Talliah hollowell
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Stories

    Death eaters breaking in

    *Its currently midnight and mostly everyone is asleep, You’ve gotten multiple warnings of death eater sightings in the area so you’ve decided to stay home for a bit to keep watch and take percussion, you really can never be too careful. You know very well of the danger that the death eaters can and most likely will cause if they manage to get their hands on someone with a weak spirit. But, little did you know that the death eaters had recently broken out of Azkaban and are currently on the prowl to wreak more havoc. A group of death eaters are currently creeping onto your front lawn, bickering to each other about plans and breaking into the house to raid it, their all quietly whisper yelling at each other underneath their signature masks.*

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    The youngest riddle

    You stepped onto Platform 9¾ with your trunk in one hand and your owl’s cage in the other, back straight, chin high—exactly how a Riddle should carry themselves. You didn’t need anyone’s help, you never had. Behind you, Mattheo hovered close, his fifth-year robes swishing as he scanned every face like he expected trouble around every corner. Tom walked at his side, seventh-year composure slipping just a little as his eyes darted to anyone who stepped too near you.

    Protective Older BrothersAngstDeath EatersTom Riddle is Not VoldemortSwearingDeveloping FriendshipsDrama
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    A Shelby? At Hogwarts!

    You are Thomas Shelby’s only daughter—cut from the same unyielding cloth as your father, but sharper, colder, and far more ruthless. You carry the same unblinking stare, the same quiet way of turning every word into a threat, and you never flinch from anything; even the hardened men of Birmingham’s underworld step lightly around you, admitting freely they fear you more than they ever feared your father. No one expected the crisp parchment envelope that arrived at the Shelby estate one morning, but when it did, you packed your bags without hesitation and stepped into Hogwarts at the height of Harry Potter’s time there. The muggle‑borns recognise that exact, terrifying look in your eyes immediately—they’ve seen what men like your father do in the streets, and they know better than to cross you. It takes the pure‑bloods a little longer to catch on, but after you stare down a sneering Draco Malfoy without blinking, or silence a whole common room with one sharp tilt of your head, they realise the truth: you don’t need ancient lineage or Dark magic to rule here. You’re a Shelby, and that makes you the most dangerous thing in the castle—more feared than any Dark Lord’s follower, more formidable than any professor, and every single person knows it.

    The Peaky BlindersHogwartsAngstHurt/ComfortFluffFriendship
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    Cold edges , golden warmth 🐍🦡

    There is no student in Hogwarts more clearly defined than you — cold, precise, endlessly observant, and carrying a power and heritage that stands above almost every other pure‑blood line in existence. You belong naturally to Slytherin, move within the tightest circle: Draco, Mattheo, Theodore, Blaise, and Lorenzo, and to the rest of the school you appear untouchable, sharp‑edged, and completely guarded. Then there is Cedric Diggory — Hufflepuff, two years older, golden‑haired, steady‑hearted… and entirely yours.

    AngstHurt/ComfortRomanceFluff and HumorSwearingCuteCuddling & SnugglingSoulmates
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    His most trusted

    Within the stone halls and shadowed meeting chambers where the inner circle gathers, there is no distorted form or terrifying visage to fear — Lord Voldemort stands fully and strikingly human: tall, pale‑skinned, sharp‑featured, handsome in a cold, commanding way, and moving with effortless grace. His presence alone holds enough weight to silence a room instantly. And among all those who serve him, you — only sixteen years old — stand apart as his absolute favourite.

    Hurt/ComfortFluffSwearingFriendshipPossessive Tom Riddle
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    The youngest death eater

    You are eight years old, Bellatrix and Rodolphus’s daughter, brought to a graveyard after the Azkaban escape. Surrounded by masked Death Eaters, you watch as a young, powerful, devastatingly handsome Voldemort returns — and his gaze locks directly onto you.

    Death EatersAngstDeathWar
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    His shield his match

    Inside the cold, stone‑walled building where everything felt grey and hard, there were two children who stood apart — exactly alike in every way that mattered. She was only four, quiet and watchful, her eyes holding the same sharp, knowing look that Tom Riddle had. She moved like him, spoke only when necessary like him, and learned to read expressions before words — just like him. To everyone else, she said nothing and trusted nothing… except him. Tom was the only person in the whole world she believed in; if he sat beside her, she felt safe. If he told her to stay close, she never strayed an inch.

    Hurt/Comfort
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    His greatest treasure

    You are only 4 years old — small, soft‑spoken, and the absolute centre of your father’s world. You are Lord Voldemort’s little girl… but this is the version of him no enemy ever sees: strikingly handsome, composed, and sharp‑featured in a way that commands admiration as much as respect, with none of the distortion or cold decay others fear. And more than anything else — he loves you completely, fiercely, and to the very edge of his soul.

    Hurt/ComfortFather-Daughter RelationshipCuteSwearing
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    Too young to quite

    At fourteen years old, you move through corridors and sit in the same circle as always — quiet, observant, careful never to look too long or speak too freely. Mattheo is seventeen, older, taller, fully settled in his final years at Hogwarts — and there is that clear, uncrossable line everyone sees without needing to say it: too much distance between ages, too different stages of life. Rules, expectations, and common sense say it simply cannot happen.

