Fanworks: HG Round 1 Compilation

This is going to be a compilation of all the fanart/vocaroos/edits/etc. that I made for EM's Hunger Games competitions! Or just the first round actually, since I submitted way too much then lol I actually kinda ashamed of how bad I am, but I was working to earn points for Xiumin and in the end that's what matters! lol

ETA: idk what' the deal is with the cuts, I think it's hard to fix them with the vocaroo posts so this compilation's a little sloppy? But this is the best I can do, I'm just really that bad with technology lol orz ughhhh

ROUND 1:
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Fanworks: HG Round 2+2.5 Compilation

I'm finally done with the Round 1 post! orz omg, that was so tiring lol, but thankfully I made a lot less for Rounds 2 and 2.5 and I only wrote one thing for Round 3 so less work. Originally I was gonna try to do Wreck-It Ralph/Sugar Rush-esque racing characters for Round 3, and I even looked up concept art and fanart and started working on getting the style down and designing their go-karts, but in the end... I had work all week and couldn't get to it. What a disappointment. In the end, Xiumin ended up being eliminated, but I can't say I didn't try my best for him. :'3

Round 2:

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And then finally a toop I made!

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Notes: I actually tested it out here before I posted :3 The letters alternate between gifs and jpgs lol



Round 2.5:

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Drabbles: The Suffering Slytherin

Title: The Suffering Slytherin
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Sehun-centric, Sehun/Tao
Genre: Gen, fluff
Rating: G
Length: Drabble series, 805 words
Summary: Episodes from Sehun's first year at Hogwarts. Harry Potter!Au set a few years before this.

Sehun/Chen - tough as cotton balls

"How has your first week in Slytherin been, Sehunnie?"

There's little warning before Sehun is smacked quite strongly on the back, and it's only through mere chance that he manages to avoid face-planting in his porridge. That would have been a disaster, Sehun figures, although he's not sure whether it'd be better or worse than getting caught in the crossfire of an inter-house hexing battle and as a result walking into the Sorting Ceremony with his hair charmed to change color every time his expression changed even slightly. He can't even breathe a sigh of relief now because then the pink shade he'd spent all morning getting used to would probably change again.

"My hair is still jinxed," he says blankly, already an expert in maintaining a straight face after a week of learning to control himself or risk further humiliation. He stares at Jongdae as accusingly as he can manage using only his eyes, but already he can feel his scalp starting to tingle.

Jongdae laughs, loud and bright as he plops down beside Sehun and starts filling his plate. "You can't let a harmless jinx like that ruin your first week, not if you're gonna survive in Slytherin for seven years," he tells Sehun through a mouthful of eggs. "So better toughen up. Besides, I think you're lucky Baekhyun and Chanyeol weren't having a bigger fight on the train, kid. The spells they used could have been worse."

Worse. Sehun can't even imagine how much worse things could be, and accidentally lets out a sigh.

"Merlin's saggy left--" he groans into his hands as Jongdae and half their table starts laughing at his fire-engine red hair.



Sehun/Tao - in the detail

How Sehun manages to wind up in remedial Charms lessons by the end of his first term is still something of a mystery to the rest of the Slytherin house.

"Are you sure you're pureblood? Shouldn't there be more magic running through your veins?" Jongdae had teased, and Sehun hadn't shown it because of that stupid hair color-changing charm that still hadn't worn off, but it honestly had hurt. But just a little.

So here he was, sitting in Flitwick's classroom after all other lessons have already concluded for the day and silently nursing his hurt feelings as he watched little cupcakes dance across his desk in a sorry attempt to cheer him up. Unlike the upperclassmen, Professor Flitwick had been sympathetic to the point of nausea and thought Sehun could use a distraction before leaving to fetch his new student tutor.

"Sorry I'm late! Quidditch practice was running late!"

When Sehun hears the high, light voice and catches a glimpse of yellow and black, he almost thinks he's been stuck with Kim Junmyeon, who'd given him an impromptu tour of the castle on his second day regardless of the fact that they were in different houses. But instead, the person who comes in is already a little bit taller and darker than tiny, pale Junmyeon, even if Sehun knows him to be younger.

