Fandom 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙐𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 - Main RP [OPEN]

[HALO.]

We follow a group of first years and their story right from the beginning. How they met and their own legends were told a century after the fall of Lord Voldemort. And it all begins with an unease... a shift in Hogwarts itself...​

S E P T 0 1 , 2111 •×•×• PLATFORM 9 ¾:
The air was thick with anticipation and the scent of fresh parchment as each student meticulously gathered their supplies from the winding alleys and shadowed corners of Diagon Alley. Cloaked in the excitement of the unknown, they hailed from homes as diverse as the magical world itself—some nurtured in warmth and laughter, others shadowed by complexities and silent expectations. Their trunks, packed with more than just robes and spellbooks, bore the invisible weight of hopes, fears, and dreams, all converging on the cobbled platform of 9 ¾.

HOGWARTS EXPRESS:
As the clock struck 11, the Hogwarts Express billowed its departure, snaking its way through the countryside toward a world unseen. Within its carriages, a serendipitous meeting unfolded between six souls, unknowingly destined for a shared path. Though divided by the wooden panels of compartment doors, their first exchanges happen—weaving the initial threads of a bond that would defy the very foundations of Hogwarts' storied halls.

MORE TO BE ADDED...​

We begin at the start. A few weeks before the start of the new year...

In the dimly illuminated recesses beneath Hogwarts, a meeting unfolded within the hidden chamber housing the portrait of the castle's revered founder, Godric Gryffindor. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken tension as the assembled professors exchanged wary glances, their eyes fixed upon the vacant frame that once held the countenance of the esteemed wizard.

At the forefront of the group stood Headmaster Amos Beauregard, his towering presence casting a shadow over the gathered individuals. His penetrating gaze swept across the chamber, the lines etched upon his weathered face betraying the weight of centuries-old secrets and the burden of truths untold. "This development is troubling indeed," he intoned, his voice resonating with a gravity that matched the solemnity of the situation.

Beside him, Professor Donatien Caddel, the Head of Hufflepuff, leaned casually against the rough-hewn stone wall, his expression a mask of calculated nonchalance. His keen eyes flickered with a subtle hint of concern as he observed the proceedings, though he made no attempt to conceal the underlying tension that simmered beneath the surface of his amiable facade. "It's rather curious, wouldn't you say?" he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of mischief as he glanced sidelong at Professor Levine.

Opposite him, the Head of Slytherin House stood - an acerbic and formidable Potions Master - his countenance a portrait of disdain as he surveyed the chamber with a critical eye. The animosity between the two was palpable, an undercurrent of simmering rivalry that crackled in the air like static electricity. "This is unacceptable," he interjected, his voice a low growl that reverberated off the ancient stone walls. "We cannot simply ignore the disappearance of another founder."

As they stood in the shadowy confines of the underground chamber, a sense of foreboding settled over the group like a heavy cloak, casting a pall of uncertainty over their deliberations. The torches flickered ominously, casting dancing shadows that seemed to dance with malicious intent upon the rough-hewn stone walls, as if the very walls themselves were privy to the dark secrets that lurked within.

Though the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff remained serene on the other side of the chamber, right beside the empty Ravenclaw Founder's portrait. "Typical Hufflepuff," he muttered under his breath, his words dripping with thinly veiled contempt. "Always so eager to avoid confrontation."

Caddel shot him a withering glare, his demeanour momentarily slipping to reveal a flash of steel. "Better to avoid confrontation than to charge headfirst into disaster," he retorted, his voice cool and measured.

Levine's lip curled into a sneer. "And where has that gotten your house exactly?" he countered, his tone laced with disdain. "Always playing it safe, always hiding behind your precious virtues. Meanwhile, Slytherin is out there, making things happen."

Caddel's jaw clenched, but he maintained his composure. "Quality over quantity, Levine," he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'd rather produce honorable witches and wizards than a legion of conniving snakes."

Levine's eyes flashed with anger, but before he could retort, Beauregard's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "That's enough," he said, his tone firm but measured. "This is not the time for petty squabbles. We have a problem to solve, and I expect you both to act like the respected professors you are."

The two men fell silent, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. But begrudgingly, they both nodded in acquiescence, the tension in the air thick with unresolved animosity.

Beauregard's brow furrowed with concern as he surveyed the scene before him. "This disappearance is troubling yes," he remarked, his voice tinged with a note of apprehension. "But it's not the only sign of trouble we've encountered lately."

