The Harry Potter World and its characters are property of JK Rowling. It's her world; I just play in it.


TIBI FICLETS! Tiberius R. Pryce was my first Snitchseeker character, a firstie at Hogwarts, and it occurred to me that he's 26 now. These ficlets cover his entire life, though most will be those things that occurred a) when he left Hogwarts for Beauxbatons years 3-5 and b) what's happened post-Hogwarts.

NOTE: If you would like your SS charrie to appear in a fic, let me know. I hope that Tibi would have kept in touch with many of his school friends, but I won't assume that unless we talk about it first.

Prompts

1. Accio 2. Avada Kedavra 3. Bluebell Flames 4. Blasting Curse 5. Colloportus 6. Crucio 7. Confundus 8. Diffindo 9. Disapparate 10. Engorgio 11. Expecto Patronum 12. Furnunculus 13. Flagrate 14. Glisseo 15. Hurling Hex 16. Impedimenta 17. Imperio 18. Incarcerous 19. Jelly Legs 20. Knitting Charm 21. Langlock 22. Legilimens 23. Levicorpus 24. Lumos 25. Mobilicorpus 26. Morsmordre 27. Muffliato 28. Nox 29. Obliviate 30. Oppugno 31. Orchideous 32. Peskipiksi Pesternomi 33. Petrificus Totalus 34. Point Me 35. Quietus 36. Reducto 37. Relashio 38. Rictusempra 39. Riddikulus 40. Sectumsempra 41. Scourgify 42. Silencio 43. SpeRevelio 44. Stupefy 45. Tarantallegra 46. Twitchy Ears Hex 47. Undetectable Extension Charm 48. Unbreakable Vow 49. Wingardium Leviosa 50. Waddiwasi





“HONESTLY Drew,” Tiberius yelled through the bathroom door as he levitated the now saturated towels into the hamper. “Serves you right for hiding skiving snackboxes around the house to trick the new first years. The least you could do is remember where you put them so that you don’t eat them yourself.”

The towels dropped into the bottom with wet thwap. Rolling his eyes, Tiberius cast a bubble-head charm and sighed, able to breathe a little better. “Scourgify,” he whispered, flicking his wand at the floor. Amazing the mess eating a puking pastille and a nosebleed nougat could make.

Suspicious that Drew had not yet emerged, nor responded, he shouted through the door again. “You cut off the antidote side before you hid them, didn’t you?” Sigh. Grabbing his wallet to go buy a new box, antidotes intact, he called back over his shoulder as he headed out the door, “it’s a good thing I like you. Try not to eat any more pranks before I get back.”

33. Petrificus Totalus
Age 13, Beauxbatons

The new guy. Again. Tibi sighed and shifted his weight from foot to foot waiting to be allowed into the main hall for opening banquet. “New guy and a transfer,” he whispered to himself, glumly. Doubly new, which he feared would be twice as hard. His whole body went rigid as he felt someone, or something, brush against his hand. Holding his breath, Tibi turned his head slowly, and slightly, until it was clear that the brusher was a blonde girl around his height, chewing nervously on her lip.

“I’m just so nervous!” she suddenly called out, grabbing his hand. Tibi’s eyes went wide, as a soft, hesitant ‘ummm’ escaped his lips. The girl turned then, and froze. Still holding hands, both paralyzed in socially awkward terror, they just stared at one another for a moment.

And another.

And another.

“Can I have my hand back?”

“No.”

Tiberius shivered, rubbing his mittened hands together. Sitting atop a glacier in the north of Iceland without any source of heat – magical or muggle – was not exactly how he’d anticipated spending his winter break.

“Professor… if we could perhaps have some heat… of some sort…” His words were stilted as his jaw shivered.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” the older man hissed. “It is out of the question, unless you’d like the Scoffin to be drawn to you as a threat. But I don’t fancy filling out the paperwork should you be petrified!”

