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thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

animatedamerican:

zero0000:

dreadpiratemary:

septimusprime:

thesanityclause:

twelvemonkeyswere:

prongsmydeer:

The most hilarious thing about the fact Buckbeak had a trial and lost is that later on JKR resolves the issue by having Hagrid take him in again and renaming him Witherwings. That’s literally all it took. What if in POA, Hagrid simply said, “Sorry, Buckbeak flew away.” 

“There’s a hippogriff right there, Hagrid.”

“A different hipprogriff.”

“I’m… pretty sure that’s the same hipprogriff.”

“Prove it.” 

no dna tests we die like scientifically underdeveloped societies

Prisoner of Azkaban continues to be the most frustrating book

Someone should have just adopted Sirius and started calling him Gerald.

Remus: Erm… this is our new order member, my… cousin Gerald. Gerald White.

“Mr. Lupin that is Sirius Black with glasses!”
“Oh come now Minister, Sirius Black doesn’t wear glasses. That wouldn’t make sense.”
“Well have Mr. White take off his glasses then!”
“He can’t he needs them to see.”

it got better

It’s honestly a miracle to me that wizarding society doesn’t collapse every other week because like

You’ve got this world full of people who can destroy whole buildings or turn people into beetles or make vehicles fly just by waving a stick at them

And there is literally no common sense

Anywhere to be found

Voldemort would never have had anyone find out he was back if he just went around calling himself Steve 

Okay, see, I thought I saved this post to comment on it but I’d like to bring up

The Minister would NEVER EVER disbelieve in Gerald White. He’d buy it hook line and sinker. The wizarding world would buy it hook line and sinker. The GOBLINS wouldn’t but wizards have been shown to be pretty blindingly clueless. Still, Gringotts would grudgingly give Sirius access to the Black fortune.

But, but, but, you know the one person

the one person

who Gerald White would drive AB-SO-LUTELY FUCKING BATSHIT?

Severus Snape.

Snape would do everything, EVERYTHING, to get people to believe that it’s Sirius. But the Order would ignore it (they accepted Sirius as Sirius before anyway) and Remus would just be so… so affronted.

‘Severus, he is my cousin.’

And Sirius would love it. He’d love the fact that Snape just hated it. He’d be the BEST DAMN GERALD WHITE EVER b/c Snape is doing everything from dropping veritaserum into his firewhisky to capturing a dementor in a box and releasing it on Sirius when he least expects it

That one causes problems for a bare minute because SHIT A DEMENTOR ATTEMPTED TO GIVE GERALD THE KISS MAYBE SNAPE IS RIGHT except Harry comes forward and is like ‘excuse me, I’ve never committed a crime and dementors are ALWAYS attacking me, I think they’re attracted to glasses’

and the magical community is like ‘shit, yeah, you’re right’

and just

Spare. Snape goes spare.

I WANT TO DRAW ALL OF THIS

I want to draw all of this as a mini comic so badly

@fr0st6yte @xtaticpearl

“That’s Sirius Black!”

“Honestly, Severus, you’re seeing him everywhere. Are you sure you aren’t obsessed with him?”

“He’s right there! Look at him! Are you blind?”

“Not really, though it seems that you must be. Blind in love.”

*Sirius outwardly smiling serenely while planning to take revenge on Remus for making him imagine this. Remus having the time of his life.*
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ink-splotch:

stories for the ladies of hogwarts, who cry, waver, giggle, trespass, and who deserve our respect all the same



overemotional: in defense of cho chang

Cho’s was not that kind of grief. Hers was the grief of the living. She was flying and learning and loving and, yes, crying. Cedric was not. Her pretty world, at fifteen, had been shattered. It was darker than anyone had ever warned her of, but she was growing into it. She was growing up. Sometimes that takes tears. 

Mourning is not selfless. We do not weep for the dead. We weep for the living–what could have been and the tragedy that is. We weep because our hearts are breaking. It is not selfless but neither are we. We are selves.

