Silvermoonphantom

Making a masterlist

fitzylovesjemma:

brutereason:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.
She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 
(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)
But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.
Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”
She didn’t really know who Harry was. 
But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.
He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.
Val wanted to go.
Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.
Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.
"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"
Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.
"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"
Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.
But they moved.
Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.
She knew what she was now.
(Image Source)
(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I just…want to read the entire seven-book series.

I haven’t even finished Harry Potter and I want this.

fitzylovesjemma:

brutereason:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.

She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 

(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)

But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.

Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”

She didn’t really know who Harry was. 

But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.

He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.

Val wanted to go.

Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.

Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.

"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"

Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.

"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"

Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.

But they moved.

Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.

She knew what she was now.

(Image Source)

(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I just…want to read the entire seven-book series.

I haven’t even finished Harry Potter and I want this.

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boys-in-leather-straps:

OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM SCREAMING AT MY COMPUTER SCREEN WHY THE HELL WASN’T THIS SHOT?? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW COOL THIS WOULD’VE BEEN?? OR HOW MUCH THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THESE THREE AVENGERS WOULD’VE EVOLVED, OR THE DEVELOPMENT THAT CLINT’S CHARACTER WOULD’VE HAD?? IMAGINE THE STRAIN IN THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN NAT AND CLINT WHEN NAT HAD GONE HELPING CAP WHILE CLINT HAD TO HUNT THEM BOTH DOWN

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????????

sourcing this shit so you can see it for yourselves[x]

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ohcaptainmycaptain1918:

Steve Rogers has a “tell” - a bashful, modest little tell. This shit is now canon, people. I expect to read about it in your fanfiction now.

(Source: buckysdildo)

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… “You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could’ve called Fawkes to you.” That’s the very first thing Dumbledore thanks and praises Harry for. Not for rescuing Ginny, or saving the school from the basilisk, or for keeping Voldemort from coming back, but for loyalty.

Dumbledore judges the people he works with based first and foremost on how loyal they are to him. Not because he thinks he’s all that, but because, as I said, he views people as game pieces, and you can’t have your game pieces acting up, can you? He values his pieces. He wants to advance and protect them. But he doesn’t want them running off beyond his sphere of influence and doing their own thing. I think there’s something very ambiguous about Dumbledore’s habit of seeking out desperate, socially outcast people and doing them one or two huge favors that leave them bound to him for life. Remus, Hagrid and Snape all fit that pattern, and Trelawney and Firenze appear to join the ranks in OOP. It kind of makes me wonder what Dumbledore has done for Fletcher, Moody and Shacklebolt.

…The problem with Sirius is, he’s not loyal to Dumbledore at all; he’s loyal to Harry. From Dumbledore’s point of view, it’s as if he’s playing wizard chess, and one of the knights suddenly decides that he doesn’t care what happens to the king, he’s just going to take care of that little pawn on the left. So Dumbledore does the only thing he thinks he can do — he sticks his recalcitrant knight into a safe, isolated corner of the board and keeps him from making any moves. Perfectly sensible and strategically sound, as long as you don’t expect your game pieces to have any pesky emotions or psychological issue that need to be taken into account.

…Dumbledore’s actions at Hogwarts are another symptom of his general approach. He doesn’t treat it just as a school, but also as an instrument in his strategy. People like Snape, Hagrid and Trelawny — all lousy teachers, in very different ways — are given their jobs as perks, because of their past of future usefulness to the Order, and because it strengthens their bonds of loyalty to Dumbledore.

OTOH, look at Lupin, who is a talented teacher. Why wasn’t he hired before Harry’s third year, especially given the difficulty of finding qualified DADA professors? My theory is that Dumbledore didn’t consider it necessary. As far as he knew, Lupin was already totally loyal simply because Dumbledore had allowed him to attend Hogwarts. There was no need to bribe him with a job. He was hired only when his familiarity with Sirius became an important factor. Once Sirius proved not to be a threat, Lupin was allowed to resign…

Thoughts on Dumbledore by marinarusalka, from hp-essays (via pottersir)

THIS IS SO GREAT AND SO INTERESTING AND EVEN MORE SO WHEN YOU LOOK AT SNAPE’S STORYLINE AND HERE’S WHY

Just look at Dumbledore’s behavior in The Prince’s Tale - especially at the contrast between before and after Snape agreed to help him defeat Voldemort. There’s so much emotional manipulation, so much that Dumbledore is doing to keep Snape on his side.