Tiberius slumped. He’d been honored to be selected for Professor Thorirsson’s research team, until he’d realized it was a team of two, in perhaps the most isolated part of the country. He imagined Professor Jónsdóttir’s team and their daily sails looking for sea serpents, and their nightly trips to the hot springs.

Absentmindedly, Tiberius cast a knitting charm, figuring that if he couldn’t generate any heat, at least he could get a scarf long enough to wrap around his entire body.

Click clack. Click clack. Crunch.

“Pryce!” The older man’s tone was hushed, but urgent. “Don’t move a muscle, and whatever you do, do not look behind you.”

Imperio. Pranks. Barking. Werewolves. Coupons. Butterbeer. Dueling arenas. Images flashing one after the other after the other.

Lupa. Kazi. Lawson. Jake. Remy. Truebridge. Faces swirling as if in a foe glass, clear, visible. Near.

Blood. So much blood.

Crumbling ceilings. Screams. The echo of battle bouncing off bathroom tiles. The spinning, suffocating terror of slowly bleeding.

In the center of all of, a small boy, holding his wand, not against the terror swirling around him, but against his own temple, skin indented. Eyes squeezed shut, murmuring one word over and over and over. Obliviate. Obliviate.

“OBLIVIATE!” Tibi shot straight up in bed, his skin clammy and wet, tears streaming down his face.

“Shhhh, honey,” Susan rushed into the room and sat on the side of his bed, as she had each and every night since he had come home. Fighting her own tears, she wiped the sweat from his brow. “You don’t ever, ever have to go back there. I promise.”

Twinkly lights sparkled, suspended just above the heads of those gathered, as if the stars had been pulled down close enough to touch, the sky the deepening blue-purple before the black of night fully falls.

An intimate gathering of friends and family sat in a circle with just the slightest break in the front, each face illuminated by the lights above, while across the field, torches illuminated long tables, draped in shades of blue, waiting for the celebration to follow.

With no sides to speak of, their mothers sat together, hands clasped tight, tears threatening at the corners of their eyes as the music swelled and then subsided. All around the the circle, a breathless hush fell. The moment had arrived.

“Do you, T-“

“I do.”

“And do y-“

“I do.”

Two rings of simple, braided silver.

And one unbreakable vow.

35. Quietus
Age 15, June 2074

“Michel,” Tiberius started hesitantly. “I… I don’t really know how to say this.” Tiberius reached for his boyfriend’s hand and squeezed it. They were standing in the hall, other students hurrying past on their way to the library or their final exams. The other boy’s expression was one of concern and confusion.

“I’m not coming back to Beauxbatons in the Fall,” he said slowly, not making eye contact. Tiberius felt Michel’s grip loosen and his hand fall away. Michel opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. Tiberius’ heart sank as Michel took a step back from him.

“It’s… it’s complicated but mum and I decided when I was home..” Tiberius froze. Michel would know that the last time Tiberius was home was the holiday break, which meant he’d been keeping this a secret for months. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I was.. I was hoping we could make it work.” But really, he’d been selfish. He knew this would end and he was putting that off for as long as possible.

“Say something. Please?”

But instead, Michel turned and walked away, never having said a word.

Tiberius was twirling his quill between his fingers, waiting for the first meeting of the year to begin. History club. Not his primary area of interest, but a good time, none-the-less. He nodded to the boy who sat next to him and idly looked around the room.

His eyes froze on a single student, walking through the doorway. Tiberius felt his pulse quicken and his stomach flip. The boy was moving further into the room and sitting at the head of the long table, eyes twinkling and smile bright. Tiberius swallowed hard, his mouth inexplicably dry.

Slapping at the arm of the boy next to him – Michel - but never moving his gaze, he whispered, urgently. “Who is that?”

Michel looked up. “Gabriel Martin. Sixth year. Why…” Michel looked to Tiberius’ face, then over to Gabriel. “Oh. OH.”

His face obviously flushed, Tiberius’ impulse was to leave the room immediately but his legs would just not move. He bit his lip and trained his eyes on the rather interesting wood grain of the table. Gabriel spoke to call the meeting to order and Tiberius felt a rush of confusion and excitement.

