4th Earl of Buckinghamshire
Joined December 2022
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Okay, here's my contribution.
Children's fantasy is completely outside my wheelhouse, and teen romantic angst isn't much better. But a final dramatic clash? That I can do.
#malfoid
***************************************************************
He’s alive. Harry Potter’s alive. The knowledge rings through Dracaena like a bell. He died in the Forbidden Forest, she’d heard them all say it, seen the body displayed at the gate of Hogwarts. But now somehow… He’s alive. He’s alive!
She can barely see him, all the way at the far end of the Great Hall, shouting back and forth at the Dark Lord. But she knows him, has known him for seven years: His form, his voice, his tangled hair. He’s alive.
Her father is holding her by her wrist, his grip vise-like, dragging her back as she writhes and strains against him. “Let go,” she cries brokenly, “Let me go, father, I have to—"
“Stop it, Dracaena,” he hisses, his face contorted with fear. “Be silent! If the Dark Lord hears—"
“Lucius,” Narcissa says, soft but clear. She puts her hand over his. “Let her go.”
She meets Dracaena’s eyes, and her own glisten with unshed tears.
Lucius stares at his wife bewildered. For the first time in her life, Dracaena sees her father entirely at a loss.
He lets her go.
Dracaena turns and runs, a blur of faces staring at her, Hogwarts students and teachers, a brief glimpse of Hermione and Ron wide-eyed, and ahead of her she sees them: Harry grim-faced and desperate, the Dark Lord brandishing the Elder Wand as his red eyes glitter.
Two voices ring through the hall:
“Avada Kedavra!
“Expelliarmus!”
Green light collides with red in a blazing flare, and the meeting point moves toward Harry, the power of Voldemort’s curse overwhelming…
Dracaena screams aloud, somehow moving even faster; her feet do not even feel the floorboards of the Great Hall. She hurls herself forward, reaching out desperately… and her wand intercepts the clashing spells.
The wand snaps, unicorn hair burned away in an instant. The disrupted spells erupt in a shockwave, knocking Harry and Voldemort to the ground. The floor slams into Dracaena like a hammer and she writhes half-stunned, the fingers of her wand-hand aching bone-deep.
Voldemort struggles to rise, Death Eaters crowding forward to try to help him.
Harry scrambles to Dracaena’s side, putting one arm around her waist and pulling her to her feet. His face is frantic, streaked with soot and tears. “Dracaena… What… What are you doing... Why are you here?"
She meets his gaze and all her fears rise up, all the misery and despair of the last two years choking her, the scar on her neck burning with remembered pain.
Voldemort is on his feet, waving back his followers with furious dismissal.
Dracaena shuts her eyes and forces the words out, barely a whisper. “I love you, Harry Potter. You’re… you’re my life.”
When she dares look at him again, his face is a sunrise. She feels a pulse of joy so intense it is like pain.
“Traitor,” Voldemort hisses. “I knew the Malfoys could not be trusted.” He raises the Elder Wand overhead. “You choose Potter, here at the end? You can die with him.”
Harry turns to face the Dark Lord, still clutching Dracaena to him, and she wraps her own arm around his waist and sets her wand-hand over his. They share a last look. “Together,” Harry says, and she nods.
Voldemort’s wand snaps forward once more. “Avada Kedavra!”
Harry and Dracaena answer in two voices made one: “Expelliarmus!”
The magic collides again, flaring white light. Veldomort grins as the meeting-point edges toward them…
The color of their shared spell changes, becoming a twining spiral of emerald green and sunlit gold. The flare of the clashing magics stops in place… and then begins moving toward the Dark Lord.
Voldemort’s gloating triumph gives way to confusion, then to fear. His voice rises in a shriek. “What is this magic?”
Love, Harry. Love is the most powerful magic of all.
Voldemort never heard Dumbledore’s words. But if he ever had, he would not have understood them.
The clashing spells reach the Elder Wand, and it shatters. Voldemort lets out a single scream, a cry of negation and despair, before his own killing curse washes over him.
