It's Not Really Goodbye After All

This is a blog dedicated to my love for Harry Potter and the Wizarding world

[harrypotterdailly]

[futchcassidy]

something we agreed we like about uncle vernon is that despite like, personally suffering at the hands of wizards pretty significantly (dudley’s tail, marge), vernon is like, always ready to fuck with wizards? like he is SO SCARED of them but he’s always ready to fight? please take this moment to imagine uncle vernon meeting voldemort

[56484235451325-deactivated20160]

*scoffs* ‘“Dark Lord” huh??? that just sounds to me like another way of saying you don’t have a REAL JOB.’

[marc0-p0l0-deactivated20160621]

Donald Trump telling Bernie supporters they’re welcome to support him feels like the scene where Voldemort declares that Harry Potter is dead and asks if anyone wants to start following him.

[lostin-erised]

Lucius: You don't care who you piss off, do you?

Severus: Not in the slightest, no.

[hannahhillam]

Master post of my hp comics

[malcolmcooks]

imagine if instead of calling voldemort “you know who”, they had done the benedict cumberbatch thing, so they would speak in hushed whispers about lollipop vladimir or lanky vanderbilt

[sherpawhale]

lackadoodle vaudeville

[bigmammallama5]

lumpy voodersnitch

[elpiething]

Loud Vulgarwort

[marisatomay]

Limp Vegatables

[incorrect-harry-potter-quotes]

Lush Validation

[pottergifs]

[katriaraden]

smol harry from the books~

[fanonical]

hagrid totally knows like 95% of the creatures in the forbidden forest individually, by name

[asktheboywholived]

James is the youngest marauder (even though Peter acts like it), and his favorite thing to do is tease the other boys about getting old first. He calls them grandpas and jokes about how they’re all going to kick the bucket before he does.

On they’re birthdays he always sings, with great gusto, his own made up verses to the birthday song which includes lyrics like “one step closer to the grave” and something about arthritis.

Sirius and Remus get the brunt of the jokes. Remus endures the taunts with dignity, but Sirius, who is technically the eldest, always has to throw jabs back, listing off all the ways James is going to accidentally kill himself off first “because you’re an idiot.”

It’s easy to joke about death when you feel invincible…

Following school, the boys join the wizarding war, and suddenly the jokes don’t seem as funny. James stops teasing them, but with every birthday, (which is considered an accomplishment) the four boys still remember the song.

The lyrics become more and more haunting with every order member’s passing.

After the attack on Godric’s Hollow, and Sirius’ imprisonment… All he can think about while sitting alone in his cell, is that stupid… stupid song.

James went first.

[vastfandoms]

The dark, stone walls seemed to close up upon themselves more than ever. Off to the side, a steady dripping of water on ceramic echoed off the bare, scratched walls.

Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap.

The stupid sink that never turned off completely.

A man, or rather, a shadow of a man, skin sunken in, sticking to his bones rather than to meat. Sunken eyes were glued to the spot just above the bed, where small little lines had been etched into the wall near the pillow. Four lines, then a dash crossing them. Over and over and over again.

Sirius remembered the day he was sentenced to die in the prison. Sentenced, without trial by a man he considered a friend.

His grey eyes focused on the lines, silently counting them in his head. Two years. Two years since James’ death - his best friend’s death. Two years since he had walked into the shell of a home and saw the lifeless bodies of his mates, his friends, his family.

Then his eyes drifted to the two more lines. A funny feeling came over him: a drop of the stomach mixed with nostalgia.

A memory surfaced to the front of his mind. A jaunty tune… what was it? Sirius grabbed his hair, scrunching it at his scalp as he tried to remember, something, anything, anything which linked to his past. Happy Birthday. It was the stupid birthday song James sang.

Unconsciously, Sirius began to hum it under his breath, not entirely remembering the lyrics, but remembering the taunting look on James’ face and Remus pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

The humming got louder, and Sirius began to mumble clippets of the song, remembering words, not sentences. The shouting of the other insane inmates began to fill the silence, joining his low, rumbling voice in a melody of chaotic screams.

A grin began to grow on Sirius’ face, cheeks stretching and dry lips cracking.

“But you’re one step closer to the grave!” He cackled, laughter harsh and unnatural as it bounced of the walls and into the corridor.

Just like that, he fell quiet - the screams continuing in his absent voice.

Sirius stood from his corner, dragging himself over to the bed. He silently grabbed the stone he had scraped from the loose wall and lifted it to the two lines, digging the stone into the wall and scratching another line.

Tears welled up in his eyes as the image of lifeless hazel eyes burned behind his retinas, “One step closer… to the grave.” 

[hopeurapplepieisworthit-deactiv]

It was the spring of 1976.

The common room is filled with magical streamers. The crackle of the fire and the smell of warmth and the hearth. James is there. So is Peter. And Sirius is standing with a shoddily decorated cake. The icing is uneven, and the lettering even more so. Remus felt a broad smile appear on his face, as James cavorts around, grinning. There’s a snap as the log in the fire collapsed. James smiled. Must be your bones, old man, he says. He said. As Remus watched James laugh, an echo from the side made him turn his head.

James is older now, the room grayer. Lily is next to him. Sirius is sprawled with a smaller cake. There are more candles on it now. None of their smiles reach their eyes. James pokes Remus as Remus leans in to blow them out. Hey, mate. One, his eyes turn glassy.

Step, Lily’s laugh turns into a scream.

Closer, James voice echoes as a burst of green light causes him to topple over, glasses and wand askew.

To, Peter looks around, his hair longer, and tufted with grey. He crumbles into dust. Missing.

The, Sirius’s handsome face turns gaunt, his eyes haunted, as he’s dragged away by Ministry Wizards, shouting at the hungry dementors.

“Grave,” Remus mutters, his breath echoing, turning into puffs of steam. There’s the creak and clatter of wheels. The musty smell of a train. His face is cold, so cold, pressed against the glass. He sees his own old face, the haunting in his eyes. And he looks across from him and sees a face, too young, too familiar. And it only gets colder. 

[moonysfreckles]

oH fUcK nO

[erarg]

sneeze on your knuckles before a fight in order to inflict poison damage

[blaineandersuns]

That girl goes through boys like Hogwarts goes through defense against the dark arts teachers.

[lupinmarauds-blog]

So, one boy a year? And each one unique, diverse and interesting? Good for her.

[bryoria]

#idk that first guy was soo two faced (x)

[cultural-memeist-blog]

And the second was SUCH a poser.

[stonecobra]

The third was pretty cool. Complete animal sometimes though.

[violet-nomad-deactivated2018120]

The fourth one was a completely different person when he drank, though

[give-me-all-your-chocolate]

The fifth one was practically satan 

[perfectview-ofmisery]

sixth one wouldn’t shut the fuck up about his ex

[llvf-deactivated20240419]

[marisatomay]

“Your wand’s twin murdered ur parents have fun at wizard school lmao”

[thatsadifferentstory]

Let’s tell a story about Voldemort’s death, but it won’t be the story in which a green eyed boy comes back from the dead to defeat his enemy with his own wand. In this story, Harry dies and doesn’t come back. When Narcissa stands up, her tangled words are not a lie. The body Hagrid carrries, trembling hands and shaky knees, his face wet with tears– does not wake up. Did he just give up, decide not to fight anymore? Or was he not given a choice this time?

Maybe he simply died, like that redheaded boy did just before him, his last laugh still schoing in the air. Because, in this story, death comes and strikes and opens wounds and leaves scars. In this story, death is not a privilege nor a punishment. And it is definitely not a choice.

But let’s get back to our story– Molly’s light still hits Bellatrix right in the chest, her laughter spinning around madly after her body falls to the ground. Neville still stands up, a defiant look in his eyes. He still cuts off the snake’s head. He’s still a hero. Even though he wouldn’t like being called that.

What about Ginny? She is finally facing the monster who whispered in her head, alive in her nightmares. That monster who killed her brother. That monster who killed Harry. That monster who tried to eat her from the inside, slowly stealing her life until she became a ghost. Well, you didn’t do a very good job. Would a ghost fight back? Because she fights– she shouts and hits and hurts and kills– because right now she’s made of rage and fury and desperation and she can’t hold it back anymore, so she explodes and blows up the world.

Ron is there too, and his best friend is dead and he is trying, so hard, to be good enough. And Hermione is crying, whispering spells that hit their targets with precission, her voice caught in sobbing but her hands steady with ruthlessness. Do you see that blond girl over there? She’s named after the brightest light in the night, and she’s the only thing that remains in all this madness.

In this story, there’s no trick and no decepcion. There’s not a triumphant return from the dead, there’s no wand refusing to kill its true owner because its true owner has already died.

In this story, there’s Neville stepping forward, straight shoulders. There’s Ginny standing by his side, tears running down her cheeks and fire in her eyes. There’s Ron, who has always been quite good at being a hero, even though he hasn’t realized that yet. There’s Hermione, who knew this could happen all those long nights when she couldn’t sleep back in the woods. There’s Luna, and she’s still believing; and Dean and Seamus, just behind her. There’s Parvati, and she’s not sure she’ll be able to cast a proper spell ever again. There’s George, and he is ready to try.

In this story, there are kids, and when a single curse comes out of their mouths and the whole world turns green for a second, none of them feel like one.

[fanonical]

if fluffy has three heads does he poop out of three buttholes

[nlmda]

“Always.“