-

naive: in defense of hannah abbott

Hannah went out every few nights to breathe in green and work on her own projects. Sometimes Neville was there and sometimes he was away running defense lessons in the Room or, god forbid, sleeping. Sometimes they worked in companionable silence. Sometimes they talked about the DA, or wondered where Harry was. Neville told her about his disastrous early attempts with every non herbological magic. Hannah told him about her mother.

“This is where everything starts,” Professor Sprout had told them, back when Hogwarts was still a place of light, smiling under that frizzing grey hair. Professor Sprout had buried her hands in dirt and said, “This is what everything grows from. The ground up.”

Life is something you bury. Life is something you bury your hands in.

-

silly: in defense of parvati patil (in memory of lavender brown)

“Have you ever been Crucioed?” she asked.

The Auror opened his mouth to speak, but Parvati kept going, calm, dismissive: “I don’t mean in training, in a nice padded room with an instructor who will take you for beers after. I don’t even mean by some criminal in a dark alley when you don’t know if you’re going to make it to the end of the day. I mean have you ever been Crucioed in a classroom, in front of your sister and a bunch of terrified children. Have you ever been Crucioed by someone who enjoyed it, when you were expendable? Have you ever gasped yourself back to life when they were done and known the next morning you were going to walk right back in and sit at your desk, and wait, and hope it happened to you and not some kid half your size?”

The Auror had gone silent.

Parvati looked him over slowly. “I have been an object lesson in disobedience from people I couldn’t get away from. I have watched children scream, and done nothing, because I was in a war and it wasn’t strategic and they were soldiers too. They would survive. And most of us did. But we are not the same as we were. You will respect our war.”

-

lost: in defense of ginny weasley

She and Harry had both done what Voldemort could not—died and come back. Harry sacrificed, a lion’s death giving him a lamb’s rebirth. Ginny was risen in the Chamber of Secrets at the strike of a fang to a poisoned diary but she was not reborn then. Leaving the Chamber, she was as much a shade as Tom Riddle’s desperate ghost.

It was not Harry’s heroism, Ron’s desperation, her mother’s love, or her brothers’ toilet seat humor that brought her back (though the toilet seat helped). Ginny breathed deep at night. She wept. She remembered how to rage. She snuck out at night and stole each of her brothers’ brooms in turn. She took to the skies and brought herself back to life.

-

ugly: in defense of pansy parkinson

“Why are you here?” Parvati asked Pansy once. People asked her a lot, when they found her in Flourish and Blotts, or at work on the Prophet. Their eyes raked her, looking for green, for silver, for venom. Sometimes she’d smile back and let them see the danger.

“Because I’m not fifteen anymore,” said Pansy. “God, do you know what precious Potter Sr. got up to at school, the bully? But boys get to grow up to be men, you see, and us girls just grow up to be bitches.”

-

turncoat: in defense of andromeda tonks nee black

When Andromeda got married, it was in a dress that was silver, not white. The guests called her luminescent, but her cousin Sirius, who spun her with comical and affectionate abandon across the dance floor later that night, smiled, and said, “You thought green would be too obvious?”

“Too garish.”

“A snake changes it’s skin, but it’s still—”

“I’m not going to pretend I’m anything I’m not, cuz,” she said.

-

wallflower: in defense of susan bones

You have to make things your own, laying out new earth or filling your too-small kitchen with song. You have to live in your skin. It’s worth living in.

Susie learned the lines of scar tissue on her arm, like cracks in a ceiling, like the specific pattern of fissures and gouges that made a place its own. She traced her fingers over the raised scars while she studied obscure legal texts in her first little office, and felt like she was flicking her wand, casting ward circles, like she was circling this and claiming this, calling it her own.

-

loony: in defense of luna lovegood

In the spare bedroom at Shell Cottage, Ollivander made Luna a new wand. They hiked, slowly, through windswept bluffs until he found a tree he approved of.

