Number 12 Grimmauld Place is no longer hidden. It sits neatly between Number 11 and Number 13, its wrought iron polished and shiny, its windows clean of dust and grime. Muggles can see it, though they rarely give it more than a moment’s glance; wizards and witches will occasionally approach cautiously to lay down a wreath of flowers, or a handwritten note addressed to The Boy Who Lives Still. Their wary respect is well-intentioned but unnecessary- Number 12 is second only to Hogwarts in the number of protective spells and wards place around it.
It is empty most of the year.
Fall winds blow and disturb no one’s slumber inside. In winter, snow gathers on the steps and railings; the windows remain dark and the curtains drawn. No flowers peek out from the windowsills to celebrate the arrival of spring.
In the summer, they arrive.
From the outside, there is nothing to unite them. There are loud, boisterous teenagers and shy, quiet children no older than twelve; there are some dressed in the latest Muggle fashions and some whose jeans are patched and worn. They are of all races and ethnicities, all shapes and sizes, from all parts of the British Isles; they can be heard chattering in accents that clash and meld and somehow become harmonious. From the outside, they have nothing in common. But since when has someone’s outside reflected who they really are?
Molly Weasley was the first person Harry told about his idea. She and Arthur help him expand Number 12′s interior, adding bathrooms and reading nooks and bedrooms. Ginny chooses the squashiest armchairs and sturdiest furniture, tracking down bargains with a fierce glint in her eyes. When he realizes he needs an outdoor space, Hermione helps him to link his back door to an empty field. Ron helps Bill put up Quidditch hoops while Neville transplants trees and Hannah stations benches beneath their shady branches. Parvati paints the rooms in swirls of bright colors- green and red and blue and yellow mingle on the walls.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a refuge for lost children. They are the ones with no home to go to when the term ends, the ones who don’t have someone waiting to pick them up when the Hogwarts Express pulls into Platform 9 ¾. They are the ones whose homes are not safe, who grow anxious as June approaches and spring turns to summer. They are the ones who are no longer welcomed by those who share their blood, who have had to make family out of friends.
Harry Potter greets these students at Kings Cross and he takes them in.
In the summer, former DA members stream in and out of Number 12′s brightly polished door. Luna brings suitcases packed with odd creatures she’s discovered on her travels; the students sit in the sunny field as she pulls them out one by one and tells of hiking up mountains and wading through marshes. Ginny gives flying lessons and organizes Quidditch matches; the Harpies donate their old brooms when they switch sponsors (something that happens far more often than any other team in the league). There is a greenhouse where students with a green thumb can tend their own plots and assist Neville with his herbology experiments. Justin and Hermione drill them on Muggle subjects; Justin teaches algebra, geometry, and basic sciences while Hermione covers history and literature. George always spends a memorable week showing off his newest inventions while Ron drops by almost every evening to play chess. Students entering their fifth year can spend the summer shadowing people in careers that pique their interest; the Trio rarely use their fame for their own gain, but they wield it with fierce determination in the service of others.
In the summer, these children are fed by Molly Weasley, hugged by Hannah Abbott, told bedtime stories by Luna Lovegood. They can spend all day reading under a tree or playing Exploding Snap in the kitchen or arguing about how best to make a phone work at Hogwarts. They can wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and make their way down to the kitchen, where Harry will meet them with a mug of hot tea and a listening ear. They can stay in bed on days when the world is too cruel and lonely, when the emptiness in their body is too heavy to bear. They can see others who struggle with it too and realize that family is not limited by blood, that being lonely doesn’t always mean being alone.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place opens its doors wide and vibrates with life. It becomes a place where Sirius Black would be welcomed along with Severus Snape, where Harry Potter and Tom Riddle could spend their summers side by side.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a home.
After many months of being squashed by the stresses of my last year of graduate school, my muse has come roaring back with a vengeance. No promises on when the next update will be, but I hope you enjoy this piece
This is my favourite HP headcanon in the history of ever.
I’m crying. Thank you for this. It’s so beautiful.
You’re not crying, ‘mione, I’M crying!