“That is why – it is for that reason – he thinks it means Lily Evans!”

“The prophecy did not refer to a woman,” said Dumbledore. “It spoke of a boy born at the end of July – ”

“You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down – kill them all – ”

If she means so much to you,” said Dumbledore, “surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?”

“I have – I have asked him – ”

You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little, “You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?”

That line, the “you disgust me” line is SO IMPORTANT. Contrary to popular belief, Dumbledore doesn’t find Snape’s obsession love for Lily beautiful; he finds it disgusting - and understandably so. Because she “means so much” to Snape that he’s willing to sacrifice her family, and therefore happiness, in order to keep her alive. And, frankly, that’s gross. Dumbledore agrees.

“Hide them all, then,” he croaked. “Keep her – them – safe. Please.”

And what will you give me in return, Severus?

“In – in return?” Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, “Anything.”

Aaaaaand Dumbledore gets himself the perfect soldier - someone who is willing to do anything.

“I thought…you were going…to keep her…safe…”

“She and James put their faith in the wrong person,” said Dumbledore. “Rather like you, Severus. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?”

Also really important. Dumbledore was supposed to protect her, keep her alive, and it didn’t work out and that greatly puts Snape’s loyalty at risk. So what does Dumbledore do? Deflect. He places the blame on Snape and Voldemort here - which, I’m pretty much with him here because Snape did tell Voldemort the prophecy and Voldemort did personally kill the Potters. But this isn’t about that. This is strategy. Keep Snape guilty and keep the blame off Dumbledore by having this whole “well there was nothing I could do” stance and thereby keep Snape both vulnerable and loyal. Make Voldemort the real enemy, someone that Snape would be willing to do anything to fight against at all cost.

“Her boy survives,” said Dumbledore.

With a tiny jerk of the head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly.

“Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?

“DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone…dead…”

“Is this remorse, Severus?”

“I wish…I wish I were dead…”

“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.

Okay so Dumbledore is definitely using Snape’s love for Lily against him - I think we can all agree with that. I mean look at how he’s referring to her as “Lily Evans” rather than as her married name, “Lily Potter.” Dumbledore has a very tough sell here; he wants Snape to help him protect the child of someone Snape loves and someone he hates. So he takes James out of the equation and it’s all about Harry’s eyes and how much they look like Lily’s and Evans. And then he takes Snape’s love and gives it a purpose.

“You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.”

“He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone – ”

“The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.”

There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, “Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear…especially Potter’s son…I want your word!”

My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape’s ferocious, anguished face.

Before it was disgusting, but now that Snape’s agreed to help him, has pledged his loyalty, Snape’s love is now ~the best part of him~

“ – mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent – ”

“You see what you expect to see, Severus,” said Dumbledore, without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today . “Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likable, and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child.”

Dumbledore turned a page, and said, without looking up, “Keep an eye on Quirrell, won’t you?”

Snape is only seeing James’ worst qualities in Harry (which tbh first year Harry definitely did not have) so Dumbledore brings up qualities that were, actually, found in and associated with Lily to placate him. Because Dumbledore’s biggest challenge is to make Snape forget that James is Harry’s father. He then follows this up with a request.

“Karkaroff’s Mark is becoming darker too. He is panicking, he fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell.” Snape looked sideways at Dumbledore’s crooked-nosed profile. “Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns.”

“Does he?” said Dumbledore softly, as Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies came giggling in from the grounds. “And are you tempted to join him?”

“No,” said Snape, his black eyes on Fleur’s and Roger’s retreating figures. “I am not such a coward.”

“No,” agreed Dumbledore. “You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon…

He walked away, leaving Snape looking stricken…

Whether you believe it or not, both Sirius and Remus have said that Snape was jealous of James - of his popularity, his talents, all the glory he received, etc. And a lot of those things are perks from being a brave Gryffindor rather than an “evil” Slytherin. Dumbledore is capitalizing on that, on Snape’s secret desires. He’s manipulating Snape because wow he thinks he’s brave, he thinks he’s brave enough to even be a mighty Gryffindor - something I’m sure no one has even told him before. Something he’d never admit to secretly reveling in because he grew up unloved and unwanted. But it keeps him loyal, keeps him close to Dumbledore.