It's the second year Hufflepuff beater. Huang Z-something-or-the-other.

"So Flitwick told me you were having trouble with charms?" he asks Sehun, smiling brightly as he grabs the seat in front of Sehun's and starts pulling out notes. "Something about how you half-ass the wand movements."

"He never said that."

His tutor laughs, that familiar high-pitched noise Sehun sometimes hears in the middle of a Quidditch match whenever he flies over the Slytherin side of the arena after sucessfully knocking a bludger someone's way. "You're right. He just implied it. Anyway, I'm Zitao."

"I know," Sehun lies, but not good enough because his hair shifts to lavendar and Zitao's not even bothering to hide how much it amuses him.

Other than that though, Zitao's not a bad tutor. He's eager to guide Sehun and correct the positioning of his wrist in a way that absolutely does not make Sehun feel like someone shot cheering charms right at his chest.

"Just swish and flick," Zitao tells him, his wrist moving gracefully, "really simple."

Sehun frowns, ignoring how his hair is now a moss green color and the way Zitao openly watches it change with a cat-like smile, and wiggles his wrist in a poor imitation. In response, the feather on his desk changes color until it's the same shade as his hair.

"Well, you're not lacking in potential," Zitao says kindly, edging closer into Sehun's personal space as he reaches for Sehun's hand again. His hand feels rougher compared to Sehun's smooth skin, the callouses from a term's worth of Quidditch practices already setting in. "Let's try that again."

Their lesson runs for an hour longer than either of them expected, but Sehun can't say he minds as he leaves the Charms classroom, feeling as light as the feather he's now capable of levitating.

Prompt: Taken from Exo prompt generators.
Author's Note: Written for Round 2 of the HG competition over at EM. The theme was Harry Potter, and it was a happy coincidence that I got two Sehun prompts in a row. Here, Sehun is a first year Slytherin, Tao is a second Hufflepuff, and Chen is a third year Slytherin (and actually in Harry's year, lol). It was only in retrospect that I realized that the second drabble was kind of similar to the EXO-Hogwarts!verse selu fic on Tumblr where Lu Han tutors Sehun in Charms, but it really was an accident? :( If I had the chance, I probably would have rewritten this and focused on a different subject then, like Herbology? That's something that requires just as much attention to detail as Charms, I suppose. What a pity.

Fic: The Liondragon

Title: The Liondragon
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Tao-centric
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Length: Oneshot, 1994 words
Summary: Cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been, and while Zitao isn't surprised by the fact that his headmaster is intent on discovering what the First Task actually entails, he is surprised at what he finds. Harry Potter!AU set during Book 4, Chapter 19.

"Huang."

Zitao looks up immediately from his assigned reading, surprised to see the headmaster standing at the entrance to his cabin. He immediately scrambles to stand at attention and can't help but feel relieved that he'd been too lazy to change into his sleeping robes early.

"Yes, Professor?"

The headmaster looks at him with an appraising eye, something he rarely does unless he happens to be visiting the school's dueling club while Zitao is up for a spar. Zitao's skin prickles under his dark gaze, but he stays as still as possible, as if he's been petrified.

"You're unusually good with lurking around dark corners and what-not, aren't you?" the headmaster asks, stroking at his goatee. "I'm always getting reports from the faculty about you."

Zitao flushes. To be considered shady at the same institution where one of the darkest wizards of the twentieth century was educated was nothing short of mortifying, but the headmaster simply shakes his head and reaches over for Zitao's shoulder. It's the first time he's ever touched Zitao. Probably the first time he's ever spoken to Zitao.

"Don't worry, son," and that's not really reassuring at all, "we all have our talents." Talent, Zitao thinks, is usually reserved for international golden boys and revered school idols who improve the standing of the school with their mere presence. Not for little Chinese purebloods like him whose parents just thought it was a good idea to ship him to the other side of the continent for schooling. "And such talents must be... utilized."

