let’s be real if harry was raised by mcgonagall he would not only be the most badass kid at hogwarts, he would be the most polite, and the sweetest, and would probably have neater hair, not to mention he would most likely kill voldemort at age eleven and still meet minerva for tea with the time to spare
harry: mama, just killed a man
minerva: have a biscuit
(via thepainofthesass)
I just imagined Sirius being called out to sorting and the hat getting ready to shout SLYTHERIN! almost before even touching one of Sirius’ hair - just like it has done for every Black and Malfoy for centuries- and then suddenly all he hears is this eleven year old thinking “Don’t you fucking dare”
And the Hat is like.
“Well. That’s a ballsy move if I ever saw one. Your family’s going to murder you.”
“I don’t care,” Sirius mutters under his breath.
“Well, if you’re sure…better be GRYFFINDOR.”
The Hall is dead silent as this skinny little eleven year old marches to the Gryffindor table and sits his ass down.
There’s muttering at the Slytherin table about it having been some kind of mistake. At the Gryffindor table too. McGonagall gets the Sorting back under way, and people are a lot less interested in who’s under the Hat now–everyone knows about the Ancient and Noble House of Black by their second year, and the batch of confused first year Muggleborns is being educated rapidly by their pureblood and halfblood peers.
James Potter goes up–there’ve been two more boys Sorted into Gryffindor, three girls, and the Lions barely remembered to cheer–and to the shock of absolutely no one, gets Sorted into the House of the brave as soon as the Hat touches his head, just like the rest of his family. It’s the first thing that’s really gone to plan so far.
He hands the Hat back to McGonagall and proves his Sorting almost at once when he sits down next to Sirius and raises his voice to be heard over the resumed Sorting when he says, “So you got Gryffindor just like you wanted, that’s great! Ignore those tossers,” he continues with a broad gesture to the Slytherin table, where almost Sirius’ entire family is glaring at the pair of them, “they’re just sour.”
“No shouting during the Sorting, Mister Poter,” McGonagall says.
“Yes, Professor,” James says, and immediately turns back to Sirius.
Sirius lets James needle him into a grin, and James scowls pointedly at the rest of Gryffindor House when Sirius’ back is turned, dragging the other boys from their year into the conversation as soon as food is placed out.
McGonagall feels what a more superstitious woman would call a premonition of doom.
(via lilypcttr)
I write. I swear to God. I actually love writing fanfic. BUT, and here’s the catch, I have a ton of trouble coming up with short fic ideas. Short anything ideas, really. The most memorable example is that one time I decided to write how I thought someone being able to see the future would pan out, just a few pages of character study, dicking around with super powers, nothing fancy. Smash cut to a year and a half later, I’m wrapping up my 350 page novel and staring dismally at my 200 additional pages of worldbuilding. And it’s always like that, it gets so out of hand.
SO. My solution to that is this. If you have a craving for a specific pairing that you know I ship, shoot me a prompt and I’ll throw together a short fic for you and post it. I’m trying to unwind after finals, so it’ll be good for me, and you’ll get fic, so it’ll be good for you.
Hit me up.
This is your reminder that I’m bored and open for prompts.
I write. I swear to God. I actually love writing fanfic. BUT, and here’s the catch, I have a ton of trouble coming up with short fic ideas. Short anything ideas, really. The most memorable example is that one time I decided to write how I thought someone being able to see the future would pan out, just a few pages of character study, dicking around with super powers, nothing fancy. Smash cut to a year and a half later, I’m wrapping up my 350 page novel and staring dismally at my 200 additional pages of worldbuilding. And it’s always like that, it gets so out of hand.
SO. My solution to that is this. If you have a craving for a specific pairing that you know I ship, shoot me a prompt and I’ll throw together a short fic for you and post it. I’m trying to unwind after finals, so it’ll be good for me, and you’ll get fic, so it’ll be good for you.
Hit me up.
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)
Mary Poppins / Harry Potter headcanon FB chat
I always thought she was a Time Lord, what with everything fitting in her bag and what not.
Where do you think Hermione got her idea for her clutch purse?
Oh come on, there’s NO WAY Bert was a Squib. He had a whole posse of dancing wizard chimney sweeps who would apparate to London’s West End to perform their dance show every night.
Woh
Okay, my one complaint here is that maybe Mary was originally sent to look children that might come from muggle families that show signs of being wizards/witches.
How many Nannies did Jane and Michael chase away?
Getting lost so often, kites flying off, their ‘help wanted’ floating away?
Yeah, those kids are some type of magic.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
Consider:
Instead of using that creepy ass quote Professor Sneep says about his obsession with his dead ex-friend as The Harry Potter Quote why don’t we use the one James Potter says to his son, whom he gave his life for, to comfort him as he walks to his death
“‘You’ll stay with me?’
