Harry Potter Blood Quills Cho

People keep on saying that Harry only resembles James in looks and not grapheme. But umm.. DID Yous Run into THIS PASSAGE?!

I'm re-reading OOTP and when I tell y'all I laughed And so HARD.

This Accented DORK was well-nigh to show his TORTURE SCARS THAT HE HAD FROM UMBRIDGE AND WAS VERY FURIOUS ABOUT to his beat out (Cho Chang) so he could prove her point of him being dauntless so he could grab her attention. I mean at least James showed off past playing the snitch and ruffling his hair. However Harry idea it was completely appropriate to bear witness, and I quote "accidentally-on-purpose", his scared hand to Cho while he helped her.

DON'T TELL ME THIS Child IS NOT WORSE THAN HIS FATHER WHEN IT COMES TO CRUSHES AND SHOWING OFF. WHO'Due south TEACHING THEM HOW TO FLIRT😭💀

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fanfic snippet - fifth yr, blood quill au

classic harry is actually snapes kid and lily tried to cover it upwardly, just kinda snape's mindset i gauge as he realizes and hates himself for basically doing naught because he and lily are both kinda bad parents in this

Severus didn't think Lily would have told him. If she had lived—even if she'd come up around over again, even if she'd been able to grow upward a niggling, reflect a little—he all the same understood why she would have kept up her ruse. In fact, information technology was probable she would have tried to solidify her deception every bit she came into her power and discovered more means to manipulate her Magic. And while he was wounded by it, he could see her view, too. When information technology came down to it, she had called her son above everything. She had finally establish in her life the one person who meant more than her own, and she'd been true to her conviction. Severus's feelings were hardly a consideration.

He'd wondered one time. You meliorate pray it isn't yours, she'd warned him. They said a lot of terrible things and so, arguing under her sleeping accommodation window 1 rainy spring nighttime. Her married man had been snoring merely above them, and she'd come up out in his robe, hair falling out of a braid, every word out of her sharp little mouth meant to cut him.

Everything was falling autonomously then. It seemed that whenever Lily was about, the earth was burning in the background.

But then, she died. And it was his error. And the globe stopped called-for, but he hated it, and he wished that he could set up it on burn once again, fifty-fifty if it destroyed his soul to do and then. He had loved her—of course he had loved her—but he had known her, likewise. He'd been furious with her. He hadn't forgiven her, and she hadn't forgiven him.

Even then, he couldn't imagine a future where they were happy and settled. He'd hoped she'd divorce Potter, of class—take a good portion of his money, maybe fuck off to France or Greece or wherever barbarous divorcées went lurking—but he imagined at that place would take been others, and he would take been only a correspondent, an old friend. She would have asked favors of him, and he would have obliged. They might have had some new schemes. Maybe they would have published something together, or vacationed somewhere exotic. There would have been other arguments, virtually picayune, some serious. He'd called it best friends. She'd called information technology soulmates.

Dumbledore didn't understand information technology, and neither had the Night Lord. It wasn't like he had the ways to explain information technology, what Lily had been to him, and why they'd always been destined to injure each other, over and over once more.

(And now he'd equally adept as killed her. It would take been amend if she'd killed him.)

Then her son came to Hogwarts, after Dumbledore had kept him subconscious away for a decade, and Severus saw that Lily's hopes had come up true. The boy had a disturbing likeness to James Potter, as well as an bent for flying and causing mayhem. He was foolish, big-headed, and unconcerned with rules or the plight of others. Severus wasn't sure if Lily would have been much of a disciplinarian, merely he liked to think that even she would accept lost her encarmine listen when her son stole a car with his idiot friend and flew it from London directly into the Whomping Willow.

More chiefly, however, Potter was apparently able to access the Potter accounts, because he did not take a scholarship to attend Hogwarts. Severus had no personal knowledge of the Potter accounts other than the general cognition that Pureblood families protected their vaults from usurping bastards. While the Potters hadn't been Malfoys or Blacks, they'd had a comfortable place in Wizarding United kingdom for quite a while, and it would exist ridiculous to think that they wouldn't have the aforementioned basic protections in place.

