three_broomsticks | Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

Entry tags:

*jamjar meme

Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

HOGWARTS:
A JAMJAR MEME

Wizards of all ages and from all times: whatever you were doing, wherever you were - none of that matters now. You've been brought to Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. You’ll find yourself in the Great Hall under a starry sky, illuminated by the light of a thousand candles.

What happened? Why were you brought here? How were you brought here? All questions to be answered, perhaps. But first, mingle with your kind and find a seat for yourself. This will be your home for a while.

Because there is no leaving. Student, staff, you with nothing to do - all of you trapped inside the school grounds.

Sorting to houses & Start-of-term feast
Those of you who have not been sorted into your houses, you're guided to sit on a stool while an old hat will contemplate a proper house for you. After, you can join your housemates at their long table.

The ghost of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, will soon give a speech once the last student is sorted...

"The very best of evenings to you! Now… to our new students, welcome. To our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…"

He will warn you about the anti-curse charm set upon Hogwarts and how it will bring harm in equal measures to yourself. He will urge you to stay calm and have a lemondrop; they’ll be provided at all tables.

Dumbledore would like you all to note few things, Hogwarts attendees:

1. This will be a continuous, no commitment necessary “storyline.”
What does that mean? Depending on the level of interest, there will be at least one post per month on the 3B-DR that will continue the storyline which begins here. Players are encouraged to make top-levels in the dressing room if they want to keep this verse going with their characters. Madame Rosmerta’s made a tag specifically for this.

2. Multiple versions of characters at various ages are welcome.
Whether that means there’s three Harry’s all in fifth year, or one Harry in first year, a second in third year, and a third in sixth year is up to you. All three Harry’s could also interact, depending on player preferences. AU versions of (HP)canon and non-(HP)canon characters are also welcome. Sometimes people disappear from Hogwarts and sometimes they come back.

3. Schoolwork
Dumbledore's ghost will invite all characters of age and knowledge to teach their specialties to the younger wizards. If your character could be possibly a teacher, or is interested in teaching, refer to this thread to sign up for a teaching position. The courses do not need to be anything serious (unless you want them to be). If your character would be interested in a course, you can look it up from the character's toplevel. Your character doesn't need to be of student age to participate in courses. (They're free for all!)

4. Sign up for your house.
Here is a thread for all the Hogwarts houses that your character could be sorted in.

5. This means… war!
Are you a Death Eater? A member of the Order? Rival students? It’s likely your character will encounter someone they don’t get along with. Duels are fine, but beware that any attacks meant to cause harm (curses) will backfire on the caster. If your character doesn’t care that damage will also bounce back to them, then Dumbledore’s ghost will be intervening. He won’t tolerate harm to any of his students… even if it’s harm to Tom.

6. Housecup
Of course points will be awarded and taken away by teachers and prefects. You can leave a comment in this thread for the points taken or given. Madam Rosmerta will add them up together for the next post. You can also sign up for a prefect role. Each house has one and that one will change in each post. First come, first serve is the rule, except if your character was a prefect in the last post, you can't sign up in this one.

1. Toplevel with your character

2. Tag other characters

3. Have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

None of them work, and she's growing more and more impatient by the second. It's not this boy's fault, of course, but he's currently standing between her and the door which stands between her and that dodgy ghost! Lily's just drawn her wand, impatience finally winning out; she's just about to tug this boy aside, but then he's staring at her, and she's doing a double take.

For a second, at the quickest of glances, he looked eerily like... James. Except this one's much shorter than her husband.

Then he goes about calling her mum, and now Dumbledore's been completely forgotten as she openly stares. Stares into familiar green eyes she swears she's seen in the mirror on a daily basis. Into a face that looks far too like her husband's to be real. At a scar on the boy's forehead she'd never once seen before.

"Pardon?"

Oh, it really is her. Harry bites his lips, just staring at her with a slow smile dawning on his lips. "It's been a few years since I saw your ghost last. It's me, Harry."

He tentatively reaches over to brush his hand down along her arm and sucks in a breath as he can actually touch her.

"Are you really here, mum?"