He… had some stuff to figure out.

It was a free butterbeer. What could possibly be wrong with that? Tiberius gleefully skipped down to Hogsmeade, having had his coupon replaced after Celandine had blown up his first.

Stepping into the Hog’s Head, Tiberius wrinkled his nose and tried to ignore how much he disliked the look and smell of this place. Free butterbeer. FREE. BUTTER. BEER. Tiberius grinned as he pushed the coupon across the bar toward the rather unpleasant looking man. Hmm. He must have been beginning to relax because Tiberius suddenly didn’t feel so bad. In fact, this seemed like quite a pleasant place to be. Feeling comfortably warm, Tiberius grabbed his butterbeer and uttered a quick thank you before sitting down and enjoying his beverage.

-----------

Waking up in his own bed covered in dirt, leaves, and blood was startling. Not knowing what had happened was disturbing. Seeing others in a similar state, alarming. Sitting with Jake in the healer’s office, Tiberius yearned to confess that he had no idea what had happened. But Jake said that it would be bad to say so. And so Tibi kept quiet as the adults talked around them, tears clinging to the edges of his eyes.

Tiberius had no idea what form his boggart would take and beads of sweat clung to his temples as he waited for his turn. He closed his eyes and tried to take a steadying breath. There were still a few students in front of him and he was trying not to pay attention to their fears.

It had become clear to him that most of his classmates lived lives that even if not carefree, were at least free from the kinds of memories that haunted Tiberius’ dreams. He thought to excuse himself, go to the healer for another anxiety potion, as his heart raced.

Would it be Remy? Intellectually, Tiberius knew that the man couldn’t hurt him. Hadn’t even targeted him specifically. But that didn’t do much to calm the nightmares. The memories that sent him running from the room at the mere scent of butterbeer. The panic that swelled at every large noise or class instruction to practice spells on one another.

Tiberius stepped forward, his turn having arrived. Standing before him was his younger self. Twelve years old, pajama clad, face smudged with dry blood and fresh tears. Forever a scared, little boy.

The house was filled with baby laughter. Susan was making dinner and Tirion was trying to read The Daily Prophet as Tiberius bounced in his playpen, his dragon softie in one hand, chasing his lion in the other.

With a squeal, the lion turned and began to chase the dragon, which soon found itself sailing over the edge of the pen and landing at Tirion’s feet.

“Dadadadadadadada,” the boy cooed, making tiny baby grabby hands in the direction of his toy. Tirion laughed and folded the paper. First picking up the dragon, he walked over to the pen. “That’s my little lion,” he said as he scooped the boy up. Tiberius tried to lurch from his dad’s arms, reaching down for the stuffed lion he dropped. Tirion laughed and bent to retrieve the new favorite toy, as well.

Settling into the couch again, Tirion ruffled his son’s hair as the boy cuddled the lion and curled up against his father, thumb now securely in his mouth. Susan entered, then. “Dinner’s –“ she began, but stopped short when she saw Tirion wave her off.

“I just want a few minutes,” he whispered, eyes firmly locked on his son.

Tiberius had dutifully climbed up into the attic at his mother’s request to go find the Christmas decorations. Wishing that he could just use magic to locate the box, Tiberius peered in the dimly lit storage area. Boxes. Everywhere. Unlabeled.

Sighing, Tiberius slid a particularly dusty looking box over, vaguely recalling the verbal directions his mother had given to the box’s potential location. Blowing the dust from the top, Tiberius coughed. Opening the top, it was clear that it was not Christmas directions, but before he could close it, something in the box caught his eye.

Picking up a ratty old stuffed lion in a Hogwarts sweater, Tiberius felt a pang of recognition that he couldn’t place. Digging in further, in a mess of papers and photos, there was one bright blue envelope, Tiberius’ name written in gold. Tiberius squinted, wishing for just a single lumos charm, and dug his hand further into the box, his fingers brushing something wooden and rounded.