Oh—but he should have known Lily. She was no Slytherin, only she was from Cokeworth, just the aforementioned. She had the same greedy await in her eyes that her sister had had; she had the aforementioned hunger, the aforementioned desperation, when they walked past the pretty houses on the other side of boondocks. Petunia went and got hers—settled for lower middle course. Lily had been all up in arms nearly it. At the fourth dimension, her sister had only kicked her out of their parents' quondam house, and Lily had been homeless for almost a week before Severus tried to smuggle her into his parents' house.

(That hadn't gone well. Eileen hated her so much that she kicked them both out. They ended upward living in a car, and so a shelter the next town over, earlier they had a nasty row about his involvement with the Night Lord; Severus crashed at Mulciber'due south and Lily stormed off into the night.)

He should have known that she would take been figuring out how to pull a fast one on Purebloods at their own game. Severus had e'er wanted to belong to Wizarding society, and while Lily had for a time, too, she hadn't quite cared enough virtually belonging so much as bettering herself, or at least elevating herself higher up others. She was a woman with a vision to a higher place all other things, and she couldn't stand anyone looking down on her. She couldn't stand the Dark Lord, and for a long time, she couldn't stand up James Potter, either. She hadn't minded shagging him, though. She'd had an entire nausea-inducing teenaged relationship with him their Seventh Year.

Now, he could look back and guess at her thinking: there was a war on, and while she'd been reluctant to support Dumbledore's post-obit directly considering she saw it equally Pureblood faction versus Pureblood faction, it was easy to cull the faction that wanted her; she had no money of her ain, Wizard or Muggle, and she'd been practically homeless in a dying boondocks; James Potter had desired her, and did desire her, and had both money and protection to spare; and, if she stuck it out with James Potter, she'd have a comfy life, more wealth than her family had e'er known, and a better-looking married man than her sis.

And, of course, nigh importantly: if her child was a Potter, her child would want for cipher. They would be a One-half-Blood of order. They wouldn't have to e'er know Cokeworth, or living in cars, or digging through rubbish bins.

Severus couldn't take offered her anything at the time. He had a few reservations nigh the Nighttime Lord's crusade, but he hadn't permit himself realize it just yet. He would take ruined them. He would accept concluded up in Azkaban, and Lily would accept had nothing over again. She would take hated him for it. She might have broken him out. She would have gone out to shag Potter in the middle of the night and ditched him and come back all over again, unless she ended up in Azkaban, which would have been a real possibility. He might have tried to live with Mulciber once more.

He should have guessed, only he hadn't, because it felt ridiculously like wishful thinking. He didn't even want a child. He'd never imagined himself equally a father. Lily had wanted children, sure, but not for any damn good reason. He didn't want a child with her. But he had wondered, until he forcefully didn't allow himself to wonder, because all the evidence was right at that place, right at the surface.

Potter was in his function, looking worse than usual. He looked worse because the surface was finally unravelling, thanks to that woman and, presumably, a Blood Quill. They were supposed to be in the middle of some farce of an Occlumency lesson, but instead Severus was having him dunk his hand in a far superior ointment than whatever Granger had managed. He was outraged as to why Potter and his picayune friends hadn't seen information technology important to mention to Minerva or, well, anyone, that she was using an illegal Dark object on encarmine children—merely then he'd been studying the rough scarring around I must not tell lies. Oh, it was permanent—Potter was cursed with information technology forever. Even one time it technically healed, it might pain him throughout his life. Depending on his ain intention when writing the lines, he may find it difficult to lie. Claret Quills appeared to be a simple sort of Magic, and in a way, they were. And it would take been then for the male child, if someone hadn't attempted like Magic on him before.

At first, Severus wasn't sure what he was seeing. He thought that Potter just had freakish veins or an aberrant peel pattern on the back of his hand. It was difficult to come across anyway with the fresh scarring. The skin was tender, deeply bruised. Potter was tense anyhow—neither liked nor trusted the other—and didn't like Severus handling his wound. Severus didn't like handling it, either. He didn't like information technology when it finally registered that he was looking at Runes. Runes someone had carved into Potter.