Not that the way his headmaster says it doesn't make his skin crawl, but it would be nice to be able to help out. Since the three -- no, four -- champions had been chosen, the rest of the student body that had been selected to come along to Hogwarts had simply been milling about looking for things to do in-between the assignments their professors back home had sent them off with. Zitao's been dying for some of the excitement the tournament had promised back in September when it had been announced during the opening feast.

"Would you mind doing a favor? In the name of Durmstrang."

It's not really a question, not when Zitao has years of schooling under his belt that have instilled a sense of duty and loyalty to his school. But still, he smiles, standing straighter than before.

"Yes, Professor Karkaroff," he repeats, all too eagerly.



And that's how Zitao ends up spending his evening lurking around the cabin of Hogwart's intimidatingly large groundskeeper. It's a blessing that Hogwarts isn't quite as cold as Durmstrang, because that just meant he could forgo his thick red school cloak in favor of standard black robes; but he can't help but miss the familiar weight on his shoulders.

He can't afford to get caught though.

He watches from the shadows as the groundskeeper strides over to the Beaubatons carriage, his grizzly hair as messy as ever even though Zitao can see that some effort had gone to sweetening his appearance. It's rather romantic to watch the groundskeeper get flustered around his equally tall lady-friend, the headmistress of Beauxbatons.

Zitao sighs wistfully. Maybe they're going for a romantic stroll around the lake under the moonlight. He should try that sometime.

She asks him something playfully as she latches onto his beefy arm, and it's like one of the magical operas his parents take him to back at home. He almost regrets missing the beginning of their giant romance, even if he has enough trouble deciphering what they're saying even without all of their accents coming into play.

Their steps are so large, Zitao has to dart after them to catch up, all while remaining in the shadows. But from a distance, their silhouettes look very pleasant and almost normal sized if he pretends they're further away than they really are.

But Professor Karkaroff's instructions ring in his ears: Do not let the groundskeeper out of your sight. The First Task almost always involves a magical beast. And so Zitao follows them diligently.

He's grateful they never venture into the forest, which is forbidden for reasons that had not been properly explained to him and his schoolmates, but only stick to walking along the perimeter. It's easier to hide amongst the trees and the couple's voices are so loud that they mask any stray noises Zitao makes.

But eventually, something else drowns out his noises and their voices -- a roar.

Zitao sticks to the forest, but pushes ahead past where the groundskeeper and the headmistress have stopped so he can take a closer look. It sounds like-- But it couldn't be--

He feels the heat before he actually sees them. The dragons.

The dragons are appear to be of the Western sort -- firebreathers with large wings rather than the benevolent rain-bringing, wingless species that decorate his trunk back on the Durmstrang ship. He recognizes half of them, the green one and the black one unknown to him. But one is native to Durmstrang's region, and a species often brought by to showcase to the upper-years as a special treat: the Swedish Short-Snout.

It's the last he's most interested in -- a Liondragon. One of the types that had been transplanted in China and flourished alongside its wingless cousins well enough to earn the name Chinese Fireball.

It's beautiful, with its red scales and its golden spikes and even those bat-like wings. Gorgeous.

Zitao wishes that he could get a little closer, maybe even close enough to catch a glimpse of the flaming pearl that is surely at the underside of it's chin. He's never seen one in person like this, outside of tapestries and moving murals in his family home. But unfortunately there are far too many wizards -- probably the dragon keepers, he thinks enviously -- out and about, shooting stunning spells at the dragons and pulling on their restraints. It's a shame really.

He watches as a lanky red-headed wizard walks over to the groundskeeper and they start conversing, gesturing now and then to the dragons who have already been stunned. Zitao's too far away to hear much, and anyway he's far too focused on observing their dragons.

As the other dragon keepers set down dragon eggs -- real dragon eggs, all of varying shapes and colors -- he has to hold back a moan of longing, only to hear the groundskeeper make a noise in his place.

