Tag: harry potter

marauders4evr:

riskpig:

bottledspirits:

riskpig:

congenitalprogramming:

the13thdoctorbetterbeginger:

riversnogs:

It is the year after the Battle of Hogwarts. School is starting again. And the thestrals are confused by all of the attention they are getting.

oh

oh no

you BITCH

WHY IS THIS NOT A THING I’VE CONSIDERED?

No. NO. Sit the fuck down, we’re going to talk about this.

The year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Students nervously climbing into the carriages (no first years, thank god, no one wants to think about that) and eyeing the creatures in front of them. Is this some sort of stunt? Like a memorial?

Hagrid showing the fifth years the thestrals. He wonders if he should, if this is asking too much, but he thinks it would be wrong to keep the truth from them. There are more in the class who can see them than those who can’t.

He wakes to a knock on his door after nightfall. For a second he thinks it’s those three again, but no, that’s not right. He shuffles to the door, holding Fang down behind him, and finds a wide-eyed second year on his doorstep. They came to ask about the horses.

Hagrid isn’t one to turn someone away, so he ushers the child inside and puts the kettle on. He explains they’re not quite horses. They’re gentle creatures, really. Yes, you have to…you have to have seen things to see them, too. But they wouldn’t do anyone harm.

Can he see them? Why, yes, he can, has for the longest time. Ever since his Dad…ever since…

Hagrid stops for a moment, unable to speak. But the child at his table waits patiently, understanding. This is not the first time they have heard someone’s voice catch on the words. It’s reassuring, somehow, hearing an adult share the same problem.

They drink a pot of tea before Hagrid sees the kid back to the school, Fang loping along beside them. It’s reassuring to have these two massive, almost comical forms tromping to the front door. Safe.

Hagrid warns not to go out after dark again. If you want to visit, come along any time in the day.

The next time he opens his door, there are three. Third years, this time. They know a little more, more than they ought to, he thinks. Makes him feel nostalgic.

He sits them down as before and has a long talk. They’re less open, keep glancing at each other as they speak, but he can see they have questions. It’s just a matter of waiting them out.

This goes on for weeks. Hagrid sees a steady stream of students at his door until he’s sure at least half the school has walked across his mat at some point. One day McGonagall approaches him and suggests a change in the curriculum. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to move a few things up on the syllabus? If he’s willing, of course.

Hagrid leads more students into the forest. He sees their faces, eyes wide with fear, as they see the creatures in the light of day. He patiently explains that they’re quiet animals, don’t much like a lot of noise. Easier to manage, certainly. That’s why they pull the school carriages.

He finds taking them once isn’t enough. Students keep asking to see the thestrals. Bewildered, he takes them back again and again, watching as the kids sidle up to stroke the long, black wings. They hold out bits of meat to the sharp beaks and whisper calming words under their breath.

Gradually, the looks of fear subside into something else. More than once he hears someone say these things are all right. Kids show up at his doorstep to ask about what he does and what kinds of animals he’s seen. Someone even says they might like to be a teacher like he is someday.

He doesn’t know what to say to that. His eyes glisten and he makes a sound like a trumpet as he blows his nose. He hears a giggle when he knocks over the umbrella stand with his elbow.

Things have changed, he thinks. He leads children into the forest because they ask, not because they’ve been punished. Students are clambering to get into his classes when it used to be seen as a last resort. People don’t stare up at him with suspicion or fear when he walks the halls these days.

They aren’t afraid of monsters anymore. They fear the people who become them.

holy shit, woman

 d u d e

Plot twist

whimsicaldragonette:

ship-builder1:

jathis:

fuckyeahcommunity:

nevillexharry:

cecyhherondale:

becauseimdivergent:

Harry Potter wakes up in hospital.
“Welcome back. You’ve been in a coma for 8 years” says the doctor. “You ran face first into a wall lmao”

NO

Plot Twist: 