He didn't believe information technology. Potter tried to pull his manus away, but he saw Severus's expression and was suddenly deeply interested in his own hand. He didn't know what they were—the idiot boy had chosen Divination instead of any useful elective—merely now that he was close, Severus could run into more than. He had long known that the scar resembled Sig roughly, but at present he wondered if the Dark Lord's curse had merely brought role of a Rune Sequence to the surface. Every bit it was, the Magic was holding quite well, and the forehead scar was great and alone. There was a suspicious patch of irritated peel near his neckband, however, and creeping from his other hand and around his wrist. The skin there, other than being faintly scarred by various, meticulously cut Runes, was noticeably paler than the residuum of him.

Potter idea Umbridge had simply cursed him. Severus barely had any evidence, but his heed had already leapt in 1 management to the finish without his permission. Lily had carved up her ain son, he thought. As much as he detested James Potter and could notice no shortage of character failings in the homo, he couldn't imagine that he could have justified doing such a affair to his own son. Maybe Dumbledore had, and perhaps information technology was the protection he'd mentioned—and Severus knew that Dumbledore could practice just nearly anything with the right justification, but his mind kept going back to Lily. Of course Lily had done information technology. Lily would accept had a background from her schooling. She would have had the motive—just, which motive? Information technology ate at him. Y'all improve pray it isn't yours. She would have had the unwavering conventionalities in her own morality—in her plans, in her dreams, in her fear—to do it to the boy for whom she would dice.

Runes could exist fickle, but if she'd had the confidence, they would have lasted his life. They nevertheless might—but the Blood Quill had damaged her work severely, and Severus wasn't sure if healing the new scars would ultimately weaken or strengthen them.

Possibly information technology'd only been a protection—a precursor to the Blood Magic. A drastic back-up.

(Perhaps the discoloring in the boy'due south hands was simply due to the clashing of Dark Magic. Perchance information technology had nothing to practice with what he feared it might mean.)

He wondered if he should say anything. He was horrified and angry all over again. If it was exactly as he thought, he didn't think he could forgive Lily for it, no matter her reasons or intentions. Potter was watching him, sensing that something else was off, but he dismissed the boy before he could give anything abroad.

Maybe it was just the Blood Quill and the Dark Lord's curse—nix to do with Lily at all. He tried to tell himself that, anyway. Dark Magic would react unpredictably to other Dark Magic. Potter was the simply known survivor of the Killing Curse; information technology was likely that there were side effects that no one had been able to study before. When would Lily even accept had time to carve a Sequence into her son'south body? Wouldn't her hubby have noticed? Information technology was cool.

(Shouldn't her husband accept noticed she was manifestly in communication with him? Shouldn't Dumbledore accept noticed, that Lily obviously had some tie to the Dark Lord'south followers? Shouldn't anyone have noticed that she was a bloody liar and a thief and loyal to no one simply herself, brazen and unsafe and cruel—that she was so close to destroying them all, and saving them all—that fifty-fifty if she loved them, as true every bit she could, she would have turned her back on them the moment she believed in a new greater good?)

Severus told Minerva about the Claret Quill. Simply information technology didn't really matter, because Umbridge was two steps ahead, and suddenly the damned thing was allowed past some inane loophole that only fabricated him want to strangle her more than.

Potter wore protective gloves in Potions. Simply in the next Occlumency lesson—and it was an actual lesson, though a near-fruitless one—Severus could see that while the paw was healing, the Sequence was weakening. Both of his arms were considerably paler up to at least his elbows—Severus could not tell as that was just every bit far equally Potter had rolled up his sleeves—and the ghostly lines of a few could be seen from beyond the room. His confront still looked the same, but there was something thinning there. There would be moments that Severus could almost see any was underneath. It was about to go out of paw. He wasn't sure how to subtly suggest he effigy out how to bloody Glamour himself to normal, lest they all come to the unsettling discovery that would probably ruin everything.

Severus'south position was precarious enough as it was. He didn't really have a plan for after…whatever was nigh to happen. Dumbledore had some sort of program, though Severus had never been allowed all of the details. However, he was fairly certain that the boy would get to play hero and presume the life of whatsoever politically important Magician. Minerva said the male child wanted to exist an Auror—which was, honestly, the worst joke Severus had ever heard in his life—but whether he went downwardly that route or non, he would have the ways to go down it solitary. It would be meliorate if Lily's secret remained with her, or and then he told himself.

