baby Sev playing with stones and sticks and street garbage cause he doesn't have any toys, giving them names, personalities and talking to them about Hogwarts excitedly
Anyone else noticing theres no websites anymore. You never go to website.com anymore its always some bullshit like "go to the smeeple app store and download the flubi app" i dont want toooo what ever happened to websites. I do not like it
i don't think people understand how hard it is not to ship tomarry / harrymort because what do you mean they're borderline canonically soulmates. what do you mean they're PROPHESIED to each other. what do you mean they're literal parallels, had the same childhood circumstances but turned out the exact opposite. what do you mean harry's the embodiment of the light side and tom's the embodiment of the dark even though they're so, so similar. what do you mean they both have common names even though they themselves are anything but common. what do you mean they have uncountable amount of bible references that apply strictly to them, what do you mean harry makes sure to mention tom's the handsomest in the room whenever he sees him and apparently likes their connection. what do you mean their wands share the core of the same phoenix and therefore literally can't kill each other even if they wanted to. what do you mean harry wanted to give him another chance despite everything he's done, what do you mean tom offered him his hand, what do you mean harry killed tom at the same age except the order of the numbers is reversed. what do you mean harry's eyes are the same colour as tom's favourite unforgivable (avada) AND the colour of his house, what do you mean TOM'S eyes are the colour of harry's favourite defence spell (expelliarmus) and the colour of his house. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE EACH OTHER'S OTHER HALF. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HARRY IS LITERALLY TOM'S SOUL??? 😭
NOT TO MENTION THESE THINGS AREN'T EVEN FANON LIKE...? lmk if i missed something though.
Happy women's day to all the amazing ladies here, the ones who still show up every time, the ones who fight their battles, the ones who makes the world much more beautiful to live in
hi! i just wanted to say ive seen you on my blog occasionally and just wanted to stop by and say hello <33 especially because someone liking my mitchell santner posts is rare so it was a pleasant surprise seeing that 🫶🏼
OMG I KNOW WHO THIS I JUST CANT REMEMBER THE USERNAME BECAUSE I HAVENT KINNED MITCHELL IN A WHILE SINCE HES MARRIED AND IM PATHETIC.
I basically have no knowledge in anything but I am so hyoerfixated on this idea.
Because trauma has so many, so very horrible side effects and this is just one-upping it into a mire fictional (?) form.
Although I do believe these things probably happen with abused people in real life. Very highly now that I think about it.
I coukd try to make more fictional world core but it's not damn hanahaki disease to become a fictional benchmark disease.
But, the point I pressure upon the most is forming almost unhealthy, bonds with caretakers, companions.
Like, they start hyperventilating even if the caretaker is just doing something else in another part of their house. Some people, who are husks, maybe able to retain more of their sanity, and not be so hyperdependent. But someone abused since childhood, will probably do so.
The only reason I'm bringing this post back is because although it had like 2 notes. It means a lot to mean. And I have been reading so many character analysis on this app.
I wanna do them too. But alas, I'm not a psychiatrist.
As the second book in the series, Chamber of Secrets further develops the wizarding world we were introduced to in Philosopher’s Stone. Harry and the reader are able to explore a number of new locations, including the Burrow, Knockturn Alley, the offices of Dumbledore, Snape, Lockhart, and Filch, the Slytherin common room, and the titular Chamber of Secrets. As the world expands, setting plays a increasingly important role in characterization.
In the opening chapters of Chamber of Secrets, we meet the overworked, kindly, eccentric, and loving Mr. Weasley at the busy, humble, eclectic, and well-loved Burrow. We encounter the malevolent Mr. Malfoy and his blood supremacist views in a sinister shop full of powerful and dangerous dark relics. We are introduced to the flashy and frivolous Gilderoy Lockhart at Flourish and Blotts, selling and signing his books while posing for the camera, rather than at Hogwarts as a professor.
So what hints does setting give us about Snape upon his re-introduction? First, it is Snape’s absence from the setting that draws Harry’s attention first. Introducing the enigmatic Snape by adding yet another mystery—albeit the small and quickly resolved one of his location—reminds the reader of the larger mysteries we have left to crack. After the events of Philosopher’s Stone, we’ve been left with more questions than answers; it’s what we don’t know about Snape—what we can’t see—that captures our fascination.
Furthermore, we are reminded that Snape is not quite like the rest of the staff, enjoying themselves in the warm and glittering Great Hall. Instead, Snape stands apart and alone in the night…right behind Harry and Ron as they gleefully speak ill of him. As well as being a satisfyingly dramatic entrance, his appearance trains us readers to note that although Snape may not be where Harry expects him, he’s always exactly where he needs to be.
