PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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tannertan36
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@the-zenroom
I shouldn’t be here.
When I look in the mirror and I see her When I get angry and hear her in my voice When I look and see the belly button that connected us for 9 fucking months
I know I shouldn’t be here.
But my laugh is unmistakeable through the noise My cries, heard by my ears, loud and clear through the silence of this room
I’m here, I can feel my heart beat a rhythm in my chest, reminding me
I’m here when I shouldn’t be.
That was a long 12 years for Wormtail.
Can you imagine how differently their lives would’ve gone if Ron, in trying to transfigure Scabbers, had actually transfigured him back into a human? Just take a moment to imagine McGonagall’s reaction if Peter Pettigrew had abruptly appeared in her classroom from Ronald Weasley’s rat. Take a moment.
Or if Ron had fucked it up a little worse and couldn’t get ‘Scabbers’ back and McGonagall had take him to disenchant him and next thing we know there’s a naked Peter Pettigrew sitting on McGonagall’s desk and the kids in that class learn six new swear words, a hex they will never dare to use, and a fear of Minerva McGonagall’s wrath that will be with them until the day they die.
Ten and twenty years later first years are being pulled aside and warned never mess around in Transfiguration seriously the last time a kid mucked something up in that class Professor McGonagall used two semi-legal hexes, took down a Death Eater and sabotaged the rise of the Dark Lord before Potter had time to get his wand out.
What most of Hogwarts learned first on that otherwise-unexceptionable day was that Professor McGonagall could sure scream loud.
Professor Flitwick’s Charms 5th-year Charms class was close enough to catch the full effect, and the door had been left open besides; en masse the students recoiled with shock and a miscast Hiccuping Charm broke one of the windows (out which the entire flock of ravens they were practicing on escaped to the Forbidden Forest where they only had to worry about centaurs, rather than annoying young humans with wands).
Up in the Divination Tower, Sibyl Trelawny preened over her foresight to have warned her students of an unprecedented catastrophe likely to occur before the hour was out.
Out in Greenhouse Five, a NEWT-level Herbology class looked up in puzzlement, and most of them were subsequently bitten by the Venomous Tentaculae they were attempting to propagate. It does not do to ignore a Venomous Tentacula when you’re prodding at its intimate parts with a cotton ball held in tweezers, so the class was cancelled while two-thirds of the students headed for the infirmary and the rest of them headed into the castle because if they stayed with the Venomous Tentaculae they’d be outnumbered, and nobody wants that.
And down in the dungeons, Professor Snape turned away from comparing Lee Jordan’s Pepper-Up Potion to spoiled cream at what sounded like a woman screaming from the entrance hall. At the second scream, he ordered the class to remain where they were and behave, sweeping out of the room just in time to miss Theodore Nott suddenly jumping up and yelping as if someone had put a crocodile heart down the back of his robes.
Fred Weasley stepped back from the unfortunate Slytherin, shared a smirk with his twin, and stuck his head out the door to make sure Snape had rounded the corner before leading the way out of the classroom.
-
Back in the Transfiguration classroom, about four minutes ago, it had started innocently enough. Ron Weasley, possessed of a broken wand and a lurking suspicion that most of the family’s magical talent had been soaked up by his siblings before he was around to get any, had attempted to turn his pet rat, Scabbers, into a teacup.
Scabbers had not become a teacup.
Scabbers, blast his useless furry little backside, had become a furry, vaguely teacup-shaped monstrosity out of which absolutely no one would have been tempted to drink, and to make matters worse, he still had a tail.
It was moving.
Harry was hiding a smile behind his hand. Dean and Seamus weren’t even trying to hide, elbowing each other and laughing. Parvati and Lavender were looking with disgust and horror at either Scabbers or him, and Hermione was opening her mouth, no doubt ready to tell him exactly what he’d done wrong.
Which only made it worse that he really thought he’d done everything right this time.
