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Kalanosis
@Kalanosis
Enjoyer of games and anime. Writer of niche degeneracy (not the kind of horrible normie degeneracy being pushed onto people). Spartan-II. Warrior of Light.
Joined September 2008
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Not about me, but I do have lore about my buddy @LineGutter and how he lost his foot.
He says he lost it to an infection. I know the truth.
This is gonna be a thread, because I can't spare $8 a month.
Share a piece of lore about yourself
"Well it seems your mirror is broken, Potter." Draconia giggled, "Because I only see you and me."
I simultaneously love this and hate the fact that it bears no resemblance to the state of modern women.
You can read tweets like this and then five seconds later find women defending Lindsay Clancy, killing their own children, whoring themselves out on OF, blaming men for their own poor life choices, and voting to mass import the Third World.
Part of the allure of Malfoid is just how cursed the real world has become.
Had to make an edit for my favorite piece so far
https://t.co/LmvVi8bsaL Alright, the Sorcerer's Stone book is now done with Malfoid in it, and I'll be moving on to the second book now. Should have this done pretty quick as well but we'll see.
Art by @ratatatat74
Iron Golem’s Tears
People who shame you for not using your real name and picture are exactly like this
After a day as terrible as the one he’d just had, Harry was more than ready to shamble back to the Gryffindor dormitory, throw himself onto his narrow bed without so much as pulling back the covers, much less undressing.
But as he climbed, the noises coming down the stairs from the boys’ section told him this probably wasn’t going to happen.
It sounded like someone ransacking one of the rooms. There were definite rummaging noises, punctuated occasionally by the sound of a thrown object bouncing off a wall or some furniture, and a muted sputtering, as if someone were trying to swear in frustration, but couldn’t, not really, because she didn’t actually know all that many bad words.
Wait.
She?
Harry bounded up the last few stairs, and the hall, and through the door. Then stopped dead in his tracks.
Even though he had already heard what was happening, what he saw was the last thing, the very last thing, the absolutely last thing, that he ever expected to find.
It was Malfoy.
She stood over Harry’s bed, surrounded by a scattering of Harry’s possession all over the floor, spilled from an overturned chest, all the drawers she has removed from his dresser.
No one else seemed to be around.
Harry was too surprised even to be properly angry. He could only sputter out the first thing that popped into his mind.
“Malfoid? What are you doing here?”
She whirled to face him, her face twisted in a furious expression. There were dust bunnies clinging to her skirt, and her hair was an absolute mess.
“Stop calling me that! My name is Draecina! Dray-see-na! Draecina Esmerelda Aribeth Malfoy! The Third!”
Harry rallied his thoughts a bit. “I’m not going to say all that. And you haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here? How did you even get into the Gryffindor dormitory at all?”
“Fairy lights,” she snarled at him, “The password is ‘fairy lights’. Did you really think I couldn’t get that information out of one of you weak-minded idiots any time I wanted?
“Except the last place, the very last place, that I would be caught dead is your bedr— your dorm room! If I didn’t need to find it!”
“Find what?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Potter! You know what I’m looking for! A doll! Made out of beeswax infused with moonleaf sap and three drops of my blood, which you probably collected last year when we fought the Bandersnatch. Then you dressed it in a scrap of my clothing that you stole from somewhere, and bound the neck, wrists, and ankles with three strands of your hair!”
Harry was far too surprised to say anything. He’d never seen or even heard of any doll like that, of course. But the description seemed oddly… specific.
“Does that sound familiar, Potter? I found the spell you used! It took me a year of searching through half the library, but I found it! Now tell me where the blasted doll is so I can take this curse off!”
She kicked a pile of what turned out to be Harry’s spare robes, and then looked disappointed that they didn’t fly very far.
“Malfoid —”
“Draecina!”
“— I have no idea what you’re talking about. What curse? Did someone curse you?”
“Of course they — of course you did! Just look at me!”
Harry was looking at her. Same pale blonde hair, so blonde it was more snow than gold. This was the first time Harry had ever seen so much as a strand of it out of place. Same dainty, aristocratic features, upturned nose and pointy chin. Come to think of it, those green eyes, smoldering with fury, had slight dark shadows under them for once.
