5/26/2019
Is Snape still a douche?
Yes.
Misplaced Lens Cap
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Love Begins
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@fakejilypotter
5/26/2019
Is Snape still a douche?
Yes.
every patronus hermione granger has ever produced was done with the memory of how it felt to deck malfoy right in his smug bastard face
Pink’s speech after receiving the Video Vanguard Award at the 2017 VMAs x
am I doing this right?
concept: viktor krum remains a good friend of the granger-weasley household and visits every christmas like a handsome bulgarian santa claus
bathroom. six years old. mum wrapping her in a towel. steam on the mirror. her giggles echoing off the tiled walls. peter pan pyjamas. hair dripping down her back. drying in front of the fire.
bathroom. seven. swimming in the tub. goggles on. holding her breath underwater. has to come out for dinner. doesn’t want to. does, but only because there’s ice cream for dessert. doesn’t take the goggles off.
bathroom. nine. freckles on her elbows. water’s too hot. wants to be an olympic diver. bathers on because last week petunia said she had a fat tummy and now she wants to hide it. hair in a swimming hat that is really just her mother’s floral shower cap.
bathroom. eleven. crying after petunia called her freak. how much of this water is her tears? gets out of the tub too fast, slips. cracks her head open on the tiles. blood everywhere. her mother screaming. still crying as her father lifts her in his arms. rushed to the hospital in her towel.
bathroom. twelve. standing up in the shower. blood on the tiles. is that her blood? is she dying? runs out of the bathroom yelling for her mother. just her period. petunia smirking. feeling shellshocked. eating chocolate and watching lost in space on the tv. grinning like a champ.
bathroom. fourteen. picking at a spot in front of the mirror. plucks out half her eyebrow. tries to cover it up. potter can’t see, he’ll make fun of her. stupid potter. made fun of her knobbly knees in the yard the other day and she hit him for it. you’re the bigger knob, she told him. looking at her knobbly knees reflected back at her, freckly. they’re quite nice, she thinks. i’m quite nice.
bathroom. fifteen. floor of the shower. tear tracks. heart breaking. won’t let you. holding her heart, bloody and raw in her hands, in that courtyard. let me? mascara smudges. raining outside the window. doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have anyone to go see anymore. no-one to ride her bike with, sit by the lake with. looking at herself in the mirror. does her blood run dirty?
bathroom. sixteen. twirling in a floral dress. mary’s lipgloss. bruise from where she slipped down the stairs. flushed cheeks. petunia yelling at her to hurry up. pretending she can’t hear. hairdryer. singing blondie lyrics into her hairbrush. more yelling. leaves her wet towel on the floor. she used petunia’s again. wasn’t an accident.
bathroom. seventeen. potter’s such a dick. bright eyes. ink on her fingers. wants to write his name in lipstick on the mirror. messy hair. summer freckles, a few on her nose, more on her shoulders. potter told her last week he likes her freckles. god, she’s smiling so hard. why is she smiling so hard?
bathroom. eighteen. shaking. dirt and blood under her nails. cut on her left cheek. sprained wrist. james bandaging it for her on the edge of the bath. gentle fingers, large hands, callouses. there’s still light behind her eyes from all the flashes. bodies hitting the ground. hit and run. she’s too young for this. they’re all too young for this.
bathroom. nineteen. overflowing sink. corner of the room. lighting threatening to split the skies apart. hair in damp ringlets. choking on sobs. can’t stop crying. won’t stop crying. marlene’s face. marlene’s body lying on the floor. marlene laughing. marlene screaming. marlene dying. she’s dead, lily. she’s dead. chest cleaving in two, ribs breaking, no air. can’t stop crying. door cracking open. his arms, her name in his mouth. cradled against his chest, in the corner of the room. james, it hurts. more crying. i know, i know. i have you, evans.
bathroom. nineteen. hair in curls. peony-pink lips. baby’s breath wreath around her head. white dress. mary smiling at her in the mirror. perfume clogging her nostrils. everyone bustling around her. sirius hammering on the door. peter needs help with his cufflinks. sirius threatening to let james in if they don’t hurry the hell up. mary yelling that they can’t start the wedding without the bride. sirius yelling that they bloody well can and they will. james’s voice on the other side of the door. her stomach in knots. smiling like she doesn’t know she has to compete with the sun.