Harry and Dracaena drops to their knees, gasping for breath, slumping against each other. There is a long silence in the Great Hall, and then a rising tumult: Cheering, sobbing, babbling cries. Dracaena glimpses teachers and students rushing forward, the Death Eaters cowering in surrender, Ron and Hermoine running toward their friend.
Harry sees none of it; he is looking only at her. He drops his wand and his hands come up, cradling her face gently, as though it might break.
“Dracaena, I…” He coughs and swallows, blinks his eyes clear. “I love you, Dracaena. I… I always have.”
She catches his head and pulls him to her, and he kisses her like a drowning man seeking air.
Yes, yes, Tucker Carlson's crank podcast that is watched mostly by foreigners is why something like a third of independents and at least a fifth of GOP voters switched to Dem...
Good Lord, do these people even listen to themselves?
Some thoughts, now that I've had 48 hours to calm down...
1. The speed and severity of the backlash against the Iran war -- whose costs, economic and otherwise, were far lower than past conflicts -- means the era of such large-scale actions is over, probably for a long time. Interventionists/neocons screaming "we didn't do it hard enough" are whistling into the wind.
2. @chriswithans has been arguing since last year that Trump might be the last strongly pro-Israel President for the foreseeable future. The election would seem to confirm this.
3. The Dead Consensus/neocon Right -- people like Dana Loesch -- just witnessed the final death of their faction as anything politically relevant to the future. They're currently in denial. Ditto the RINO establishment.
4. The next two years (and maybe more, but let's pray not) is going to be an absolute circus at best. Brace yourselves.
"tariffs or the war, but not both"
I think this has wisdom.
The tariffs upset some specific groups of people but didn't produce a general collapse of support the way Iran did.
Fascinating post, JD pulling no punches here.
And I’m thinking Trump must have seen the same data, hence negotiating an end to US military aid to Israel.
I didn’t want to believe GOP voters would go massively Dem over the Iran war and a moderate rise in gas prices.
I was wrong.
One of the things the data analysts on our side obsessed over was "composition"—whether the electorate looked close enough to 2024 for Republicans to win. And despite polls that showed a Democrat blowout, the data kept on telling us the same story: in some states turnout was merely OK, in other states it was downright amazing, and in no state was it catastrophic. There was a genuine sense of optimism on our team: our people were showing up.
So, I asked the smartest data guy I know, does that mean we're going to shock the world? "No," he told me. "We might do better than the polls suggest. But the data is telling us that a lot of Trump/Vance 2024 voters are pissed and planning to vote for the other guys. Our voters are turning out, but they may not vote for us."
Well, that looks prophetic now. Our voters did show up. In Florida, for example, the electorate was 9 points more Republican than Democrat, just a couple points worse than 2024. Undoubtedly there were places we could have done better on turnout. But the main problem is not turnout. The main problem is that many people who voted for Trump/Vance in 2024 voted for Democrats in 2026.
There will be a lot of infighting and arguing over what happened and why that is. One of the pollsters I really respect told me that our economic messaging wasn’t sharp enough down the stretch. I’m sure that’s true.
But the real reason we lost is obvious to almost everyone.
Another pollster—one of the smartest people I know in politics, told me yesterday we’d lose the generic ballot by 13 points. I felt negative going into Tuesday, but even I was shocked by this. In his polling, he saw that a lot of Trump 2024 voters were angry and planning to vote for Democrats. He asked those voters who had abandoned us what would cause them to come back on our team. The top four answers, accounting for nearly all of the responses were:
1) End the war
2) Focus on cost of living/inflation
3) Put America First
4) Change our relationship to Israel
Our voters showed up. And the above four reasons are why many of them voted for Democrats. This is according to a pollster who nailed the results. While many spent Monday attacking Rachel Campos Duffy for calling for a diplomatic resolution to the conflict, it turns out her political advice was sound. (She’s also a great person.)
In the next few months, there's going to be a lot of gaslighting. Expect to hear any number of establishment politicians say the solution to our woes is amnesty. I'm open to the idea that we should change enforcement—by focusing more on businesses that hire illegal labor, for instance. But anyone pushing amnesty is lying to you.