And her wrists seemed the same, too. For some reason, Harry’s gaze always seemed to linger on her wrists, on how very pale and delicate they looked, on how they always seemed to pose at some elegant angle.
“I… ah… can’t stop looking at you.”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
“I mean, because you’re standing in the middle of my room throwing all my stuff on the floor. If there’s some sort of curse on you, I don’t see any effect. What’s it supposed to do?”
“Hah! As if you didn’t know! There’s no one here but the two of us, so there’s no point in pretending you don’t know!”
“Malf — ah, Draecina, I really have no idea what you’re talking about. How do you know you’re under a curse, and what is it that’s happening?”
Her expression shifted from rage to… well, if it was anyone but Malfoy, Harry would have called it a pout.
“Oh, I see. You just want me to say it out loud, so you can humiliate me more. Well, I won’t. And I won’t give you the satisfaction of hearing me beg. So gloat if you have to, mudblood. Get it over with. Have your fun. Then. Take. It. Off.”
“Look, I really don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t cursed you.”
“Last year in potions class, you turned me purple!”
“Well, yes, that. But it wore off in a few hours. And you deserved it for hiding that Strong Toad in my locker. I mean I didn’t do it this time. If someone’s really cursed you, then couldn’t it be… well, you haven’t exactly been nice to a lot people, have you? It could have been anybody.”
“No, couldn’t! It has to be you, because you’re the one that I — arrrrrrghhh!”
She trailed off in a snarl of pure frustration, and then slowly and deliberately drew her wand out of her jacket and pointed it at Harry, squinting down the length of hazelwood.
“Harry Potter, you take this curse off me right now, or I’ll… I’ll… well, I’ll think of something equally awful to do to you!”
Harry didn’t doubt it. And only now it occurred to him that, like every wand carried by every student, it wasn’t just a tool, or a device for playing harmless pranks. Wands could be weapons, and some spells you could do with one were no laughing matter.
He thought about going for his own wand, trying a simple disabling spell to buy some time to talk sense into her. It wouldn’t be impossible. He usually beat her in Wizard Dueling practice.
On the other hand, her wand was already pointed right at him, which was more than a little bit of an advantage. Maybe he should just skip right to the talking-sense part.
Not that talking sense into Draecina Malfoy was ever the easy option.
“Look, Drae, I —”
Why did he call her that? Only her friends called her that.
“I really didn’t do anything to you this time. If it’s something really bad, can’t you just go to one of the instructors for help?”
“Oh, you’d just love that, wouldn’t you? Me humiliating myself like that. Well, fine. If you’re sooooooo innocent, and you just have nooooo idea what I’m talking about, then prove it!”
“What?”
“Prove it!”
“How I supposed to prove —”
Malfoy tore at the neck of her blouse with her other hand, and a single button popped off, bouncing away somewhere into the mess, as she came up with a small pendant, hung around her neck on a black leather cord. Her hair mussed every which way again as she yanked it over her neck and head, and thrust it at him.
“There! See? I came prepared! Take it. Go on, take it!”
“What… is that?”
He could see it clearly enough, a little white stone on a gold bezel, shaped a bit like an egg, and carved with… well, carved with something. Not for the first time, Harry wished he had paid more attention in Runes class.
“It’s a Truthstone, idiot. Don’t you know anything? Why should any decent wizarding school waste its valuable time trying to educate useless mudbloods like you if you’re not going to come out any smarter than dirt?
“You hold it, stupid. Now put your grubby fingers on it and hold it up where I can see, and tell me the filthy lie you just told me. Say it again. I dare you. Say it again so I can put a hex on you that the entire faculty won’t be able to remove for a week. Er… as soon as I pick one out, I mean.”
Bemused, Harry reached out, very slowly, and took the stone from her. It seemed unusually cool in his fingers. Belatedly, it occurred to him that he could have just grabbed her wand and disarmed her instead, or at least tried to. But however this… Truthstone… worked, if it could prove he wasn’t lying, then perhaps he could find out what on earth was going on.
He held it up in front of his face, between thumb and forefinger. Stared past it into her green eyes that still glittered with suppressed rage.
“Okay, fine, look. I didn’t know you were under a curse, I have no idea what curse you might be under, I didn’t put it on you or ask anyone else to put it on you, and I have no idea who did. Okay?”
