Requiem: A Hogwarts' Legacy
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“Look! There she is!”
Mentally sending the new girl a thank you, Poppy looks up and follows her peers’ gazes.
Oh, she’s pretty.
Poppy catches and berates herself for the thought, if only because she doesn’t yet know anything about this girl. Calling her names like pretty and gorgeous will only bring more trouble than it’s worth.
Objectively, her subconscious makes a good point.
Rory Watson is very pretty, with platinum blonde hair that’s tied low at the back of her neck, dark blue eyes that almost seem black from a distance, freckles dotting across her pale face, full lips that are curled up and form a dainty, little smile, and a gait so confident it attracts every eye there is inside the room.
Poppy can hear the boys beginning to grow rowdy, as well as the girls’ whispers growing rapid.
Whoever Rory Watson is, she’s promised to be trouble.
The First Meeting. With a dash of teenagers' crude humor and Fig as the unfortunate collateral damage.
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“Actually, I have something I want to tell you. Regarding your beast friends.”
Heckles arising, Poppy unconsciously grabs Natty’s arm. “What is it?”
Natty doesn’t blink, perhaps truly seeing just how frazzled Poppy is feeling. “You have a hippogriff friend, don’t you?”
Heart almost dropping to her stomach, Poppy asks again. “Highwing, yes. What do you know? Is she alright?”
“She is, now.” That doesn’t help her panic at all! “It’s a long story. Let’s sit down before I tell you all about it.”
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An extension of the scene where Poppy tells us Natty told her about Highwing.
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Poppy has no idea what she has done to be graced with the presence of two of the most popular witches in their year, but she will not be complaining one bit.
“Poppy, hello.” Natty smiles, holding a big pile of books against her chest. “Is this where we’re sitting, Rory?”
“Uh, well, I was just about to ask Poppy.” Turning her head, Poppy finds Rory’s pleading blue eyes. “Can we sit here? We promise to be very quiet.”
“None of that, please,” Poppy waves dismissively, which Natty takes as prompting to sit down. “The library is a public space. You guys don’t have to ask for my permission to sit.”
Rory goes to object, Poppy can see the intention from miles away, but Natty cuts her off.
“You know how Rory is. Always so dramatically polite.”
“Hey!” Rory’s objection is mixed in with Poppy’s giggle, who earns a pout and a blinding smile from the two witches. Poppy is having a wonderful day.
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A moment frozen in time where they get to just be kids.
OR
Sending a fifth-year into a battle to the death with a Graphorn unprepared was ludicrous, even for The Keepers’ standards.
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Poppy is going to kill Rory Watson.
It’s not a thought Poppy likes to entertain often, only in the moments where she finds out Rory has, once again, gotten herself into trouble. Poppy is, too, well aware that the only reason they became as close as they are now is because of the aforementioned type of trouble, but still.
Poppy has gone a long way from reaching out to the mysterious, powerful new fifth-year who she thinks merely shares the same view on poachers.
In the aftermath of a dragon fighting ring, a dragon egg returning operation, a moonstone hunting mission, and a snidget rescue, Poppy Sweeting has grown to consider Rory Watson as someone who she adores and cherishes.
For her to see Rory limping into the Hufflepuff Common Room with a face caked in ash and tears, it takes almost everything in Poppy not to scream.
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The aftermath.
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For a second, Rory almost doesn’t recognize this letter. Then it dawns on her.
“Oh! I found this when we were returning the dragon egg.” Rory even remembers the comment she made about how touching it was that poachers keep in touch with each other, even from halfway across the planet. She probably shouldn’t mention that she found the letter on a dead body, that sort of thing doesn’t go over well with her sentimental best friend. “I still think it’s crazy. You are willing to risk your lives for Acromantula venom? I’ve seen those things, and I would rather fight ten more trolls if it means I don’t ever have to see another one ever in my life. I… Poppy?”
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While climbing the mountain in the process of returning the dragon egg with Poppy, we pick up a letter from a dead body, signed by Angus Sweeting. In this oneshot, Poppy gets to read what's written in it.
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“You made it.” Poppy inadvertently sighs, drinking in the sight of her friend coming to stand in front of her.
“Of course.” Rory smiles. “Poppy Sweeting asking me out for butterbeer? I would be dumb to turn that down.”
Poppy laughs, feeling her cheeks flush. “You say that now, but if you regret this, you’re not getting a refund.”
Rory rolls her eyes. “I’m not even going to entertain that.” She looks around the pub, taking in the patrons joyously conversing. “Shall we find a table?”
“Actually,” Heart in her throat, Poppy gently grabs Rory’s wrist. “I have a better place in mind.”
As if Poppy’s mind isn’t already going crazy at the feeling of soft skin underneath her hand, Rory’s dark blue eyes are boring intensely into hers, curious and imploring. Poppy’s mind unconsciously draws up a comparison to the mooncalves, and it makes her giggle.
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Rory Watson receives an owl, in which there is invitation for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Poppy Sweeting knows it's not random, and is determined to give Rory a surprise to remember.
ORjust two baby lesbians having their first date at the Three Broomsticks and we're all here for it
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For a moment, everything feels lighter. Rory is smiling, Poppy is around, and the world is at peace.