He snatched Scabbers off the desk (eww, the base of the cup had the same texture as rat feet) and turned away from Hermione. He made the wand movement again, picturing in his mind the way McGonagall had demonstrated it. “Erreverto.”
“Erreverto. Erreverto. Erreverto.”
It didn’t work. It didn’t work when Professor McGonagall stopped by and gave Hermione two points for Gryffindor for getting the spell perfect in both directions. It didn’t work when Harry made his successful transfiguration (Ron looked; the pattern was a little bit furry but it was definitely a teacup). Ron’s lips formed the shape of a word that would’ve made his mother box his ears had she heard it and attempted the reverse transfiguration, which didn’t work either.
Finally, faced not only with the indignity of failure but the threat of Scabbers being stuck like that, he’d gone up to Professor McGonagall’s desk.
“Um, Professor?”
Professor McGonagall looked up from the paper she was grading and looked from him to the squirming teacup. “Problems, Mr. Weasley?”
“Um, yeah, Professor. I can’t get it to work in either direction and it’s not fair to Scabbers to make him stay as a teacup just because I can’t do a spell right and can you maybe … ?”
“I suppose so, Mr. Weasley,” she said, and waved her wand in the exact manner Ron had been doing all along.
Nothing happened.
Professor McGonagall looked very, very puzzled.
“Now that’s odd,” she said softly.
As one, the other students rose from their seats and quietly moved closer.
She did not attempt the transfiguration in the other direction. Instead, she made a complex motion with her wand and murmured an incantation that possibly only Hermione recognized. The teacup squeaked. Professor McGonagall looked more puzzled than ever, and made a sweeping wand movement that ended with a sharp jab and uttered, “Arcanum finite!”
And there was a loud bang, and there was a pale, pudgy, and very naked man sprawled out on her desk, and she jumped back hard enough to knock her chair into the wall and screamed.
-
Having taught a particularly rigorous course of magical study to children and teens for quite some time now, Minerva McGonagall had become accustomed to certain things. Students who didn’t listen. Students who did rude things to the mice when they thought she wasn’t looking. Students who accidentally turned a frog or a raven into a flock of starlings or a school of strange slimy South American fish (and tried to solve the immediate problem by filling the classroom with two feet of water, neglecting to consider the gap under the door). Students who tried to transfigure their noses into a more appealing shape and wound up in the hospital wing regrowing their nostrils.
Naked men on her desk was something Minerva McGonagall had never had an occasion to get used to. What made it worse was that she recognized this one, and he’d been dead for more than a decade.
Inferius! was her first thought, followed shortly thereafter by Animagus, which collided with Peter Pettigrew! and produced the utterly horrifying thought of what if all four of them were Animagi? which didn’t bear thinking about at all, so her brain jumped to if he wasn’t killed by a Dark Wizard then why didn’t he say so? and realized there was only one possible explanation why, and about that time her eyes registered that parts of Peter Pettigrew she really doesn’t want to know about were flopping about in front of her face, and she was screaming as she jumped back.
The flow of invective which followed somehow failed to surprise her one bit. Some part of her registered, peripherally, the shocked faces of her students, but most of her attention was directed at Peter Pettigrew, who at very least faked his own death and at worst framed Sirius Black and if Black didn’t betray the Potters then who … did. And the words poured out of her, filthy English and filthier Latin while Pettigrew squirmed on the table, his face rage and guilt and fear and something shifty and contemptible, and he turned to look at the stunned students and lunged for Ron Weasley’s wand.
-
Severus Snape had reached the Entrance Hall by the time the scream died away and the invective replaced it. He almost smirked, amid the alarm; of all the things he’d never expected to hear from Minerva McGonagall … he took the stairs two at a time, still not noticing the students who followed.
He did notice the Herbology class, which had stopped on the way to the Infirmary and were staring transfixed in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom, but pushed his way through them, getting Venomous Tentacula pollen all over his robes in the process.
From the other end of the corridor came Professor Flitwick’s Charms class, with Professor Flitwick bringing up the rear and pushing his way between students.