The reason we lost is the war. The president himself said so last night.
If you'd like to argue it was worth it, that losing the Senate for the next 6 years was worth it, then do so. Argue it was a worthwhile cost to pay. Agree or disagree, that's at least honest.
But everyone knows why we lost. And any honest conversation about where we go from here must start there.
I remain hopeful about our country. To the people who are pissed off and want to say, “I told you so”: you’re right, you did tell us so. Take that energy into electing Republicans who share your worldview. To the people who are just pissed at the results, you should be. Let’s take that anger and get back to the work of saving our country.
“won’t change much”
As many have noted: Part of why the GOP has recurring trouble with normie/squish voters is because those voters have no idea how crazy the Dems really are.
Just watched an interview with a “moderate Republican” in Texas who voted for Talarico because he thinks Paxton is “too corrupt for my tastes”. Which is fine, whatever. I can’t stand Talarico, but Paxton is no all-star.
But then the reporter asked him if it was just Talarico and he said “No, I mostly voted Democrat.”
“Including for Governor?”
“Yep. I voted for Hinojosa.”
“And what do you think will be different in Texas electing all these Democrats?”
“I don’t think it will be all that different. This was mostly about how I’m feeling about national politics.”
🤨
Voting for change in state leadership, while thinking it won’t change anything. And doing it because you don’t like what is happening at the national level.
Jim Geraghty was doing election commentary in 2004. He knows better than to pay attention to "exit polls", LOL.
He's pretending otherwise because, like most NeverTrumpers in 2026, he's now aligned with the Left.
It seems Brian's notions about Democrats and "norms" are just as dishonest and insane as his notions about balanced budgets and his own sex.
These people are just dumbass liberals.
That's all they've ever been.
The Jewish Left is losing their minds.
And with Trump and Bibi jointly agreeing to end the $4 billion in US annual aid, the Retard Right is losing its mind as well.
A nice election-day bonus!
This little series of Malfoid fics are extremely well-written, and offer a different but very enjoyable take on her character. Great stuff.
#malfoid The moment after the fall of Tom Riddle
The green light faded and Voldemort hit the flags with the hollow, unceremonious thud of a dropped side of beef.
The Hall was silent. The fighting had stopped.
Draconia stalked towards Harry, directly across the room, and didn’t break stride. She planted her left heel squarely between the dead Dark Lord’s shoulder blades, the ribs cracking as she stomped over him like another flagstone, and kept moving.
A choked sound came from the foot of the Hufflepuff table, Ernie Macmillan staring with his mouth open, wand dangling. She didn’t spare him half a glance.
Harry was still swaying on the spot where the backfire had thrown him, the Elder Wand held loose, gray soot caked into his lashes. She reached him in three more long, predatory strides, caught two fistfuls of his ripped shirt, and shook him hard enough to snap his teeth together.
“You let a giant carry you down the hill,” she said. The voice was low, viciously polite, and cold enough to strip varnish. “Like an unwashed sack of produce.”
Harry blinked behind his cracked round lenses, his brain visibly struggling to catch up with the end of the war. “Draconia…”
“Don’t you Draconia me, Potter. You let me think you were DEAD.” she shouted. She let go with one hand, curled it into a fist and thumped it into his shoulder. “Three years. Three agonizing years of doctoring letters, swallowing bile, smiling at an insane half-blood, and spending every night walking a razor’s edge through this moldering castle. And you strolled into the Forbidden Forest and laid down like a tired sheep.”
Around them, the vast, echoing wreck of the Great Hall seemed to seize up mid-breath.
Ron, half-propping up a bruised George near the splintered dais, slowly lowered his wand. His eyes tracked from Draconia’s hand clutching Harry’s chest down to the dead Dark Lord she had just used as a stepping stone.
Hermione’s head snapped sideways. Her lips parted, moved without sound for two seconds, and then her brow furrowed into the terrifying, furious calculation of a girl mentally retrofitting every suspicious library run, altered roster, and near-miss since the Triwizard Tournament.