He wasn't meant to be a father. He wasn't fit to exist a father. Potter would never accept him as a father. He had Blackness, anyway, even if he was inappreciably more than a teenager in his listen. He didn't demand Severus, so there was no reason to piss off Dumbledore and the Order and everyone with the fact that he'd royally fucked up for the umpteenth time in his miserable life.

Over the next few weeks, it simply got worse. Everything at Hogwarts was technically getting worse—just it was to the point that Severus was paranoid that any twenty-four hours now, the Magic would have completely worn off, and Potter would know. And then—he locked upwardly a very specific part of him deep under his Shields, and chose only to think of applied matters—Potter'south shitty grip of Occlumency would atomic number 82 to the Dark Lord finding out, which would atomic number 82 to either his death or something worse, then Dumbledore would be out a spy. Minerva was fifty-fifty starting to notice. She thought he was sick from the Claret Quill.

It was very slight, but his face was eventually starting to change. Information technology looked more like he'd simply stretched out from babyhood into adolescence, merely it was yet off to anyone who regularly saw Potter. He still had Lily's eyes, and even her olfactory organ and her cheekbones—simply his entire face had seemed to narrow, and at that place was an added thickness to his forehead. With the glasses and his unkempt hair, he did still appear every bit James Potter to the untrained eye.

Potter must have finally talked to Granger properly and come up with his own far-fetched conclusions. Severus didn't know whether to be insulted or express mirth with relief when he mustered up the courage at the end of their abysmal Occlumency lesson to ask if he, by any adventure, knew if his mother had 'dated Sirius or something, I dunno, I but thought since you were in school at the same time—'

Plainly, the boy didn't want to accuse his runaway godfather outright—but that would, naturally, accept been his first guess—and hope—anyway. Severus was adequately certain that Lily had always despised Sirius to the core, only that hadn't stopped her in the past. He may accept been seeing Lily more and more in the boy, but as he sabbatum there and contemplated what kind of answer he could even give him, he thought that he really looked quite a bit similar Eileen.

Severus looked at Potter, and he knew that Potter knew he understood the reason behind the question.

He was near to tell Potter to simply enquire Black himself. Who knew—maybe she had had a little affair with him on her fashion to her shortlyhoped-for-husband, and it would be a convenient explanation for everyone. In fact, peradventure it would somehow be truthful.

(But information technology wasn't. Severus loathed that he knew, that he was cursed with the knowledge that Lily didn't fifty-fifty desire him to have in the first place, or she would take told him—)

(Y'all better pray it isn't yours.)

Just if Potter asked Black and Black denied it, because, really, had Lily gone to him, the male child who'd just been disowned and was living off of the Potters?—if Black denied it, which was likely, that would spur a lot of questions that could be damning down the route. If Lily had kept any written tape of her grand Rune experiment, or at least notes equally she tried to plan it out, there might be some sort of investigation. What had Lily told anyone nigh where she'd been before she went to James Potter, anyway?

He looked at Potter, and he felt guilt. The boy but wanted the truth. He didn't know nevertheless that he was going to absolutely detest information technology, and probably wish he wasn't born—but he'd been nosy since he first showed upwards to Hogwarts, his aunt'due south influence, no doubt. He'd never known what having a male parent was like, then now that he might take one, he wanted it. He had no idea what sons and fathers were really similar. He didn't know yet that information technology was e'er disappointing. Always. If James Potter had lived, he would have been disappointed with him, too.

He looked at Potter, and he hated himself. The boy had Blackness. The boy had Petunia, and—based on the half-glimpses of his memories in his heed—that had not turned out well at all, for either of them. The boy was being shaped upwardly to be the perfect tool for Dumbledore to wield in the war. If Lily was in that location—well, he wasn't sure what she would have washed. She wouldn't accept immune for whatsoever of this to happen. She died for him—so if she had lived, Severus imagined she would have done everything short of impossible for him. He had never really seen Lily every bit devoted, merely he could imagine information technology. But if Lily was at that place, what would she take expected from him?

She wasn't there—so what was expected of him? Who was he supposed to be to the male child?

She didn't engagement Black, was all he said. Potter looked vaguely disappointed, but non surprised.