That is, until her eyes stray.
Only a few feet away is the teachers’ table, where there sits the adults in charge of her education and her protection. Rory automatically looks for one chair in particular, heart suddenly burning with hope, only to crash into the ground, coming out battered and bruised.
It’s empty.
Of course it’s empty. Professor Fig is dead.
“Everyone you’ll ever love will die, and you won’t be able to save them.”
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The 4 times it hurt Rory Watson to remember Professor Fig, and the 1 time it hurt less.
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“You found your Augurey.”
Gran says when they're both sitting down and leaning against the wooden chair, facing the beautiful view that is the actual coast, with beautiful waves smelling of salt and sunshines that envelop them in warmth.
Poppy gives it a few more seconds, ending up agreeing with her Gran.
It was never just a saying. Poppy Sweeting had met Rory Watson one warm, beautiful afternoon, and there has never been a more welcoming surprise than for them to have locked eyes in that classroom.
“I did.” Poppy chuckles, gazing dumbly at the slice of pumpkin cake on her plate. “Who would have thought, a silly saying you and I came up on a random Monday would lead us here.”
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Poppy takes Rory home for the summer break. Found family feelings ensued.
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For my Gran. You're alive in my heart and in my head.
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“Poppy, you are a genius!”
Rory is not proud to say that she practically leaps off the couch and wraps her arms around Poppy like an over-enthusiastic troll with no concept of personal boundaries. But any hesitation she has is gone right out the window when smaller, but no less gentle, arms wind themselves around Rory’s neck, Poppy’s high-pitched giggles against her skin sending shockwaves throughout her body.
Rory has to put her down eventually, but she's too transfixed by the giggly flush painting Poppy’s cheeks to actually let her go. Poppy doesn’t let go either, fingers even toying a little with the baby hairs on the back of Rory’s head.
“You’re incredible.” Rory almost gushes, and is definitely not hallucinating the way Poppy’s cheeks turn even redder.
“Oh, stop. It’s just math.” Poppy ducks and peers up under her fluttering eyelashes, looking so beautiful that it physically hurts.
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The re-telling of Hogwarts Legacy in untold moments. Gayness and angst ensue in equal measures.
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“So what? It shows your deepest desires?”
“Basically. Weasley said something I thought was very profound— oh right. The happiest man on Earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror and see himself exactly as he is.”
“What do you see?”
His happy go-lucky attitude almost immediately breaks at her question, and Rory is just about to take it back when Sebastian answers.
“I see Anne.” Of course. Rory should’ve expected that. “I see Anne happy, healthy, and wearing her school uniform. We’re holding hands, smiling, and over our shoulders are our parents looking down at us like we’re their pride and joy.”
Rory carefully doesn’t point out how his voice breaks and tears are flowing quietly down his cheeks, but she does squeeze his bicep, offering a quiet comfort, for she knows grief has no words and hers will make no difference.
Sebastian Sallow's Quest done right. Where Player Character's choices matter in the end.
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Rory Watson’s name may not be in Hogwarts’ books of legends, but it is thanks to her that it’s still standing till this very day. Malcolm understands the logistics behind keeping everything a secret, but it pains him greatly that she never gets the recognition she deserves even after her death.
Or perhaps she simply never wanted it in the first place. Malcolm can think of a certain current wizarding world’s celebrity who might feel the same.
“You remember the conversation we had about you staying out of trouble?”
The irony doesn’t escape either of them. “I do.”
Rory’s brows furrow, a clear sign she’s already impatient. Malcolm is quietly in awe of the artist’s talent, getting that crinkle down to a fine T.
“Then you remember what I told you about You-Know-Who.”
Malcolm can’t help but scoff. “His name is—”
“Don’t say his name.” Rory snaps, rising to her feet.
“Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.” Malcolm fires back just as easily. His grip on the strap of his bag tightens to the point of pain. “And I’m not afraid.”
“But we are.”
OR
a story about being brave.
Series
- Part 1 of this is what it’s like to be kissed by a storm you dared to chase
- Part 11 of Requiem: A Hogwarts' Legacy
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 27,490
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 7
- Hits:
- 163
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Summary
When he only saw daylight, he now sees the trail of silver stars at its tail.
“Wow…”
“Do you see it?” Clearer than the sun. “That’s you, Malcolm. The magic that flows inside you. The magic that makes you you.”
A lump appears in his throat, his hand twitching in reflex. It’s been a few years now since they first laid hands on him, but his deformed fingers hadn’t stopped hurting at random times. He doesn’t think they ever will.
“Are we dangerous, Rory?”
“Only if we want to be.” She answers as if rehearsed or prepared. Malcolm believes her regardless. “There’s a saying I’m particularly very fond of, kindness is a choice. It is the choices you make every day, and being kind in a world this fucked up takes a lot of trying.”
Malcolm blinks at the sudden swear, half-wondering if he’s going to get in trouble. But Rory is smiling like she knows, and Malcolm remembers just how much safer he already feels with them.
“I want to learn everything.”
“In due time I will teach you. We have the rest of our lives.”
OR
a story about being scared.
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