He gestured towards the torches, which flickered erratically as if struggling to maintain their flame. "The enchantments that sustain the castle seem to be weakening," he continued, his tone grave. "There have been reports of strange occurrences - corridors shifting, ghosts appearing where they shouldn't be..."

Caddel and Levine exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon them.

"And let's not forget about the incident in the Forbidden Forest," Caddel added, his voice barely above a whisper. "The centaurs have been restless lately."

"And you believe these incidents are all connected?" Levine prompted, his tone betraying a hint of scepticism.

"It's difficult to say for certain," Beauregard sighed, his gaze drifting towards the empty portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw. "I wish I had the answers… but it's clear that something is amiss. And until we uncover the truth, Hogwarts remains vulnerable,” he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “For now, all we can do is remain vigilant and trust that the founders have a plan in motion.”

As they contemplated the implications of Beauregard's words, a heavy silence descended upon the chamber, broken only by the faint sound of their own breathing echoing off the ancient stone walls. And in that moment, they couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay hidden within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, waiting to be unearthed.

---

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𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙐𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 - A Small Long-term GRP. [Open]

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[HALO.]

> Mentions: Unknown

> Interactions: Open


✦


Kyrus was 11 years old when he first arrived at Kings Cross station.


Today was different. Today, Kyrus teetered behind his parents quietly, on the cusp of something frighteningly new.


In front of his cool demeanour however, his eyes were wide. It wasn't just the steam of the Hogwarts Express that made the air shimmer; it was as if reality itself bent, welcoming him to a realm where the rules were written in the language of magic. The platform buzzed with a diversity that Kyrus hadn't anticipated. Among the students, there were not just witches and wizards in their traditional robes, but beings that defied his understanding of the magical world. A far cry from the isolation and human-centric views of Gaunt Manor.


Kyrus's gaze flitted across the crowd like a butterfly, searching for faces that might look back with a spark of friendship. *Wizards and witches,* he thought, his heart skipping a beat.


You see, little Kyrus had never really had a friend before. Aunt Mallory didn't count. Nor did the little house elf who offered whispered tales at night. Then were his only companions in the vast, echoing loneliness of Gaunt Manor. And then there was the girl, a fleeting connection now lost to the darkest corners of his mind… but-


That wasn't something he allowed himself to think anymore. *Especially not on a day like now…*


It was the thought of finally going to *Hogwarts* that had kept him sane. Up all night, eyes refusing to shut as he stared out his open bedroom window. Rather, he'd had a hard time keeping a smile off his face. He'd be free to make his own decisions once he was at Hogwarts - well as much as he could. He wouldn’t be sleeping in a large, cold manor. He wouldn't be alone. He'd learn new spells. He'd have sleepovers, laughing with his friends. This was no ordinary train journey; it was a passage to a place where he might finally belong, where the shadows of Gaunt Manor would no longer loom over him. His heart, usually so guarded, now throbbed with unbridled excitement at the thought of everything new and scary all at once. Though more than anything, he couldn't breathe fast enough for he'd be making a new *friend*.


Just like Aunt Mallory had promised him, he'd find them. Soon. Maybe he'd even find out more about ancient magic. Hogwarts *had* to have some sort of books on it.


Weaving through the bustling crowd of Platform 9 and ¾, the young boy couldn't help but let his eyes steal glances towards his father. The man moved with an air of detachment, his gaze cold and judgmental even in such a magical setting, scrutinising the excited families with a disdain reserved for what he deemed lesser bloodlines. Kyrus's heart sank as he observed that all-too-familiar frown, a stark reminder of the oppressive atmosphere of Gaunt Manor that followed him like a shadow.


Attempting to cloak his burgeoning excitement with a veneer of indifference, Kyrus felt a familiar chill wrap around his heart. The joy that had bubbled within him at the thought of boarding the Hogwarts Express was quickly tempered by the icy realisation of his father's expectations. This was the dance he had been trained in since childhood: **emotions concealed, never revealed, as they were a vulnerability in his father's eyes.


Would he ever find true freedom beyond these platforms, or would the spectre of his lineage continue to poison his new life at Hogwarts? The notion sent a shiver through him, a silent echo of the fear that perhaps he would never truly escape.


"Remember who you are, Kyrus," his father's voice cut through his thoughts, as cold and sharp as the winter air. They had come to a stop just before the doors of one of the carriages, the threshold to Kyrus's new life. "Do not forget the blood that runs through your veins. Hogwarts is a place for learning, not for frivolity. Make the family proud."