Yes, I figured. He might know, though. I guess I could ever ask Aunt Petunia…

Ah. Of course. Probably the most obvious and terrible person Potter could actually ask. The i person who was aware—somewhat—of everything that'd gone on, for years. Perhaps Petunia even knew. They'd hardly been shut, only in that location were times that the sisters resumed speaking after an extended flow of stony silence. Perhaps Lily had talked to her again shortly before her death, and revealed all—or, but enough details that Petunia could slice it together herself.

Potter, he said suddenly, because really, he couldn't allow this happen. This was ridiculous. This was cowardice. Lily never should have done it—he shouldn't have tried to ignore it—now there was a perfectly fucked up child who was nearly to be a lot more fucked upward than usual and it was all his mistake—

Potter, he said once again, and Potter looked at him with a sort of openness that was unusual for him, which actually made everything all that much worse. It would be better if he just hated him, if he never trusted him, not fifty-fifty a little bit. I would propose yous non to investigate this matter. Your mind is not still protected from the Dark Lord. He may use this information against you.

He'll absolutely kill both of us, he didn't say.

I'thou sorry, he didn't say.

But Potter, for in one case, seemed to swallow his communication with gravity information technology did not deserve, and left his office.

God, Severus hated himself. He hated Umbridge and her stupid Blood Quill. He hated Black. He hated the whole Order. He hated Lily and at the same fourth dimension he didn't. Somehow, he didn't hate the male child. He knew that he had once, and he had to know that about himself, now. But his father had hated him, so really, what was the difference?

You better pray—

But he hadn't.

The earth hadn't felt like it was burning a long while, simply he was starting to wonder if Lily had managed it from Hell—or wherever she was. She hadn't really been the religious sort, and neither had he. But wherever she was, information technology probably wouldn't exist long until he joined her in that location.

The boy was equally skillful as lone. (God, he had fucked up.) Lily had probably been wrong from the outset, simply Severus was already so far downwardly the path he didn't think it would be possible to plough effectually.

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I grew up under like circumstances as Harry and after rereading the books this year I noticed how in OoTP Harry tries to hibernate his "I-must-not-tell-lies" scar from Ron and Hermione even though he had no reason to, merely it made me realize how deeply rooted his trauma from beingness abused by the Dursleys truly was. Because of my trauma I too tend to hibernate when I've been injured or when something negative has happened because my entire life I was treated similar a burden and to complain but meant further disturbance of those around me. With Harry, I feel that he hid the wound because he didn't want the feeling of bothering those around him since that would hateful that he was beingness burdensome and the only time he didn't feel that way was when he was helping another person rather than seeking out help or support himself.

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mankind&blood

tw: child abuse, claret, negative self talk (sort of), 12 grimmauld place, rich people

"Y'all'll do lines," Walburga said, arching one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Perchance that will teach y'all a lesson." Sirius'southward heart dropped into his tummy and he nodded woodenly. Regulus twitched abreast him, the slightest of flinches. "Kreacher!" she called, but Kreacher was already there, bowing and scraping. He must have been listening outside the door. "Take Sirius and Regulus to their schoolroom. Regulus will exercise l repetitions of 'I will not listen to Sirius' and Sirius will do one hundred repetitions of 'I am…" She paused, theatrically tapping one long, red fingernail against her mentum. "...worthless'." Kreacher never gloated quite so much when Regulus was existence punished alongside Sirius, then he ushered them both out of the room with minimal gloating, taking them to the parlor their tutors employed during the weekdays. Sirius risked a glance at Regulus as they sat down. He was staring at the dark wood of his desk, both easily apartment on the desk, staring at them. Sirius wondered where they'd exist writing lines. Kreacher snapped, and parchment appeared on the desks. Sirius'southward parchment was significantly longer than Regulus's, but he didn't mind. He'd rather practice lines than accept to watch his brother practice lines, similar Regulus would have to. A long, black quill was shoved into Sirius's mitt, and he blinked out of his thoughts, looking more closely at the parchment in forepart of him. At the elevation was I am worthless, in his mother's calligraphy. Below were lines. Sirius shot one terminal glance at Regulus, who quickly glanced away from Sirius and placed his own quill to the newspaper. Sirius did the same. The offset downstroke was always the worst, because you never knew where it would cut. Today the lines were on Sirius's chest. As he advisedly drew the letters, he felt his shirt begin to stick with claret and, judging by the pain accompanying the quill'southward movements, the words were upside down and would be easily readable when he was dressing. Walburga was thoughtful like that. I am worthless. I am worthless. I am worthless. A droplet of blood streaked downward Sirius's shirt and his muscles clenched. Sirius barely managed to stop the quill from jerking in his hand. Messing up fifty-fifty a unmarried letter might mean redoing it all. His breast was a throbbing muddle of pain. Beside him he could hear Regulus'due south labored breathing. Sirius swallowed and finished the sentence once more. He didn't let himself wait at the empty lines, just moving the quill across the page, long after Regulus had finished. A fiddling sob shook Sirius out of his focus, and his own breath hitched. "It'southward alright, Reggie," he muttered. "Nigh there." He had no thought how close he was to finished, but he had stopped being able to know where in the sentence he was based on the pain in his chest, so he must have done enough repetitions that the quill would cut no deeper. Sirius breathed, and claret soaked through his shirt.