-
Ron looked stunned as the man who’d been his pet rat snatched the wand from his hand; Professor McGonagal’s expression shifted to one beyond fury and when the entire class recoiled, it wasn’t from the naked man with the wand.
“Laedo!“ Minerva McGonagall roared.
-
Ron Weasley’s wand cast a Splintering Curse many years beyond its rightful owner’s abilities, and it did Peter Pettigrew the poor favor of eliminating the door, which might have slowed him down a bit.
-
Severus Snape flailed and skidded to a halt as the Transfiguration classroom’s door shattered. He stepped back just in time, and stared, jaw dropped in shock, as a naked man he recognized from his school days flew past him and bellyflopped against the wall, bounced, and collapsed to the ground just in time to avoid the “Exitium!” which followed and vaporized an impresive chunk of the castle’s stone wall.
Fred and George and Lee Jordan, determined to stay at the front of the crowd, had been pushed almost against Professor Snape by their fellow Potions classmates and some pollen-coated Hufflepuffs. Fred squirmed aside hastily as Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway, the look on her face so utterly livid that Professors Snape and Flitwick both reflexively stepped back.
Snape tripped over George’s foot and fell against a knot of Hufflepuffs, releasing another cloud of pollen and knocking them backwards. Pettigrew saw his opportunity and took it, scrambling to his feet, stumbling sideways, and launching himself towards the gap.
And Minerva McGonagall made a thrust with her wand and said, “Perdo.”
In the very loud silence which followed, Filius Flitwick squeaked, “The Splinching Charm, Minerva?”
She might’ve looked embarrassed for a moment, and then she smiled as she looked down at Pettigrew, who lay on his belly, his arms and legs lying akimbo some distance away.
“Unorthodox,” she said, “but useful in a pinch. If someone would inform the Headmaster, and send an owl to the Ministry—-not Fudge, not Crouch, someone competent—-Shacklebolt, perhaps. Students, return to your classrooms, please. Mr. Weasley, I’m very sorry, but I do believe it’s impossible to return you your rat. However, the zero I was going to have to give you for the day’s work is entirely undeserved, as you were not transfiguring a normal rat. You may make the lesson up any time this week.”
-
The story was, of course, much embellished by the time it reached all the students. Versions of it had the intruder peppering Snape with a Glitter Hex or transfiguring Ron’s rat into a pair of boxers, and people had to be disabused of the notion that it had been Voldemort who’d been hiding as a rat all this time.
Snape gave both Weasley twins detention for tripping him, and took forty-seven points total from Gryffindor over the next few weeks for various pretend-subtle pollen references.
Kingsley Shacklebolt showed up with a team of Aurors in time to meet Professor Dumbledore; the Wizengamot launched an investigation into the events surrounding the Potters’ murder; the results turned into a scandal which saw the release of Sirius Black and the forced resignation of both Director Bartemious Crouch and Minister Cornelius Fudge. Director of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones was confirmed as Minister of Magic shortly thereafte, and the Daily Prophet reported that Sirius Black (“Godfather to the Boy-Who-Lived!” “Framed, Abandoned, Condemned to Living Hell!” “Heart-Wrenching: His Release In Pictures, Page 17!”) was considering applying for a teaching position at Hogwarts, “but just for a year, I’ve been cursed enough for one lifetime.” (“The Prophet reminds its readers that the so-called “curse” on a certain Hogwarts teaching position is almost certainly a mere string of coincidences.”)
And, Minerva thought with relish some months later, it was almost three weeks before anyone attempted messing around in her class.
A personal record.
I’ve probably reblogged this before but I’m going to do it again right now
I think this is literally the best au this entire fandom has produced
I’ve only seen this legendary bit of writing in memes and screenshots. I feel so blessed to see it in person.
Beautiful, simply beautiful!
Reblogging my own post because a) it’s my damn horn and I’ll blow it if I want to, and b) I just (finally!) cross-posted this to Archive Of Our Own, so if anybody wants to go read it over there, here it is.