“I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus.”

The power of being complimentary, my friends, is not focused on enough. (And I’m not trying to take away from the fact that Snape is a talented wizard, because I do think that, but Dumbledore is so totally manipulating him come on. What makes me say that? Because not long afterwards does he segue into asking Snape to kill him)

“In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have,” said Dumbledore. “Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?

There was a short pause.

“That, I think, is the Dark Lord’s plan.”

Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?

“He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes.”

“And if it does fall into his grasp,” said Dumbledore, almost, it seemed, as an aside, “I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts?

Snape gave a stiff nod.

Great, Dumbledore has not only a spy, but an heir.

“He is his father over again – ”

In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother’s. I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late.”

Harry actually shares plenty of traits with James - and based on how he’s spoken of James in the past, Dumbledore liked him. (And why wouldn’t he? Not only is James amazing jkalsdsalkdjasldaskdh but he was very loyal to Dumbledore) So this is for Snape’s benefit. Again, he’s keeping him under control by bringing Lily into the equation and make Harry worthy enough, in Snape’s eyes, to protect.

“Information,” repeated Snape. “You trust him…you do not trust me.

“It is not a question of trust. I have, as we both know, limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do.”

“And why may I not have the same information?”

I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.”

“Which I do on your orders!”

“And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger in which you place yourself, Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you.

“Yet you confide much more in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency, whose magic is mediocre, and who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord’s mind!”

Dumbledore is clearly making Snape angry and I don’t think it’s necessarily intentional. But I do think he’s trying to make sure that Snape desires and values his trust over Voldemort’s. I mean, I’m sure he’s double checked that he has Snape’s loyalty before, but it’s safe to keep checking every now and then. But then this happens:

Snape looked angry, mutinous. Dumbledore sighed.

“Come to my office tonight, Severus, at eleven, and you shall not complain that I have no confidence in you…”

MUTINOUS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT WORD. DUMBLEDORE IS AT RISK OF LOSING THE BEST AND MOST ESSENTIAL PIECE TO HIS GAME, HIS MVP, SO HE HAS TO REEL HIM BACK IN.

“So the boy…the boy must die?” asked Snape quite calmly.

“And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential.”

Another long silence. Then Snape said, “I thought…all those years…that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.

Snape is currently reevaluating his life and all of his choices. Because he thinks, if not for Lily, then what is the point of protecting Harry Potter? Why is he fighting this war? Why is he on Dumbledore’s side?

“We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength,” said Dumbledore, his eyes still tight shut. “Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.”

Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified.

“You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?”

“Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?”

“Lately, only those whom I could not save,” said Snape. He stood up. “You have used me.

Indeed he has! And after all this time, you’ve finally caught on!

“I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter – ”

Uh-oh no longer Lily Evans - now she is Potter, now she and everything that’s a part of her (i.e. her son) is tainted by James. Still worth protecting? Still worth sacrificing and risking so much for? Apparently yes because this happens:

“But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?”

For him?” shouted Snape. “ Expecto Patronum!”

From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.

“After all this time?”

“Always,” said Snape.

Okay so obviously, if you hadn’t already caught on, Snape isn’t doing all of this for the cause or because he’s repenting for being a Death Eater. It’s all for Lily. The woman he helped kill. I beg you to not find that romantic. Remember Dumbledore’s "you disgust me"? That’s pretty much how I feel about Snape, and I suspect that Dumbledore still feels that way. Because, as valuable as he is, Snape has not changed. And I guess it doesn’t bother him at all if he’s risked and sacrificed so much for a child who will die anyway if it was all for her.

After all this time, you still do not see the value of protecting an innocent child? Always. After all this time you still cannot let go of a woman who never loved you romantically? Always. After all this time, you’re still fighting against Voldemort because he killed Lily and not because you believe in muggle-born rights? Always. Dumbledore had to have known this - I mean he’d been using Snape’s love for Lily against him for how long? But I’m sure it still saddened him.

Anyway, “The Prince’s Tale” is a brilliant example of Dumbledore’s manipulation and how he used it to win a war. This is where we see him really in action - and it’s fascinating. Because this is the power of loyalty - how Dumbledore could get a Death Eater so firmly on his side that he continues to do Dumbledore’s work for him after his own death. That’s powerful.

And that’s why Voldemort’s fucking scared of him. I’m kind of scared of him.

(via comealongraggedypond)

(Source: pottersir)

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notyourexrotic:

kitten-pants:

tinasus:

notyourexrotic:

HP Goblet of Fire Headcanon: Beauxbatons was primarily a Muslim wizarding school.

(photo from livesandliesofwizards, which was the first thing I thought of when I ran into this passage while rereading the Harry Potter books)

(and yes I know the horses drink whisky, which is not exactly halal, sshhh)

Its was french. It s
Was so clearly french.

Literally French. …….

….
.

Because French Muslims do not exist and no Muslims ever speak French and Muslim schools don’t exist in France and if they do they must be really shitty and there are no key Muslim educators in France at all and there’s never been any history of Islamic culture and politics in the Pottermore-confirmed Pyreenes, nooooooo, it is très impossible! Astagfirrulah!

except…NO.

learn some fuckin’ social studies and history and current affairs, people.

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anghraine:

friendly reminder that Harry Potter

  1. at eleven, was described by his teachers as ‘bright’
  2. at the same age, according to the Sorting Hat: “Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes” and “You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head”
  3. mastered the challenging Patronus Charm at thirteen and proceeded to teach it at fifteen
  4. resisted the Imperius Curse at fourteen and soon learned to throw it off completely, even when cast by the incredibly powerful Voldemort
  5. also at fourteen, learned to cast a powerful Accio Charm
  6. at fifteen, was training other students
  7. at the same age, under extreme stress, tested as ‘exceeds expectations’ or ‘outstanding’ in every subject that required actual magic (including the dreaded Potions)
  8. same age, cast a briefly effective Cruciatus Curse
  9. at sixteen, became a star Potions student simply by following superior instructions
  10. at seventeen, successfully cast the Imperius Curse on his first try, and used it repeatedly
  11. at the same age, cast a successful Cruciatus Curse

Read More

castielangelofthetrenchcoats:

inexorablyacademic:

sodomymcscurvylegs:

cameralinz:

“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?” The whisper was barely audible; her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers. “Yes,” he breathed back. He felt the hand on his chest contract; her nails pierced him. Then it was withdrawn. She had sat up. “He is dead!” Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers.

In the end, Voldemort’s fate twice came down to the choice of a woman, a mother.

Rock ‘n roll.

Harry Potter as a series repeatedly tells us never to underestimate a mother’s love. Lilly’s love for Harry nearly killed Voldemort the first time, Narcissa’s love for Draco set him up for his real death, and Voldemort’s greatest general was killed by Molly, a mother who loved all of her children and feared losing any more to the magical war.

Bitches. Get. Stuff. Done.

   (via)

I VIOLENTLY ACCEPT THAT HEADCANON

(Source: margaerystyrells)

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last-snowfall:

deducecanoe:

ppyajunebug:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(Image source.)
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

I think… I could be wrong… but everyone Prof Trwylany (sp) said would die at the beginning of every term DID die in the battle of hogwarts? BUt yeah. The year after that was probably filled with grand speeches about those who sacrificed their lives, and how they would rebuild hogwarts, etc. meanwhile… the kids knew. They were there. They knew what it was really like. And the incoming first years probably had a very different relationship with the older kids, who’d seen shit, than in years past. I think there’d be a long year of seriousness and severity… or everyone would try to put on a happy face and pretend that Colin Kreevy wasn’t working on the school paper any more because he was dead. Stiff upper lip. But with a very subdued attitude.