The stone… did nothing. Harry really had no idea what it was supposed to do, whether it was supposed to do something if he told a lie, or to force him to tell the truth, or what. But it just stayed slightly cool in his hand, with no light, no noise, no vibration. As if it were just a rock.
Draecina’s face went blank with shock.
“But… but… I thought that…”
The pointing wand wavered and drooped, slowly, until it hung at her side.
“But, if you didn’t… If I’m not cursed… Then I actually…”
She didn’t seem to be able to finish a sentence, much less explain herself.
“No. No, no, no. It’s not possible. It’s not!”
She leaped forward and snatched the stone out of his hand, hunching over it, peering at it intently, shaking it as if it were a malfunctioning watch.
“No, no, no, no, you must have tricked it somehow, you must…”
Then she straightened up, staring at him, blinking rapidly. Her eyes seemed to be watering for some reason.
“Damn you, Potter! I hate you! I hate you so much!” she screamed, hurling the Truthstone past his head with a full arm motion, where it bounced off the wall with a loud clack.
And then she stormed out of the room before Harry could even open his mouth, much less think of anything to say, leaving him alone with the mess she had made.
Wondering what that was all about.
Wondering if she had meant to miss.
As he stooped to try to sort out the mess, or at least begin to figure out even how to sort it out, the first thing his hand landed on was the Truthstone, lying under it tangled leather cord.
It didn’t seem any worse off for having been thrown against the wall. It wasn’t chipped or cracked or broken.
Except now, for some reason, it was jet black.
Page 1
"And you never wondered why Fred made that bet with you in the first place, did you, Potter?"
She rolled her eyes at him, just a bit. They were smug and green and somehow catlike.
"He had to know you'd be brave enough to do it. Have you ever known Fred to make a bad bet? To voluntarily lose money?"
She had a point there.
She also had her hands on the wall on both sides of his head, like she wanted to pin him there, probably so she could get out all the choice insults she saved over summer break.
Except she probably hadn't thought through the part about teenagers and growth spurts, because, well, he towered over her now, and she was forced to reach almost directly upward.
"Unleeeesssss, of course, someone bet him TWO galleons that he couldn't trick the famous Harry Potter into setting himself up for a humiliating rejection."
"Uhhh... wait. You're trying to tell me you planned that whole, uh, disaster?"
"Did I say anything of the sort? I don't think I did. I just said 'someone'.
"The point is, I'm taking pity on you, Potter. Heaven knows you need it. These people aren't your friends, not really. They're low-class, and they'll sell you out the moment they can earn a galleon doing it. You should try to associate with a better class of people."
Harry took hold of one slender, elegant white wrist, and gently but firmly pried her hand off the wall, stepping to one side.
Her cheeks flushed, probably from anger that he had dared to touch her aristocratic skin, but he wasn't going to let her push him around. Not anymore.
He quickly dropped his hand before she could express her disgust by wrenching hers away.
"Oh, so if 'someone' had a plan to humiliate me, why'd you say 'yes', then, Malfoid? Did you have a different idea?"
He should just walk away, but he had to admit he was... curious. Ever since they'd been forced to fight the Bandersnatch together, and especially since that incident in the Gryffindor dormitory with the Truthstone, she'd been acting... strangely.
"Well, I wouldn't have wanted your humiliation to end too quickly, would I? It would have just been one single moment, with no one there to witness it, and you wouldn't have learned a thing," she said with a haughty sniff.
"I may not think much of you, or your entire ridiculous House, but Hoggwarts is a quality school, and no one else seems to be willing to step up and teach you not to embarrass us all."
She hadn't tried to trap him against the wall again, but she was still standing far too close. Ever since they'd returned from summer break, she always seemed to be hovering somewhere near him, always ready with a sneering word.
"Well, Miss Malfoy, you needn't worry about suffering my obnoxious presence again this year, I won't ask you again."
"Oh! Well, you.... you... Ahh... good! Good! It's not like I wanted to! And you wouldn't have the guts to ask me again, anyway! I bet you wouldn't!"
"Oh! Well if you're so dead certain, why don't you just go make another bet with Fred and get your money back?"