Mrs Weasley makes all her kids volunteer at the hospital, and she encourages ron to go talk to the coma patient who’s his age that no one ever visits

hermione is a smart girl who volunteers to read to coma patients in the hospitals

at first ron is like “back the fuck off, this is my gig” cause he’s 11 and he doesn’t like girls yet, but soon the two of them start to get along, and they talk to each other and pretend to include comatose harry in the conversation.

and ginny, who is still totally a badass, but also a hopeless romantic, kisses him like he’s sleeping beauty and might wake up

they both get weirdly protective of the boy the same age as them, who’s been in a coma for so long, and get really mad when the Dursleys decide to pull the plug

(petunia actually feels bad about it, because she did love her sister and harry is all there is left of her)

so ron and hermione hatch this elaborate scheme to keep harry alive by moving him around the hospital, so the doctors can’t ever find him

they get caught, and harry gets taken off life support and monitor gives out one long beep, and he’s dead

and then suddenly his heart starts beating again, and he blinks is eyes and sits up and goes “Ron? Hermione? …you don’t look how i pictured…”

and it turns out that harry really did have a lot of money left to him by his parents, and if he’d died the dursleys would have gotten all of it (vernon’s evil plot, prolly), but it’s 8 years later and he’s legal and gets all of it

but Mrs. Weasley totally takes him in because all of the weasley have grown fond of him over the years, despite never really getting to know him.

PS: hagrid was the janitor that talked to harry during the night shift

PPS: snape was the orderly who was always a little too rough with harry when cleaning him up or changing his sheets, because he didn’t give a fuck the kids in a coma, but then was surprisingly helpful to ron and hermione when they were trying to keep harry alive

*slams fist on table* YES

Neville visits his parents who are patients in the same hospital. Sometimes he sits and talks to Harry.

And Dumbledore was an old patient at the hospital who has brain problems and always found his way into Harry’s room, and would always say weird, but helpful stuff to Harry

this is… mildly disturbing. So… where does Draco come in? @thievinghypocrite? @fleetofshippyships? @deliciouslystickypersona?

prismatic-bell:

cinematicnomad:

aplatonicjacuzzi:

crazybutperfectlysane:

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.

Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.

Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.

Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).

Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.

Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.

Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.

Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”

Imagine Harry returning with Warrington’s body, and the crowd realizes what’s happened, but Warrington’s parents don’t show up. There’s no one to mourn him, to cradle him in their arms and cry for their son. The Slytherins know why. His parents were Death Eaters, too.

Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.

Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter. 

Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.

Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.

Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.

Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.

Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.

Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.

Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.

Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.

Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.

Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.

Imagine

a Cassius Warrington statue made in his honor, the first Slytherin to fight and die nobly with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in the face of ultimate evil. He was a true Slytherin, and it’s in his name that Slytherin children and their families have cut all ties with the Death Eaters, denounced Voldemort, and are finally living in peace.

#i do enjoy cedric #but this would have been immensely wonderful in many ways (via batty4u)

Imagine a story in which Harry wasn’t in love with his fellow champion’s girlfriend, but after her boyfriend’s death just hugs her so long, so hard, and says “he wanted to win for you. You should know–you should know he won, he did it for you” and gives her the best hug and shoulder he knows how to be because her parents aren’t there either and she must know why.

Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing. 

Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.

Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.

The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.”  Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted. 

The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of  Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway.

The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.

Imagine it.

Source: princess-bel

nerdhades:

but do you think harry ever does little hardly noticeable james or lily things, small things way beyond their looks, like doodling absently on his margins while staring off unfocused, one hand propped up on his chin, or biting his thumb to hide a grin, or scratching his left eyebrow when he’s in Thinking Mode, or sliding his glasses up with his knuckles or cursing at inanimate objects whenever he stubs his toes

do you think remus saw harry cracking his knuckles against the desk, brow furrowed in concentration or that sirius saw how he always sipped his tea even though he knew it was still too hot and scrunched up his nose,do you think scabbers noticed how he always fell asleep with one arm hanging crookedly off the bed, do you think they smiled, a fond unrecognized emotion at those little things, before they remember james cursing colorfully at the beds and trunks in the dormitory or lily holding her burnt tongue out with a displeased whine and feel like they’ve simultaneously been hugged by their friends again and punched in the gut?