“Willow?” Dean asked. “Or reed? I mean, it’s Luna, she’s kinda bendy, isn’t she?”

Ollivander went on Transfiguring his toolset out of bits of driftwood and sea glass. Luna smiled back, wide.

Bend and bend and never break. She could almost touch the tip of the wand to its hilt, when he was done. Ollivander gave her some oil to rub into it to keep it supple and one day, after the war, Luna curved it into a perfect circle. She held it up to her eye and thought about the last riddle she had ever used to open up Ravenclaw’s tower. A circle has no end. 
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Hm. So you seem to be asking two different questions here, and you don’t seem to know that they’re different. They’re both interesting stories probably, but I think what I’d like to talk to you about here is that nonequivalence. 

You’ve asked for a dark!Ginny, one who secretly hates, who secretly relishes in pain or dismissal, one with a hidden superiority complex and a violence in her that’s cruel enough to match a young, arrogant Tom Riddle. The youngest of seven, forgotten and left behind, belittled, bitter, and the orphaned boy who orphaned so many more in his time. 

It’s not quite my type of story, that–my Ginny is not a kind beast, but she is not a cruel one either–but it could certainly be a story. 

But then–

Or basically: What if, Ginny was sorted into Slytherin?

This is not the same question. Did you know that? 

Slytherin, despite everything, does not mean evil. It certainly doesn’t mean that on my blog, but even in canon– this is where you find Regulus Black, who died to stop old Tom. This is where you find Draco Malfoy, who was an ignorant, whiny, and self-important child, but hardly an evil one. This is where you find Andromeda Tonks, who loved so hard and so fierce and so well that she ran from superiority, wealth, and family to marry into a Mudblood house that was so much warmer than her childhood home ever had been. 

And Slytherin!Ginny is a story that would fascinate me. The traits of Slytherin– ambition, cunning, adaptability, selfishness, and possessive love– these sit well on the youngest Weasley. She falls in love with Harry day one and never gives up on it. She transforms herself to step out from waiting in the eaves for him and lives for her own self, and it’s that bright creation of her daring self that wins him in the end. She goes after things with a single-mindedness that delivers– in love, in Quidditch, in kissing boys and defending Hogwarts until the end. She breaks rules. She loves hard. She doesn’t give up. She belongs in Gryffindor, sure– bravery is a watchword; her red hair is a war banner– but she would not be out of place in Slytherin. 

And what a story that would be? The silence in the Great Hall when the name “Weasley” got followed by “SLYTHERIN.” Mrs. Weasley’s face when owls flap through the Burrow’s windows, carrying Percy’s concerned note and Ron’s dubious scrawl and Hermione’s anxious ‘Dear Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, I’d thought you’d like to be informed…’ (Fred and George of course just laughed and laughed and laughed into the silence and fell off their bench at the Gryffindor table and got bruises on their bums.) The way the Weasley parents would stress and wonder and pace and ask what did we do wrong– but in the end, the warm Weasley Christmas sweater that would arrive in the mail at the Slytherin table, a G knitted into the front, all brilliant in silver and green. 

But the worries Ginny would have that first year, as the diary ate her from the inside, as it did cruel things with her hands–she’d have the same fears that are written up there in that ask as certainties: that being Slytherin meant she was secretly wrong. That her loneliness and her anger, her ambition and all her little selfishnesses meant she walked in the same skin as Tom, the ghost-boy who was using her hands to strangle chickens and write threats and hang cats by their tails and let out monsters so they could murder schoolchildren for the sake of their blood. She would worry she was like him and she would be wrong. 

But this is what I would want out of that story– that growth, that realization, that reclaiming. You can be lonely without lashing out. You can be angry without being cruel. You can be ambitious without stepping on other people to get there. Ginny is good– a Ginny with green on her herms is still good. She is sarcastic and a bit dark in her humor, casts a mean Bat Bogey and is jealous about Cho and fiercely defensive of Luna– this is true in a lion’s House or a snake’s. 