She recoiled as if he had slapped her.
"Yeah, well, maybe I will!"
"Good! Go then!"
But she was already storming off down the corridor, looking a lot less smug than she had a few minutes ago.
That felt... satisfying. But somehow, also not. Perhaps he wasn't as used to her verbal barbs and constant hostility, from being on vacation these three months.
He didn't know what else to think. For some reason, his fingers still tingled where he'd held her wrist.
Hmmmm... come to think of it, he should try to find out if she actually made that bet again. Because if she did, he could actually ask her again, and make her lose.
Which would be no more than she deserved. Even if she was rich enough for it not to matter, it was some small measure of revenge for everything she'd put him through.
Yeah, that was it. Revenge, he thought, rubbing at his hand a bit.
Besides, it wasn't like she would say yes or anything.
"Affectus remotio" Draconia whispered, gritting her teeth and clenching her wand. Waiting, desperately, for something to happen, for something to change. The stack of books around her growing taller by the hour, with titles such as "Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed", and "A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions". She had been at it for hours, late into the night, casting counter-curse after counter-curse on herself. Feeling nothing change but her level of anguish.
She hadn't showered or left the library in two days. Her hair was greasy, and the bags under her eyes were heavy. "Stupid Snape. Stupid potions. Stupid magic. Stupid Potter!" Draconia shouted, knocking over one of her stacks of dusty tomes.
"Shh." Instructed a passing ghost, much to her irritation.
"Stupid ghost." she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
She looked a mess, and smelled even worse. Luckily it was several hours past midnight, and the library was completely empty. She had special permission to be out of bed this late of course, from Snape. "Good luck with your research Miss Malfoid, however, I don't suspect you will find the answers you seek in the library." What did he mean by that? Something about the way he said it bothered her. What does it mean? She looked down at her notes, full of hastily scratched spells and their counter curses, references to books that referenced other books, old anecdotes, and rumors of love hexes.
She pulled her hair again, and slammed her fist on the table. If Snape knew what was wrong with her, why wouldn't he tell her? Is this a test of some sort?
As she thought, she absent-mindedly sketched a lightning bolt in her notes.
Suddenly, she knew. Of course. It was unthinkable, but it was the only explanation. Potter used the imperius curse on her. One of the three unforgivable curses, used to control people like a puppet. Probably when she was sleeping, he snuck in and cast it on her, with a subtle enough command that it would go unnoticed. Of course! A spell that dark and that powerful wouldn't be released by simple counter-curses found in the student library.
Draconia was more relieved than angry. Finally, an explanation. Now she just needed to find Potter, get him to release the curse, and tell her father. Finally, something to get that half-blooded creep expelled.
She took out her silver hairbrush, ran it through her platinum hair, and sighed, ready to return to her dorm and get some much needed sleep.
After returning the books to their proper home, she exited the library quietly, smiling to herself. "I'm probably the first witch in history to be relieved to discover she's under the control of the imperius curse", she mused. The castle was unnerving at night, but it was never quiet. The soft roar of the torches in the corridor, the sleepless ghosts floating around, the soft snoring of the living paintings. Though she was apprehensive, at least she wasn't alone.
Alone. The word echoed in her head.
She heard footsteps around the corner in front of her. They were hurried, but light. Someone trying not to be caught. Before she could think, Draconia dove into an alcove nearby, hiding next to a suit of armor who turned to look at her, seemingly confused. She held up a finger to her mouth to quiet the armor, to which it simply shrugged and returned to it's resting position.
Draconia peeped around the corner and saw a Gryffindor robe and untidy black hair speed by. Harry?! What in Merlin's beard is he doing here?
Is he... looking for her? He must be. She gritted her teeth in anger. That creep is up to no good. Probably sneaking around looking for more ways to torment her. Though she was exhausted beyond measure, and yearned for her bed, she decided to follow him.
Harry was going somewhere she had never been before, ducking through hallways and secret doorways. Behind paintings and through dark corridors. Never once did he turn and notice her. How did this oblivious fool manage to cast such a high-level dark curse on her?
Finally, after squeezing into a dark and dusty room, Harry stopped. Draconia ducked down, peeking around a dusty sheet hanging over an abandoned globe to look at him from behind.