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Blood Quills

Harry knew what these were and information technology infuriated him as the pink toad sat on the throne like chair.

Then Harry made use of his magic, silently casting a charm on every blood Quill in the room.

As Delores Umbitch started to fidget the students in the keen hall were relieved that their hurting had gone almost as soon as it started.

Delores didn't understand, why was she so sore, that's not right. It's the children that should be in hurting.

"Stop, Finish writing." Harry silently cast some other amuse, not allowing for anyone to end their blood Quill, even if they ran out of newspaper they'd write and rewrite.

Only when Delores started dripping claret did they empathise what was going on, someone tampered with the quills. They weren't cut them they were cutting the pinkish toad.

Shortly parchment was torn with the soggy blood and Umbridge vicious from the chair collapsing on the floor. Hopefully dead.

Harry allow the spells upwardly and grinned at the now red robes.

A professor was called and students interrogated.

No one knew what happened, i moment the quills were cutting into their pare and the next moment information technology stopped and they couldn't cease writing not until the Pinkish Toad roughshod to the flooring.

"Perhaps a mishap with her charms." Harry suggested.

"Yep, yes. There'due south not anyone here powerful enough to change them. She must accept messed up." Harry smirked as they levitated the encarmine corpse from the rooms and equally students went to Madam Pomfrey and so their ain cuts didn't scar.

"What did you do Harry?" The ginger twins blocked his way.

"What ever exercise you mean? Georgie, Freddo." Harry's cupped their faces and left, walking betwixt the two his hands abaft down their cheeks equally he dropped his artillery.

"You think it was him?"

"It was Freddie."

"He killed someone Georgie."

"I don't think he cares."

The ginger twins watched the raven-haired male child leave, caput high footstep confident and as that raven-haired male child walked through that hallway those he passed just knew.

They had seen the expressionless professor and seeing this boy they just knew. The light-green eyed wizard was responsible and no-one had whatever proof.

(This isn't particularly well written but its been sitting around for a while and I didn't want to post information technology to Wattpad or Ao3 and so I figured I'd shove it hither.)

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M-My lord? Await at Snape and P-Pol-Polaris. *Sees a sixteen yr one-time Polaris, who just got the marker with Draco, discussing whether or not the entirety of Slytherin House needs therapy after Umbridge. And her showing a scar that says "Bloodtraitor" on her hand from a blood quill. Snape is looking aroused that this happened. She is arguing that she doesn't demand therapy but that most of Slytherin does. He��s maxim she needs therapy ASAP earlier she focused on the remainder of Slytherin* -Rodolphus, worried

Well you lot are the adult, no? If you believe the daughter needs some sort of attention for her mental health, see to it. She could also encounter to her own handling, as she is clearly former enough to coordinate that of others, and take the Dark Mark.

I should say, however. The residue of Slytherin business firm is not your, nor her, problem. Umbridge was a vile adult female for many reasons, merely sometimes, I believe a blood quill is needed. Look at Polaris. Once she was a claret traitor, at present she bears the Marker. Perhaps I should send Delores a card.

But no, tell her non to concern herself with the rest of Slytherin. She cannot assistance everybody, that will just wear her down. It is all-time she learns that at present.

