48 Results in the "Forging The Flame" category
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Harry didn’t hear the goblin at first. His eyes were on the wall. Not looking at it. Just… stuck. It was cold and cracked and probably hadn’t been scrubbed since the first goblin war, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t look away. His brain just refused to go anywhere else. It had been a long day. Long enough that his skull felt full. Not pain exactly. Just pressure, like something inside was bracing for impact. And all of it, somehow, came back to Richard. Sirius told him through the…
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241.7 K • Ongoing
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The campsite was alive with activity as wizards from across the globe prepared for the Quidditch World Cup. Everywhere Harry looked, he saw enchanted tents sporting the colors and banners of rival teams, magical cooking fires, and witches and wizards chatting animatedly in dozens of languages. “This is brilliant,” Ron said, his eyes wide as he turned to take it all in. They followed Mr. Weasley through the winding pathways of the campsite, dodging excited children chasing enchanted Quaffles and…
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241.7 K • Ongoing
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Harry dropped into his seat at the table, tossing his bag onto the floor. Hermione was scribbling away at her Arithmancy homework, barely looking up, while Ron glared at his Transfiguration parchment. Ron glanced up as Harry pulled out his Transfiguration book and the half-filled roll of parchment he’d started earlier. “So… what was that about? Why were you talking to Greengrass?” “Snape’s project,” Harry said, uncapping his inkpot. “We’ve got to pitch our idea by Monday, remember?…
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241.7 K • Ongoing
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"You ate all of it," Harry said. "You ate four pieces." Daphne hadn't turned from the dance floor. "I had two." "There were six?" "I counted." The hall was thinning. Half the tables empty, ties undone, shoes kicked under chairs, and the Weird Sisters playing something slow that nobody was listening to anymore. Ron and Padma were still out there, Ron's jacket slung over one shoulder and his sleeves rolled up, moving in something that was almost a dance. Hermione sat at the next table with Lucien…
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241.7 K • Ongoing
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Harry opened his eyes to the gray light of Sunday morning and reached for his wand without thinking. “Tempus.” The numbers hovered in the air, neat and blue. 9:37. That left him just over an hour before he needed to be in McGonagall’s office. The meeting with Andromeda was at eleven sharp. He sat up, rubbed at his eyes, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The showers were blessedly empty. He let the water run hot as he brushed his teeth, half-listening to the tap and trying to guess what…
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241.7 K • Ongoing
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