shoutout to george, fred, and especially ron weasley for realizing that harry was stuck in abusive and unhealthy household and, in spite of the massive trouble they knew they could get in, taking immediate steps to personally see him removed from that environment, something no adult in harry’s life did.
REBLOGGING ALWAYS
sirius black: imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, escaped to go commit that crime as fast as possible
#already did the time might as well do the crime ( @quentincoldwatcr )
Sometimes when I’m sad I like to imagine what would happen in a crossover universe between Discworld and Harry Potter, and what Granny Weatherwax would make of their style of magic.
But then I think about more important things, like what would have happened if Granny Weatherwax ever met Albus Dumbledore, and I can’t help but feel a whole lot of shit could have been avoided if he’d had a good clip round the ear and a strong talking to about the whole “my hands are tied” bullshit that enabled years of abuse and suffering at the hands of adults in a position of authority over young, vulnerable people.
Like oh, this spell requires the bond of blood to keep him safe, all right. So that just means we’re not going to hold these adults accountable for their torment and abuse? I think the entire fuck not, Albus.
Snape is a double agent who is actually working for the greater good. All right, but that doesn’t stop him from being an absolute fucking shit weasel who shouldn’t be around children until he learns to control himself and works out his issues in a safe and sane manner, what the fuck, Albus.
You have an entire school system that ascribes to ideas of inherent morality when in fact this is a thing that needs to be taught? Well no wonder there’s one house in particular that keeps going off the rails, you keep telling them they’re evil. Tell people something for long enough they’ll start to believe you. There’s nothing wrong with being selfish and cunning, sometimes that’s what it takes to survive. Teach them how to use those traits for good. As strength. My land, my home, my people (not my daughter, you bitch) how dare you try to hurt them. Teach them, Albus, you have to bloody teach them and realize that evil isn’t born. It’s made. In a thousand small deplorable ways. And it starts with treating people like things and I cannot be having with this.
Of course there’s also the other flipside to this thought process, which is imagining Gytha “Nanny” Ogg shouting “watcher Molly” as she thumps Bellatrix Lestrange on the back of the head with a cauldron, and drops her like a fucking stone. Later they’ll sit together and grieve, later there will be time to pick up the pieces and mourn. But for now there are things to fight for, people to keep alive. And people to keep from doing what they shouldn’t ever have to do, so you find a way to do it for them, by hook, crook or blunt force trauma.
And because my head wont let go of this thought:
“You always was a right little miss,” she said, taking a puff from her pipe and resettling her weight with a hefty bounce as the younger witch struggled to get out from under Nanny’s considerable girth. “Giving yourself airs and graces and such. Pretending you was too good to scrub a pot. Well, let me tell you something, Mistress Lestrange, you ain’t fit for nothing no more except maybe a noose. And if I had my way that might be the end of it. But we don’t do things like that no more, we don’t rule by blood.”
“Then you’re weak,” Lestrange shot back, still struggling to claw her way free. “A weak, old woman with nothing left but tricks up your fat sleeve.”
Nanny puffed in silence for a few more moments, then reached up her sleeve. “And your wand, dearie. Walnut is it? With a dragon heartstring core? Very nice, painting it black was a bit much, but you always were fond of your dramatics.”
She pulled out her own wand, holding it out under Bellatrix’s nose, whose face went cross eyed and then wide with panic.
“You know, I’ve only ever heard of Priori Incantatem,” she said, puffing on the end of her pipe until the pit glowed cherry red then white hot and she exhaled smoke like a dragon, “but I wasn’t about to risk it, not in front of all those kiddies. But I reckon now might be a good time…”
Also, for your consideration. Feegles.
“Haul yoo, aye yoo, the great big ugly gangly scunner wi-oot a nose. Can ye sew? Well stitch this.”
Harry watched in consternation as Voldemort staggered back, dropped to the ground like a ton of bricks and lay still.
“That’s it?” he demanded, lowering his wand. “That’s all you had to do?”
Rob
Anybody, perched on his shoulder, looked up at the young wizard out the
corner of the eye, which was to say he looked him in the nostrils.“Weell,”
he said, gesturing towards the chaos that had been unleashed as the
full force of the Nac Mac Feegle was unleashed upon the band of Death
Eaters, primarily by running up the inside of their trousers. “That’s
the thing about the lads. Once they’ve decided tae dae something, they
dae it good and hard.”“But you just headbutted him!”
“Aye, weill,” Rob said, feeling as though the lad wasn’t quite grasping the practicality of the situation, “he might be a bloody great dark bigjob wizard, but he cannae cast a spell wi-oot a heid.”
Ok but the one I want to see is Dolores Umbridge vs Munstrum Ridcully, becuase that would be the Petty Academic Slapfight of doom.
Because Ridcully, for all his faults, probably understands that the actual learning of magic relies on a certain degree of both freedom and madness and sometimes explosions.