Snape, eager to have the boys answer for their misdeeds, directs them to follow him to his office, and the journey is revealing:
Not daring even to look at each other, Harry and Ron followed Snape up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons.
Snape knows all about passing by the comforts and pleasures of life while attempting to answer for his mistakes. Snape’s path to atonement is narrow—he has little room for deviation or error—and it is as hard and unforgiving as stone. It will require Snape to once again descend into the depths, and operate in a darkness and coldness that makes our protagonists shiver.
They entered Snape’s office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harry didn’t really want to know the name of at the moment.
Like the man, nothing about the office is clear or bright. Snape literally works in the shadows.
The preserved ingredients lining the walls point to a meticulous, painstaking, and dedicated nature—the effort in collecting and preserving these potions ingredients is probably not trivial, and this collection seems to be actively maintained (Harry notes he has acquired more when he revisits the office in Prisoner of Azkaban. Love that our man has a hobby). It also speaks to a genuine academic interest in his subject. Whatever Harry may believe about Snape wanting the DADA job, it’s not due to a dislike of Potions. Speaking of DADA, let’s take a second to compare his walls to Lockhart’s:
Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them.
These two are such perfect foils. Lockhart chooses to display his unearned looks and celebrity status, and nothing about his subject; Snape chooses to display the practical results of hard work, skill, and knowledge in his subject. Lockhart loves himself and is more than happy to be reminded of himself constantly, and Snape, though prideful, is not self-centered, and being reminded of himself and his past constantly is a hell he would rather avoid.
Finally, returning to Snape’s office:
The fireplace was dark and empty.
The fireplace, usually a central feature in an office, is “dark and empty”, descriptors often used for Snape’s eyes. These two go hand in hand, and prompt the reader to ask the same questions that are raised by his inscrutable stare: what happened to this man? What has led him to reject any and all comfort, and what drives him to exist in this punishing state? Over the next five books, we will learn that he is not, in fact, entirely cold and empty, but that his comfort and drive are internal and fiercely protected.
From Student to Staff: The Adults Who Watched Him Break, Then Welcomed Him Back
Severus Snape didn’t just return to Hogwarts as a professor. He returned to a castle full of ghosts—not the ones who drifted through walls, but the ones who once looked through him. The ones who had titles, robes, and responsibilities. And Merlin, the way they smiled when he came back.
These weren’t strangers. These were his former teachers. The ones who watched him unravel—slowly, painfully, obviously. They saw the weight—emotional bruises no child his age should have been burdened with. They noticed the robes that hung too loose, the way his voice softened into nothing, the eyes that dulled year by year. And then, as if memory had been Obliviated, they greeted him with polite nods and teacups.
Let’s name them. Let’s drag the velvet curtain back. Let’s ask what they refused to.
🧙♂️ Albus Dumbledore — The Grand Strategist of Silence
He saw everything. The twinkle in his eye? That was calculation. Dumbledore knew Severus’ pain. Knew his background. Knew the Marauders were brutal, and knew exactly how Hogwarts worked for boys who didn’t shine the right way.
And what did he do? Nothing.
Not until the prophecy.
Not until Severus—broken and desperate—came crawling with regret.
Only then did Dumbledore offer protection. And even then, it wasn’t mercy. It was strategy. It was cost-benefit arithmetic.
He kept Severus close, yes—but not out of trust. Out of necessity. And in that same chessboard logic, he raised Harry the same way. A pawn to be protected, yes, but only until it was time to be sacrificed.
Severus recognised it all too well. The same cold detachment Dumbledore had shown him as a man—keeping him close, not out of care, but for utility—was now being applied to Harry. Despite the tangled mess of resentment and reluctant protection he felt toward the boy—born of Lily, shaped by James—Severus could see the pattern. He could see the purpose.
He saw through it: "You've kept him alive so that he can die at the proper moment. You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter!"
Two lives. One broken young, the other burdened late. Both groomed to serve, both shaped for sacrifice—and in the end, perhaps, both meant to die on cue.
And when the war ended, Dumbledore offered Severus a position—not because he sought to make amends, but because it served a purpose. Severus had returned to spy, initially under orders, a reluctant shadow caught between masters. And once the mask was worn long enough, Dumbledore simply let it stay.
As if a professorship could heal years of sanctioned cruelty. As if being called "Professor" would cleanse the memory of being a punchline in the corridor.
⸻
🧪 Horace Slughorn — The Collector of Potential
He loved talent. But only when it glittered.