(via ailleee)
“There are people who are always in love with the sky, no matter the weather. One day you will find someone who’ll love you the same way.” — n. m., from a book in progress (via wnq-writers)
(Source: wnq-writers.com, via yea-lets-do-this-shit)
One of the clearest generation gaps I can think of is whether you call # “hash tag” or “pound sign”
(via ailleee)
[video]
Tweet 1: I can see a lot of people either avoiding Plan B & ending up pregnant or attempting to take multiple doses & getting sick.
Tweet 2: anyone w a credit card (not everyone, I know) can/should use ella ella-rx.com they’ll ship it overnight $45
SIGNAL BOOST. Ella is another form of emergency contraception/the morning-after pill. It’s more effective than Plan B and can be taken up to FIVE DAYS after your mishap, rather than three days. Please spread this around; with all of the anti-choice legislation flying about and how difficult it can be for some people to get Plan B even OTC (like minors, people living in small towns, etc.), this might be the only way a lot of people can get their hands on the morning-after pill.
Boooooost
I’ve also read that Ella is more effective for plus size people.
This is important. Ella works for everyone. Plan B is not effective for people over 176 pounds. Protect yourself
Everyone?
Boosting the shit outta this.
Plan B is not effective for people over 176 pounds.
Plan B is not effective for people over 176 pounds.
Plan B is not effective for people over 176 pounds.
Plan B is not effective for people over 176 pounds.
Plan B is not effective for people over 176 pounds.
BOOST BOOST BOOST
IMPORTANT!!!!
Daaaang I’ve taken plan b 3 times in the past, and I weighed well over 176. Jfc. I had no clue.
A review by the European Medicines Agency found that there isn’t sufficient evidence to rule that Plan B is completely ineffective in people over 176 pounds
But if you want to be absolutely certain, Ella and the hormonal IUD are more effective
(via academicfeminist)
I’m working on a novel that has a very broad range of characters and I’m trying to do them all justice, so that means that I’ve been doing a lot of research–I’m white and cis, and I know that presents an inherent limitation in my experience, but I don’t think that’s an excuse to just…not do the best justice I can to my characters and the very real people they represent. To wit: I’m working with an especially prominent side character who identifies as a trans man. Because of the limitations of the universe, gender reassignment and hormone therapy are currently not available to him, and he struggles with fits of dysphoria. If you’re not comfortable, there’s absolutely no pressure, and you can pretend that you didn’t see this, but I was wondering if there was anyone would would be willing to share their experience with me so that I can craft him as best as I possibly can. I have anon turned on if you’re more comfortable that way, or you can message me privately.
AHAHAHAHA
PRE-MED STAMP OF APPROVAL
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
Hear me out.
A show called The Elevator.
It takes place entirely in an elevator of an office building.
So you see various people interact with each other at different times of the day.
Sometimes, they’re all getting along. Othertimes, they’re making out. And othertimes still, they’re throwing punches and threatening to murder one another.
You see people by themselves, doing things that they wouldn’t do otherwise.
You hear everyone complain about one character who you never see for the duration of the show, because they take the stairs.
You actually have no idea what the company does. One day, they’re talkking about balancing the budget, one day, they’re taking about how they all got food poisoning on their retreat to Tahiti, one day they’re in furry costumes, and one day, one of the characters gets a phone call where the ringtone is ‘Hail To The Chief’; they answer it, saying, “Yes, Mr. President?”
You have just enough information to go on, while also knowing nothing.
Either way, it’ll be a fun ride.
Ooh.
(via inkandash)
I have a dentist appointment tomorrow.
I hate the dentist more than almost anything in the world. More than cicadas.
Y’all should distract me somehow.
Fun fact: There was a female Native American chief known as Pine Leaf who promised not to marry a man until she personally killed 100 men with her bare hands. When a man convinced her to give up on this pledge and settle down before taking her virginity and running away, Pine Leaf responded by gathering a harem of women, swearing off men forever and becoming an even more badass warrior.
(via im-lost-but-not-gone)
