#lucius is mortified that his own son is so transparent #he has to go home and lie down in a dark room #gay for POTTER how EMBARRASSING #narcissa knows he gets the fondness for potters from a defect on the black side of the family but chooses not to say anything #she just strokes lucius’s hair and promises to teach draco a better pokerface #subtlety is a lost art (queerpotters)
Someone needs to explain to JKR that once the book is out there, it’s out there. No take-backs. You can’t just suddenly announce that Dumbledore is gay and expect HP to be held up as an LGBTQ-positive series. You can’t just spring an entire Weasley family tree on your fans and expect them to accept characters like Lucy Weasley, who are never mentioned in the actual series, as canon. You can’t upload an entire essay on Professor McGonagall’s tragic past to the internet and then expect that to be given more weight than a fanfic someone wrote ten years previously.
JKR’s claim that Dumbledore is gay doesn’t negate the fact that there is absolutely no mention of his sexuality in the text. And likewise, the author changing her mind about a ship in no way affects what was written in the series. Regardless of what you ship, this isn’t a cause for celebration. It’s lazy storytelling, and JKR should be called out on it.
House elves finding blades/razors/etc and leaving nice little notes to the owners telling them that they’re beautiful
House elves figuring out which students aren’t eating and gently leaving small treats near their beds
House elves having a stash of chocolate/comfort food for students when they have anxiety attacks or breakdowns
House elves taking care of the students
look at how cute and cuddly tom looks and how badass dan looks i just noPE
Draco was devastated to find himself sorted into Gryffindor house; he felt like he’d let down the family, the legacy. His parents tried to hide their disappointment, but he knew. He could see it in their eyes when they looked at his uniform, hear it in the tightness of their voice when people asked how he was doing at school. Housing with that sort of riffraff, thickheaded glory hounds and children of low breeding? What would become of him in such a place?
It didn’t take long for him to learn that snide remarks about mudbloods, the poor and the unskilled weren’t going to get him far. Such comments and opinions had been the background radiation of his life, and it was hard to unlearn them, but one awkward silence or venomous look at a time, they disappeared from his vocabulary. And then they started to disappear from his thoughts, because Hermione Granger was muggle-born and she was the brightest witch in their year, and Dean Thomas was half-blood and could ride a broom like he’d been born on it.
Things were awkward for other reasons, too. Everybody knew who Draco’s parents were, and while Draco knew they were innocent, the rumours that they’d worked for Voldemort of their own volition just wouldn’t go away. Nobody trusted him at first; he built up somewhat of a mutual animosity with Neville when the boy reacted badly to his presence the first time they met, and it wasn’t until near the end of first year, when they saved each other’s lives, that they gave each other a chance and he learned just why Neville hated anybody even remotely connected with Voldemort. Everybody thought Neville wasn’t brave. Draco knew they were wrong.
Perhaps, if he hadn’t been in Gryffindor, he wouldn’t have seen what a toxic environment his home really was when he went home for the holidays. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been brave and honourable to the point of recklessness, if he hadn’t been the sort to wear his heart proudly on his sleeve and jump to the defense of others, he would have been able to sit quiet and bear it and not start an argument. But he did, and while his parents never barred him from it, home became an unwelcoming place. Draco spent as much time as possible at Hogwarts instead. He met new people, passed the time by reading in the library, and when the school was nearly deserted during holidays, he talked to the portraits and the ghosts; asked them about their lives, their deaths, their opinions.
But Draco came to school the same year as Harry Potter. Harry Potter, the legend to be both admired and feared. he was young, and nobody was certain just how he would turn out. They knew only that, as a mere baby, he had defeated the darkest and strongest wizard of their age. He might be a great protector of the weak, he might be a dictator in his own right; or, possibly, he might be an ordinary person. Nobody knew.
Harry was sorted into Slytherin.
It was no surprise to the Slytherins. He was from a good, strong family; the proof of his blood was in what he’d done as a mere baby. His mother was muggle-born, of course, but nobody could be perfect in every way. Whatever her genes had done to hold him back didn’t show; he was determined, a veritable deity on the quidditch field, and a legend. He made friends easily. How could he not?
Harry wasn’t used to friends. He wasn’t used to the wizarding world, either. He relied on the people closest to him to explain it to him, and they did; the common room was frequently alive with political discussion as well as people trading homework help for tips on how to get the best out of certain teachers or which secret rooms were the best for hiding things you didn’t want Filch to know about. He became even more of a celebrity at the revelation that he could speak Parseltongue, which took place when playing with a friend’s pet snake midway through first year, although it was generally agreed among the group that that information should stay secret. Everyone respected Harry for his past; no need to add any potentially incriminating information.