Slughorn praised Severus’ brilliance in Potions—called him promising, sharp. But he never once shielded him.
He didn’t invite him to the Slug Club. Not until Severus’ name meant something. Not until his mind could decorate a shelf.
Slughorn’s affection was conditional. You had to be charming. Presentable. A legacy. And Severus? He was none of those things. Just a poor boy with a hungry mind and no surname to flaunt.
And perhaps that is why, years later, Severus held nothing but quiet disdain for him. Because if anyone should have noticed what was happening in the shadows of Slytherin House, it should have been its Head. Not McGonagall. Not Dumbledore. Slughorn.
He should have seen it first. And yet—he didn’t.
Slughorn used him on parchment, but never sat beside him in reality.
⸻
🐈⬛ Minerva McGonagall — Sharp-Eyed and Selectively Blind
Minerva loved her lions. James Potter was golden in her eyes—brave, brilliant, bold.
She watched him torment Severus in broad daylight. She called it mischief. At best, she scolded. At worst, she said nothing.
She taught Severus Transfiguration. She saw his talent. But she never once stepped in when he was dangling upside down in a public corridor.
And years later? She called him Severus. Perhaps it was meant as respect. Perhaps it was all she had left to give. But even that name, spoken in her steady voice, must have tasted hollow.
Because if I were Severus, I don’t know what I would feel beneath the careful nods and professional courtesy. Not really.
Respect? Yes. She was formidable, fair—in her own way. But also a bystander. A witness to pain who never raised her wand.
The bitterness would have settled in strange places. Not hatred. Not fury. Just that sharp ache that lingers when someone could have helped—and chose not to.
As if calling him by name could erase the silence that came before it.
⸻
📚 Filius Flitwick — Gentle, Brilliant, Absent
Flitwick was kind. Clever. Charms master of immense skill. The sort of professor whose praise felt like sunlight.
And yet—he kept to his corner. He didn’t speak up.
Severus wasn’t just a good student. He was exceptional. The sort of student whose talent should have lit up the classroom like a Lumos Maxima—quiet, focused, effortlessly precise. The kind of brilliance that doesn’t need to shout because it radiates.
He invented spells. Created incantations from scratch. If anyone in Charms class should’ve stood out like a blinking sign under a spotlight—radiating silent brilliance from the back of the room—it was him. You didn’t need him to speak to notice. You just had to be looking.
Surely Flitwick noticed. How could he not?
But maybe noticing brilliance wasn’t the same as seeing pain. Maybe house loyalty got in the way. Maybe the politics of Slytherin versus Gryffindor made it easier to stay silent.
Perhaps he thought it wasn’t his place. Perhaps no one ever taught the professors how to reach past a student's wandwork and into their wounds.
And so, in the silence between spells, a boy learned that even kindness could be hollow.
⸻
🌿 Pomona Sprout — The Kind Bystander
Warm, earthy, nurturing. That was Sprout’s image. A Hufflepuff’s dream.
But she, too, looked away.
Maybe she frowned at what she saw. Maybe she clucked disapproval over tea. But she never interrupted the hierarchy.
Not when Severus slouched through corridors like a shadow. Not when he withered a little more each autumn.
She believed in fairness—but not enough to fight for it.
⸻
🏥 Madam Pomfrey — The Healer Who Didn’t See
Out of all the professors, Madam Pomfrey may be the one I find myself most curious about. Not because she was cruel—she wasn’t. Not because she was blind—she couldn’t have been. But because if anyone should have noticed—it was her.
She could spot a fractured rib with a glance. She healed Quidditch injuries between spoonfuls of broth. Her hands were warm, her wards comforting.
And yet… she didn’t notice Severus returning each term thinner, paler, greyer?
No trace of curiosity when he flinched at loud spells? No quiet pause when he walked too carefully, too lightly—as if even the castle floors might punish him?
Did she not see the hex marks? The magical burns? Did she really miss the boy who never sought help unless he was near collapse?
Or perhaps... he hid it too well. Perhaps he wore silence like a second robe. Perhaps he'd already learned that pain, when visible, only made you more vulnerable. That vulnerability made you expendable.
But still—she was a healer. She would have known the signs. Malnutrition. Exhaustion. The long-term magical residue that clings to a child who’s been hexed too often.
Pomfrey, as matron, was in a position to notice it all—if he had come to her. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he knew better than to hope.
We know his home life wasn’t gentle. Tobias Snape, his father, was a drunk—furious, unkind, loud enough to silence the whole house. We weren’t shown every bruise or every scream, but we were shown the aftermath.
