It’s just normal day in the common room. Pansy is doing Astoria’s nails. Daphne and Theodore are talking quietly over an essay that Theo definitely doesn’t want to be doing. Draco, Blaise and Mattheo are talking quidditch. And {{y/n}} is reading in an armchair, one leg thrown over the armrest. Her book resting on her lap. And without thought and not looking away from her book, she puts her hair up in a ponytail. Simply to get it out of her face. Theo clocks it, blinks then shrugs, going back to his essay with Daphne. Mattheo clocks it next and immediately thinks dirty thoughts. Because holy hell, {{y/n}} with her hair put up is just making him think about any girl that got on their knees for him. And he wants her on her knees.
Imagine, if you will, what it would feel like to wake up in a universe that isn’t quite yours. The faces are the same. The castle is the same. The magic is the same. But the people? The people are wrong. In y/n y/n/l’s universe, the war ended in victory—but it wasn’t a happy ending. Fred Weasley died laughing one final time. Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin never got to raise their son. Lavender Brown never walked away from the battlefield. Mattheo Riddle fell before he ever got the chance to decide what kind of man he wanted to become. Countless others were lost, and the survivors learned to live with grief because there was no other choice. Life moved on. It had to. Then, without warning, everything changed. One moment y/n was standing in the Astronomy Tower, staring absentmindedly over the Hogwarts courtyard as the evening sun painted the grounds gold. The next— Laughter. Bright. Carefree. Unburdened. Not the kind of laughter that survived a war. Curious, she glanced over the stone railing. And her entire world stopped. There they were. The Golden Trio. The Slytherin group. George Weasley… Standing shoulder to shoulder with Fred Weasley. Mattheo. Alive. Laughing. Existing. No. No, that wasn’t possible. She blinked. Then blinked again. “…What the actual fuck?” The words slipped out far louder than intended. Silence. Every head in the courtyard snapped upward. Every. Single. One. For several long seconds, nobody moved. Then Pansy Parkinson burst into tears. Y/n stared. “…What?” Hermione immediately looked horrified. “Wait! No, no, don’t go!” Instinctively, y/n took a step backward. Harry threw Hermione a panicked look. “You’re scaring her.” “I am not scaring her!” “You absolutely are!” Another careful step backward. George looked like he’d seen a ghost. Fred looked like he’d become one. Mattheo hadn’t said a word since looking up. Y/n’s gaze bounced helplessly between Fred and Mattheo before settling somewhere in th
Fred had never understood the appeal of the soft, quiet kind of omega. They were lovely, sure, but they had never managed to hold his attention for long. He liked the ones with sharp tongues and sharper teeth—the omega’s that didn’t shrink away from alpha’s, but met them head-on. The kind that argued instead of apologizing, snarled instead of flinching, and would happily start a fight they knew they couldn’t win simply because someone had annoyed them enough. Harry was like that, but Harry was hopelessly tangled up with Draco. Pansy had been trading playful insults with Hermione for years before anyone realized they were flirting. Even Cassian y/n/l and Blaise had whatever dramatic, on-again, off-again mess they insisted on calling a relationship. With everyone else occupied, Fred had made peace with the fact that being single wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world. Then came a warm afternoon in the Hogwarts courtyard. Fred and George had been entertaining themselves by harmlessly pestering a few gullible first-years when raised voices drifted across the stone paths. The twins turned just in time to spot Theodore Nott standing with that infuriatingly smug grin he always wore whenever he knew he’d gotten under someone’s skin. In front of him stood an omega that Fred had seen around plenty of times but had never really paid attention to before. She was tiny—small enough that Theodore easily towered over her—but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in the way she squared her shoulders. “Cat got your tongue, y/n?” Theodore teased, hands shoved lazily into his pockets. “Or did I finally say something that hit a little too close to home?” For half a second, nothing happened. Then Fred noticed the subtle twitch beneath y/n’s eye. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped onto the edge of the fountain beside her, gaining just enough height to make the difference feel intentional rather than necessary. It wasn’t enough to match Theodore, but it was enough to make he
Sirius Black has been completely and utterly in love with y/n for years. It all started in third year, when y/n went up to the owlery to deliver a letter. Sirius was leaning against one of the windows, staring out into the distance. No laughing, no smiling, no teasing his friends—just smoking quietly, looking like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. Y/n didn’t say anything at first. They simply tied their letter to an owl, letting the silence sit between them for a while. Then, without even looking at him, y/n said, “You know. Life’s hard when you think you’re doing everything alone. Just saying.” And then they left without waiting for a response.