The headmistress is walking closer to the dragons now, at a distance Zitao can't help but envy. But it's just his luck that the Liondragon, whose fire-breathing range is probably the shortest after centuries of cohabitation alongside water-bringers, is closest to the forest's edge due to being the least likely to start a fire.

Zitao watches as the dragon keepers move further from their posts, probably to heal any wounds inflicted by their monstrous charges, until there's only two keepers left at the enclosure around the Liondragon. As soon as they walk around to the other side, Zitao charges forwarding, knowing perfectly well that he'll be hidden behind the dragon's impressive bulk.

The distance of approximately thirty meters feels like nothing, passing by as quickly as if Zitao had been on his broom. His steps are quick and sure and he easily hides himself in the shadow cast by the Liondragon in the moonlight.

He breathes a quick sigh of relief. He can't believe it. He's actually next to a dragon.

If only he had his magical camera.

Zitao turns to face the dragon, taking in its dazed form. The scales are less red and more of a shiny scarlet up close and the golden spikes around its face gleam like the newest of Galleons. Underneath its regal chin is the flaming pearl he's only heard about in legends, and he's so close it feels like he could grasp it in both of his hands. The dragon is just so beautiful.

"Which one's this, yeh say?" he makes out the groundskeeper asking from the other side of the Liondragon, and he freezes in the safety of its shadow.

"Chinese Fireball," the red-headed keeper says, "this bloke's from the Canadian reservation actually. We couldn't get a nesting mother even though the Ministry asked, but apparently the fellow's as bloody protective of the young as any of the actual mothers. A real papa wolf."

"Doesn' the bloke have a name?"

Zitao hears the keeper chuckle. "Oh, he's got more than just a name. We can never keep it straight, really. Got four different papers from three different embassies with a whole mix of names and birthdays provided. Anyway, one of our guys insists on calling him Yifan, but the rest of us would probably mangle it and offend him. So we just stick with good old Kris."

"Kris the Chinese Fireball," the groundskeeper says happily, the sound of his hands clapping together in happiness echoing around the enclosure, "beau'iful name for a beau'iful boy."

Zitao turns to the Liondragon, whose golden eye is now half open and staring at him.

"Yifan, huh?" he whispers in Mandarin, the familiar tones slipping from his mouth easily in spite of the months he's gone without speaking a word of it. He rests his chin on his palm and his elbow on his knee, but maintains respectful eye-contact. "I think that's prettier."

The dragon grumbles at him, a deep gravelly noise that isn't very pleasant to the ears and sounds more like a drunken bear than anything. Or maybe a diseased toad? But he sounds pleased enough, although Zitao doesn't know whether that's due to hearing the language of his homeland or the use of his preferred name.

"Good luck though, and don't fry anyone," Zitao admonishes playfully, to which the dragon snorts. A mushroom cloud of smoke erupts from his nose and Zitao has to hold back his chuckle.

"I mean it," he says, "you'll have all of Durmstrang and Bulgaria on your scaly behind if you roast one of Krum's arms off for an afternoon snack."

He knows the Liondragon is still too stunned to do more than roll his golden eyes at him, but he still likes to think that Yifan understands.

"I should probably go now," Zitao whispers regretfully, finally noticing the increasing shadows coming towards the enclosement. "It was nice meeting you, Yifan." He bows, deep and low and formal as befitting for a regal creature like a dragon, and when he looks up he sees a single golden claw sluggishly pushing something over to him. The stunning spell must be wearing off.

After a few moments of struggling, Yifan finally seems finished with his task. In front of Zitao is a single scarlet scale the size of his head, that glimmers even in the shadow of the dragon's body. It must have been shed during the struggle against his keepers earlier, while Yifan was thrashing about.

"I can keep this?" he asks incrediously, reaching out to stroke it with tentative hands. It's so smooth. Dragon scales are rare, at least in their pure forms, and are rumored to be imbued with protective qualities. The red-headed keeper must have been right about Yifan's protectiveness, and Zitao feels a comforting warmth bubbling in his chest at the thought of being under such protection.

