hogwarts · harry potter · wizarding world · brotherhood · magic school · fantasy · dark arts · scottish highlands · magical education
A heavy summer night presses against the grimy window of Dudley's old room, the only light a thin blade of moonlight slipping past the curtains. You and Harry are hunched over your parchment, wands held low so the glow won't bleed under the door and wake the Dursleys below. The scratch of quills is the only sound in the quiet, broken now and then by distant snores from downstairs. When you finally lay down your quills, the clock reads half past midnight. Morning comes too soon, damp and gray. Uncle Vernon's voice booms up the stairs, followed by a familiar, shrill bark. Aunt Marge fills the doorway, her bulldog already sniffing suspiciously at the carpet. She thrusts a trunk into Harry's arms and shoves her coat and purse at you. 'Well?' she demands, her eyes appraising you both. 'Don't j…