The words were a weighty cloak thrown over the flickers of hope and excitement Kyrus had harboured. It was here the last vestiges of his childhood wonderment faded once again into the steely resolve that had been instilled in him.


***Emotions were a weakness.***


Perhaps his father was right. Perhaps no one would be his friend if he showed them too many. Rather, would anyone even like him - even if they were other purebloods? How would he even go about talking to someone his own age?


He wanted to reach out, to be just another boy among many, yet the fear of rejection—or worse, of disdain for his vulnerability—held him back.


*‘They’ll love you, little one.’* Aunt Mallory's words, once a beacon of hope, now seemed like distant whispers from a dream. Bittersweet lies.


Peering out from behind his mother's silhouette, Kyrus's gaze wandered to the other children on the platform. He saw groups of friends reuniting with warm hugs and wide smiles, overheard snippets of conversation about the latest Quidditch matches. And then a boy his age showing off a tiny, nipping Niffler, which was playfully trying to snatch shiny coins from laughing onlookers.


Yet, the moment his father caught him in an unguarded moment of curiosity, a familiar chill crippled him still—a silent reminder of the consequences that loomed over any perceived weakness. Instinctively, he straightened his posture, retreating behind the mask of indifference he had been taught to wear. His world of wonder momentarily eclipsed back to reality.


Even his fascination with the muggle world—a realm of wonders and mysteries forbidden to him—lingered at the edges of his consciousness. A forbidden fruit he could only observe from a distance, never to taste.


“Yes, father,” Kyrus murmured, his voice barely a whisper. In that moment, he was the spitting image of his mother, not just in the autumnal hues of his hair or the pallor of his skin, untouched by the sun's embrace, but in the delicate balance of strength and vulnerability that characterised his very essence.


It was here Osiris Gaunt, with a voice as cold as the deepest winter, broke the silence. "Mallory's lost her senses, gifting him such a... creature." His eyes, devoid of warmth, briefly acknowledged the black kitten, Nines, whose innocent slumber seemed almost defiant in its tranquillity. The soft ball of fur, simple curled purely, in its almost transparent little bag on Kyrus’s trolley.


Celine Gaunt, her beauty marred by the sharpness of her gaze, chimed in, her tone laced with a venomous sweetness. "She always was too tender-hearted, thinking with her emotions rather than her intellect. It's unbecoming." Her laughter, light yet chilling, filled the air as she casually flicked a glance toward the kitten. "Perhaps leaving it behind during the holidays might teach him a lesson in priorities. After all, we can't have him getting too attached to such... distractions."


Feeling a wave of protectiveness surge within him, Kyrus could barely keep his voice steady. "But Nines isn't just a distraction. Aunt Mallory said—"


"Enough," his father cut him off, the word sharp enough to slice through the thickening tension. "Mallory indulges your weaknesses far too much. It's high time you learned to let go of childish attachments. Strength, power, these are the pillars upon which our family stands. Not sentimentality over pets."


His mother’s smile was a razor's edge as she leaned closer, her voice a whisper that carried the weight of iron. Her hands, curled harshly against his shoulders like an iron grip. "Imagine, darling, if every pureblood family got distracted by every cute creature they came across. We'd be no better than the muggles and their mundane obsessions."


Kyrus's heart raced as he looked sideways at Nines - the small creature oblivious to the coldness that threatened its very existence. "Yes, father," he murmured, though every fibre of his being screamed in silent protest.


He could have other excuses to stay during half terms but, where would he stay for the summer if he couldn't bring the cat? Would he really have to leave it…?


In the shadow of his parents' chilling doctrine, Kyrus felt the weight of a silent vow settle upon him. Not only would he protect Nines, but he would also guard the ember of compassion that flickered within him—a feeble defiance against the darkness that sought to claim him.


*The first of the many soon to follow.*


Amidst his parents reminding him of the house he had to get in, and to sift through a list of potential allies to make… It was here that something happened. A sudden, unexpected distraction tore through his focus like a ray of sunlight piercing through storm clouds.


As his mother tightened her grip, imparting her cold, calculated wishes for his future, his gaze inadvertently drifted across the bustling crowd. There, amidst the chaos of families and the cacophony of farewells, a girl with brunette hair, so familiar it sent a jolt of pain through his heart, collided with someone. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a connection so intense and unexpected that it momentarily drowned out the noise around him.