bathroom. twenty. nursing harry in the bath. giggling as she pours water over his head. james distracting him with a rubber duck. are you trying to drown him, evans, jesus christ. snapping back that if he hadn’t let sirius get tomato sauce in harry’s hair they wouldn’t be having this conversation. smell of burning from the kitchen. did you forget to turn the stove off, james? him swearing, her yelling at him to stop swearing in front of harry, harry saying bugger. harry laughing. all three of them laughing. smoke alarm going off. life is ok. life is good.
bathroom. twenty-one. there’s no-one there. distant screaming in the next room. vase being broken. a baby crying. someone coming up the stairs. a door opening. someone else crying. a motorcycle. more footsteps, getting distant. a door closing. silence. endless, irrevocable silence, like a single sigh, a breath being expelled. an empty bathroom. empty hallway, empty living room, empty kitchen. empty house. empty world. empty life.
better things harry potter could have named his child
rubeus
remus
regulus
bilius
fleamont
elvendork
pigwidgeon
jimothy
zoosmell
tarquin florean von bigmac iii
trashbag
literally anything other than ‘probableabuser definiteabuser’
did we just like, collectively as a fandom delete cursed child?
how many muggle born kids showed up at hogwarts like, “i get you’re into magic and don’t get me wrong, magic is awesome, but please don’t try and tell me quills and inkwells make more sense than pencils. i realize you have an aesthetic going, but admit it’s that. admit it’s just for looks.”
Imagine how many muggles parents looked at the supply list and went “Parchment? Quills? INKWELLS? Fuck this we’re going to staples.”
And then imagine if the muggle parents start getting into arguments with the teachers when they start getting messages telling them their kids aren’t using the proper materials.
“Okay look we can accept working with frog livers, turning mice into fine china, and whatever the fuck ‘arithmancy’ is but we’re not going to let you shame our kids just because they choose to use a bic pen instead of this ‘ye old inkwell’ bullshit. Also. it’s called a spiral notebook and I’m not gonna make my Abby drag around five hundred feet of loose parchment just because you people have a theme going.”
Aesthetic or death
I’ve got to wonder, though, how much of the school supply list at Hogwarts is based on aesthetic and how much is based on what the Muggle world was like when wizards retreated into secrecy. Like, how many wizards who haven’t taken Muggle Studies are aware that nobody uses inkwells and quill pens anymore? And I bet the Muggle parents over the years have always just assumed “well there must be some reason for all this, it must work better with these supplies, there must be something inherently magical in parchment” and just went with it.
Give me the story of the Muggle-born witch whose parents can’t afford all the fancy school supplies, who literally cringe when they’re told about the fund for “underprivileged students” because they’re not POOR but they’ve got four other children and two of them need special care, who scrimp and save and scrape together until they can afford the school supply list even if most of it’s secondhand, but they start at the top of the list with the things that HAVE to be bought in Diagon Alley and go from there, and when they get towards the end of the list they start making do.
On September 1, in this big crowd of ickle firsties, there’s one who stands out because her robes don’t look quite right but no one can quite pinpoint why, until an older student asks her the next day and she shyly admits that her mother made them for her out of some fabric she’s had lying around for a while. She gets to her first class and sits in the back because she’s a little embarrassed and pulls out the battered secondhand textbook and her wand and everything else she needs, prepared to take notes, and everything’s going along just fine until Professor Flitwick suddenly stops in the middle of his lecture and asks what she’s doing, and she just freezes but manages to stammer out that she’s just taking notes, Professor.
Flitwick is suddenly at her side, how did he get there so quickly, and examining her cheap retractable pen and the packet of looseleaf paper in a flimsy three-ring binder where the center ring is already out of alignment, and the other Muggle-borns and half-bloods in the class are snickering because look at this loser who didn’t know you need parchment and quills for this, who ever heard of doing magic with a biro, but Flitwick is fascinated and asks if he can try one, and maybe she tells him to keep that one because she has more (even though she only has a couple more, but she can make do with pencils, and surely somebody around here will loan her a little bit of ink to refill one of her pens if she needs to, I mean, it can’t be that hard to fill up the little ink sticks inside of them, can it?) and he beams at her like she’s just given him the House Cup and goes back to teaching like nothing has happened.