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Okay, let us list out all of our grievances against Umbridge. She canonically used her quill on more than people than Harry; equally seen past the time Lee Hashemite kingdom of jordan was given essence of Murtlap by Harry. She besides was prejudiced and she fabricated then many horrible and stupid rules at Hogwarts. She tried to Veritaserum Harry, and she used the Cruciatus on him. She lied near Harry and insulted the centaurs. She even got McGonagall injured. Not fifty-fifty mentioning her being head of the muggleborn registration commission or setting the dementors on Harry. Those are both horrible, simply she tortured Muggleborns for 'stealing' magic from purebloods, and when she was done with them, they were given the dementor'south kiss. I can probably retrieve of and then many other reasons to detest her, but those are the main ones. Information technology'due south why, in my stance, Umbridge is eviler than Voldemort. At least he didn't want to spill besides much magical claret! And he had redeeming qualities as a kid which made me sympathetic to him. Just that's a book and a half on its own. So, Umbridge is an evil, horrible bitch that makes united states of america Slytherins look horrible.

Edit: I take come upwards with a perfect name for her: Pinklores Toadbitch

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OK, so on a scale of 1(I hate her) to 10(I wanted her dead more than voldemort) rate how much you hated Dolores Umbridge considering I actually want to know how much yous hate her. I'yard obviously a 20.

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Season i Role 5: Ep. 25-32 (click for hq)

{Michael Distortion killed my family}

I did non, in fact, make my cocky-appointed borderline of finishing the s1 covers in time for the finale ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just it doesn't matter!

I'll exist making these covers til the (expert) cows come home (non the bad cows, never the bad cows)

Season i Part 4 Season one Role half dozen

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i've been attempting to kick and claw my way out of a bad brain by drawing something big and detailed, and fingers crossed today feels a tiny bit better then yesterday

can yous believe i drew all this because i wanted to see Azu swinging her axe 🤡😔

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I'1000 pitiful... The marauders are OLDER than Dolores Umbridge?!!

EXCUSE ME?!!

Delight- I can't imagine Harry smirking at Umbridge and her having a flashback about some cocky bitch at the twelvemonth above her😭😭

I CANT IMAGINE HER YOUNGER THAN SIRIUS AND REMUS IN OOTP

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Long time no TMA Art, but today is the day! I drew this for the @seasons-in-the-archives 's Halloween Result, and I get to post today! I promise you all take a happy and safety Halloween!

I wanted to draw Jon when they say 'Neither did they' in response to Elias whining about how he doesn't want to die. And I merely think Jon deserves to get angry!!! Properly angry!!! This piece took forever simply I really hope you all enjoy it!

[ID: This is a drawing of Jonathan Sims from the Magnua Athenaeum. Jon is a thin Pakistani person with medium brown skin and various pockmarked scars over their body. In this image, he has long, black wavy hair grey streaks billowing out around them, and while their own optics are dark brown, they have an extra set of green eyes on their face and one on their outstretched, scarred hand. He is wearing a forest green khaki jacket, a navy blue shirt, and dark dark-brown pants while holding a knife in their right hand. There are blood smears on their face and bits of their clothes. He is continuing in front of a large window that overlooks a city illuminated in green. In thesky at that place is a massive light-green middle above everything, casting a dark-green glow that illuminates Jon from behind and seems to be looking at the viewer. Effectually Jon's caput is a set of optics that resemble a crown, and a bright green ring around their had. They are fixing someone off screen with a furious expression, and the text at the bottom reads 'Neither did they' in a pale green color. End ID/]

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imitation rqg screencaps — damascus, rome, okinoshima

(other) london, dover, paris

airship one, prague, cairo

(click for better quality)

id under the 'keep reading'

[ID: three digital drawings of diverse scenes from Rusty Quill Gaming fabricated to look like screencaps of a TV show.

The first drawing is of Wilde after Grizzop finds him passed out in Damascus. Wilde is a white human with chin-length brown hair that has been messed upwards. He is wearing a blue suit and tie and a white shirt. He has 1 gold lobe piercing. He has bags underneath his eyes. He is bleeding from the nose and ears and has blood on his cheeks, brow, and clothes. He is looking off to the side at someone (presumably Grizzop) with an angry expression. Backside him the walls are beige and outside the window is many dark-brown buildings and a mountain. The text underneath is 'Wilde: I oasis't slept in a long time. That's not past choice.'