Yifan makes a tiny grunt before closing his eyes. Zitao doesn't have to be a dragon to understand him.

"Thank you, Dragon ge," he says respectfully. He picks up the scale and holds it close to his chest. "You take care too."

As he escapes the enclosure, making his way back to the lake and Durmstrang's ship with his present tucked underneath his robes, all Zitao can hear is the sound of Yifan's loud snoring echoing in his ears. Even when he bumps into Karkaroff halfway back, all he can breathe out when his headmaster asks what took him so long is a single word.

"Dragons."

Original Post: Here.
Author's Note: First of all, this is not related to the other HP!AU I've already written for the HG competition lol. In this one, Tao is older than Harry and is a sixth or seventh year at Durmstrang. He was eligible for putting his name into the Goblet of Fire, but unfortunately (fortunately?) Krum was chosen instead. I'm still not sure how I thought of this, I can't remember exactly, but I did like the idea of Tao meeting Kris, who became one of the dragons in the first challenge, and both of them taking a liking to each other as travelers far from home. I had to ret-con a few things, hence the explanations of how Kris doesn't match the nesting mother criteria and about the dragons back in China. A few things about the Chinese dragons, I grabbed from Wikipedia like the flaming pearl, but for the most part I stuck with canon. JKR used such Westernized dragons though... lol. As for the bowing thing, I know that it's not common to bow in China anymore, but I did read that it was traditional when dealing with an emperor and dragons were said to be the Jade Emperor's descendents, so I thought it was proper? lol yeah. And Kris giving Tao the scale was his way of saying "Take care" because he's a big softy at heart lol

This was fun to write. I had to fix up a lot of errors before reposting, but it was definitely worth it. \o/

Fic: Study Break

Title: Study Break
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Xiumin-centric
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Length: Oneshot, 1797 words
Summary: A bunch of third years set someone on fire, but it's not like Minseok's in a position to actually do much about it. Harry Potter!AU set in this verse.

It's less than two months into Minseok's fifth year and he's already spent more time studying in the library than he has in the past four years combined. It's not an entirely miserable experience seeing as his O.W.L.s are still a good eight months away and the pressure hasn't built up to a soul-crushing intensity quite yet, but there's no denying that the seemingly endless hours of self-study would have been far more enjoyable if his friends hadn't proven themselves exemplary enough to be chosen as the prefects and Quidditch captains of their year and were thus stuck patrolling the halls, supervising detentions, or devising game plans for winning the Quidditch Cup.

It's not like he doesn't see them -- Yifan and Junmyeon, who's as busy with Quidditch as the others were with prefect duties, room with him and he still sees all three of them in most of his classes, of course. But it's oddly quiet in the library without Lu Han guffawing ridiculously at one of Yifan's unintentional body gags or the Picasso-esque doodles etched on his parchments during one of their earlier classes.

Two months into his fifth year, and Minseok already misses his best friends.

"Maybe I should practice my cheering charms," he mutters, twirling his wand between his fingers. Even the warm sparks coming off the tip of it -- blue and white and snowflake-shaped just like the ones he'd seen the first time he had waved it around at Ollivanders -- don't feel quite as bright as usual.

His eyes start wandering from the spellbooks laid out in front of him, focusing instead on how far the sparks from his wand will land. It's a nice, mindless distraction and a relief from his intense study session. But as he watches one particularly active spark fly out of the nook in his corner of the library, he suddenly notices a flash of red and orange in-between a couple of the other aisles.

When he looks more carefully, he realizes that there's a person on fire.

There's smoke rising from the student's flashy red and gold Quidditch robes and his arms are flailing ridiculously and all Minseok can do for those first few moments is watch in horror because what the hell, there's no way immolation of any kind is permitted in the library and why is that kid on fire, for the love of Merlin.

He finally notices the three other boys sitting further beyond the flaming Gryffindor, all seated at a table with their bags scattered around them. They looked to be more concerned with whatever they were discussing than the lightshow going right in front of them.