Y/n and her friends, Pansy and Daphne, have finally decided that they are going to quit smoking. It starts with a completely reasonable promise between the three of them: no more sneaking outside between classes, no more disappearing behind the greenhouses, and absolutely no more buying another pack whenever they swear they’ve finished their last one. They quickly discover, however, that quitting is much easier said than done, especially when all three of them are used to having something to occupy their hands and mouths whenever they’re bored, stressed, annoyed, or simply trying to survive another ridiculous day at Hogwarts. After some questionable late-night research, they stumble across the suggestion that lollipops can help with cravings, so they decide to give it a try. The solution seems harmless enough. Soon, Y/n, Pansy, and Daphne are constantly carrying little bags of lollipops around the castle, popping one into their mouths whenever the urge to smoke hits. They treat it as nothing more than a practical replacement, completely focused on their own struggle to quit and entirely unaware that anyone else is paying them any particular attention. Unfortunately, they fail to consider one very important problem: Theodore, Draco, and Blaise. The boys initially think nothing of it, assuming the girls are simply trying some strange new method to quit smoking, until they start noticing just how often the lollipops appear. Suddenly, every study session, hallway conversation, library visit, and common-room gathering seems to involve one of the girls casually sucking on a lollipop, completely oblivious to the fact that the boys are finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Theodore is the first to admit that he finds it distracting, though he immediately regrets saying it out loud when Draco and Blaise realize they feel exactly the same way. What was supposed to be a harmless quitting method has somehow become their personal test of self-control, especially wh
So imagine this. Y/n Y/l/n, like, by far the shortest girl at Hogwarts. Ironically, she’s a seventh year with the height of a first year. Her friends tease her about it all the time. Totally normal. She’s used to it by now, honestly. What’s not normal is the fact that one particular Weasley is completely hyper-fixated on her. Well, not normal to her. To George Weasley, it’s completely normal. Sure, he’d always been taller than her. He’d always liked how tiny she was compared to him, too. But once he shot up to his full height at 6’2, oh, George was a goner. Suddenly, the height difference was his favorite thing in the world, and he made absolutely no effort to hide it. He didn’t care who was around. He didn’t care what people said. Whenever George spotted y/n, he’d walk straight over, bend his knees slightly, and scoop her up with one arm like she weighed absolutely nothing. Then, before she could even properly complain, he’d lift her onto one of his shoulders and start walking away with her, flirting relentlessly the entire time as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world. And after he kept doing it? Well, y/n eventually stopped fighting him. Now, whenever George slings her over his shoulder, she simply perches there, crossing her legs comfortably while one hand rests against his head to keep her balance. George, naturally, thinks he’s won. Y/n refuses to admit that she’s gotten used to it.
In a universe not so different from their own, there was no magic, no spells, and no Hogwarts. Instead, there were cities filled with sirens, case files, crime scenes, and detectives who spent their days chasing people who thought they could outrun the law. Y/n Y/n/l had built quite the reputation for herself within the department. She was observant, stubborn, quick on her feet, and, according to nearly everyone who had ever worked with her, absolutely terrible at sharing the spotlight. Which was precisely why she was standing in front of Chief Evelyn Whitmore’s desk, already suspicious of the conversation. Chief Whitmore sat comfortably in her chair, studying Y/n over the rim of her glasses. Her hands were steepled beneath her chin, the silence stretching just long enough to make Y/n nervous. Finally, the chief sighed and leaned back. “Y/n/l, you haven’t had a partner in quite a while. And, lucky for you, neither has Malfoy.” Y/n’s eye twitched. Her hands were clasped behind her back, fingers curling tightly into her palms as she fought the immediate urge to object. “Ma’am,” she said carefully, “everyone knows Malfoy and I hate each other.” The chief’s mouth twitched into an amused smile. “Yes. That you do.” Y/n narrowed her eyes. “But,” Whitmore continued, calmly tapping her fingers against the desk, “you’re both excellent detectives. You notice things other people miss, you think differently from everyone else, and, unfortunately for both of you, you’re equally stubborn.” She gestured toward the empty chair across from her desk. “So perhaps it’s time you put the rivalry aside and put those minds together, yes?” Y/n’s jaw tightened. She had several arguments prepared, all of which died the second the office door opened. Draco Malfoy stepped inside.
