Drama queen @imnotsirious - Tumblr Blog

Okay so one of the reasons why the whole ‘Everyone being surprised that Ron was made a prefect’ thing pisses me off so much is because I can think of one very good reason right off the bat, Ron is approachable. Harry and Hermione are not.

It’s no secret that Ron is the most social of the trio. He’s the only one who always has a group to fall back on, to hang out with whereas Harry and Hermione exist in limbo when they aren’t a trio. Before making Dumbledore’s Army , When Harry couldnt hang out with Ron or Hermione he had no idea what to do with himself . When Ron and Harry are fighting with Hermione, Hermione is absolutely alone but when Ron was with odds with Harry he pretty much melted right in with the other Gryffindor boys. Ron is never on his own even when he can’t hang with Harry or Hermione. He also grew up in a big family. He knows how to act around people and for someone whose supposed to help younger students, that’s VERY IMPORTANT.

So he’s social and he knows how to connect with other people and that makes for an ideal older role model. I know we forget this because we only had Percy as an example but being a Prefect is not just a reward but a job that puts you in charge of young children who should be able to approach you and seek your guidance and guidance includes asking for help outside of academics and if you want kids to approach you, you have to first be approachable.

Harry, as a celebrity, would be really intimidating for a younger student to approach, not to mention how public opinion changes on him every year so you can never tell when he’s going to be a idol or a pariah. A younger student would take one look at him and their train of thought would range from “I can’t bother Harry Potter with my problems” to “ He’s a celebrity so he’s probably too stuck up to even try and help me” to “My parents say he’s dangerous so I should stay away from him.”

Hermione, well we know how she is. As a prefect, she’s basically Percy 2.0. I can imagine her trying but coming off too much like a professor which would turn kids away from her. Making students into Prefects is supposed to take away the filter that would make them hesitant to take problems to an adult authority figure. It kinda defeats the purpose when you basically act like a junior professor.

Ron, on the other hand, is funny and social and easy going. He’s grown up around tons of kids and has a little sister so he knows how to handle kids and is a perfect mix between an authority figure whose not too serious but can still keep the younger kids in order. He’s the quintessential big brother authority figure. The kind that won’t slam you with the rules if you mess up , the kind that’s funny and easy to come too. And contrary to fandom opinion, he’s also emotionally sensative. He’s a professional when it comes to dealing with other people’s problems. He knows what Harry and Hermione needs more than they do. Not to mention HE IS NOT STUPID and nearly every great feat Harry has achieved Ron has been right there. Not to mention he acts as a balancing aspect to Hermione’s more intense take. They make a better team than Harry and Hermione would.

People inside the books and out only looked at Harry and saw ‘guaranteed prefect’ because Harry is the main character. Not to be down on Harry, but because Harry is the main character and he stands out the most and is a hero and famous and a quidditch Star, people thought him getting the honor of being prefect was the natural course of action. And if that was the case than James or Sirius would’ve been made prefect over Remus but that didn’t happen. Ron was a candidate from the beginning and not just a backup for Harry. He deserved that badge and the fact that no one , not his best friend, the girl who loves him or his damn family could come up with a reason as to why he was chosen over Harry is quite frankly, bullshit and they should all be ashamed.

There are plenty of reasons that Ron deserved that badge and this is just one of them.

of-aurora

Reblog if you're not homophobic

Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad.

bigbuffcheetohpuff97-deactivate

ive never hit reblog so fast

harlquin

i’m not homophobic, i’m hella gay

pnwgothiccc

A list of reasons I’m divorcing J.K. Rowling and no longer acknowledging anything Past Deathly Hallows

None of it makes sense or really adds anything to the story except ‘ooh! A twist!’

She took the The Boy Who Lived To Idolize His Parents, and made him into a terrible father, who told his son he wishes he wasn’t born.

Made lycanthropy an allegory for HIV/AIDS, AFTER Lupin was turned as a child, by an adult. Not only does this tick the box for pedophilia, but painting homosexuals as predatory by nature.

Delphi. Everything about her. Including that she exists.