In that brief exchange, a storm of emotions whirled within Kyrus, a mix of confusion, shock, and a pang of anguish so acute it felt as though he was gazing at a ghost from his past—or perhaps a figment of his imagination. The familiarity of her presence was so overwhelming, yet so painfully out of place, that he found himself questioning his sanity. Was he hallucinating, seeing what he desperately wished to see in the sea of strangers?


As quickly as she appeared, the girl vanished into the throng, leaving Kyrus grappling with a surge of emotions he couldn't comprehend. The connection, though momentary, unleashed a tumult of feelings, a sense of loss so profound as if he had briefly touched a part of his soul he didn't know was missing, only to have it ripped away once more.


His parents’ words however sliced through his daze with ease, pulling him back to the harsh reality of his situation. “Kyrus, are you even listening? Focus. This is your future we're discussing. Your cousin expects great things from you. From us,” his mother chided, her voice sharp, a stark contrast to the ephemeral moment of connection he had just experienced.


For a moment, Kyrus stood there, lost between two worlds—the cold, demanding expectations of his family and the haunting, inexplicable encounter with the girl. He shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the image of her from his mind, convincing himself it was nothing more than a trick of his imagination, a desperate yearning for something beyond the rigid confines of his life.


“Yes, mother,” he murmured, forcing himself to meet her eyes once again. But somewhere, deep within, the memory of that fleeting eye contact lingered, a silent unease grew thick.


Was this some morbid form of karma?


The urge to follow that fleeting glimpse of something different, something more, welled up within him, stronger than ever. "Can I go now? I'm gonna miss the train," he found himself saying, a newfound determination in his voice. For a moment, he dared to defy the expectations, the path laid out before him, driven by the memory of that brief, magical connection.

‎

His parents, after a brief, calculating glance, nodded. "Very well, Kyrus. Remember who you are, and what you represent." His mother's words ended sharply, getting up again as Kyrus got his luggage - meeting her smiling eyes one last time. “Don't forget to owl us the moment you get sorted.”


“Will do,” he offered a meek smile back, and to his father - then hugging his mother back, just as he always did. Acting like the perfect family they were.


And then? He was off.


As Kyrus navigated the crowded corridors of the Hogwarts Express, his heart was a tumult of emotions—curiosity piqued by the mysterious girl, and a yearning for a fresh start away from the shadows of his family's expectations. He found himself at the door of a nearly empty compartment, save for a pair of twin boys and a girl sitting opposite them. The twins bore an unmistakable air of mischief, their grins wide and welcoming, while the girl, in stark contrast, seemed aloof, her demeanor cold and unwelcoming.


"Oi, looking for a seat?" one of the twins called out, his eyes sparkling with an invitation to join their little assembly. The other twin shuffled over, patting the seat beside him, a silent gesture for Kyrus to sit.


Kyrus hesitated, momentarily taken aback by the openness of the invitation. The girl, however, merely glanced up from her book with a look that could freeze boiling water, then returned to her reading without a word.


Deciding to take a chance, Kyrus moved into the compartment, settling beside the twins. "Thanks," he murmured, placing his bag down carefully.


The twin next to him grinned, extending a hand. "I'm Alek, and this is Kale," he introduced, gesturing to his brother, who offered a similarly mischievous smile. “There's a third one of us, but he's off trying to find our little cousin.”


"And she's Lysandra," Kale continued, nodding towards the girl, who didn’t bother looking up this time. "Don't mind her; she thinks she's too good for us."


Lysandra's eyes snapped up, sharp and cutting. "I don't think I'm too good for anyone. I just prefer quality company," she retorted, her voice laced with disdain.


Alek chuckled, undeterred. "Oh, we've got quality in spades. It's just hidden beneath layers of charm and good looks."


The banter was foreign to Kyrus, a stark contrast to the stiff formalities of his home life. Yet, he found himself drawn into their dynamic, the warmth of genuine interaction thawing the ice of his upbringing.


"So, Kyrus, first year?" Kale asked, breaking into his thoughts.


"Yes," Kyrus replied, surprised at the interest. "How could you tell?"


"Just a hunch," Alek answered with a wink. "We're second years. Hogwarts is brilliant. You'll love it. Just watch out for the usual suspects. And us, of course."


"And probably Lysandra, if you ever beat her in a duel," Kale added with a grin. "She's a bit of a sore loser."


Lysandra rolled her eyes. "They're planning to get themselves expelled by Halloween," she corrected dryly.


Kyrus couldn't help but let his lips tug up a little. A small, genuine one that reached his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever.