So this is it. My first real post on Tumblr. Yay me! I guess this post is going to be about myself, and the Masterlist of what I've written, in timeline order.
I'm JohnMcHacker, and I'm a longtime Harry Pothead. (That sounds like an opener to Potters Anonymous, doesn't it?) I'd heard in passing of HP earlier, but only started reading when Goblet of Fire hit the shelves. I quickly read through all the previous books, waited eagerly for Order of the Phoenix (my personal favourite of the lot), and the rest is history.
I read a lot of fanfiction and wrote some (not very good) stuff, until about 2012 when life got too busy and I stopped writing. But HP was always in the back of my mind and I always thought about the universe, reread the books, and thought about what happened next. I picked up HP again in 2022 when I heard that fanfiction had had a mild resurgence during the pandemic, browsed through a couple, and realised that fanfiction had matured significantly in quality and depth since I left the scene. (And plumbed certain new lows, in my opinion, but live and let live I guess.)
So now I'm writing again, and I'm writing stories that I've had 10 years to think about. There's a specific grand arc of what happened after Deathly Hallows that I have in mind. As of this post (January 2023) I haven't actually started on the big events, but I'm warming up and getting there.
So at last, we get to what I call The Moments In Between series, as of January 2023:
Who Is Ginny Weasley Dating? - May 1997. Harry/Ginny.
Jumpers Then Fall - Dec 1995 to Dec 1998. Hermione/Ron.
Last Orders - Jan 1997. Headmaster Severus Snape celebrates a birthday.
Harvest Dream - Sept 1999. Harry/Ginny.
Singing Out Of Tune - Feb 2000 to Dec 2000. Harry/Ginny.
Once A Jolly Bagman - Aug 2001. Harry/Ginny.
Midseason Murders: Down The Pub - July 2002. Harry/Ginny.
The Witch's Birthday - Sept 2002. Hermione and friends.
Miss Butter Elbows - Spring 2003. Harry/Ginny.
Horses For Courses - June 2003. Hermione/Ron.
The Magic We Make - Spring 2004. Astoria, with a dash of Draco.
Hammocks - July 2015. Teddy/Victoire. An ode to puppy love, and summer holidays.
Rose's Grown-Up Christmas - Dec 2018. Rose and Ron.
How Did You Know? - Dec 2019. Harry/Ginny, some James Sirius Potter and his mum.
What James Sirius Potter Did - April 2020. James Sirius/OC. Short teen drama ficlet.
Twenty-Five Years Later - August 2022. Harry/Ginny, and family.
I also have other stories not included in this series, but this is my main "timeline" and grand story arc, so to speak.
My stories revolve around the themes of good vs evil, friendship, family, and love. I write about the never-ending battle for justice, righteousness and love against lawlessness, wickedness and hatred, and I write about the little moments in between (ba dum tss!) of kindness, affection, romance, of friendship and family.
My favourite pairings are Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, and Draco/Astoria. I intend to write most about these couples, but I hope to also explore others along the way, as well as family in general. Because Family is everything, believe me.
So please, stick around for the ride, I hope and believe you'll be suitably entertained. And as always, per the byword of all fanfiction synopses in the golden days of yore: read and review please!
Ron takes time off from bodyguarding a family of Dark wizards seeking asylum to spend quality time with Hermione and family. But behind the scenes, moves are being made...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
People don't like Snape because he's the most realistic person in the book. There, I said it.
Specifically, people who don't like Snape and think he deserved his bullying and claim that he's a completely evil man.
They don't like the fact that their worst behaviour is mirrored at them. That this is actually how they would be if they went through this sort of bullshit.
Humans aren't as good as we think we are. We all think we'd be the sassy, funny, ultimately good Harry Potter. We think 'Oh, I'd never be like Snape, I'm better than that'.
But truly? Humans can be serious assholes.
Hurt people hurt people. Even without trying.
Snape's not evil. He's a broken human, and if you don't understand that, then you probably don't understand humans
Quite comfortingly, he is also an example of... idk how to put it, actually, uh...
Like...
He is an ass. He is bitter. People don't like him and he doesn't like people. The people he DOES like he mainly just sort of puts up with, he doesn't hang out with them.
He doesn't trust people, he is vicious and nasty for the sake of being vicious and nasty. He is a foul little creature that walks to the beat of his own drum, even if that drum gets in the way of others.
He doesn't give a shit about your feelings. Go cry about it.
He is too busy with his own problems and protecting his.
He is what humans can turn into when pushed to the edge. When we lose love and trust and become selfish stinking little hermits within our own hearts.
... and yet he is brave. He is strong. He is gentle when it is important.
He cares about people, even those he hates - and he will give everything he has to make sure the world keeps turning, that the future is safer and brighter than he has ever been able to experience.
If he is a representation of humanity pushed till it pops and shrivels into a little dark ball of savagery...
...then he is also representation that, even if we fall down to our worst moments, we are still worthwhile - even when healing is hard.
Even when you're a nasty little foul creature you can still be good.
Does that make sense? I'm rambling.
At last, something that might move this old thing. I love writing Ron, and I used to play a bit of chess. One day in the shower, this happened.
Summary: Ron Weasley likes his job as an Auror. They catch Dark Wizards and theyâre, like, the elite! Everybody knows what youâre capable of when youâre an Auror, and besides, the payâs tip-top. But when Ron and Harry are assigned as a bodyguard to a criminal family from Brazil, he learns the hard way that being an Auror sometimes means doing things you donât like. And that not all cases wrap up satisfyingly. An episode from Ronâs and Harryâs Auror careers.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Harry potter never grasped what he truly missed, until he had his own family.
The adorable giggles of his daughter as she tip toes across the wooden floor to jump in her parent's bed. Ginny in her towel wrapped hair, who reads Teddyâs letter from Hogwarts out loud, making Harry miss his godson more. The Loud and enthusiastic laugh of James' in the morning table as he tries to convince them to get a pet dragon. (A big fan of Charlie he was:)) Quiet and rare remarks of Al. Mostly over his favorite books, and maybe even about the Daily Prophet, (A habit he started very recently, which was not a shock to the family although he was five) where heâd read his motherâs name out loud whenever it appeared. Harry couldnât quite yet comprehend how he, who woke up to the war being his concern, is now being awakened by tiny little hands who simply wants a breakfast. He beams proudly at them, and with a sense of gratitude for making those million thoughts that used to invade his mind fade away.
Teddy Lupin was raised by his grandmother, Andromeda TONKS. The woman who lost her husband, daughter and son-in-law in less than six months. Teddy was all she had left and people are here wanting to hand him off to a traumatised 17 year old.
He was all Andromeda had left, and she guarded him and raised him as ferociously and lovingly as a dragon who'd lost every single pack-mate, every last copper, and all but one sole surviving egg.
Rules: List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!) An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that youâre looking forward to writing Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on! Then tag 10 writer friends!
Thanks to @gryffindorhealer for the tag; you're right, it does get the ol' derriere ablaze.
Priority 1: First and foremost for me would be Epaulette Mate, a short Ron-centric fic I've been working on:
Summary: Ron Weasley likes his job as an Auror. They catch Dark Wizards and theyâre, like, the elite! Everybody knows what youâre capable of when youâre an Auror, and besides, the payâs tip-top. However, when Ron is assigned as a bodyguard to a criminal family from Brazil, he learns the hard way that being an Auror can mean doing things you donât like. And that not all cases wrap up satisfactorily.
Excerpt: âYou think we are scumbags,â said JoĂŁo, savouring the word. âGiven your way, you would be putting us in prison, right? But your government assigned you to protect us. Why? Because you need our information. So run along and do your job,â he said, with a superior smile. âI canât wait for this to be over, and be free.â
âYou can feel free to fuck off right now.â
The Brazilian youth only chuckled and finished the Butterbeer, leaving the empty bottle carelessly on the table.
Arsehole, Ron thought, as he stalked from the room. Heâd walked right into that one. It had been the whole reason for the conversation from the start, he realised now. The brat wanted to put him in his place. Shouldnât have bothered giving the twat the time of day. Shouldâve just ignored him.
Priority 2, 3, 4, 5: The Ghosts of Grimmauld Place, Law & Auror, The [Redacted] of the Marauders, and the absolute mess of an Untitled 8th Year Fic I've been trying to unscrew for over a decade...
TAG YOU'RE IT! 10's a bit many; let's go for 4 on my subscribe list: @whinlatter @honeydukesheroine @fizzyginfizz @brightlybound
Ginny is Harry's equal because imagine an eleven year old girl having the nerve to enter a boys dormitory to steal a book from none other than her wild crush to whom she made herself presented as a living comedy. She also later almost stole Sword of gryffindor (an amazing, powerful weapon). She practised and learned flying by herself. She could talk shit to you unapologetically if you bothered her (maybe even find yourself getting hexed by her). The girl had the guts. Even being an impulsive, hot headed person, She is very friendly, loving and caring. She sat down next to a girl to console that kid instead of simply telling a punchline like "This is war. Get up or leave". She never once bothered Harry with unnecessary questions even in her first year on in fifth year or even when Harry said that he wants to end their relationship. See she is exactly like our Harry. Harry could be hot headed, impulsive but also kind and friendly and loving. They are SOULMATES. It's obvious. No wonder why even non canon shippers admit that they do like hinny. Hinny is the best.
