Tag: headcanon

lullabyknell:

ginevravweasley:

ginevravweasley:

listen secret magical creature heritage au’s may be cliche and overused but they are my JAM

you can’t tell me Luna didn’t have some sort of fae background. or parseltongue didn’t come from the nagas. or the Malfoy’s didn’t have veela blood. or the Weasley’s didn’t come from fire sprites. or the Pervell brothers weren’t necromancers. because I assure you this is 100% canon. fight me.

(What are you even suggesting, this is totally canon. Anyone who wants to get to you will have to fight me first. Bring it.)

It’s fairly obvious if you know what to look for. Unfortunately, so few people do, not realizing that person does not necessarily mean human. But perhaps this is inevitable, given that most nonhumans are dead, elsewhere, or intensely and viciously private nowadays.

A younger humankind would have laughed at the idea of “pure blood”. If anyone human-shaped was pure, then it was the purely nonmagical humans. Mud Men, many nonhumans affectionately called the tenacious people.

Goodness gracious, where did people think magical blood came from in the first place? The term mudblood? And if you wanted to call a pure elf or fae a creature or a beast, then it was a good idea to dig your own grave first. Save everyone else the trouble.

But that was then… and this is now. Now, you often must watch closely.

Lucius
Malfoy, for example, is not a terrifying difficult puzzle. One only has
to look up the family tree to find their French origins and relation to
many prominent Veela clans there. Although, that is perhaps more
difficult than it sounds, as the Malfoys have “fixed” all their copies
and buried the rest deep in unmarked graves.

But, watching
closely… the hair and general preening suggested quite clearly,
accompanied by a certain slant to the jaw and elegance to the limbs.
Along with how the man could lure many a Ministry official into
agreements with seamless charm and smooth smiles. And also in the way
his handsome face will twist into something terrible in anger, his hands clenching like claws, flexing with half-remembered fire and talons.

When
Lucius Malfoy cares for the peacocks at Malfoy Manor, when nobody is
watching, he will cluck and coo at them. And they will answer him.
Veelas have their own origins, after all, in the avian set of magical
creatures.

On the other hand, while Narcissa is loyal to her husband, the Black family has their own hidden nonhuman origins.

She
is much more of a lurker than dear bloodthirsty Bella, waiting for the
right moment to strike from the shadows, much like viciously protective
Andromeda – they are more scavengers than predator, the younger two.
Though none the less cruel or dark. None the less protective of their nest.

Narcissa
is quiet, unlike the howls of hateful Walburga, much like the silent
judgement of cold Orion or the creeping calculation of young Regulus.
Entirely unlike the brash swipes and territorial snarls of Sirius, who
is more familiar with lurking in shadows and striking for blood than he
will ever be comfortable with.

They are so similar, yet so
different. What they are has many names, bogeymen is one; they are the
brothers and sisters of all the necromantic (and some of the demonic,
too), and they come in so many kinds.

Luna Lovegood is
another simple puzzle – that she is practically made of thousands of
clues is answer enough. That she can see things and creatures and the
invisible sorts that most can’t is almost the only clue you need. Fae
are a rather insular bunch, after all, and few have the Sight to looking
for the Fair Folk or the way their Worlds weave together.

But
as for the little clues, well… the girl’s heritage is in the
vegetables in her ears, the odd-sounding sentences and introductions,
and the used bottlecaps around her throat. It’s from the inverted
reading of everything… to the visiting of Thestrals in bare feet and
with both an apple and a strip of flesh as offering.

Little things, odd things, but important things.

There
are certain Safe Ways of dealing with the world, you see – a certain
way to go about doing things. Like tossing salt over your shoulder if
you spill it, never breaking a mirror, and not intruding on Fairy Forts
for anything. Luck has to be worked for, and a smart fae follows
traditions and pays attention when their ears burn. Listening to omens
like owls and robins and black cats can save a life. (Luna didn’t know to be listening then, she regrets it now.)

And
it’s too faint to see, but when she skips, she hovers for a
split-second before she falls. Somewhere deep in Luna Lovegood,
something is singing a half-remembered warble… of wings made of
gossamer and glass turned flesh.

Weasleys, on the other hand,
are an interesting matter, especially with the introduction of the
Prewetts. Weasleys come from a curious line of creature, literally quite
curious, and… well… quite
weasel-like in appearance, as opposed to the avian origins of Veela. But
Prewetts… Prewetts were born of fire – fire sprites, elementals,
somewhere between nature spirit and demon, spiteful and fierce and warm
and hot.

One would need the right machinery to see it,
but it can be felt perfectly fine when a child of Molly Weasley gets
angry. The air around them gets quite warm. And they turn quite red,
which clashes horribly with their hair, which is sign in itself, really.
Quite a temper, fire has, if you poke it.

For those who can
see it and are paying attention, Ginny Weasley’s hair rises slightly
when she’s furious, and her tomato-red ears give off the faintest of
sparks. Luna doesn’t mention it though, because it’s not very polite to
point out that sort of thing. She does, however, note with some interest
that Ron’s do the same, after she meets him.

Harry Potter,
the infamous Boy Who Lived, is… a bit strange. He’s hard to pin down,
honestly, almost impossible. When he flies, one might suspect something
born of wind or something born with wings. When he fights, one might
suspect something animalistic, something extremely loyal and fierce, and
maybe a bit mean when provoked out of gentle contentment. Or maybe
something powerful, something truly sorcerous or maybe demonic.

He
hisses like a naga, he’s got eyes between nymph and necromantic, and he
acts sometimes… elvish in demeanor… house-elvish. It’s hard to
tell, honestly. Who knows? He certainly doesn’t.

Hermione
Granger, while on the subject of the three friends, is actually
incredibly obvious. That truly fearsome intelligence? That offensive
temper, that righteous determination, that jealous pride, that cruel
vindictiveness when crossed? That affinity for fire? That near hoarding of
as much knowledge as she can reach? A tad insecure, but the young ones
are always easily upset, and the kindness and crusading isn’t at all a
dealbreaker.

Oh, wouldn’t the so-called “purebloods” be
surprised? But, then again, many forget that fire hides under the earth.
And the riddling, terribly clever kind of dragons aren’t really around
anymore. The rare few that remain, however, always tend to be such book-wyrms.

Like the mudblood girl’s,
Tom Marvolo Riddle’s naga heritage was well-hidden. First behind his
handsome nonmagical father’s face, then behind the mutations and
corrupting magic of the Horcruxes.

He shouldn’t have tried to
get rid of most of his “Muggleness” when he resurrected himself, if he
had wanted to keep a human appearance. The faint scales of scales on his
skin and slits of his eyes are entirely his own fault – the ancient
naga blood wasn’t enough to create something less unnatural and
ill-suited to exist. Voldemort was always cold, wherever he went.

“Purity”
of magic and of witches and wizards, my friends, is such a laughable
thing. “Pure blood”? Goodness gracious, what a joke.