A Mother's Curse
Maybe God himself etched the wanderer's curse upon her forehead, but her children reaped the benefits tenfold. Brought into this world to only be shunned and turned away at every turn, they sit alone, they suffer alone, never receiving any answers as to why. That same mother left them years ago, and slowly the rest followed suit. Only a few dare to stay close, and are burned by being in such close proximity to this hateful curse. The children, two girls with sad doe eyes and trampled dreams, lose a little piece of their true selfs little by little to the poison of the curse. It eats away at their memories, thoughts, happiness, hopes; what could have been only a dull shadow in their eyes. No one understands, not even them.
Pharamcy Kisses
Who is she fooling, Besides herself, When she paints on a fake smile But is crying inside? She chases something As she crushes the pill And snorts a line In the dark, by herself. Dead inside, A former ghost of herself, Maybe it's the essence of life She seeks from the breif high. He comes home and Goes for a kiss. All she can do is hope To fool him too. All she can do is hope He can't taste the pharmacy On her breath, the death Of a soul on her tongue.
Why does everything feel foreign Like maybe this wasn't the life I was meant to be born with Why does everything feel strange Why don't I recognize the face Staring back in the mirror Maybe im not meant for this existence, Maybe it was just a coincidence An unfortunate mistake
In a world with billions of people; one laying by my side as I write this; I am nothing but a lost outsider, forever bound to always look in, but never step foot past the threshold.
This is the last message I received on facebook from my ex and best friend before he passed away.
We definitely had a rocky and strange relationship, but during my first semester of college, I was so lonely and he was there for me. He helped me through it. Unfortunately I was poor and couldn’t afford a phone, and neither could he, so we mostly communicated through a phone o had in my dorm and messages. When I went back home for winter break, I couldn’t get online as much as I used to because my mom was very strict and controlling, so I only talked to him when I got the chance. One day I opened up my facebook to learn that he passed away. These messages still haunt me and make me cry. I wish I could have been there for him.
This honestly made me tear up. Imagining how great he must have felt that his planned worked and choosing that risk paid off. I also feel like him and the model have such good chemistry, they’re always so kind and loving to one another.
Holy shit what did he do?? That’s rad as hell!
Since the runway was going to have simulated rain, he wanted to make the outfit become colorful because of it rather than deflect it. He sewed dye into the seams and once the rain hit it the dye ran! Very simple but super effective. He was one of the two winners of that challenge.
Absolutely brilliant. Holy shit.
Beautiful
As she walked to the edge of the cliff, she felt the wind gently blow across her face. Her hair tickled her nose as it was caught up in nature's dance. A longing seized her whole being as she looked down at the rushing water below and listened to the whispers of the rustling trees. She wanted to throw herself off this cliff and become one with everything around her. A piece for the leaves, a piece for the trees, a piece for the little bugs scattered at her feet; a piece for the rocks, a piece for the dirt, a piece for the angry water surging forward with purpose; but most importantly, a piece for the breeze, a piece for nothingness, a piece for the nonexistent ticking of time. "Hey, you okay?" Her friend breaks her from her dreams. She smiles and nods, moving away from the edge. But the pain lingers.
Just another cog in the machine of life, Just another puzzle piece made to fit this time, I do my job with no worries As to whether this is what I want. But sometimes, when things get quiet And thoughts have time to weave through my mind, I wonder, I dream, I hope, With selfish delight What it’s like to be free.
If there is some spiritual force that listens to the desperate pleas of us lowly humans, please hear me out.