During the actual series, wandless magic was incredibly difficult to do, and only harnessed by very dedicated, powerful witches and wizards. Then, when writing about it in reference to Native American witches and wizards, suddenly, they needed Europeans to come along and teach them how to use wands.

Dumbledore being gay, whilst having none of his romantic relationships touched on in the series, even when his adolescence is delved into.

Taking from other cultures (Indian and Native American, for example) to add things to the series, with no credit due to those cultures, and no mention of even a character from those cultures.

Nagini somehow being a human originally, when it was previously never even alluded to, despite J.K. apparently ‘sitting on this for the last 20 years’.

Nagini, the literal PET of a white supremacist, was a woman of color.

Outside of the series, JK Rowling is a known TERF.

None of these things she attempts to shoehorn in feel even remotely natural to the story, and it’s painfully fucking obvious they’re last-minute ‘gotcha!’ twists ripped off ff.net or ao3. She’s destroying the series by trying to keep it relevant, when it could maintain relevancy all on it’s own by being passed down through families and the fandom all on it’s own.

roxanncweasley

the art of being a gentleman

because who doesn’t want a muggle au?

James should be thinking about several things.

He should be thinking about his history course work due in two days or his match on Saturday. He should be thinking about the prefect timetable he has yet to organise and he definitely should be thinking about the niggling pain in the back of his knee and if he should mention it to his coach. What he categorically shouldn’t be thinking about is the pretty redhead at his bus stop and how he wants to kiss the colour out of her lips and hold it in his chest.

She’s wearing those bloody jeans again, the same as the week before, that hug her legs and around her waist (and other areas James definitely isn’t looking at). The streetlamps have already clicked on, her skin is woven gold under the amber light.

He can’t look away, won’t look away as she wanders up and down the bus stop, her fingers tapping at her phone screen and her mouth lifting into a lazy smile as she reads a text. Thunderous grey clouds hang heavy in the sky and he wonders if he is going mad, standing in the cold about to be soaked when with one call he could have a car pick him up with complimentary tea and biscuits.

The girl smiles again and he knows he’s going mad because his heart is pumping in his throat and flowers are growing through his ribs. His phones rings and he lifts it to his ear, noticing there is still a smear of blood across his bruised knuckles.

“We need your help,” Sirius tells him. James can hear what he thinks is Pete trying to move a bed. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the bus stop, I need to nip to the flat to grab something.” James tells him, craning his neck to see if the bus is coming. The girl glances at him, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth. James flashes her a grin and blood burns up the neck he so desperately wants to press his lips against.

“I thought that’s what you were doing last week?” Sirius replies.

“Yeah, I just need something else.” James winces at the silence that follows. There’s another crash and Pete is violently swearing.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that redhead who was on the bus last week, would it?”

James can’t stop his eyes flickering to where she stands, leaning against a lamppost, her silhouette cut from the shadows. “Err- potentially- anyway why did you need me?”

“We’re trying to find Moony’s philosophy notes, he’s hidden them.”

He runs his hand through his hair, it needs a wash to get rid of the remnants of mud. “Obviously, last time you used them you spilt gin all over them.”

“That wasn’t my fau- oh you utter bastard you know where they are don’t you?”

James laughs and leans against the crumbling brick wall behind him. “Look, Pads, I’ve got to go, I’ll see you tonight.”

There’s more crashing and what sounds like ‘James you fucker’ before James can press end call. The girl is staring at him, the corner of her mouth twitching. He pockets his phone with a sheepish grin at her. He’s about to ask her something, anything. Words are climbing up his throat and dancing across his tongue, a ballet of letters held between his teeth.

Then the sky opens.

The rain isn’t particularly heavy but it’s the sort that seeps under the skin and lingers in the blood, James’s hair is already damp by the time he gets his hood up. The girl is shivering, her thin jumper soaked through. James’s legs start moving before his brain does, his hands unzipping his rugby bag and fishing out his school hoodie. The girl looks confused, James must too because he’s not really sure what he’s doing.

“Here, it’ll stop you freezing to death.” He says, offering it to her. She reaches for it, uncertainty spilling out of her eyes. “I’m James, by the way.”