Imagine the seventh years who came back. Because nobody finished their seventh year. That year was a loss. But the ones it really mattered for were them. Imagine the older kids who are up in the night because they can’t sleep for bad dreams hearing the crying from the lower dorms and finding that little girl who can’t make pincushions but can make Fiendfyre hugging her knees, and saying, “You know what, bring your pillow up, you can sleep on my bed while I read.” Imagine the new first years, the ones who hear the story on the train, who’re eleven and still young, seeing an older student sitting alone staring blankly and going over to them and saying, “D’you want some of my chocolate frogs?” because they can’t think of anything else to do. Imagine one finding someone who’s sitting staring at nothing one day and asking in a quiet voice, “Do you need a hug?” and then staying for an hour while the older student cries and cries and hugs them, because some eleven year olds are really smart (and some eleven year olds already came to the school from Bad Shit) and know that sometimes it helps to hold someone you could look after. Imagine the older students who look at these younger ones coming in, all new and safe and bright, and swearing on Merlin’s grave that nothing will ever, *ever* hurt these kids. Imagine the alumni of Dumbledore’s Army, who refused to let the fucking Death Eaters win when they were here and kicking and sure as she won’t let them now, finding things to do on weekends, organizing things, refusing to have it so that people just stay there alone being sad. Fuck the third-year rule: *everyone* can go to Hogsmeade, you just buddy up the young kids with the older kids and I mean, fuck, *who’s going to be a threat to the older kids now*?Imagine them making up insulting nicknames for their old enemies, taking Voldemort and the Carrows and Lestrange and metaphorically spitting on them every time they use them. Imagine Ron volunteering to take on the Boggart that takes up residence in the one class cupboard because no, look, the stupid thing *still looks like a bloody spider* and look it’s fucking hilarious when you take its legs off and tie it up with a bow. And the class laughs. Imagine Harry staying at the school for a couple years, even when he’s done, because once people understand how the charm worked - how because he let Voldemort kill him it meant that nothing Voldemort could do could hurt any of them anymore - everyone just feels *better* when he’s there. Imagine the nights where everyone leaves the common rooms and camps out in the Great Hall and drinks Butterbeer and tells stories and cries and sometimes there are shouting matches because people get so raw, but in the end everyone falls asleep in a pile together. Imagine all the really, truly inappropriate jokes the survivors make, the ones that make their parents’ eyes fill with tears and terrify the first years, because actually when you’ve been dragged face-first through Hell the *worst shit* becomes fucking funny. Imagine how the owls don’t have to be kept in the owlry anymore, because every kid needs the animal they brought with them; imagine that for the kids that lost theirs, or never had one, their friends finding them some, buying them some. Imagine the girl who knows the Cruciatus Curse breaking down crying because she can’t believe she did that, she can’t ever believe she would and she knows she’s wrong and evil and tainted, and Ginny holding her while she cries and when she calms down, Hermione tells her the story of Regulus Black, and about how just because you made shit choices once that doesn’t mean you can’t make better ones now. Imagine that people have been dealing with this kind of horrible shit all through human history, and people are out there dealing with it today, and yes it absolutely sucks and it’s horrible and the scars it leaves are real and heartbreaking and sometimes people are too badly hurt to go on, but also former child-soldiers play team games and laugh at funny stories and refugee kids with horrible stories love colouring books with bright colours and play games with the friends they’ve made in the camps. And these are kids who fought. Who fought like little demons. Who *chose* to fight. So yeah, it could be awful. It could be nothing but bleak from beginning to end, a year (a decade) of sternness and unhappiness. But it doesn’t have to be; it isn’t guaranteed. (and as @tygermama notes, we Muggles have been figuring out this shit: we give it names and throw our best guesses at it, and some of them are good. So there’s help there, too.)

last-snowfall:

deducecanoe:

ppyajunebug:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure

But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.

Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.

Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.

Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured by their classmates for having been born.

Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)

Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.

Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?

Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.

Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.

Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.

Imagine the ghosts.

Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)

Imagine the students unable to trust each other everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.

Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.

Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.

Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.

Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.

Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.

Imagine the students who leave the wixen world hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.

Imagine the students who never use magic again.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

I think… I could be wrong… but everyone Prof Trwylany (sp) said would die at the beginning of every term DID die in the battle of hogwarts? BUt yeah. The year after that was probably filled with grand speeches about those who sacrificed their lives, and how they would rebuild hogwarts, etc. meanwhile… the kids knew. They were there. They knew what it was really like. And the incoming first years probably had a very different relationship with the older kids, who’d seen shit, than in years past. I think there’d be a long year of seriousness and severity… or everyone would try to put on a happy face and pretend that Colin Kreevy wasn’t working on the school paper any more because he was dead. Stiff upper lip. But with a very subdued attitude.

Imagine the seventh years who came back. Because nobody finished their seventh year. That year was a loss. But the ones it really mattered for were them.