So when Severus came back each September—robes loose, eyes dimmed, voice flat—surely, surely she must have seen something. Anything. A flicker of concern. A whisper of doubt.
To be fair, we cannot fully blame her. Hundreds of students passed through her care. She healed what was asked, tended what was brought. Perhaps she was simply overwhelmed. Perhaps she assumed someone else would act.
But still… I can’t help but wonder.
She offered pepperup potions to those with sniffles. She wrapped bandages around bruised Gryffindors.
But Severus? The boy who never asked, who needed most?
She offered rest to others.
But not to him.
⸻
They all had eyes. They all had wands. They all had duty—but they wore it like a decorative cloak, not a vow.
And oh, how one wonders. How could they not see the bruises? The shoulders pulled too tight? The voice too low?
How could a castle brimming with portraits, portraits that whispered and staircases that listened, miss the slow crumbling of a child?
Perhaps they did see. Perhaps that’s what makes it worse.
Because silence isn’t always ignorance. Sometimes, it’s a choice. Sometimes, it’s self-preservation masquerading as neutrality. Sometimes, it’s indifference dressed as decorum.
And still—they looked away.
Severus Snape returned to Hogwarts as a man.
But once, he was the boy they failed.
And they seated him at their table as if none of it ever happened.
Like alot of these Harry/Tom squick stories people like to write or read don't take into account that Tom was a fucking Sociopath who literally could not understand love.
I don't understand why anyone can ship Tom with anyone even before he became Voldemort because he always had these tendencies even when he was a child, this is a kid who hung rabbits and tortured his fellow kids even the ones who weren't picking on him.
He is human. He feels a lot. Enough. He has a wounded inner child, insecurities, and ambitions like a human. That is already plenty. This indirect dehumanization of him is so contradictory, because the canon constantly hinted at how painfully human his fears and struggles actually were. Fear of death? Hatred toward his father after learning he had abandoned him and his mother? Writing off his mother's death as weakness? Sure, but he never knew her. And yet that same "weakness" exerted a profound formative influence on him, didn't it? They were both abandoned by the same figure. He was a child influenced by his environment, and later, he did everything he could to never return to it.
And acting like he was Lord Voldemort from birth, as if that persona wasn't constructed on top of layers of buried vulnerability and unresolved pain, is just dishonest to the character. Those cracks aren't even that well hidden. What happens instead is that fans funnel him into two extremes: the dehumanized BDSM-god archetype (the Christian Grey treatment), or the pure Voldemort 'monster' where the Beauty-and-the-Beast dynamic fits neatly. Neither stereotype (usually) leaves room to acknowledge his issues without needing him to look unshakeable and invincible for whatever OC or 'OC-Character' they're pairing him with.
Anyone who reads Half Blood Prince Chapter 13 (The Secret Riddle) can instantly see a child with emotions, hopes, and fears.
Thinking any human can be born evil is a very dangerous type of belief. It's dehumanizing. And when we dehumanize people, we're giving ourselves an excuse to hate them and possibility cause them harm.
Tom Riddle fell into that trap. Voldemort viewed muggles as less than human. That's the problem.
Tom Riddle was born a human and Voldemort died a human. Regardless of his inhuman actions, he always was and will always be human.
Tom Riddle is not unemotional. He is fucking ruled by them.
Color me a skeptic when I come across depictions of Tom as this stoic, stone-cold ice prince of Slytherin.
That was what he tried to project himself as, but at his core, Tom Marvolo Riddle is like a ripe fruit, almost about to burst with pent-up emotions.
I fully endorse the headcanon that deep down, Tom takes after the Gaunts more than the Riddles.
He did a grand job aping their distinguished disposition and glacial aura (his aristocratic looks helped too), but scratch the surface, and he's a Gaunt, a slave to his passions.
Apathy is not his Achilles heel. Avarice and arrogance are.
He's not immune to emotions. On the contrary, he's at their mercy. He's not the type to hide his emotions for long. At the first opportunity, he will make sure the world knows about his feelings, whether it wants to or not. Have you seen him monologue his entire life story and unresolved daddy and mummy issues to his prophesied enemy?
There’s nothing measured, controlled, or austere in my Tom.
He is prone to excess. Just as his Gaunt forefathers thoughtlessly squandered their immense wealth, he too wasted his brilliance, his genius, and his remarkable talent and shredded his soul to pieces in the pursuit of immortality.
Far from being unsusceptible to desire, he wanted so much and got so greedy that he ultimately orchestrated his own destruction.
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