When he came home one day with a moving map of Hogwarts that not only showed where everybody was but outlined all the school’s secret passages… well, at that point, it started to become obvious to even the most stubborn Slytherin that Harry had a special destiny. People mobbed to him. The Dark Lord had been overreaching and insane, using threats and violence; a danger to his own followers. It was only right that the universe would send another, a proper, sensible revolutionary; he had deposed his predecessor as a mere infant, he spoke the language of Salazar Slytherin… what more proof did anybody need? Harry Potter would lead them in their revolution, he would create for them a brighter future where the strong ruled on their merits and muggles did not hamper and smother them by their mere existence. Harry Potter would be the Dark Lord that the world truly needed. Who would be able to stop them?
One boy, thrown among the people he’d always been taught were inferior, brave enough to abandon his preconceptions and stand up for the truth, to protect and love and fight for what was right even if it cost him everything. Another, his roots torn from him as an infant, only to return with the kiss of destiny on his forehead and a band of loyal revolutionaries at his back. It is inevitable that they will, someday, face each other. And when they do, the fate of the world will hinge upon it.
[SHOUTS FROM THE ROOFTOPS] HARRY POTTER WILL NEVER BE GONE NOT AS LONG AS THOSE WHO REMAIN ARE LOYAL
*Sherlock fandom screaming* gET DOWN FROM THE ROOFTOP
the sign of three has given a whole new meaning to
[DEAN RANDOMLY DIES IN THE SHOWER]
imagine Tonks and Lupin in bed, and he’s the little spoon and he turns round to kiss her only to find she’s metamorphasized her face into Snape’s and he screams and she laughs so hard she falls out the bed
harry potter literally ruined my life in the best possible way
HARRY POTTER FANS WATCH THIS
HOLY SHIT IT IS VERY VERY VERY VERY COOL
Your house: Ravenclaw
Your favourite character from the trio: Hermione
Three other favourite characters: Ron, Luna, Hagrid
Least favourite character: Umbridge
Favorite book: Order of the Phoenix
One favourite moment: When the Weasly twins fly through the school setting off fireworks and basically EVERYTHING that the people of hogwarts did to annoy Umbridge…
How you were introduced to the series: I’m pretty sure my dad read me the first book when it was very newly come out as a bedtime story. I read the others in short order, and remember being excited for the 4th book, so I’m pretty sure I was ridiculously young
What would your favorite lesson be?: Charms
Which hallow would you take?: The Cloak
Which character are you most like?: I’ve been told that my loyalty is insane, so Ron
Three spells you’d like to be able to perform: Silencio, Accio, Lumos
Would you have entered your name in the Goblet of Fire?: Nope. I like being in the sidelines of great events.
Would you have played Quidditch?: If I wasn’t ill, probably. As I am now, nope.
What form would your Patronus take?: Some kind of Dog IDK. What would be your profession in the wizarding world?: Some kind of innovator but there doesn’t seem to be much of that around…
today is hermione’s birthday
she didn’t have any friends at hogwarts her first year until halloween
hermione spent her first birthday at hogwarts alone
A POTTERHEAD MUST-SEE.
Will always reblog this
This is pure video-editing genius.
I JUST NERDGASM’D SO HARD
I f***ing cried
HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AMAZING IM CRYING
Look, I made a gif of this most awesome wizard at the Leaky Cauldron!
DUDE IS READING ‘A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME’ BY STEPHEN HAWKING
I NEVER REALIZED
are you serious
I always assumed wizards just ignored science, because the fact that “magic” exists, can explain anything. But there are MuggleBorn wizards, ones who, until they were eleven, lived in the real world and learned science and things. Did they all just abandon that normal, muggle knowledge, like Harry did? It’s always been there, itching in the back of my mind.
FOUR FOR YOU SCIENCE WIZARD
YOU GO SCIENCE WIZARD
can we point out that he’s doing wandless magic too
like voldemort couldnt even do that shit
molly fuckin weasley couldnt fuckin do that
who are you
Quick, somebody write a book series about the adventures of Magic Prodigy Science Wizard!!!
PLEASE SOMEONE JUST DO IT
Alan Baker had no use for wands, of course. If one were to Prior Incantato his outdated, duct-taped rod of walnut wood and dragon heartstring, its most recent use would have been the enchantment of the long-lived neurons in Alan’s own mind. This enchantment, possible only for those who were capable of seeing themselves as a complex amalgamation of neural impulses, allowed him to bypass both wands and words. Alan did this, not for show, not for power, but because wandwork distracted him from his reading.
Unfortunately, there was no legal spell to get rid of barflies.
“Hey- hey mate, you gotta- gotta minute to-“
Sobrius, Alan thought, placing one hand on his neighbor’s forehead without looking up. He pondered whether or not to cast a silencing barrier, even in violation of the Leaky Cauldron’s safety code.
“Thanks,” said the now-sober man, “Readin’ more of that Muggle trash, I see.”