I want Fred and George playing Exploding Snap with her and teasing her for not cheering for them in Quidditch matches. I want her to find Millicent’s temper as hilarious as she finds Luna’s oddities, and to threaten a hex on anybody who calls Millicent fatty just as quick as she threatens the ones who call Luna loony. I want Harry to conscript her to help him spy on Draco and her to take to espionage like a duck to water– because you’re a Slytherin, he says, and she laughs and says, no, because I’m a nosy little sister and always have been. 

When Ginny stays her sixth year, during the Carrows’ reign and Voldemort’s months of power, I’d want her to spit cruel words at Death Eaters and to hide her wand up her sleeve, and to stand between children and their abusers. I’d want her to marshal an army in the Room of Requirement, with Luna and Neville and every other scared, willing soul. This was her home. These were her people, her family, the things she was willing to fight for. 

When they told her–their firebrand, their war banner–that she ought to have been in Gryffindor, I hope she laughed, I hope she fumed, I hope she proved them wrong. She was here for her friends, the way Regulus betrayed Voldemort for Kreacher, the way Narcissa lied to save Draco, the way Snape spent his adult life atoning for Lily, the way Andromeda left everything behind for Ted Tonks. 

I would want Ginny to wear green proud by the end of it. I’d want her to know the evil was in Tom’s shadow, not in her, not in the color they both wore. I’d want Hermione to look up histories for her of Slytherins who saved children and fought good wars and taught and loved and built things meant to last– because ambition is about going after what you want. What in that is evil? Selfishness is about understanding that you yourself have value. What in that is evil? Cunning is about creativity, quick-thinking, rolling with the punches and paying attention– what in that is evil?

Do you know the sort of evil you can do in the name of fairness? Do you know the sort of damage you can do with bravery, with not knowing how to back down, not knowing how sometimes there is a need to give, to adapt? Do you know how you can cut with cleverness, what sort of scornful superiority can live in those high towers? 

These are stories about choice. You choose your House. You choose how to live your House. Be brave, be cunning, be fair, be curious– all of those have their dark wizards. I refuse to believe otherwise. 
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did-you-kno:

With their powers combined, Twitter,
Tumblr, Reddit, and Imgur users found
‘Professor Snape’ working at a ‘muggle
airport’ in New York City. The photos of
Snape’s look-alike quickly went viral, so
American Airlines played along with the
joke, took a photo of him 'in character’,
and posted it to promote 'Flight 9¾’. Source Source 2 Source 3

Please open your bags and proceed to terminal nine hundred and thirty fouurrrr… 

OB…viously.
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prongsmydeer:

The most hilarious thing about the fact Buckbeak had a trial and lost is that later on JKR resolves the issue by having Hagrid take him in again and renaming him Witherwings. That’s literally all it took. What if in POA, Hagrid simply said, “Sorry, Buckbeak flew away.” 

“There’s a hippogriff right there, Hagrid.”

“A different hipprogriff.”

“I’m… pretty sure that’s the same hipprogriff.”

“Prove it.” 
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knockturnallley:

J.K. Rowling’s ‘Harry Potter’ illustrations
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tyrianterror:

roachpatrol:

nearly-headless-horseman:

totalnerd666:

her-my-oh-ne:

#can we just stop and appreciate Harry’s face in this scene? #I mean, he’s literally waiting for someone to say something about Hermione’s blood status #she’s the only Muggleborn in the slug club full of purebloods and well known people #and Harry’s there just like “say something I dare you” #and if you look at her face, you can see the actual hesitation and somewhat fear of what will happen next after telling of her parents occupation #Harry truly is acting like Hermione’s big brother, which I absolutely love #i just adore this scene

I love that Neville looks genuinely interested in what hermione’s talking about.

Harry: I wish a motherfucka would talk shit right now
Say something, make my day
Das right

Nevile looks like he’s just made a private mental note in flaming red ink: WHATEVER THE HELL A DENTIST IS, DON’T MESS WITH ONE. 