Fred Weasley has never been the type to take life too seriously. He laughed his way through detentions, turned every disaster into a joke, and somehow managed to treat even the most dangerous situations like they were all part of one elaborate prank. Serious conversations made him itch, commitments felt suffocating, and planning further than next week simply wasn’t in his nature. So when he and y/n started dating in fifth year, no one was particularly surprised. They fit together effortlessly. They laughed until their stomachs hurt, pulled ridiculous pranks together, and somehow made even ordinary days feel exciting. They were happy. Or, at least, as happy as two teenagers who never really talked about the future could be. The breakup hadn’t come from a fight, betrayal, or a lack of affection. If anything, it had been painfully simple. Fred had looked at her with genuine guilt and admitted the truth before it could become a lie. “I’m sorry… I’m just not the serious relationship kind of guy.” It hurt, but y/n couldn’t even be angry. She knew exactly who Fred was long before she’d agreed to date him. He had never pretended to be someone who dreamed about forever, and he refused to keep her tied to someone who couldn’t promise it. So she smiled through the heartbreak, wished him well, and walked away before either of them could change their minds. Life moved on. They remained friends—awkward at first, then surprisingly easy. They still joked together, still exchanged teasing comments across the Great Hall, and still slipped comfortably into the familiar rhythm they’d always shared. Y/n focused on herself instead. She laughed with friends, threw herself into school, and, despite plenty of opportunities, never really dated anyone else. Not because she was waiting for Fred, but because no one had ever felt worth the effort. Now, seventh year has arrived, and for the first time since their breakup, y/n decides she’s ready to move on. She’s ready to let someone court
(Pick your own enemies to lovers love interest) They never particularly cared for romance. Flirting? Sure. Casual crushes, harmless teasing, the occasional party flirtation? Fine. But the little things—the favorite colors, the habits, the tiny details people remembered about someone they cared about? That was never really their thing. And then there was y/n. They absolutely hated each other. Corridors became battlegrounds, arguments could start over practically anything, and neither of them could resist pushing exactly the right buttons to get under the other’s skin. Every student and professor at Hogwarts knew it. Try to separate them? Somehow, that only made things worse. Try to convince them to get along? They’d start arguing right there just to prove a point. The worst part? They were in the same friend group, meaning everyone else had to endure their ridiculous rivalry every single day. Then came seventh year, when one argument became particularly heated. Heated enough that, for once, the entire friend group went quiet. No laughing. No teasing. No joking comments from the sidelines. Just silence as the other person finally snapped, words tumbling out before they could stop themselves. “You always fucking do that! Your hand twitches when I say something that hits too close! And when I go too far, your eye twitches!” There was a pause. The friend group slowly looked at one another. Because… they noticed that?
Sirius Black has been completely and utterly in love with y/n for years. It all started in third year, when y/n went up to the owlery to deliver a letter. Sirius was leaning against one of the windows, staring out into the distance. No laughing, no smiling, no teasing his friends—just smoking quietly, looking like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. Y/n didn’t say anything at first. They simply tied their letter to an owl, letting the silence sit between them for a while. Then, without even looking at him, y/n said, “You know. Life’s hard when you think you’re doing everything alone. Just saying.” And then they left without waiting for a response.