A wand.

Pulling it from the box, Tiberius sat back on his heels and turned it over in his hands. It could only be…

It was as if he had taken ten stunners right to the chest.

Carrying the entire box down into the kitchen, Tiberius dropped it onto the table with a bang.

“Oh, good, you found…” Susan stopped as she turned and saw just what her son had brought down stairs.

“What IS THIS,” Tiberius said, eyes glistening as his gaze alternated between his mother and the box he had found.

Susan dried her hands on her apron, looking sadly at the things she had packed away years ago. “Oh.. honey…”

“His wand, mum!” Tiberius grabbed it from where it rested on the top of the box. “And a letter! All of the magic stuff from when I was baby?!” Tiberius grabbed each item in turn, holding them up as an accusation.

Taking a step forward, Susan reached out to put her hand on Tiberius shoulder, but he recoiled. Her own voice shook. “Tibi, honey, I..” She had only done what she thought was right, but could not bring herself to try to explain.

“You had no right to keep this from me! NO RIGHT!” Tiberius shouted at his mother, voice trembling with uncharacteristic anger, before storming up the stairs and to his room.

Starting after him, Susan froze, unable to bring herself to follow.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on his bed crying, but Tiberius was finally ready to open the letter. Breaking the seal, Tiberius’ hands shook.

My dearest Tiberius,

I hope you never have to read this letter. But if you do, know that I loved you from the moment we knew to expect you. And that everything I did from that point on was always for you and your mother.

Take care of her. You’re all each other has.

You are my brave little man, from a long, proud line of Gryffindors. Take Hogwarts by storm. Whatever house you join, Hogwarts is an experience to be treasured.

Live boldly. Take risks. Love deeply.

I will never know the man you become, but I know as I write this, that you will make me proud.

He read and reread the letter, tears streaming down his face. He’d never known anything and now there was this. Tiberius felt a pang of guilt reading about Hogwarts. What else didn’t he know? Who would have answers? Hearing his mother’s footsteps on the stairs, Tiberius shut the light and pretended to be asleep as she set the box just inside the door.

*CRASH*

Tiberius cringed as whatever it was in the next room tipped over and shattered into a million pieces. Sitting in the common room, he had been trying to finish up his notes on The Newts of Bognor, but a house full of first year magizoology students was making that near impossible.

“Oi!” He shouted, slamming the book closed. He’d never finish before dinner at this rate. “Some of us want to keep our grades up enough to stay in the house,” he scolded. He looked to his roommate, Drew, who just shrugged. This year’s crop of first years had proven to be easily excitable and Tiberius was concerned that the house would lose their standing as special academic housing.

“Whatever you say, dad,” one of the first years called back. A chorus of snickers and hushed whispers filtered in and Tiberius decided he’d had enough.

“I’ll be in the library if anyone decides that they actually care about their midterms,” he called.

But before his hand was on the doorknob, his ears begin to twitch and the gaggle of man-children burst into raucous laughter.

Slamming the door behind him, Tiberius vowed to find a new place to live.

Tibi sat the floor of the common room, legs splayed out in front of him. The charmed blue lights on his shoes were flashing as other students filtered in from the Quidditch match and the shared living space grew louder and louder.

But the noise barely registered. Tiberius had his hands in his lap, thumbs rubbing the edges of picture that had just arrived by owl.

Thought this might help with your fear of flying. Love, Mum is what the note had said.

Black and white, and slightly crinkled, a tiny Tiberius and his father flew together, rooftops of London visible in the distant background. Tibi’s eyes were fixed on the image, hoping that the longer he stared, the more likely he would remember what it felt like.

Wiggling his toes in his sneakers, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine being up in the air like that, with his dad. Wind on his face. Shrieks of baby laughter and a deep, hearty laugh behind him. Memory or wishful thinking, it was uncertain, but Tiberius smiled, eyes still closed as the rest of the world continued on around him.