The 2nd drawing is of Sasha in Rome. Sasha is a white homo with brown chin-length pilus that is turning grey. Her pilus also has a white streak. She has a burn down up the side of her cervix and a bluish scar traveling up to her elbow. She has freckles. She is wearing a dark-green and white toga and a black necklace that has the symbol of Artemis. She is writing a letter at a desk. Next to the alphabetic character is a ruddy apple tree. In the background are children doing gymnastics in a roman villa. The sunday is shining into the room Sasha is in. The text underneath is 'Sasha: [I got no proof you made it dorsum, but I believe you did.]'

The third drawing is of Hamid and Zolf hugging in Okinoshima. Hamid is an Egyptian Halfling with short curly brown hair. He is wearing a cherry suit and has gilded lobe piercings. He has orange eyes that wait like the eyes of a dragon and he has orange and yellowish scales on his cheeks. His eyes are glowing. He is looking at Zolf with a concerned expression on his face. Zolf has his back to the viewer. Zolf is a white dwarf with white hair. His pilus is tied up in a bun and he has an undercut. He is wearing a navy raincoat and has several piercings, including two lobe piercings in each ear, a traditional industrial bar in his right ear, and two helix piercings in his left ear. All of his piercings are silver. In the groundwork is an anti-magic cell with a net across the bars. Information technology is dark. The text underneath is 'Zolf: It's expert to see you again. Actually.'

Terminate ID.]

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A recent jmart committee I had the pleasure of working on for one of my ArtStation followers. Loved their idea for this post-mag200 piece, it seems sad and hopeful at the same time 🥺

I've got a few committee slots opening up soon - dm or email me if you're interested!

Twitter | IG | Art Tumblr | ArtStation

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Detentions

Honestly I'm curious. This sorta pertains to Hogwarts just information technology's also sort of a full general affair.

What's up with detentions. Making a kid sit down in a room maybe with other kids doesn't really do much, gotta admit Hogwarts detentions are much more interesting and had I got detention in Hogwarts I might have attended them.

Merely my indicate is what's the signal. what'due south to stop you from just not going, getting another detention, oh no like dude.

The educational activity organization is abysmal.

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▪︎ Marthyr ▪︎

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I tin can now share the slice I did for A Report in Fear by @kellanswritingblog. This was my outset big bang and it was so much fun!! Cheers to @pilesofnonsense for organizing. Check out the crawly fic and besides see several wonderful pieces done past @j0llyb3rnzy :)

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[ID: A 4 console comic of a scene from RQG episode 207. Information technology is fatigued digitally with a monochrome pinkish and red palette. In the first panel Hamid, wearing a suit with his dragon wings coming out the back, walks through a formal party where various other RQG characters are also dressed upwardly, dancing and enjoying the party. Hamid smiles, arms wide, and says "Yay! All my friends made it!" In the 2nd console, Hamid walks upwardly to Zolf, as well wearing a formal suit, and grabs him by the tie. Hamid smiles and says "C'mon Zolf, don't be a wallflower, let'due south dance!". Zolf looks hesitant and says "W-wait, concord upwardly…" The third panel shows Hamid's face up close as he looks up in surprise as Zolf places his thumb on his forehead. Hamid says "Oh?" and Zolf says "I said hold up." The quaternary panel shows Hamid and Zolf's arm in the same angle, but now Hamid'southward wings are gone, he has a blood stain coming from his chest and he has a pained expression, coughing as he wakes back up. The words "Back to reality" are written in the dorsum and a beam of light comes out where Zolf's pollex meets Hamid's brow. End ID]

Loved Hamid getting to dream most beingness with all his friends and family :') Here'southward how I imagined information technology from his perspective...

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Flavor one Function 6: Ep. 33-40 (click for hq)

{worms and worms and worms and worms}

And that's a wrap on the Magnus Athenaeum Season one covers! Cheers again for all the kind words and encouragement! (What do y'all think, should I go on with s2? The right answer is aye)

Flavor ane Role v

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middletondiften.blogspot.com

Source: https://www.tumgir.com/tag/blood%20quill

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