He was just standing there, staring at himself in a mirror. What? She continued watching him for minutes, waiting for him to do something, but he just... stood there. Staring at himself.
Draconia couldn't hold it in anymore, and she started laughing.
Harry whipped his head around, wand in hand.
"Malfoid?! What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"
"Honestly Potter, sneaking off to stare at yourself in the mirror? Such vanity!"
"I wasn't... that's not..." Harry stammered, looking away from her shyly.
"That's pathetic, even for you." Draconia giggled, her hair falling forward as she clutched her stomach.
"It's no ordinary mirror, Malfoid," Harry shot back, "It... well... come take a look."
"Sure", she laughed, approaching him. "And what exactly am I supposed to be seeing?"
"What do you mean? Just look in the mirror."
"I am, I don't see anything unusual."
"It's supposed to show you your heart's greatest desire. It's called the Mirror of Erised. Dumbledore told me about it." Harry said, his face turning red.
"Well it seems your mirror is broken, Potter." Draconia giggled, "Because I only see you and me."
IM NOT DEAD. I GOT BANNED ON DJSCORD FOR BEING A GAY DUDE WHO SAYS "FAGGOT".
these are dark times
"Harryyyyy.... Caught you!" Dracea jumped out from the shadows, seemingly summoned out of thin air, and threw herself up on Harrys back, and arms around Harry's neck. Harry stumbled and almost fell to the hard stone floor before he caught his balance.
What’s crazy is that this story, a genuinely amazing story of a woman protecting her children against all odds and at great personal cost, won’t recieve anywhere near the support of a woman that strangled her 3 children and then attempted suicide.
> A peacock
> traditionally a symbol of profound transformation
> also attributed to heavenly vision and protection
> Absolute silence when Dracaena drops the words like she's revealing a long-awaited Bankai.
There is so much peak, it vastly outshines the Himalayas themselves.
Just to remind every single one of you, Bluesky had a fucking meltdown over a cartoon picture of some character from Harry Potter, calling it genocide
These are the same people who ran the entire West until Trump and Hegseth came along and flushed them out
Evil stands before her.
It is deep, raw, a presence that robs her of warmth and claws at her soul even from so far away.
The Dementors swarm behind the Dark Lord, the sheer number of them molding into an inky, black cloud that writhes together like a pit of snakes. Voldemort’s pale skin is stark against this darkened canvas, his grin even sharper, so filled with malice and glee as he steps forth, victory assured. He says no words, and merely points.
The abyss surges forth.
A tremble trails up her spine, turning into a whisper of fear that bores itself into her mind, telling her that there is nothing she can do.
But there was, and it was so simple.
She had spent all her life staring into the abyss of sins, feeding upon the lies it gave as if it was her birthright. But once, she looked the other way, out of accident, and what she saw was love. It was so fragile…so sincere, and it may not have known, but it stared back.
For so long did she not know where to look to see it again, but now she does.
So, she looks, and she sees.
She sees the boy who braved trial after trial to chip away at the heart of darkness itself.
She sees the boy who stood before her in that shattered bathroom, his hand held out to her.
She sees the boy she helped chain fight against everything in the face of it.
She sees the boy dancing with her, so nervous in the hall, yet so full of light in the garden.
She sees the boy who held concern when she’d been injured, despite her own foolish pride.
She sees the boy that rushed ahead of her on his broom, so high up to grab the gold that they both chased.
She sees the boy in robes far too big for him, without a clue of the world he was stepping into, of who she was, with a smile that was the purest thing she had ever seen.
And that, she clutches with all her might.
“Fly high…”
All her life she had been putting on airs, given displays to appease the darkness she thought to be the only reality she would ever know.
It was time to turn it the other way.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
The feathers appear first, a fan of them weaved from threads of silver-white light that coalesced into eyes blaring with radiance unburdened. A slim form appears at their center, its neck long and head held high, and from it did the form of a bird make itself know. It flares its wings out, the light within surging with power unlike anything she had felt before. With a thrust from Draceana’s wand, does the peacock take flight.
And chases the abyss away.
One thing I hope never gets forgotten about 343's reign on Halo is just how spiteful and hostile they were to their audience.
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