    Age DifferenceHurt/ComfortHumorCuteSwearing
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    Ice built for defence

    The war is finally over — silence has fallen where noise and darkness ruled for too long. But for you, Mattheo, Theodore, and Lorenzo, peace does not feel simple or safe straight away. You are only twelve years old, while the three boys are already seventeen — young men in their own right, though still carrying the weight of everything they followed, believed, and fought for. All four of you carried the Dark Mark; all four of you were raised to serve… and now, all four of you are without leaders, without homes, and without anywhere else left to go.

    Death EatersAngstHurt No ComfortViolenceAngerSwearing
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    What we choose to be

    The Durmstrang ship cut through the black waters of the lake like a blade, and when I stepped onto the Hogwarts docks, every voice fell silent—my beauty was not merely striking, it was something ancient and unearthly, as if the very stars had carved light into my bones, turning heads even among those who had known the most elegant pureblood families all their lives. At fourteen, I stood taller than most first-years, my magic thrumming so strongly around me it made torches flicker and silver threads weave through my shadow, a power far greater than anything my father had ever commanded, sharpened by every lesson I had mastered long before most wizards could cast a proper Shield Charm. Tom, seventeen and already carrying the weight of our father’s legacy in his jaw, Matthias, Draco, and seventeen-year-old Abraxas waited by the castle gates, the four of them watching with a mix of pride and unease; though we were technically cousins and half-siblings, Narcissa and Lucius had raised us as one household, stitching our fates together the day our parents were taken from us. When Dumbledore welcomed me and explained I would be joining the Triwizard delegation as a transfer, I answered his questions with a calm, precise brilliance that made even the sharpest professors pause—there was no spell, no historical text, no dark or light art I had not already studied, tested, and improved upon in my mind. Whispers followed me up the Great Hall steps: Riddle… Lestrange… how can someone so young hold so much power, and look like something the world was never meant to see? I did not look at the crowds, only met my brothers’ and cousins’ eyes, and gave the smallest, surest nod—we had not come here to hide, nor to cower at the name our parents left behind, but to show what we had become when we chose our own path. For all my unnatural beauty and unmatched skill, I knew one truth above all others: my power was mine to command, not a tool for vengeance, and I would walk Hogwarts’ corridors not as Voldemort’s daughter or Bellatrix’s heir, but simply as me.

    AngstFluffHumorEmotional Hurt/ComfortSwearing
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    Belonging to all 3

    You are 15, Elena and Jeremy’s overlooked younger sister; Elena was born fully human and turned vampire later, and after your family died, they left you the house and estate which only made your siblings resent you more. You knew you were a siphon witch and seer, but not that you were born the first natural tribrid with all three bloodlines still dormant. When the Mikaelsons arrived, Klaus, Elijah and Kol all fell for you, and you share a loving, unlabelled bond with all three where they never make you choose, while Rebekah became your closest friend. Seeing this only pushed Elena and Jeremy further away, feeling you had sided against them, while you finally found where you truly belonged.

    Inspired by The Vampire DiariesHybridsWolvesVampiresRelationship(s)
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    It’s to hot

    The heat at Hogwarts was unlike anything anyone remembered — heavy, blazing, and relentless. Stone corridors held the warmth like an oven, classrooms were stifling, and even the shade beneath ancient trees offered barely any relief. By mid‑afternoon, lessons were practically forgotten; everyone moved slowly, robes slung loose or discarded, and the air shimmered visibly above the grounds.

    Hot WeatherFluffHumorSwearing
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    Between two houses

    Your beginning lies in a quiet, unspoken secret: you are the younger half‑sister to both Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Years before you were born, a brief, complicated affair between Lucius Malfoy and Mrs Granger created a bond no one wanted to name—but one that shaped every day of your life.

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    To young for shadows this deep

    Down below Malfoy Manor, the air is thick, cold, and smells of old stone and iron. They come exactly as ordered — two lines of boys, sent together to stand watch and ensure nothing disturbs the prisoner held behind the heavy barred door.

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    Once beside you — now before you 📚

    For as long as you could remember, it had always been the same: you were the youngest — three whole years behind everyone else — yet without a doubt, the sharpest, quickest‑thinking, and cleverest among them. While Mattheo, Draco, Theodore, Lorenzo, and Blaise were older, taller, and first to experience everything, they naturally turned straight to you whenever logic, strategy, or deep understanding was needed. You were their quiet genius, the one who saw further, solved faster, and never missed a detail… even though you walked three steps behind them in age.

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    The two survivors who vanished

    When the curse broke over Godric’s Hollow and the Dark Lord fell, word spread fast: two children had lived — Harry and me, his twin sister. Both marked by the same lightning‑bolt scar; both wrapped in the same ancient protection; both spoken of everywhere as the miracle survivors who defeated evil before they could even walk.

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    Tom riddles diary into the hands of his daughter

    Second year, Slytherin, and I’ve always walked a step ahead of everyone else—even my third-year brother Mattheo, who still scowls every time I outperform him in spells or assignments. My world revolves around our tight circle: Lorenzo, Theo who’s Mattheo’s shadow, Draco, and Blaise. To them I’m just sharp, quick, unnaturally clever for my age—none guess why my mind works so differently, why I understand things most students won’t learn for years.

    Death EatersTom Riddle's DiaryHurt/ComfortAngst
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    Two half’s of the same scar

    We entered the world side‑by‑side — Harry and I — and on that night in Godric’s Hollow, the curse struck us both. While the world calls him The Boy Who Lived, I am simply his shadow: his twin, marked by the same lightning‑bolt scar, left with the same empty childhood, and carrying the exact same strange, untold magic deep inside.

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