“Jake, I don’t think this was a good idea!” Tiberius squealed, his ankles crossed over his broom as he gripped the handle, hanging upside-down like a sloth. His eyes were squeezed shut.

“You’re o-only s-s-s-six inches off the g-g-ground, Tibi,” Jake said, laughing as he flew above the younger boy and looked down.

“Oh.” Tiberius barely cracked open one eye and, spying grass, let go of the broom and thumped softly on the ground, laughing lightly.

----

Six hours later, Tiberius had progressed from hanging upside down to sitting upright to flying in large circles, several feet off the ground.

Laughing as Jake lapped him once again, Tibi shouted ahead to him. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

Jake looked over his shoulder and nodded, absentmindedly tossing a wrapped candy over his shoulder. “C-catch.”

Tiberius blinked stupidly for a minute before sharply adjusting his flight in order to pluck the candy deftly from the air. He stared at it for a moment, before silently looking up at his friend in disbelief.

“Whoa.” Jake sat up straight on his broom and stared for a moment. “I’m g-gonna t-teach you to s-seek.”

47. Undetectable Extension Charm
Age 18, Late August

It was strange not to be preparing to return to Hogwarts, Tiberius thought, as he folded his clothes and placed them in the trunk. University would be a whole different experience, though he was eager for the challenge.

Hearing a knock at the door, he dropped his packing and headed to the stairs. Placing his hand on the bannister, he paused, seeing his mother open the door. It was Linda. Tiberius looked around quickly, to see if there was anything out that might raise questions. He’d gotten sloppy with muggle-proofing the house while he was trying to collect all his things to go away. Were his reference books in the kitchen??

Opting to retreat back upstairs, Tiberius moved to the back of the house. If they were going to talk, it would be in the kitchen and Tiberius could listen in through the air duct. Wrinkling his nose in agitation, Tiberius eavesdropped, grateful to be of age and able to do so as Linda peppered his mum with questions about his plans and where on earth he’d been sent for school, anyway.

Susan lied expertly. Apparently, Tiberius was becoming a landscaper.

Tibi dragged his sleeve across his face, smearing his tears but not fully wiping them away. He’d stepped off of Diagon Alley and back into muggle London and promptly broken down into sobs, unable to tell his mum what had happened beyond a squeaky “h-he h-h-h-ates m-m-me.”

Back home, wrapped in his robe with a mug of warm milk, Tiberius sat at his desk staring at the piece of parchment. The full-body sobs had subsided, but the tears still leaked from the corners of his eyes every time he blinked. Sniffling, he picked up his quill to write to Jake, hoping that someone would be able to read it to him. To try to explain why he wouldn’t be returning to Hogwarts. To apologize for saying they could make it if they both stayed, and then breaking his word.

The quill scratched against the paper as Tiberius pressed his teeth into his bottom lip and just bite down. The words were frantic, ineloquent, and once he had filled the page, Tiberius stared at it.

Who was he kidding?

Vision blurred with tears not yet fallen, Tiberius shredded the letter, leaving scraps and ink on the desk as he walked away.

Tibi was down for a nap, and so was Susan, but Tirion had an idea. Pulling a large brown bag from its hiding spot in the hall closet, he grinned to himself. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he carefully pulled out each item and laid it before him.

A plush snitch. A chinese fireball. A mini magic carpet. A trio of broom riders. An owl.

Reaching in, he pulled out the last one. A fwooper? He considered it a moment. It was bright, sure, but did he really want Tibi to want a fwooper? Shrugging, he added it to the mix. What were the chances he’d encounter an actual fwooper in muggle London, anyway. Especially one not properly charmed…

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Tirion looked back to the toys. Levitating them one at a time, he fixed them above Tibi’s playpen. Hearing Tibi cry as he awoke, he hurriedly cast the charm that would set them in motion, a magical mobile for his little boy.

Crumpling the bag, he tossed it to the side and went to see to Tibi. He would let Susan sleep.

It was time for magic.