‘Until the very end,’ said James.”Just a thought
THANK YOU.
(Source: marisaauntmay, via slyrider)
narcissa malfoy was probably the most powerful occlumens in hogwarts history and nobody knew
she literally stood up to lord voldemort and lied that harry potter was dead and i don’t know about you but if i were an evil ruler i would probably want to triple-check that my nemesis was, you know, actually deceased
voldemort had actual doubts about snape
narcissa swans on by without a whisper, without a second glance
narcissa malfoy understood from a young age that she was meant to do only a few things: look pretty, say nothing, and marry well.
narcissa malfoy understood those rules, and she layered her mind with them.
look pretty. wear the most expensive robes. grandmother’s pearls. curl your hair every night. think only of clothes and dimples and the way your hair falls when you flutters you eyelashes at a boy.
say nothing. don’t speak when mother and father are screaming at each other. demurely look down as another boy asks you to dance. retreat into the reading room when your family friends, known death eaters and criminals, pay your parents a visit and speak in hushed voices over tea. think of pretty things.
marry well. marry into a family of your parents’ friends. bear children. wear pearls and look demure and think of nothing but pretty, pretty things, like the way your husband’s hair gleams in candlelight.
masters must learn the rules before they can break them. narcissa learned the rules so well that they wrapped around her; sank into her skin and her mind. they protect her from enemies. they conceal the quick, strategic plots ticking her brain into gear every moment of every day. they hide the calculation of each smile, each movement.
narcissa is so good, so perfect, that no one will ever know.
# I actually have lots of thoughts about this # I think she got away with lying so easily because Voldemort would never have expected her to # I don’t think she even needed to use occlumency # because why would /some silly women/ # /Lucius’ wife/ # ever lie to /The Dark Lord/? # she wouldn’t be smart enough # she wouldn’t be brave enough # she wouldn’t be selfless enough # Voldemort is an absolute idiot when it comes to the things that really matter # ’Houselves children’s tales love loyalty innocence’
#voldy was shocked when he found out his mom was the witch #he assumed his father would be magical
and there you have it.
rb again for that meta, damn
(Source: siriusblaque-archive, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
okay, most of what i do re: harry potter is criticism, and hp is flawed in such a number of ways, but sometimes i just sit here and
i mean, you all have a comprehension of just how drastically harry potter changed literature, yeah? like. it revitalized it. it blew the literary scene apart. the new york times had to create a separate bestseller’s list for children’s lit just because harry potter existed. harry potter changed reading.
so many people on tumblr were born in the ‘90s. when the first book came out, most of us couldn’t read. but we grew up in a world where everyone, everyone, everyone was reading harry potter, no matter how old they were; we grew up in a world where the most popular story in the entire world was a fantasy children’s book.
it’s sort of difficult to grasp, sometimes, the extent to which harry potter is not just a book. the extent to which what is basically a series of fun, interesting, and fairly good novels is such an enormous, enormous part of our lives, a cultural touchstone, a truly universal reference point, something so many people have shaped their lives around, a foundation for all of the stories we would read and watch for the rest of our lives– for so many of us, the first books we ever loved
the extent to which so many of us can’t call ourselves “fans” of harry potter, because it would like being a “fan” of, like, having lungs.
it’s not even about liking it or disliking it. it’s just a part of us.
This is actually exactly what I tell adults who ask why I still like “a kids’ series” so much. First of all, I still read fucking Animorphs and watch Disney movies, if I want to be a fan of a kids’ series I’m damn well gonna be (and like HP doesn’t really strike me as kids’ books, but whatever). But more to the point, it’s not really…a question. I like having an appendix, or a spleen, or arteries, too.
(Source: swanjolras-archive, via ailleee)
social media aus make everything better lmao literally imagine the harry potter books + social media. second year someone snapchats a picture of literal death threats written on the walls in blood captioned ‘’hogwarts its the safest place in the world’ lmao bitch where??’ fourth year #potterstinks is trending locally on twitter. sixth year story gets out about harry’s conversation with snape and everybody in the gryffindor group chat changes their name to ‘roonil wazlib’ for a week. draco bitching about harry on yik yak as if the entire school doesn’t know for a fact its him.
#in harry’s first year someone develops a snapchat filter for a lightning bolt scar and green eyes#‘there’s no need to call my sir professor’ becomes everyone’s facebook status in sixth year#also! the daily prophet as like a buzzfeed site#in fifth year there are titles like 10 Worst Lies Harry Potter Ever Told#mainly tho i want to see draco’s fake dementor fail in third year becoming a meme (kneelb4kesha)
(via hptextposts)
Vodka Tia Moran