THIS. And I will add, at Dumbledore's funeral, Ginny knew what Harry had to do and grasped its critical importance in a flash. Right and wrong, better and worse, she was always of a mind with Harry. (With apologies to Harmony fans, Hermione at times was Harry's foil, even though she went along with him on their adventures. They were the best of friends but not the sort that makes life partners. Ginny IS.)
Thought Iâd share this for the benefit of those who might be under the false impression that fandom is only for the young. This is me. Weâd just moved to a new apartment, and I was excited to decorate my room with my latest con purchases. This photo was taken 42 years ago. Iâm still here. And with any luck, youâll be wherever the fans are in another 42 years. With a lot more luck, so will I.
Since this post is making the rounds again in 2023, I thought Iâd update again, this time with some of the â70s con programs I saved. Itâs now 47 years since that first photo was taken. Still here! (And excited about all the new Star Trek!)
Burrowed deep down in her subconscious like a malevolent mental tapeworm, lurking, hiding, waiting to make his presence known on the worst possible of occasions. Ginny had learned, over the years, how to lock him away; but she was so very, very young. Besides, how can you stop yourself from thinking? To think about stopping him was to think about him.
(This year's Ginny birthday fic. Read here, or on my AO3.)
When she had joined the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he had whispered in her ear, loud and clear in his distinctive sixteen-year-old voice she recognised oh so well, Letâs see if you manage to kill anyone in a broom accident and Ginny felt once again the sickening horror as she realised she had set Salazar Slytherinâs Beast free and sheâd had to concentrate so much just to force herself to fly straight, sheâd dropped half the Quaffles in training and heâd settled back and chuckled.
When she blossomed under Angelina Johnsonâs cheerfully matter-of-fact tutelage and helped Gryffindor win the Cup that first year, heâd waited until after sheâd tumbled into bed deliriously happy and stuffed with Butterbeer and Cheese Puffskeins and Fizzing Whizzbees from the party. Ginny woke up gasping and drenched with sweat, after what seemed like hours of watching helplessly and weeping as the revived Basilisk got into the common-room during the party and hunted down her friends and brothers one by one as they ran shrieking into their dorms.
Little wonder that Ginny threw herself into life, filling her days and nights with activity so she wouldnât have to think. Little wonder that she made Defence Against The Dark Arts her top subject, practised jinxes with her long-suffering dorm-mates until she could beat every one of them, and read every book she could find in the Hogwarts library on Possession . She joined the Gobstones Club, the Hogwarts choir, she went on dates with boys and nature walks with Hagrid, and even sweet-talked Madam Hooch into letting her join the firstiesâ Flying classes for the extra broom time.
Because when she was busying herself so much she could fall into bed pleasantly exhausted every night, she could drown him out.
But he got through anyway.
He whispered in her ear every night that terrible sixth year at Hogwarts. Iâm winning. Hogwarts is mine. Youâre all mine. You especially, my sweet Ginny. Iâll make you mine once again. And night after night he showed her in her dreams what he would do with her - forcing her to march through the castle behind the Carrows, torturing young boys and girls, duelling her friends, murdering her own family. Nearly every morning that year Ginny woke up and cried furiously and silently into her blankets, jealous of her reputation in the dorm as an unflinching, unweeping stoic.
Even after the war was over, and he was most certainly dead, the ghost of him reared up and struck in her most unguarded moments. The first night sheâd slept over at Grimmauld Place with Harry, sheâd kicked Harry awake with her tossing and turning; that was when heâd found out about the nightmares. While training with the Holyhead Harpies he shouted over the whistling wind Theyâre dropping you from the team! and she nearly crashed. He struck hard during her first pregnancy, whispering Youâll be a terrible mother so incessantly she was reduced to tears in Waterstones; not knowing the real cause, Hermione blamed herself for loading Ginny up with parenting books.
When the Healer put James in her arms, tiny and pink and wrinkled, he sent her a devastating image of her small eleven-year-old hands stained scarlet with rooster blood, and said Iâll take this James as well, youâll do it for me and she spent months afterwards terrified that she would drop him.
But even this last lingering shred of Tom Riddle faded with time.