And Umbridge would crawl right up his skin with her concept of a “Defense Against The Dark Arts” Course, and in the middle of a lecture on recent runes, would go on a “tangent” on the history of various dark wizards and the means by which they were defeated and here Why Don’t We Have A Practical Outside, The Weather Is Nice (The weather is not nice. It’s Scotland. In Late November.) But everyone is really curious to see the old man actually take his wand out for once, only to discover that that’s not a wand at all, that’s a Burleigh & Stronginthearm and they’re all going to pass it around and whoever shoots the weathervane off the top of Ravenclaw tower gets 50 points. Hannah Abbot puts a bolt through Umbridge’s window, taking out a kitten plate and gets 100 points.
Fred and George turn the third floor corridor into a Swamp and Umbridge is pleased to hear Ridcully bellowing at the Weasley boys about “BLOODY INSONSIDERATE, NEVER HAVE I EVER MET SUCH WRETCHEDLY-” but the second she’s around the corner it changes to “-brilliant young men, how much is this setup you have here? That potions-master could do with some aggravated moisturizing. Speaking of moisturizing, what would it take to get you two gentlemen to work on the faculty baths? Disgustingly substandard, nowhere to put your nail trimmings-”
Ridcully would like the students there too, I think. Especially the Slytherins, because he’s perfectly aware how important being a cunning bastard and willing to get your hands dirty or bloody if needed is, especially in the world of Magical Academia. They’re socially intelligent and disenchanted with the system, not Evil, Albus. The Malfoy boy would be a lot less trouble if he had something to do besides practicing subject’s he’s bored with. Fratricide, perhaps. I’m kidding Albus! (he’s only sort of kidding. Maybe not murder. Just turn him into a toad and keep him as a familair in a bowl on the mantlepiece.)
He’d be so mad about the Chamber of secrets though. Potter! A Basilisk! Why didn’t you bring the head back up it’d be magnificent hanging over the great hall.
Oh I see.
Well why didn’t you go BACK? Perfectly good potion ingredients going to waste, doesn’t that brooding mop of a potions master teach you anything about looti- er, collecting spell components?
What if Harry just obliviated Voldemort and none of the death eaters knew it happened so Harry just went about living a normal life and Voldemort was confused as to why all these people in weird masks kept trying to talk to him
Gilderoy Lockhart Potter, you are named after a Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, who taught me the most important skill I ever needed to know.
people making all these nitpicks about Harry Potter canon and my only question is why didn’t we see people Cumberbatching Voldemort instead of calling him You Know Who like
“Oh no, it’s Moldywarts!”
“But we have to be careful because Toadybloat’s followers might hear”
“Ah yes the great and powerful Haggisplate”
“Refusal to say a name gives that name power, Harry. But mutilating the hell out of it to the point that people can’t take it seriously anymore strips that power away.”
“Vimeofail… Volvodoor… Vulvadynia… Fuck, what’s the Dark Lord’s real name again? I can’t fucking remember.”
tommy
Honestly during the battle of Hogwarts I feel immensely cheated at not having more Peeves v. Voldemort time because Peeves can’t die and is a complete asshole and I just really want that interaction in my soul of how furious Voldemort would be with Peeves for just existing. Voldemort can’t banish or kill Peeves so he would be trying to direct his Death Eater troops with Peeves floating three feet to the left repeating everything Voldemort says in a mocking high-pitched voice.
did anyone ever tell Sirius that Hermione set Snape on fire bc I feel like that would be a bonding moment
I don’t ship Drarry but with that being said, I will accept no other Drarry prompt than them stubbornly competing to outdo the other for the sheer drama.
It starts off when they’re still enemies in the Goblet of Fire. Draco makes a taunt about who Harry’s going to ask to the Yule Ball and how they must be from the worst of the worst lot and Harry rolls his eyes and says, “Well, fitting you say that, Malfoy, because I was going to ask you.” A perfect zing, Harry. 10/10.
But now the ball’s in Draco’s court and obviously he’s not going to pass up on the chance to humiliate the scarhead so he takes the most logical route of humiliation and calls out his bluff: “Fine, Potter, I reckon we’re going.”
But do you think Harry James Potter is just going to back down? That stubborn teenager is going to stare Draco down and say, “Reckon we are.”
Ron’s confused and Hermione’s confused and literally the entire castle is confused but Harry’s satisfied because he called out a bluffer’s counterbluff with a bluff of his own. And they just keep it up.
“I suppose you don’t even know how to dance, Potter?”
The furious teenager who spent years having to watch soapbox dramas with Mrs. Figg just glares at him in his stupid dress robes. “I know some things.”
“Prove it.”
“Fine.”
It’s like that for days until Draco makes the ultimate power move by inviting Harry to the Malfoy’s Annual New Years Eve Ball, taking out a Daily Prophet ad no less, because oh, oh, he’s got Potter now. He’ll never accept and he’ll be humiliated in front of the entire wizarding world. And do you think Harry’s just going to go down without a fight? God, no, he’s going to win whatever the hell this is because he’s Harry Potter, Draco better be worried, oh boy.
They’re still going at it six months later.
“Err—Malfoy?” Crabbe says. “Potter just sent you a dozen roses?”
“That son of a bitch! Send a box of chocolates. That’ll show him.”
“Um, Draco—?”
“I WILL NOT BE OUTDONE, PARKINSON!”