“I didn't lay down,” Harry protested, his voice hoarse from shouting curses. “The H… he had to destroy the piece of himself, or…”
“You let him hit you with the Killing Curse, you colossal, mutton-headed infant!”
The shout rang off the hammerbeams. A few paces away, Neville was still holding the bloody Sword of Gryffindor by the hilt. He froze mid-step, looking between them as if wondering whether to intervene or back away very quietly.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Harry’s temper, rusted and frayed from thirty-six hours of siege, flared back. “And don't act like it was easy from where I was standing! You were here all winter with the Carrows. You were wearing the badge, you were…”
“And who do you think Severus used to blunt those two pig-ignorant brutes?” she snarled, leaning in so close her nose nearly grazed his. “Who do you think swapped out the brass knuckles Amycus kept in his desk for ones charmed to cushion on impact? Who do you think ‘accidentally’ tipped off the fifth-year Ravenclaws five minutes before Alecto raided the third-floor corridor with bloodhounds? Did you think Severus walked around brewing half-strength boiling draughts himself? The Carrows are vulgar, illiterate swine who couldn't tell a proper curse from a tavern brawl. I spent eight months keeping them from turning this school into a slaughterhouse. For you, you ungrateful lout!”
Neville blinked, a strange, baffled look washing over his battered features. “The detention rosters... she told us to clean the silver in the trophy room instead of going down to the dungeons.”
“Because I didn’t want blood on the runners, Longbottom, and Harry likes you for some reason,” she snapped with a quick angry glance, her knuckles trembling against Harry's collarbones. “And at the Manor. Why do you think the cellar latch was loose? Why do you think Aunt Bella spent twenty minutes shrieking for rope while your house-elf took half the drawing room with him? Why do you think I stood there looking at your swollen, ruined face and told them I couldn't be sure it was you?”
Harry went rigid. His mouth opened, closed, then stalled.
“You think I’m blind?” she shouted. “You think a Malfoy doesn't recognize the boy she’s been..” she paused, a flush forming and then continued. “Alecto and Amycus were common rabble playing at dominion, and the Dark Lord was just a jumped-up half-blood. My loyalties belong to my family and to myself, not to some grotesque lunatic. And against every scrap of my better judgment, Potter….”
“You... you lied to Bella,” Harry interrupted. “Right to her face.”
“Of course I lied to her, you complete cretin! I'm a Black. We lie to the mirror starting at 2 years old, but usually we do it for a reason better than a Gryffindor who possesses the survival instincts of a dead badger!” She shook him again, her voice rising in exasperated pitch. “I risked Azkaban. I risked death and worse. I risked my mother's life. Do you know how difficult it is to keep going in the face of all that? To smile at a madman who is planning to ‘gift’ you to one of his cronies?” she paused again and drew in a breath. “Of course I betrayed them.” she shouted.
Over by the hourglasses, Pansy Parkinson stood with her arms crossed over a torn cloak, a slow, vindictive smirk spreading across her face. “Told you so,” she muttered loud enough to reach Blaise Zabini, who merely closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in deep, long-suffering resignation.
“Draconia,” Harry began again, softer this time. His free hand came up, hovering near her wrist, fingers twitching against the wool of her sleeve. “You didn't have to…”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying…”
“I love you, you utterly insufferable, stubborn waste of oxygen.” she hissed, the words coming out fast, hot, and laced with absolute, aristocratic venom. “I love you, which makes me a fool, and I have spent three years dealing with second-rate cutthroats and illiterate Death Eaters because the alternative was spending the rest of my life without you. You do not get to die on me now. Do you understand? If you die after I stepped on that filthy half-blood's corpse to fetch you, I will drag you back out of the veil just to curse you.”
The silence that settled over the hall was absolute.
Ron’s jaw dropped entirely. He looked at Hermione, looked back at Draconia, then tapped his own temple with his wand-tip as though checking his ears for a Confundus charm.