And love.
When Ginny got her first Player Of The Match award, after a hard-fought five-hour battle against Puddlemere United, sheâd whispered âTake that, you twisted little snake-tongued twatâ and that night, she slept long and hard and deep, and woke up pleasantly rested.
There were a thousand places to go and millions of things to do, see, hear, smell, touch and taste, and whenever they could get away from their extremely busy jobs Ginny travelled the world with Harry. They basked in the sun on the beaches of Barbados, slipped hand-in-hand through the Sorcerersâ Souk in Suez, and zipped across New Zealandâs amazing mountains and valleys on their Firebolts⌠and all the while he stayed silent. Sometimes Ginny imagined him watching from some hole in the ground, like an impotently raging animal too scared to come out into the sun, and sheâd allow herself one vengeful smirk, before returning to her life.
After she married Harry the nightmares nearly stopped altogether. Night after night Ginny drifted off to sleep with her head pillowed on his chest, or his arm draped fondly over her, and his comforting presence settled her soul like nothing else. He grounded her, cherished her, supported her, made her feel whole and young again, untouched by the cold, scaly, insidious corruption of the Diary. Never cloying, never overprotective, but there for her when she needed him most, ready with love, understanding, and an endless fund of wry wit.
Ginny had helped Harry defeat Voldemort; in turn, he helped her defeat Tom Riddle.
Harry was there for her as she fought for her place with the Holyhead Harpies, and through the hectic never-ending roller-coaster that was birthing and raising the three rascals theyâd found themselves parenting. Heâd been there for her when she quit the Harpies and Quidditch once and for all. And he was there the night she won Feature Of The Year at Snitch! Magazineâs Annual Gala for her massive piece on the history of sportsmanship in British and Irish Quidditch.
Harry sat at their table and beamed proudly as she went up to collect the little certificate; and beside him was James, looking very grown-up in his best dress robes, and Albus every inch as tall as his brother and taking a million photographs and grinning ear to ear, and her Lily-Lu completely forgetting her personal vow to be a ladylike and dignified sixteen-year-old, practically jumping up and down hooting and cheering her beloved Mum. Ginny saw all this as she accepted the award, and couldnât stop herself from laughing from sheer joy.
And she did not think of Tom Riddle at all.
She didnât know it, but she beat him at last then. She didnât realise it, not consciously, because to think about beating him was to think about him. And thus did Ginny destroy the last vestiges of Tom Riddle within her.
Later that night, Ginny reminded her children to go to sleep, knowing very well that they would probably stay up another hour talking excitedly about the events of the evening, then went to change out of her evening gown, wash off the makeup, and get ready for bed. She got under the covers, kissed Harry good night, and grinned to herself as he slipped his arm around her and fell asleep immediately.
Ginny settled herself snugly under the bedclothes by Harryâs side, his body a reassuring bulwark against which a weary warrior could rest and trust to keep her safe.
A microfic For the #severalsunlitdaylights by @corneliaavenue-ao3
~Sparks fly~
âThe way you move is like a full on rainstorm
And I'm a house of cards
You're the kind of reckless that should send me running
But I kinda know that I won't get far
And you stood there in front of me just
Close enough to touch
Close enough to hope you couldn't see
What I was thinking of
Drop everything now
Meet me in the pouring rain
Kiss me on the sidewalk
Take away the pain
Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile
Get me with those green eyes, baby
As the lights go down
Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around
Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smileâ
One thing that Ginny understood, was that what they started wasnât going to last that long. She caught it in his eyes, his green eyes in which she could get lost every time he gazed into her. She saw his lost sense of purpose on what the future might bring. Especially since he discovered a new future to look forward to. He slipped up one day about it, near the lake as they walked hand in hand.
ââŚI always adored the burrow, its the most amazing thing after Hogwarts really. Someday⌠we can have a place like that, you know with a big yard where we can play quidditch at and..â
-Ginny never pointed out how he said âweâ not once but twice. However she couldnât help but smile more than usual for a very ordinary future that harry had imagined for him, with her in it.
It would haunt her once he was gone, that memory. She would close her eyes and replay their conversations, His smile, and the sparks that flew when he touched her. Everywhere she went, all that which ran through her mind was their first kiss, then the second, the third, and more on, till their last.
So Ginny longed and dreamt for a day, where the rain would wash the war away, so that they can drop everything just to hold on to each other.
I've always considered this one of the Hinnyest of Taylor Swift songs. And a catchy one too! And no doubt Harry would dream of a life with Ginny in their very own version of the Burrow.