He doesn't consider the fact that he sounds like conversing with dead people is pretty normal.

"You... you saw my ghost?" she asks, voice faint. Too busy staring at him, Lily fails to reflect on quite a few key points. For starters, just how long has she been dead for if he'd seen her ghost a few years ago? Why doesn't she remember this? And why is this handsome young man calling her mother? Because she hadn't left a boy or an adult before she'd died, she'd left a baby. But Sirius--he'd said that Harry was older now.

Lily swallows thickly. Maybe the only pure thing about her is her ability to love. She doesn't want vengeance for having her life snuffed out like a flame, though she's angry about it all, and she's heartbroken about her family which was ripped apart, and--

"Harry?" she whispers, voice so low and quiet, as if she didn't quite dare speak his name too loudly for fear of the volume in her voice to shatter him like glass.

He doesn't answer about the first question, just shakes his head, because it's getting a little hard to talk. She's right there. In the flesh.

And when his hand reaches hers, he curls his fingers around hers, holding on a little too tightly, maybe. He never thought he'd get to see her. To meet her. To touch her... maybe hug her.

There's tears in his voice, his green eyes completely welled up when he looks at her, his mouth trembling when he draws in a breath. And what he gets out is a shaking whisper: "Y-yeah, mum?"

Her expression crumbles. Morphing from something vaguely, guardedly hopeful to scrunched up as she tears up. It's not the first time, but she thinks it might be the worst of it. Big fat droplets trickle down her cheeks, and oh, it's suddenly so hard to breathe, seeing her son right in front of her. A little taller than her. So strikingly like James it leaves her aching.

Mum. He's caught her fingers within his, but she's quick to free herself so that she can throw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. Her entire body shakes with silent sobs, uncontrollable sobs that are part grief--he's not... dead, is he?--and part joy at seeing her baby.

No, he's not a baby, he's a grown man.

"Harry--" There's so much to say, to learn, to teach, but she's choking on all the words which fight to break out.

She's crying and Harry finds himself crying, just barking out a sob like it doesn't want to stay in. Then she's hugging him and there should be some kind of angel choir singing at the back, spots of light exploding around them, because he finally gets to hug her, after all these years of knowing what she'd done to him and knowing she's been there, always watching over him.

He wraps his arms around her tightly and they both shake against each other, ugly twisted crying faces galore and gasping for breath in too tight embrace.

Harry has known love in his life. But nothing quite the love that she has for him.

There is going to be a lot of snot to wipe away after this.

There's going to be a lot of snot, stuffed noses, and blotchy faces after this. Crying is such an exhausting business, and it's even worse in Harry's arms because she'd been stretched so thin within the last few hours. Dying, James, Sirius. So much worrying and fretting about Harry. Blaming herself for not protecting him. It almost seems wrong that she should be allowed to hug him right now.

"Sirius was right," she says with a shaky laugh, leaning back to drag her thumb along his cheek to swipe away some tears. Lily looks at him now as if this is her only chance to. It might very well be. "You are perfect."

He laughs when she pulls away and calls him perfect. The laugh is pushed through his tears, smiling and crying and giggling madly because nothing could quite prepare him for this.

"Y-you don't know me very well," he says with a stutter and reaches up to dry his nose to his sleeve, rub it until it's reasonably dry and he can lean in to kiss her cheek. "Thank you for everything. If we'll never get to speak with each other again, I am so thankful for what you did for me. You saved my life more times than I can count."

She might not know him very well--this is the truest crime, really, to not know her son--but he's here now. So long as they're both here, she intends to find out everything she can. "You're perfect to me, though," she says softly, smiling when she hears his giggles, and he leans in to peck her cheek.

Though...

"For everything?" Her brows furrow. "Harry, I didn't--" She's blinking madly now, because her eyes are tearing again as the reminder of how she'd died comes back. It's not her life she mourns for, but his.

There's a little bit of desperation as her fingers tighten in his shirt. Something frantic in her gaze as she shakes her head. No, no, she has to see him again. "You have to--you have to tell me everything I've missed. Will you?"