Alan closed his eyes and counted to three, but when he opened them, the man was still there. Alan lowered his “muggle trash” in defeat, meeting the baggy, bloodshot eyes of the wizard sitting across from him.
Alan leaned forward, placing his hands steeple-like on the table. “Mr. Fletcher, do you know why time turners don’t send you into space?”
“The sky, y’mean? Cause they’re fer time turnin’, not apparation.”
Alan had to take a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “If time turners weren’t anchored to anything, the Earth’s rotation alone would be enough to ensure a time traveler’s demise. But someone at the ministry was clever enough to anchor them to a carefully guarded object that never moves relative to the Earth.”
“Fascinat’n,” slurred Mundungus, whose eyes had glazed over once it became clear that Alan didn’t actually have a time turner on him.
“But time turners are still very limited,” continued Alan, more to himself than to Mundungus, “They can’t go more than seven hours back, and not forward at all, and only in increments of one hour, and they only work on Earth… no, they’re very clumsy, if one truly pauses to think about it.”
“What’s yer point?”
“My point is that while wizards are slowly stagnating in their backwards remnant of the Dark Ages, Muggles are making progress, ever reaching for the light. Do you know that they don’t need magic to craft a hand of living silver?”
“Bah,” was Mundungus’s only reply, “You’d be best mates with that Weasley nutcase at the ministry, you would.”
Alan stood up, silently casting an infantes gelata to check for paradoxes. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” he sighed, “you’ve just wasted another two minutes of my time. Perhaps I bother because I have time to waste.”
And he twisted, as if to apparate, but instead faded out of existence with a distinct vworp. The air swirled in the wake of his departure, blowing back Mundungus’s straggly ginger hair.
“Muggleborns,” the short wizard muttered, then turned back to his drink.
Thirty minutes earlier, Alan lounged contentedly within his quieting barrier, stirring his cup of tea absently and rereading one of his favourite Muggle books. He wondered, vaguely, which planet held the nearest sapient life, and what their magic would look like…
This rereading, however, would be slightly shorter than the last. Even within the barrier, the presence of another at the table tickled at Alan’s consciousness. He set down his book (rather forcefully, he had to admit,) and looked up. The bloodshot eyes of Mundungus Fletcher didn’t meet him when his own rose.
“Hello,” mouthed the man. Finite Incantatum, thought Alan.
“Hello,” he answered, “Can I help you?”
“No, not really. Well, maybe. Well, probably. Have you seen anything strange lately? Disappearing cats, people moving backwards, variances in the time vortex causing precise and intentional reversal of the course of events?”
Alan couldn’t help but stare. “Er…now that you mention it, I was just…” he trailed off as he glanced out the window and did a double take. There was a 1960s-style Muggle police telephone box in the middle of Diagon Alley. “…Is…is that a telephone box?”
“No. Yes. Recreation. Mock-up. Don’t worry, nobody will notice,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively even as he pulled on a pair of what appeared to be cheap 3-D glasses. “What I want to know,” he murmured conspiratorially, “is what’s giving you that floaty, aurary, bizarrey stuff all over you, because that should not be happening to a human. Person. I said person”
Alan’s eyebrows furrowed. “First of all, this is Diagon Alley. Most people out there wouldn’t know a police box from a pillbox, especially given it’s bright blue. Second of all, those glasses shouldn’t give you the ability to see what you’re seeing. And thirdly, Expelliarmus.”
“Expelliwhat?” the man squawked, just as a long, chunky metallic object with a blue tip shot out of his jacket pocket and into Alan’s hand. A quick Identification spell told him all he needed to know.
“Fuzzy logic neural interface configured for ease of use, limited nonverbal manipulation of mechanical and electronic objects…Interesting. And leaps and bounds beyond anything wizards or Muggles can conjure up. What are you?”
The man stared at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a wide smile. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Let me tell you a little bit about the universe…”
IT GOT BETTER
I am done, this is the end of the world, it’s all downhill from here
Richard St John Harris (1 October 1930 – 25 October 2002)- Albus Dumbledore 1
Robert Arthur “Rob” Knox (21 August 1989 – 24 May 2008)- Marcus Belby
Elizabeth Spriggs (18 September 1929 – 2 July 2008) - The Fat Lady
Timothy Dingwall Bateson (3 April 1926 – 16 September 2009)- voiced Kreacher
Edward Charles James Gardner, DFM (24 August 1924 – 3 May 2010)- Knight Bus driver Ernie Prang
Alfred Burke (28 February 1918 – 16 February 2011)- Armando Dippet
Sheila Allen (22 October 1932 - 13 October 2011)- Ministry Witch in Goblet of Fire
Eric Sykes CBE (4 May 1923 – 4 July 2012)- Frank Bryce in Goblet of Fire
Richard Griffiths, OBE (31 July 1947 – 28 March 2013)- Uncle Vernon