#this is a harry potter blog #seriously any profession that turns out a kid like hermione #must be utterly terrifying #neville finds out it involves rearranging people’s teeth with wires and drills #and drugs and scrapy knives #and is like AHA #I KNEW IT#I KNEW THEY WERE TERRIFYING #hermione granger: horrifying storm of a girl since day one #(so do the muggles have to be hunted down for that or does the government assign you targets) he asks her one day #she squints at him for a long time #’they volunteer’ she says eventually #neville shivers #muggles are HARDCORE

Including tags because oh my fucking god.
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lunalovegoodjunior:

hermionemollypeggypond:

Dumbledore, died at age 115

Horcruxes made: 0

Voldemort, died at age 71

Horcruxes made: 7

Conclusion: Voldemort was the most useless, magic dependant wizard that ever existed. He could have lived till like 200 if he just ate well and exercised, but no he had to go and split up his soul and ruin perfectly good jewellery, fucking dumbass.

this sounds like it was written by hermione granger at 1 am
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zhirley:

It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts.
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ron-is-awesome-sauce:

rosalui:

lupinatic:

fleamontpotter:

Something that really bothers me about people’s hatred towards Ron is that unless you grew up really poor you have no idea what it’s like and how much it affects you. Especially if you grow up poor surrounded by rich friends. The jealousy seriously eats you alive and the way Ron acted was perfectly understandable. 

Over twenty years later, I’ll still never forget the day one of my classmates told me to just ask my parents for more money, as though I was literally too thick to work out the obvious solution. Because in her world, it was that simple. Or the day my teacher gave me an ‘are you even trying for a believable lie’? look when I had to tell him my parents couldn’t afford to send me on a low-cost excursion. Or how for an entire school year, I had to wear a school uniform skirt so small it left angry marks on my waist every day, because my mother begged me to make it last just one more year. The day everyone thought it was hilarious to ruin my pencil case, and even more hilarious that I was so upset and claimed that my parents would be furious with me - LOL, that silly girl! They’ll just buy her a new one, it’s not that difficult! (Spoiler, they couldn’t and it was). And yeah, I had my fair share of second-hand underwear too, like another character who grew up in poverty. The utter shock I felt when I realized other families not only had air conditioning, but also used it regularly… the jealousy I felt when everyone else had nice formal wear and I had whatever my parents could manage to get… the list goes on and on. And that’s on top of a bunch of other struggles and disadvantages I had.

But to hear Ron critics talk, he was the worst person alive if he ever even dared to want nice things for himself instead of just nobly being happy other people had them. ‘Why is everything I own rubbish?’ is not a permissible attitude, not even for a moment.

I see a lot of people making fun/disapproving of how Ron is always stuffing his face with food and it INFURIATES ME.
When you grow up fucking poor you learn to take advantage of free food when you have it.
Asshats.

Also does anyone realize the sheer fortitude Ron had to have to invite Harry over to his house!?

I could not invite my better off friends over to my house because things were literally falling apart inside of it and my family didn’t have the means to fix it and it ate me up inside to not be able to have my best friend over to my house when I spent the better half of my teenage life sleeping over at her house because my parents and I didn’t want her to see how rundown the inside of our home was.

Ron was so nervous about what Harry would say about his house and was embrassed by the state of it but he saw Harry needed somewhere to stay and he opened up his home to him. People who have always been well off wouldn’t understand the magnitude of that action.