"How appropriate," he thinks with very little malice when he sees the alternating green and silver of their loosened ties.

Minseok gets up from his seat, his chair screeching across the stone floor as he pushes it back, and marches over to the four with his wand out.

"Glacius!"

He points directly at the boy engulfed in flames, and if the sparks from his wand had looked like snowflakes before, they're nothing compared to the outright blizzard that erupts the second he finishes the incantation. The four students barely have enough time to look over before their faces are blasted with ice, but in the split-second he sees their faces, Minseok realizes he knows these brats.

"Park Chanyeol," he says, crossing his arms over his chest as Lu Han's infamous beater pouts at him, icicles hanging from his large ears like a pair of Yifan's dragon-tooth earrings. "Shouldn't you be on the pitch right now with Lu Han?"

At least Chanyeol has the decency to look a little sheepish, which is a surprise given how often Minseok hears about his impertinence and how he has even personally witnessed the way Chanyeol flies in circles around the Quidditch pitch, crowing shamelessly after breaking another player's bones.

As for his three friends...

"Jongdae. Kyungsoo." Out of the four, they're the two he's most familiar with. Jongdae had spent the majority of his first two years at Hogwarts attempting to win over Peeves's favor, and several of those attempts had resulted in Minseok covered in too many different concoctions for him to even remember. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, tended to linger around the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room in search of the hidden kitchens. They may have been a bit more mischievous than the average third year, but they had seemed like good enough kids. For Slytherins. Still not the type he would have picked out as most likely to casually set one of their yearmates on fire, even if the Gryffindor-Slytherin house rivalry was taken into account.

But maybe he should rethink that, because before he knows it, all three Slytherins are laughing.

"You've got us wrong, hyung!" Jongdae insists, although with that trickster's smile, Minseok isn't very inclined to believe him. He settles for raising a single eyebrow and awaiting a further explanation.

Jongdae looks over at the other two for help, but when they don't pipe up, he keeps going on his own. "It's just--"

"Third years are learning about witch burnings," Kyungsoo finally supplies, staring blankly at Minseok like that should suffice.

And maybe it does. If Minseok thinks hard enough, he can kinda remember writing his own ridiculously lengthy essay on the subject when he was their age. He definitely remembers Lu Han spending their first day back begging him for help on the subject. But still.

"So you thought you needed a living example?" he asks skeptically, watching all four of their heads bobble like one of his little sister's toys back at home. "Really. Have you guys even been taught the flame freezing charm yet? And why Chanyeol?"

All three Slytherins look at each other before shrugging at him.

"We've set him on fire probably ten times in the last hour," Baekhyun sniffs, "Chanyeol likes how it tickles, for whatever reason. Probably makes those fairy ears tingle."

"Probably makes his dick tingle," Jongdae adds, not even bothering to muffle his laughter in spite of the fact that they're in the library and Madam Pince is most definitely not deaf.

Chanyeol reaches over, dripping water all over the place in an attempt to shove Jongdae out of his seat, and Minseok catches Kyungsoo's foot knocking into the leg of Jongdae's chair hard enough to force him to tip over. Jongdae probably didn't though, now sprawled out on the ground with a sour expression on his face as his robes soak up all the melted ice left behind by Minseok's spell.

Even Minseok can't hold back his chuckles.

"Seriously, you four are the worst third years I've ever met."

One of them snorts, although Minseok's not sure which one. "Please, we've heard all about your exploits with Lu Han when you were third years," Baekhyun laughs, leaning over the table so he's just that much closer to Minseok. It'd be more intimidating if he was a larger Slytherin, but Baekhyun is still small even for a third year and Minseok doesn't anticipate him growing much taller over the years. "You might not have set Yifan on fire, but you can't say you've never done worse."