I am nothing but a doubter and critic, even doubting my own existence at times. I only try talking to you when I am in desperate need. I don't deserve any kind of attention, but I'll ask for it anyway, because I shake as I type this. I'm scared. There is a man dear to my heart that I might lose, and I ask you to please give me a couple more years with him. My father has never really been a perfect man. Even before we ended up in foster care and then later adopted, my father lived further away and would only see us occasionally. I know that if circumstances were different, he would have been there, but he wasn't. He also is a terrible alcoholic, which is probably the main cause of his issues now. Far better men were robbed of their lives earlier than what is fair, and I'm sure you have a reason for everything you do. But please don't take him from me yet. Even though my dad is not perfect, I love him. He's an amazing man. He has more love and patience than anyone I've ever met. When I was a kid, I used to love when my dad came to see us. I guess I was a daddy's girl. I'd stick by his side the whole time he was there. To this day I feel a little proud when people say that I am like him. When I feel like I'm going to snap, or when I feel like I don't have enough compassion, I think of my father and try to be more like him. Through thick or thin, he always tries to work his hardest to make everyone happy. Besides my sister and niece, he's the only family member I have that I'm close to, that I feel I need in my life. There's so much I still want to do with him. There's so much I want to say to him. There's so much I want to hear from him. I want him to be at my wedding. I want him to meet my children. I want him to be a grandpa to them. I want my kids to meet their loving, caring grandpa. I want them to know first hand what he was like. Please, all powerful one, don't take him from me yet. I'm not ready.
The light has died, drowned out by the crushing darkness of reality. I’m left with only its memory, but even that begins to fade. Still, with the strength of a shipwrecked sailor holding onto a piece of driftwood in the middle of the sea, I hold onto this image of light and try to remember the person I was before it disappeared.
The sun slowly burns through her skin as she lies down, eyes closed, looking for just a moment's rest. The sun has no mercy on this tired, weak, girl. Maybe he will burn a hole right through her, and she'll finally get the rest she wants.
Graveyard Shift Thoughts
I've been noticing a trend with myself lately. I will meet someone new, and they are a new, fresh face. We might not be introduced or anything. We might only see each other in passing. However, I will see this person maybe three or four more times until I get the feeling I recognize them. Did we go to high school together? Did we once sit next to each other in church? Did I perhaps see you in passing while walking down the street? I don't know. I'm probably just recognizing them from when I first met them, but now the uncertainty is always there. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Lately, I will casually contemplate purposely swerving into oncoming traffic or off a cliff, putting the gun to my head and pulling the trigger, or taking one too many pills and never waking up. I don't contemplate these things because of any other reason other than the annoyance of my existence, and how I would like to clean it from the surface of this universe. There are several things at play keeping me from doing this, however. 1.) My existence, no matter how annoying and painful, cannot be erased by simply dying, unfortunately. My 23 short years of life in this bumblefuck of a world has already made its mark, no matter how small. No matter how much rubbing away at the stain I do, no matter what cleaning agents I use against it, it is here to stay. It might not be visible to the eye, but it is there, nonetheless. 2.) Death itself. What exactly is it? Will I fall asleep and leave one nightmare to find myself in a worse one? How cliché of me to fear such a thing. Man's greatest enemy, THE GREAT UNKNOWN. Must I be so weak to be stopped by such a silly thing? I try to tell myself I'm not, but then the thought strikes me like a bus that's lost control of its breaks, and I find myself unable to move. 3.) I'll remember what it's like to here my niece scream "Auntie!" And feel her little arms wrap around my neck. She'll give me a little kiss and look so cute it's painful. I'll cuddle up close with my boyfriend and feel at home with him. I could be anywhere in this world. When I'm in his arms, I'm home and everything is okay. I'll spend time with my sister, laughing and goofing off, or reminiscing about old times, or rambling, and I forget for a while the pain of existence. I'll drive around alone at night, blasting music and singing along with all my heart, and in that moment I'm a beautiful goddess, completely in control of my life. It's all fleeting, but it makes life a little more bearable. Maybe being a stain in this universe isn't so bad.
Attention: American Muslims
What is your religion like? My boyfriend thinks all muslims should be out of this country, and we shouldn’t accommodate them in this country. Is your religion so bad that you shouldn’t be allowed to live in the United States?