Ron is a damn treasure and anyone who hates him because of his jealousy can’t understand the deeper meaning behind it.
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sulietsexual:

buffy & harry || parallels [requested by @potterkid​]
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wingedcorgi:

they’re not nearly as sneaky as they think they are
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wicked-is-hella:

itseasytoremember:

I wonder if there are Quidditch “street rules” matches where everyone’s taking liquid luck and all spells are fair game

People have died and gone missing due to Quidditch as it is what are you doing
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“Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid.”
- Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (page 176) or as I like to call it: A summary of all seven Harry Potter books summed up in one sentence.  (via scribbledwriting)
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asherthealmighty:

coffeeinanebula:

sobforsirius:

the well known Harry Potter cycle

Step 1: thinking Snape is a bad guy

Step 2: thinking Snape is a good guy

Step 3: realising as you mature as a person that Snape was actually a terrible person after all and was an abusive bully who didn’t grown out of this stage even into his late 30s and an obsessive person who thought he was entitled to Lily just because she showed him friendship and no matter how many bias memories of his you are shown you will never see him in any different way 

unfortunately some people are still stuck in stage 2

Step 4: Realizing Dumbledore was manipulative and abusive as well and not the infallible person everyone believed him to be.

Step 5: Discovering that the only person as golden as their reputation portrayed and knew what the fuck was going on was Minerva McGonagall and she was amazing.
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piesandfalcs:

bowtruckle:

tbh the only evidence i need that harry’s a gryffindor is the fact that he kept going back to the forbidden forest after voldemort tried to kill him, aragog tried to eat him, lupin turned into a wolf and attacked him, the dementors tried to kiss him, barty crouch was murdered and turned into a bone, umbridge was kidnapped by centaurs,, boy had to die in that forest before he stopped going back

we have no evidence he stopped
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dalekofchaos:

fleamontpotter:

has anyone ever before been so comprehensively torn to shreds in their life tho

My favorite part about that line is that it implies that Gilderoy Lockhart was a more competent teacher than Dolores Umbridge. And that may be the biggest insult in the entire series.
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midoriko-sama:

the-chicken-is-not-amused:

artschoolglasses:

I will never forgive them for cutting out this scene.

Tumblr app doesn’t show this gif set but I already know what it is. No need to hesitate to reblog.

And he did this just before a road trip, stuck in the car with his parents asking what he was thinking.

The look of utter defiance Dudley gives Vernon as he steps over the fence though 

And how he does it really slowly as well as if to say “What you gonna do about it huh?”

The phone rings. It was an absurd wedding gift from his father in-law, and one which much to Harry’s surprise, had actually worked when he’d plugged it into the landline. Arthur had taken to phoning him on it, just for the pure novelty of the thing—though how they’d managed to get a BT engineer out to the Burrow without causing an incident, Harry doesn’t know. He’s not sure he wants to.

“Hello?”

“Uhm,, is this…is this the Potter residence?”

There’s a beat of silence as Harry adjusts the receiver against his ear, not quite sure he’s heard who he thinks he has. “…Dudley?”

“Yea…uhm, Harry?”

“Dudley.” Harry repeats numbly, turning to look at Ginny who is looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. “Uh…Christ, Dudley, hi how did…how did you find this number?”

There’s another beat of silence and the crackle of static that might have been a sigh or simply just the line breaking up. “Hi, sorry I know you probably…sorry this was stupid. I uh, I put your name in the computer and this was the only thing that came up.”

“Oh.” Harry breathes, still trying to recover his equilibrium. Ten minutes ago he’d been using his wand to clear away dinner, he’d been getting ready to sit down and read through some reports before putting the kids to bed, and now somehow, he’s talking to his muggle cousin who he hasn’t seen since… “How, how are you?”

“Good, yea” Dudley replies, seeming to rally, “You?”

“Yea, uh, doing well…”

The conversation lasts maybe a half hour, faltering and awkward. But they’re going for a coffee at the end of the week and Harry supposes…that’s…that’s a thing that is happening.

*

“Harry…”

Harry turns and looks up, and looks up some more at the looming figure blocking out the light. 

“Dudley,” he says, standing up and hoping the pang of something awful doesn’t show on his face. For a moment he thought he’d been looking at Vernon. “It’s good to see you.”