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” she asks once she’s tugged it over her head. He almost misses the question, thinking too much about how she would look in nothing but his rugby shirt.

She’s staring at him expectantly, her brow crinkled ever so slightly.

“Only on Thursdays, you should be safe.”

She laughs, sunlight falling from her lips, her fingers tucking strands of copper hair under the hood. “I’m Lily,” she says. Lily. He nods, it settles in his stomach like it’s always been there, Lily. The rain keeps up it’s symphony on the pavement.

“So how posh are you, on a scale of Eddie Redmayne to Prince William?” she asks. Her eyes are alight, her voice bubbling like cheap champagne. He thinks he might be already drunk.

He raises an eyebrow, pretends to look offended, drinks in the light that’s pouring out of her. “Me, posh? Never.” Her phone beeps but her hands stay tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, he lets a drop of warmth creep into his bones.

“Seriously though, I hear your school fees are insane.”

He glances at the crest stitched into his jacket, into the hoodie, into his skin. Red and gold and laughter and adrenaline and home. “I’m not that posh. Sirius, he’s a lord, but I’m nothing special.”

He knows the weight the name carries, knows the looks in the street, the eyes noting the tie and blazer, the polished shoes and tailored trousers. He knows what they think of, arrogance smirks and burnt fifty pound notes, wrecked cars and opportunities thrown about like paper in a classroom. They’re not all like that, he’s not like that.

“A lord, huh?” she says, “Can you get me his number?”

Keep reading

animaegus

once the veil began to envelop sirius, he no longer saw the mortal world. but rather the world he was entering: the afterlife.

you just know

that after fourteen long years, sirius finally saw james again.

animaegus

in all honesty, i never meant for this post to be a sad one. i mean, there was no one in the world that sirius loved more than james.

the reason i made this post was because i noticed the beginnings of a smile on sirius’ face as he began to be enveloped by the veil. he was smiling. despite the fact that he had died and left harry behind, i believed that he was happy.

it had been fourteen years, at least 4,231 days of those days were in azkaban. and after he escaped, he was on the run and cooped up in his childhood home. a place that he absolutely hated. you better believe that he thought of james every single day. thought of his face, his odd habits, his laugh, the way he cried when he saw lily at the end of aisle on his wedding day. anything that he could remember.

in a desperate attempt to avoid forgetting, he’d run through all the details that he could remember. and then sometime during his third year in that cell, he struggled to remember the sound of his best friend’s voice. the pain that caused him was greater than anything the dementors could ever cause him.

imagine: a bright corridor of doors in the afterlife. each one belonging to a person that is alive. when it comes time for yours to open and you get to walk into the next life, one person already there gets to greet you. imagine sirius’ door opening and james is standing right there in front of him.

“hey, padfoot.”

just imagine that in the place that harry once stood, he saw a man who was nearly identical, just slightly taller with hazel eyes and no scar gracing his forehead. it took him a second to realize that it was a different person, he didn’t quite believe it was really james. and then it dawned on him.

sirius inhaled a sharp breath, because after fourteen years, he was finally hearing james’ voice again. he was finally remembering what it sounded like.

after fourteen long years, sirius was reunited with his best friend. his brother. it was the moment that he had dreamed of over and over again. when sirius exhaled that breath, he smiled because he knew that they’d never be separated again. and that was all sirius could ever ask for.

imnotsirious

I'M IN TEARS

iamnottomriddle

don’t pity the dead harry, pity the people who never read the books and don’t understand that sirius was the hottest motherfucker in the series

wintersxrose

Perfect by Ed Sheeran is literally 100% Jily don’t fight me on this

imnotsirious

I WAS JUST SINGING IT AND THINKING OF JILY FUCK

fanonical

my kink is neville longbottom living a long and happy life

imnotsirious

I thought you were gonna say "living a long life in the Bikini bottom"

taliasburns

haru-desune

I know that when Colin Creevey died in DH, he was sixteen years old, but whenever I read the scene, I always imagine him as the excitable 11 year old Harry met in in his second year. And you know what? I think Harry does too.

imnotsirious

SOMEONE'S CUTTING ONIONS