"Surrendering Yifan as a test subject for the Weasley twins was a move done for the good of the Hufflepuff house," Minseok says, trying to sound stern even as the corner of his lip tilts up at the memory of Yifan's helpless expression as the Weasleys had carted him away to their shop in the one of the many disused bathrooms in the castle. "If we didn't choose a representative, we'd all be subject to their pranks."

"Excuses, excuses," Jongdae mutters as he wrings the water out of his robes miserably. Minseok had forgotten that students didn't learn the Hot-Air Charm until the end of their fourth year, and in light of that, helpfully dries him off with a swish of his wand. Jongdae smiles thankfully at him, and Minseok beams back.

"Seriously though, you could have set one of the books here on fire," he continues, "and how in Merlin's name did you not wind up catching Madam Pince's attention? I would have thought she'd be on you like a threstral on raw meat."

Chanyeol laughs and slaps a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulders. "Kyungsoo's been messing around with a few repelling charms his brother taught him over the summer. Pince probably doesn't even know we're here!"

"It's supposed to repel authority figures like teachers and prefects," Kyungsoo says quietly, "but I guess you wouldn't count. Yifan's the Hufflepuff prefect and you're in no position to take away points."

Minseok can't even bother feeling offended at his bluntness because more than anything, he's still too busy marveling over Kyungsoo's spell.

"You're a third year and you're already modifying repelling charms?" he asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Baekhyun. "That's pretty impressive. I wasn't looking into protective spells until last year myself and they're really something. Intense stuff."

Kyungsoo looks surprised that that's what captures Minseok's attention, but nods anyway. "Well, my brother's a curse-breaker, so he's told me a few things. Not much though."

"We should talk more another time then." Minseok ignores the looks Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Chanyeol send each other as he keeps talking. "I'd love to hear more about what your brother taught you."

Chanyeol tugs Kyungsoo closer to him and the others and squints suspiciously at Minseok, his eyes going uneven. "You can't just expect our resident charms expert to spill all of our trade secrets to you!" Baekhyun and Jongdae make noises of agreement alongside him while Kyungsoo sits in the middle of them all, rolling his eyes.

Minseok laughs, feeling lighter than he has in a long while. It's nice to see them banding together, even if it makes the absence of his own friends that much more tangible.

"I'll make a deal," he says, leaning over and keeping his voice at a low whisper, "you let me and Kyungsoo go over those protective spells and I'll share the prefect patrol schedule with you after each session."

The four third years all look at each other, as if having a silent conversation with just their eyes, although Chanyeol's face twitches a bit as he tries to convey his own thoughts. Minseok knows they've made their decision when Baekhyun straightens in his seat and nods at the other three.

"Deal," he says, taking Minseok's outstretched hand. There's a dangerous smile on his face -- on all four of their faces, really -- but like Hogwarts has ever suffered too greatly from a group of friends having a bit of fun. Someone has to pick up the slack from his own group of friends, after all.

Original Post: Here.
Author's Note: I actually wrote a lot of the beginning on the worldoftext for HG AU lol. But the ending changed a bit? I was having trouble with the chingu-line vibe :( I'm not particularly good with any of them, sadly. Anyway, this was mainly inspired by the beginning of the third Harry Potter book where he has to write an essay on witch burning. I thought that Chanyeol might be the type to get a kick out of it, what with his MAMA superpower being fire... and who else would oblige him besides his same-age friends? lol Anyway, this is set in my HP verse where Xiumin is aiming to become an architect. That's why he's interested in the protective spells. Also, here, chingu-line would be in the same year as Harry and Xiumin and the others in 90-line would be the same age as the Weasley twins. :3

I'm not gonna lie. A lot of Xiumin's feelings are my own. I've been stressed about MCAT prep and the fact that I've grown so distant from all of my friends... Writing didn't make me feel better, but it did help to distract me from all of that stress and loneliness, the way I have Xiumin feeling a bit comforted by his own distraction. Unlike me, at least Xiumin had something to look forward to -- a passing of the torch in a sense. It doesn't feel as nostalgic because that wasn't my angle, but in retrospect, I can recognize my own feelings bleeding into this...