Alpha harry and Draco have been together for years. It was a classic enemies to lovers really. They argued in first year and the arguments progressed to physical fights in 4th year. And 5th year, neither knew who leaned in first, but next thing they knew, they were kissing. And since then, they’ve been together. It’s not strange for alpha’s to be together, of course, but it is strange they don’t have an omega. But neither really had any interest in one. So they just, continued as they did. Just Draco Malfoy and harry potter. Or when their friends are teasing them, Mr and Mr Malfoy. Now comes 7th year. The last year before they have to face the real wizarding world. Harry, Draco, pansy, Blaise, Hermione and Ron are all sitting in the courtyard under a tree. Ron, ‘…no, im just saying, slughorn is a right git when he wants to be’ Blaise chuckles, patting Ron’s thigh, ‘you say that about every, babe.’ Hermione whose head is in pansy’s lap, nods, ‘he’s right, Ron. You said that about Harry yesterday when he told you no’. Ron sniffs, ‘I stand by my statement’. A soft rusting comes from above the tree, the voice thick with sleep, ‘mmm, shudup’. Everyone’s gaze shoots up. Harry squints, trying to look through the leaves, ‘who?’ The voice laughs, ‘if I said your mum would you laugh?’ Draco snorts, Harry shoots him a look. Draco shrugs, ‘it was funny.’ Y/n drops down from the tree, covering a yawn with a hand, ‘anyway. You’re loud.’ Harry and Draco share a look that speaks volumes. Because for once, they think an omega might be nice. And that was the moment Harry and Draco exchanged a look. Neither of them said anything, but they didn’t need to. For the first time in years, both alphas found themselves wondering whether perhaps having an omega around wouldn’t actually be such a terrible idea. Y/n was certainly not what either of them had expected an omega to be, either. Sleepy, though that was because she obviously just woke from a nap, blunt, unimpressed by them, and appa
Mattheo Riddle had been dreaming about the same girl for as long as he could remember. From the moment he stepped into Hogwarts as a first-year to the moment he returned for his sixth year, she had appeared in his dreams without fail. The dreams were never quite the same, yet somehow, she always was. Sometimes they were filled with laughter and ridiculous conversations, sometimes arguments that left him waking up irritated, and other times they were nothing more than quiet moments spent together, sitting somewhere peaceful while neither of them needed to say a word. There was always something strangely familiar about her, as though Mattheo had known her long before he ever knew her name. He never told Draco, Blaise, Theo, or anyone else about the dreams. They were his secret, something he selfishly kept to himself because, in his mind, she belonged to him. His girl. Even if she wasn’t real. Even if she existed only in some strange corner of his dreams. Except, she was real. And Mattheo was about to find that out in the most impossible way imaginable. It was the beginning of sixth year, and the Great Hall was filled with the usual chaos of the Sorting Ceremony as the new first-years nervously waited for their names to be called. Mattheo was barely paying attention until the castle suddenly seemed to crack open above them, magic twisting through the ceiling before a girl came tumbling out of thin air. She shouldn’t have been able to Apparate inside Hogwarts. No one should have been able to Apparate inside Hogwarts. Yet somehow, the castle had allowed her through, as though it recognized her and had decided she belonged there. The explanation was almost absurdly simple: technically, she was a Hogwarts student. Her mother was British, her magical records were already tied to the school, and apparently Hogwarts had decided that was enough to let its newest student bypass every rule that should have stopped her. Y/N landed in the middle of the Great Hall, confused, diso
(Use a male oc) User has a secret. Not a dark secret. Not a dangerous one. Just one that no one would ever believe. User makes music. He never told anyone. Why would he? To everyone else, he was just the funny one. The one making stupid jokes, inappropriate jokes, laughing until he couldn’t breathe, dragging his friends to parties, and somehow never taking anything seriously. He’d dated before, sure, but never anything that lasted. So user writing songs that carried real emotion? Songs that made people cry? Songs like: All I Do(by Teddy Thomas), Kiss Me(by Sixpence None the Richer), or Come Home(by Jace June). Inconceivable. No one knew those songs belonged to him. No one knew the wildly popular wizarding band Moonlit Masquerade wasn’t a real band at all. It was just…user. Using simple illusion and glamour charms, he’d transform himself into four completely different musicians. Ace — the guitarist. Hidden behind a black sheer veil that draped over the lower half of his face, silver ear cuffs climbing one ear, fingerless gloves, countless rings, and a worn leather jacket covered in enchanted constellations that shimmered under stage lights. Quiet. Cool. The mysterious heartthrob everyone obsessed over. Morrow — the drummer. A smooth white porcelain mask with a single painted teardrop beneath the left eye. Dark sleeves rolled to the elbows, black nail polish chipped from constant playing, and an explosive energy behind the drums that made every performance unforgettable. He never spoke during interviews, only nodded or shrugged. Noctis — the pianist. His face hidden beneath an ivory lace veil embroidered with silver crescent moons that only revealed the outline of his smile. Long black coats, silver chains, and elegant gloves enchanted so the fingertips glowed faintly whenever they touched the piano keys. Soft-spoken. Graceful. The “gentle soul” of the band. Vesper — the lead singer. A sheer black covering concealed only his eyes, leaving the rest of his face visible.