Dudley gives him a look that says he clearly knows Harry is lying, but is thankful for being humored. “You too, you’re looking good…”

They pass the  first few minutes with awkward pleasantries and even more awkward silences. But it’s…nice would be too strong a word, but it’s not bad either. He even manages to get a smile out of him when he calls him Big D, the other man shaking his head with a self depreciating eye roll.

“Dad died,” Dudley says after a while, and Harry feels an icy hot flash go down his spine, curdling in his gut.

“Oh,” he says, not quite sure how he’s supposed to feel about that, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Dudley snorts into his coffee. “Somehow I doubt it.” and it’s not accusing, but Harry still can’t help but feel like he should defend himself. The words they locked me in a cupboard are on the cusp of his tongue but Dudley gets there before him. “There’s a lot of things…looking back…lot of things…” and it’s not an apology, not really. “Took me a long time to realize certain things weren’t right…too long.” 

Harry nods at that, because yes, it had also taken him a long time too to understand the full of extent of what had gone on in 4 Privet Drive. He still doesn’t like tight spaces.

“You realize things though, when you have kids,” Dudley carries on, shaking his head, “Like they’re just kids, how can you do that to a kid? They need you for everything.”

And Harry can relate to that too. Lily is three and Ginny is pregnant again and James already has an alarming alacrity for finding trouble and with or without magic Harry doesn’t have enough hands to deal with it all. But he loves it, and he loves them, and the thought of anyone ever treating his children the way he remembers his first eleven years of life is enough to make the electric lights over their head flicker. 

“You’ve got kids?”

“Two,” Harry says, “third one on the way. You?”

“Nice. Just the one, so far.” He hands over his phone, the image of a bright young girl with dark skin and tight ringlet curls staring back at him from the grasp of Dudley’s arms. “Effie.” He smiles ruefully at Harry’s obvious surprise. “Dad wasn’t too happy about that either.”

“She’s gorgeous.” Harry says, handing the phone back and pulling out his own wallet to reveal the moving pictures inside. 

Dudley flinches a bit at that, but he guffaws broadly when he spies James. “Cor, he don’t half look like you. No glasses though.”

“No,” Harry says, pushing his own glasses back up his nose. “He’s got his mother’s eyes, thankfully.”

“Actually, Harry, there was something I was hoping we could…talk about.”

And ah, there it is. “What about?”

“It’s…it’s about Effie…”

And when he’s done talking Harry just wants to lean back and laugh and laugh and laugh, because of course Vernon Dudley’s granddaughter is a witch, of course she is. But he doesn’t, because Dudley is doing the one thing he can think of to try and help his child, and Harry can’t fault him for that.

*

They keep in touch after that. Christmas cards, postcards—gifts for the kids on birthdays. The year Effie turns eleven—the same as James—Harry drops a casually long thought out text into the familial void.

“Diagon A this weekend, if you’re up for it?”

The text comes back quickly, a little too quickly for the way Dudders pecks at his phone whenever Harry has seen him typing. “Snds gd, 1st pint on u ;-) - Big D 🍺🍺🍺👌👍”

It’ll be painfully awkward, it always is. But it’s something.
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the-goblin-cat:

arayewriter:

prongsno:

sirius black getting so drunk one night that he transformed into padfoot and ate everything that dogs cannot eat and he wakes up the next day and he’s like whAT THE HELL DID I dO and he’s on edge for the next couple of days crying ‘am i going to die’

 james has to remind him that he’s not really a dog but then remus is quiet for a second before going ‘but he ate it as a dog’ and they’re all like stumped for words until peter asks mcgonagall a ‘totally hypothetical’ question about eating things whilst in animagus form 

I bet all the Hogwarts teachers get an unreal amount of “totally hypothetical” questions from students.

“Hey Slughorn wtf’s a horcrux? Just for laughs”
-Voldemort
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HUFFLEPUFF: “The benchmark of a civilized society is the quality of its justice.” –Michael S. Chernuchin (Jack McCoy: Law and Order: Thinking Makes It So)
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