingly handsome while doing both was quite another. The lecture we were about to get from our captain suddenly seemed like the least of my problems.

The locker room was unusually quiet when I stepped inside.

Kerr sat on a bench, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor with such murderous intensity that I briefly wondered whether the Daily Prophet would report a sudden decline in the local poacher population tomorrow. ‚Blowing off some steam‘, as he’d call it.

Across from him, Falkner was stripping off his gloves with precise, deliberate movements. Calm. Far too calm. Only his eyes betrayed him, sharp and stormy as they stared at nothing in particular. He lasted another ten seconds. Then he stood so abruptly that the bench scraped against the floor and stormed out of the locker room without a single word. Nobody stopped him. Nobody was stupid enough to.

Bellandi opened his mouth. Closed it again. A rare occurrence.

“Right,” he announced then. “On the bright side, at least nobody died.”

“Yet,” Kerr added.

Bellandi‘s smile widened. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Where’s Calloway?” I asked, finally noticing the absence of our second Beater.

“He got taken to the infirmary.” Althea entered last.

The room immediately straightened. Even after a loss. Especially after a loss.

“Because you were too distracted to watch his back,” she shot, ice-fire eyes burning into mine.

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” She stepped closer. “You spent half the match watching the Slytherin stands or chasing their Seeker.”

“I was doing my job.”

“You were obsessing over Nott.”

“He was a threat.”

“So was the Bludger that sent Calloway to the infirmary.” That one landed.

“Everyone out,” she then proclaimed, and not even Jobberknolls could’ve moved faster than my teammates.

Well, except for Engel, who already looked like he was waking up from an inconvenient nap rather than losing the fuckass match of the year.

“Not you, Brooks.”

I was in trouble.

The door clicked shut behind the others.

“You weren’t watching your team.”

I was in big trouble.

“I wasn’t distracted.”

Althea let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Your hair was purple before kickoff.”

Right. That.

“You spent half the match staring at the stands.”

“I was watching the game.”

“You were watching people in the game.”

“I was not.”

“Calloway ended up in the infirmary.”

I didn’t have an answer to that because I already felt fucking awful about it.

Because she was right. It was my fault.

My fucking fault that I’d been distracted by purple eyes in the bleachers while searching the pitch for green ones weaving around me.

But I wasn’t about to admit that.

Because acknowledging that she was right would mean acknowledging why she’d been right in the first place, and I wasn’t touching that particular problem with a ten-foot broomstick.

“Want to see what a real distraction looks like?” I asked. Deflection. My oldest and most reliable strategy.

“Try me.” Somehow, it worked.

That was all the invitation I needed.

I closed the distance between us, caught her by the waist, and kissed her before either of us could say something we’d regret.

The moment my brain caught up with what I was doing, I realized I was completely and utterly fucked.

For one, I was currently making out with our captain in a locker room where anyone could walk in, and Hogwarts gossip spread faster than dragon pox.

For another, as soon as my eyes closed, my brain insisted on supplying the wrong faces.

A purple-eyed artist.

A green-eyed seeker.