Imagine the older kids who are up in the night because they can’t sleep for bad dreams hearing the crying from the lower dorms and finding that little girl who can’t make pincushions but can make Fiendfyre hugging her knees, and saying, “You know what, bring your pillow up, you can sleep on my bed while I read.”

Imagine the new first years, the ones who hear the story on the train, who’re eleven and still young, seeing an older student sitting alone staring blankly and going over to them and saying, “D’you want some of my chocolate frogs?” because they can’t think of anything else to do.

Imagine one finding someone who’s sitting staring at nothing one day and asking in a quiet voice, “Do you need a hug?” and then staying for an hour while the older student cries and cries and hugs them, because some eleven year olds are really smart (and some eleven year olds already came to the school from Bad Shit) and know that sometimes it helps to hold someone you could look after.

Imagine the older students who look at these younger ones coming in, all new and safe and bright, and swearing on Merlin’s grave that nothing will ever, *ever* hurt these kids.

Imagine the alumni of Dumbledore’s Army, who refused to let the fucking Death Eaters win when they were here and kicking and sure as she won’t let them now, finding things to do on weekends, organizing things, refusing to have it so that people just stay there alone being sad. Fuck the third-year rule: *everyone* can go to Hogsmeade, you just buddy up the young kids with the older kids and I mean, fuck, *who’s going to be a threat to the older kids now*?

Imagine them making up insulting nicknames for their old enemies, taking Voldemort and the Carrows and Lestrange and metaphorically spitting on them every time they use them.

Imagine Ron volunteering to take on the Boggart that takes up residence in the one class cupboard because no, look, the stupid thing *still looks like a bloody spider* and look it’s fucking hilarious when you take its legs off and tie it up with a bow. And the class laughs.

Imagine Harry staying at the school for a couple years, even when he’s done, because once people understand how the charm worked - how because he let Voldemort kill him it meant that nothing Voldemort could do could hurt any of them anymore - everyone just feels *better* when he’s there.

Imagine the nights where everyone leaves the common rooms and camps out in the Great Hall and drinks Butterbeer and tells stories and cries and sometimes there are shouting matches because people get so raw, but in the end everyone falls asleep in a pile together.

Imagine all the really, truly inappropriate jokes the survivors make, the ones that make their parents’ eyes fill with tears and terrify the first years, because actually when you’ve been dragged face-first through Hell the *worst shit* becomes fucking funny.

Imagine how the owls don’t have to be kept in the owlry anymore, because every kid needs the animal they brought with them; imagine that for the kids that lost theirs, or never had one, their friends finding them some, buying them some.

Imagine the girl who knows the Cruciatus Curse breaking down crying because she can’t believe she did that, she can’t ever believe she would and she knows she’s wrong and evil and tainted, and Ginny holding her while she cries and when she calms down, Hermione tells her the story of Regulus Black, and about how just because you made shit choices once that doesn’t mean you can’t make better ones now.

Imagine that people have been dealing with this kind of horrible shit all through human history, and people are out there dealing with it today, and yes it absolutely sucks and it’s horrible and the scars it leaves are real and heartbreaking and sometimes people are too badly hurt to go on, but also former child-soldiers play team games and laugh at funny stories and refugee kids with horrible stories love colouring books with bright colours and play games with the friends they’ve made in the camps.

And these are kids who fought. Who fought like little demons. Who *chose* to fight. So yeah, it could be awful. It could be nothing but bleak from beginning to end, a year (a decade) of sternness and unhappiness. But it doesn’t have to be; it isn’t guaranteed.


(and as @tygermama notes, we Muggles have been figuring out this shit: we give it names and throw our best guesses at it, and some of them are good. So there’s help there, too.)

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5ummit:

Hawkeye vs. Deadpool #0

I really appreciated all the little nods to Clint’s deafness in this issue. I’m glad other writers are acknowledging it and it’s not just a temporary thing in Fraction’s run. I also enjoy the fact that Wade apparently knows sign language.

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hunting-walkers:

puppies—love—arts:

From left to right- Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Castiel, Lucifer, and Crowley. I used cat puns for all of them. ´・ω・`

hunting-walkers:

puppies—love—arts:

From left to right- Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Castiel, Lucifer, and Crowley. I used cat puns for all of them. ´・ω・`

(Source: puppiesl0vearts)

Permalink