He barks out a sob or laughter, it could be either. He's never been perfect for anyone just because. That's pretty much it. Unconditional love, without demands, without hopes and expectations. He's been good, that's for sure, and he has known love from people who care about him. But this is different.

"I will tell you anything you want to know," he says and for once in his life, he means it, every word of it.

"But you did, mum, you saved me so many times. Can we start there?" he asks, hands nervously fingering a lock of red hair. "You gave your life and Voldemort couldn't touch me. He tried but he couldn't kill me. He tried several times but he couldn't." He leans in a little closer, whispering the rest. "Because your love protected me." It sounds so cheesy when he says it like this, but he doesn't care.

The cheesiness is so reminiscent of James, that she's laughing and crying at the same time, throwing her arms back around him to hug him tight. If ever there were a question of whose son he is, that would surely have to explain it all.

"How?" she manages to croak. It's because of this boy--this beautiful boy telling her these things about her saving his life over and over, when she has no idea how she could have. She nearly chokes on her tears with the affection that threatens to knock her over. Pulling back again, Lily forces herself to calm down enough to hear the rest of this. "How on earth could it have? I didn't know any spells. I didn't even have my wand to--to protect you properly."

"Old magic, mum," he says and readily wraps his arms around her, burying his splotchy face against her flaming hair, his weary eyes closing. "Sacrificial counter charm. He tried to curse me but the curse rebounded and he instead died himself. Not before he made me into his own Horcrux, though. It's a long story," he whispers, squeezing her tighter against himself as if he's afraid that she might disappear.

"I will tell you everything. Just trust me, you gave your life and you saved me, gave me protection to the last moment Voldemort was alive. Simply because you loved me."

Old magic, mum. Her nose stings when she hears him call her that, eyes prickling with a new wave of unshed tears. "He made you--" Breathless. Sharp inhale. That vile man did something to her son, after all? "Are you still this... thing that he did to you?"

At least tell her that, Harry, before you tell her the story properly. Otherwise she'll be hunting down Tom Riddle herself, taking a page out of her silly husband's book.

"Love," she softly corrects, "I still love you."

Right now, she contents herself with running her fingers through his hair, learning its feel, length, and color. If it shines under the light, will it still be black, or will there be flashes of color, as well?

"I never want to let go." Yet she's doing exactly that, pulling back to look at him, hooking their arms together. "I think we should walk. It's been a while since I've been back here. You can show me where you'd hang out and tell me everything. How does that sound?"

"No, I'm not a Horcrux anymore. It's a bit complicated and strange. But the gist of it is that I died. And I didn't. He haunted me for years, I'm not going to lie to you, he made my life very hard at times. But in the end he died. A Horcrux is a thing you do that will store a part of your soul, so he made a few, survived through quite a bit of stuff and in the end we destroyed them all, even the one inside me. He killed it himself, with a killing curse. But I survived that, too. In the end. It's hard to say why, is it because of the Deathly Hallows or because of you. When he was resurrected, he wanted my blood for the spell. And your charm was still living inside him when he cursed me. It's all very confusing, but in the end I... Well, he's gone now."

It's hard to make sense of it to a person who knows nothing about these things. And Harry doesn't even try. He just smiles at her when she pulls away and lets her hook her arm with his.

"Of course. It looks pretty much the same as it did during your days, though," he says as if he'd know what it looked like. (And he does, but he doesn't even think about explaining that to her.) "And you should tell me everything about you and dad. Aunt Petunia didn't much care for stories like that."

Well that's quite a bit to try to wrap her head around. Horcruxes and her boy growing up terrorized by a monster. Her frown grows more and more pronounced with each sentence her son shares. Green eyes grow harder and harder, like chips of emerald, until she sharply inhales and rears back, looking at him over with a franticness layered with a terror that leaves it impossible to breathe.

"He--he killed you?" There's no stopping the waiver in her voice. Anger and raw emotion, disbelief. Her grasp on his arms tightens. This is exactly what she'd feared... except, instead of that mad man killing a baby, he'd killed her son while he'd been... presumably still a boy. Still her boy, regardless of his age. Lily's not sure what to make of him attributing his survival to a spell she hadn't knowingly casted. She's not talented like Dumbledore or other witches and wizards. Maybe she has a knack for potions, but saving lives?