And then all of her teachers are asking her about these things, and maybe a few of the other Muggle-born students tentatively help her answer them, and when McGonagall presses her she admits that her parents couldn’t afford to get her everything she needed and it was a lot cheaper to go to the shop on the corner and pick up a half-dozen packs of looseleaf and a packet of pens than it was to buy the quill and parchment and honestly, Professor, I didn’t think it would matter, and McGonagall smiles because she remembers her own father and says it doesn’t.
The next year the school supply list says only ink-based writing utensils and parchment or lined paper and a few of the more traditionalist pureblood families insist on only sending their children with quills and inkwells, but there are other students–a lot of other students–with retractables and stick pens and a couple of the older Muggle-born students come in with really nice quality fountain pens and there’s a whole black market (or at least grey market) going on with regards to the buying and selling and trading of glitter gel pens and a lot of debates over whether fine-tipped pens or the broader ones are better and there’s at least one kid who’s got one of those gigantic foot-long novelty click pens because what, you said it had to be ink-based, so what if it’s an inch thick and hot pink with Disney princesses all over it, it’s still a pen, and within a few years nobody can remember why there was such an issue with them in the first place.
Nobody has the slightest idea what to do the first time a student shows up with his grandfather’s typewriter, though.
you: what's the world's worst betrayal
me, on the outside: i don't know, cheating maybe
me, on the inside: when i open a fic whose summary was in third person but the story is actually in first
Draco Malfoy is not the move
I honestly hate Draco Malfoy and I hate the fact that most Harry Potter fans love him and act like he's misunderstood and struggling against his parents' political views when he outright embraces bigotry and invokes it upon anyone who's not like him. If he was truly against the pure blood supremacy ideals his parents raised him with then he'd be like Sirius and do everything in his power to be an ally to those who are not pure blooded or death eaters. Those who oppose will argue that his prejudices are fostered by the Malfoys' nurturing and love for Draco whereas Sirius did not have that from the Blacks. However, Draco idolized and became his father. Regulus Black became what his family wanted to be, until he realized that it was a disgusting way of life. Regulus turned himself around and began the hunt for horcruxes on his own, something not even Harry James Potter did. Even Snape, for all the hate I have for him, was on the right side at the end of his life. Draco never did anything to help the cause at any point in his life (of you try to use CC as reference you can block me). Maybe he changed his viewpoint but that's somewhere in between the end of deathly gallows and the epilogue and I'm uninterested in hearing that that makes up for all the bigotry he involved himself in when he was a child. Prejudices are taught, but they can be reversed, as shown in Ron, when he turns his ideas of werewolves and house elves around throughout the series. He was raised with prejudices to both and learned throughout his journey that neither are bad nor should they be treated the way they are and he completely embraced that and enforced those ideas on others. I'm not here for Draco Malfoy or the "endearing villain" movement Harry Potter fans have placed on him. I also don't ship him with Harry or Hermione because he bullied them both for many years. Cordial attitudes toward each other is all they'll ever be able to achieve realistically.
date a guy who’s strong. date a guy who will respect you. date a guy who’s tall. date a guy who loves to fly. date a guy who’s best friends with an ex-con. date a guy with feathers and a beak. date a guy who broke malfoy’s arm once. date buckbeak.
harry: phew, we almost didn't get out the forbidden forest there! that was a close call
ron: yeah
ron: you could say that things got a little hairy, potter
can y'all believe I would literally die for Ginny Weasley
Harry Potter and How the Scene Should Have Gone
Umbridge: Mr. Potter, do you expect to be attacked in my class?
Harry: Yes.
Umbridge: What?
Harry: Well, I mean, I'm running four for four.
Umbridge: Mr. Potter-
Harry: Quirrel tried to choke me out.
Umbridge: Mr. Potter-
Harry: And Lockhart tried to wipe my memory.
Umbridge: Mr. Potter-
Harry: Of course, Professor Lupin didn't mean it. He just forgot his potion, but still, totally went werewolf on me.
Umbridge: MR. POTTER-
Harry: And then Moody turned out to be an escaped Death Eater in disguise.
Umbridge: POTTER!
Harry: So, yeah, I figure it's 100% you'll attack me in June, 50/50 you'll try to kill me, with a 25% chance of an Unforgivable curse.
Harry: (Turns to Hermione)
Harry: Did I get the math right?
Hermione: Yes.
dumbledore: is it unfair to put the hopes of the entire wizarding world on one kid?
dumbledore: naaaaaaaaaaaah
all gryffindors have fluffy lion slippers