“Wait.” Ron blinked hard. He shook his head. “Her? Her and you?”
Draconia didn’t turn around. “Weasley, if you speak another syllable, I will transfigure you into the guppy you resemble and feed you to the kneazles. Sit down and have a biscuit.”
Harry didn't move. The Elder Wand slipped from his grasp, clattering uselessly against the stone. He brought both hands up, his fingers closing gently around her forearms.
“You’re shouting,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth giving the faintest, exhausted twitch.
“I am perfectly calm,” she snapped back, though the flush along her throat had climbed straight to the tips of her ears. “I am the picture of pureblood decorum. You, on the other hand, look like you were dragged behind the Hogwarts Express.”
“Probably.”
“Not probably. Definitely.”
Her grip on his shirt didn’t loosen, but the furious, rigid stiffness went out of her spine in one long, trembling shudder. Her hands stayed bunched in his torn wool, and then, with an irritable little huff of breath that smelled faintly of peppermint and ash, she let her forehead drop forward against his collarbone.
Harry’s arms came around her, one settling across her shoulders and the other around her waist, pulling her in. Both of them drew in deep shuddering breaths.
Across the hall, Minerva McGonagall lowered her wand, pressed her lips into a tight, severe line to keep them from twitching, and addressed the room at large.
“Someone,” she said crisply, “move that creature’s body out of the thoroughfare.”
An excellent follow-up to an excellent (and heartbreaking) sectum-sempra fic.
It also reveals an interesting problem with what a lot of Malfoid writers (including me) have been doing with the post-sectum arc. We've been assuming no immediate redemption is possible and everything stays dark until late in Year 7, at Malfoy Manor or the Room of Requirement or, most commonly, the Battle of Hogwarts itself.
We've all been forgetting that, canonically, Harry uses Felix Felicis in the very next chapter, just a couple weeks later.
Does anyone really think Harry wouldn't do what Charles shows here, employing Felix Felicis to try to mend things with Dracaena? She's his life, his one true love; he's broken and lost without her. Of course he'd do it.
Note that Harry and Dracaena reclaiming their love for each other does not magically resolve all the tough and tragic events yet to come! She still has the Dark Mark, Voldemort still controls her through her loyalty to her family. The eventual happy ending still must overcome plenty of dire challenges. But the "no confession of feelings until the finale" we usually expect doesn't work here.
So... if you as a writer want to stick with the "maximum drama" Malfoid story, you're most likely going to have to violate the canonical timeline and move the sectumsempra incident to a couple weeks after Aragog's funeral.
Snarls that anyone who disagrees with his approach "doesn't understand politics"... while advocating for actions that would render his faction utterly toxic and politically homeless.
Perfection.
Dead-on.
The "pro life movement", like all the Maoist purity-spiral "movements" born out of ConInc, is its own worst enemy, obsessed with symbolism and hostile to actual results.
Mike Rogers’s immediate job is not to use rhetoric that pro-lifers find appealing. Nor is it to engage in the pro-wrestling kayfabe that is federal pro-life legislation. It’s to get elected in a state that overwhelmingly legalized all abortion four years ago. The job of pro-lifers is to evaluate soberly the job he would do as a senator given his record and campaign rhetoric.
nationalreview.com/corner/mi…
The neocons and FakeCons absolutely LOVE the Tusk government, which has been abusing power against the Polish Right since the moment it took power.
How will they excuse this latest escalation, I wonder?
So far, they seem to be handling this by... ignoring it.
Jay Nordlinger, for example, hasn't said a single word.
Ah, there we go. “Muh Russians.” It was inevitable.
These vermin belong on a scaffold alongside Tusk.
teapawt.org/michaeldweiss/status/2…
Is there any remaining doubt that James Lindsey is mentally ill?
I mean, it should have been obvious after the bizarre St Michael's Prayer crashout last year, but it can't possibly be denied now.
"Gnostic inversion of stories"
Just hysterical reality-divorced nonsense and word-salad.
@ConceptualJames is utterly cooked. Someone should do an intervention.