If she weren't with him right this second--if they weren't stepping out of the hall...

It's not until the din of the room dies away that she breathes. That she manages to swallow enough air to keep from losing her composure again. He doesn't need to see his mother crying every two seconds like a volatile little thing. Instead, he'll have to deal with a tight grip on his arm.

"Does it? How do you know what it looked like back then?" Her gaze sweeps over the halls they wander through. "I suppose it wouldn't have changed too much, over the years, come to think of it."

Word of her sister gives Lily pause, her expression growing more troubled. Petunia is yet another worry, and one she's not entirely sure she wants to learn more about just yet. Yet if she doesn't ask now, will the possibility ever present itself?

"I'll tell you everything you wanted to know. Like all the dates your father sabotaged and how I hexed him nearly every chance I got before we got together, and how he would chase you around the house on your little broom Sirius bought you for your first birthday." Her voice cracks again, that sadness threatening to choke her. She takes a shaky breath. "Everything. I'll tell you it all," she whispers, looking at him with a shaky smile. One that withers away moments later. "Harry, did--was my sister. She--was she kind to you?"

"Yes, he did. For a little while. Just a little. Don't worry," Harry whispers at her. "I'm alive now."

He guides them out of the Great Hall and into the hallway, then quickly toward another, and another, holding her arm tightly against his side as they pass classrooms and finally find their way to the library. It's quiet and deserted right now. Everyone else is still at the Great Hall.

He pulls her to a cushioned window seat, reaching for her hand as he takes a seat and turns to face her.

"I... I have seen quite a lot of memories of your time in school. Snape's memories. Of you and dad and the others. He loved you until the very end, mum."

He squeezes her hand and then pauses, struggling to see how he should answer her last question. Because he knows it's going to cause her even more pain. But he doesn't want to start by lying to her.

"...No," he finally says with a small, apologetic smile. "She wasn't kind to me."

"I'll always worry," she says, voice sharpened by stubbornness. "You shouldn't have died in the first place!"

Don't worry, he tells her. How can she not worry when--when he's seen so many things? When he's been forced to live through all these wretched things as a boy? How is he so calm and self assured when he's talking about dying? Once they're seated in the library, her hand in his, fingers tightly gripping a hand she can still recall so vividly as being much teensier, she twists to face him and reaches over to cup his cheek. Thumb tracing the arch of his cheekbone.

There's not just sadness in her eyes, still slightly glassy, but there's a fierce pride as well. Wonder.

How is it fair that he know so very much more about her, and she knows so little about him?

She blinks, torn from her thoughts when he mentions memories. Of an old friend she wishes she could have made amends with, in retrospect. "Severus did? You saw his memories of us? I can't imagine they were very favorable." Until the very end... Does that mean...

Speaking with Harry really does give her the sensation of a tree slapped around by hurricane winds. Death, epiphanies, and then her question about her sister is being answered, before she truly has time for anything to sink in.

No, Petunia wasn't. Of course she wasn't. Her own sister raised her son, but wasn't kind? A little boy? With a long inhale, she finally asks, "You lived with her? And Vernon?" That wretched whale of a man. "What--" Something hardens in her eyes. Her voice grows firmer again. "What did they do?"

He sits quietly with a patient smile as she cups his face and thumbs his cheeks. While most young men of his age would probably find this kind of attention embarrassing, Harry has never experienced it, he swallows it all up with eagerness that is half frightening how intense it is.

"No, he didn't remember dad with fondness," Harry says with a lopsided grin. "He... was instrumental in Voldemort finding out about the prophesy in the first place. But he spend the rest of his life paying for that mistake. He tried his best to keep you safe. And after you died, he kept me safe as the best he knew how. I'll admit, I never liked him, not even when I found out his best guarded secret that he wasn't a complete arse, but he never stopped loving you."

When she asks about the Dursleys, he frowns and the smile disappears for a moment as he looks away briefly. "It doesn't matter what they did. It's in the past."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject