when McGonagall finds out that Ginny is pregnant, and that the Weasley and Potter bloodlines will converge, she marks on her calender the day the child will turn 11 and that is the day she retires
(Do you know, I think the Rumbelle fandom has done all of these already. Occasionally multiple times. Let’s do… new neighbor AU? Ish.)
Bae was looking nervously at the house next door. “Papa?”
"She had to have been warned," he told… well, mostly himself. She seemed sweet, this new neighbor, brown curls falling out of a pun that looked to be held up with a pencil. "Go talk to Emma."
Baelfire gave him a wary look he probably deserved before going to talk to the girl.. But this time, he told himself, he would speak candidly to the new neighbor, warn her of what happened the last dozen times so she didn’t feel embarrassed to admit to the… difficulties. David agreed that the problem with… was it Gaston? Or perhaps it had been George. Either way, at least one of the previous owners had driven themselves into a hospital trying to stay there.
"Hello," he said, knowing he was at least not as physically imposing as David or Frederick. "Moving in?"
The young woman nodded. He revised his mental guess at her age to thirty or thereabout. “I just got a job at the local college, teaching English, and this house was listed for a song,” she smiled. “I was expecting bats in the attic or dry rot, to be honest.”
…Sidney hadn’t told her. Dammit. “Yes, well, the place is notoriously haunted, actually,” he forced himself to say, feeling his throat want to close up.
He’d lived here the longest, after all, since he and Milah had been married. Mary Margaret and David only lived here for five years, and Abigail and Frederick had moved in a year before. Eric and Ariel were still newlyweds, really. He knew the power of the house, more than anyone save perhaps Glass.
Her blue eyes went wide, mouth parted slightly in surprise. He gripped his cane a little tighter, sternly warning his libido not to make a fool of him in front of the new neighbor, however pretty she might be. “Really? No one told me that…”
"Glass should have," he growled. "The average tenant lasts about six months at most. And that includes the pile of college kids who lived here one year. One of them is still in the hospital, actually. You should ask the other neighbors, if you don’t believe me.”
She looked at him, as if judging his soul. He tried not to squirm and mentally boxed all of his many sins in hopes she couldn’t see them. “I believe you,” she said, biting her lip. “Though I don’t think I will let a ghost chase me away. There have to be steps I can take, or something.”
He shrugged. “I think Abigail has the master copy of the list, if you would like.” He pointed to the pale yellow Victorian house two doors down. “And most of us know why you might pound on our doors at two AM.” That had happened, and he’d mostly been furious because Bae had been terribly ill, and Rum had been thinking of going to the hospital.
She smiled again, “Thank you for the warning, though I think I need to have a word with Mr. Glass.” She sighed. “And I haven’t introduced myself- Belle French.”
"Rum Gold." He dared her to say something about the name, but she instead rebalanced the box she was holding to shake his hand. "Would you like me to get my son and his girlfriend to help carry some of that in?"
"That would be lovely, thanks," she said, nodding decisively, and he found himself hoping that maybe this neighbor would stay.
(Penpal AU, because hello.)
Mina had taken to writing Lucy back when Livejournal was still the medium of choice for fandom, and tiny fellow Baby Fan Lucy had written a gloriously sweet and judgmental post about the tendency of Certain People to circle-jerk an idea until they refused to accept it wasn’t canon.
There had been footnotes. Mina had tried telling herself she wasn’t in love, but somewhere around the time that the sixth Harry Potter book had come out, Mina decided that accepting it was fine. Lucy was openly bi and maybe poly by that point, and Mina was… not sure, except for the fact that Lucy’s words made Mina feel warm inside. Happy and joyful and content. For a shy and bookish sixteen year old who could cosplay Hermione or pre-makeover Mia simply by changing the colors on her school uniform, she accepted it as enough for now.
They ended up going to school sort of near each other- Lucy was studying theater at Julliard, and Mina was going to study electrical engineering and computer science at MIT. Mina went down to New York to meet Lucy, who’d she’d only seen in photographs and youtube clips. (Lucy was starting to make a name for herself online, doing brilliantly cutting explanations of Shakespeare and pop media.)
Lucy was just as bouncy online as she was in real life, all big brown eyes and wild gestures. “Mina, darling, I’m so happy you’re here! Finally.”
And then she kissed Mina, shy little Mina who couldn’t look cute people in the eyes, and Mina’s brain short-circuited and when she could think beyond “finally” she wondered how she got this lucky.
Then, of course, there was the whole Dracula thing. But that turned out alright, so… yeah, lucky.
(Somewhere between Canon and RDJ Holmes for this, leaning towards canon. Magic AU!)
Mary was waiting, and trying not to be too smug.
Well. trying not to show how smug she was, a task made easier by the thick smell of gunpowder and blood. That would be terribly impolite, even if Mr. Holmes richly deserved it. Besides, they still needed to find John, and that required keeping Holmes capable of rational thought.
"Now do you believe me?" she asked, watching the changing emotions on his face carefully. Would she need to slap him? Smelling salts.
"It was a…" he shook his head. "And one of these took Watson?"
Mary nodded. “A werewolf, Mr. Holmes, as I told you.” Hands on her hips, she looked up at her husband’s dearest friend. “Now, what have you gotten my husband into? I quite enjoy his tales of your exploits, and the lord knows that your cases do him good, but this is more than I am willing to accept.”
Holmes nodded. “I did not know, I swear. And we will find Watson.”
Mary accepted this as being the only answer he could give, and tried not to worry too terribly much about the long scratches she half-glimpsed under his coat for now. Holmes would not take well to being confined to a bed, and she hardly knew what specialist could help in this case, unless…
Her priority needed to be John, but she had long ago accepted that Mr. Holmes would be part of the package. John could go for months without seeing his old roommate, but in the end, Holmes and the excitement that followed in his footsteps was like a siren call. Mr. Holmes understood her husband’s penchant for risk and so she thought it a healthy enough outlet. She would quietly talk to her old friend Mina later, and see if she could possibly help.