#Harry potter questions

[loonyloopylupin96]

When Remus tells Harry "yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed" is he suggesting that transformative states aren't necessarily fixed?

Otherwise the use of 'always' is redundant, isn't it?

So, one day they're expecting a stag and suddenly it's "THERE'S A TIGER IN THE SHOWER?!?!" "Where's James?" "Oh my god it's eaten h- is that tiger laughing?"

[maxdibert]

Alright, it's established that wizards are considerably more resilient than Muggles, meaning they can withstand blows, injuries, etc., much better. So, a wizard crashing a car into a wall wouldn’t be turned into mush like a Muggle would—just badly hurt and that’s it.

But, for example, it’s clear that if you shoot a wizard, they’d probably endure bullets better than a Muggle. But what if you shoot them in the head? Like, this is a serious question, no joke, I’m not being ironic. I can understand that they might withstand firearms better in other parts of the body, but the head? Are you telling me that two shotgun blasts to the skull wouldn’t kill them?

And what about chemical weapons? Maybe they’re less likely to die if they step on a grenade—they’d lose a couple of limbs but could reattach them with magic and all that. But what happens with nuclear weapons? Or chemical weapons?

Rowling honestly owes me a lot of answers on this.

[sophiejacksonchase]

So I have this vauge thought that there is a rumor about Harry having a huge eagle tatto on his chest.

Now, is this in the books? Is this a famous headcannon? Is this fanart I saw once? Is this a dream I once had? I NEED ANSWERS!!

[a-person-7002]

I haven't been apart of the HP Fandom for a hot minute but questions that I randomly thought of today while trying to sleep:

A.) Accio. It's just an under used spell. Can you summon a human? For example: "Accio Voldemort!" *shank*

B.) How did Sirius find Harry in book 3? Like he escaped from Azkaban and found Harry just like that? I feel like that's a little weird.

C.) Let's just say that in a hypothetical situation, Sirius were to adopt Harry (common fanfic trope,) would that make Draco Harry's cousin? Technically Sirius is Dracos uncle. Right? And then if Harry is his son. Because the main ship of that trope is typically Drarry.

All Sirius (haha) questions. Please answer.

[soliloqueeer]

13 Questions Every Harry Potter Fan Should Be Able To Answer

Question 1: Which house do you belong to?

Ravenclaw. I'm curious, creative and introverted. But I would also be happy in Hufflepuff since I am, at the end of the day, baby.

Question 2: Which Deathly Hallow would you choose?

If I'm being honest with myself probably the stone, to have one final conversation with my mother who recently, and very suddenly, passed away.

If that hadn't happened then I would've chosen the invisibility cloak because I love the idea of not being perceived.

Question 3: Which Character do you have a (not so) secret crush on?

Interesting question. I had to pick someone compliant with their characterization in the books then I'd probably say I'm most attracted to Tonks or Sirius, or the Weasley twins. But if you saw my AO3 history you'd think Tom Riddle.

Question 4: What are your Indepth and controversial thoughts on Severus Snape?

I think that Severus is a very tragic character. He came from poverty, was abused and neglected by his parents. The only person to ever show him kindness was Lily. He was canonically ugly, weird, and had bad hygiene. He was bullied by two classist Gryffindors and craved power and vengence which led him down a dark path. He died a hero who was courageous and self-sacrificing but I don't think she-who-shall-not-be-named wrote a convincing enough redemption story, especially not one in which the hero would give one of his son's Severus's name. He was still a wholly miserable person who was stuck in the past and verbally abused the child of his former nemesis for six years.

My controversial thoughts surrounding Snape was that he was first and foremost a genius - a potions prodigy who literally crafted his own spells as a teenager.

There was an unequal power dynamic between Severus and the Marauders. He was a dirt poor half-blood and they were rich purebloods. There was never any equal footing between them and as much as he participated in the feud, it was always in retaliation to their cruelty. (I can say this without bashing Sirius and James as all people contain multitudes).

I also don't believe Severus was a bigot. I think there's a good chance he hated muggles, as a result of the abuse from his father, but I he was too smart to buy into the idea of blood supremacy when he, a half-blood, was smarter than most of his pureblood peers. And when Lily, a muggleborn, was at the top of their class.

One of the more controversial headcanons I have is that Severus was recruited into becoming a Deatheater, not because he believed in their agenda but because he was allured by the promise of power, influence and vengeance. I believe he probably moved up high in the ranks after graduating Hogwarts because he was cunning, ambitious, and committed to proving himself and gaining Voldemort's respect. I also believe during his time as a Deatheater he most likely had to commit horrible acts of violence and cruelty, and that while Severus does have a sadistic streak (one that gives him the allusion of power), he does not wish suffering upon innocent people. He probably dealt with these peforming these acts by compartmentalizing his responsibiltiies as a Deatheater and using occlumancy.

One final thing I want to add is that I don't think Severus was obsessed with Lily in a 4Chan, incel sort of way (in fact, he kind of gives off ace vibes). In my opinion, Lily was the only person to ever give him love, kindness and compassion, and while he was in love with her, he was above all else, completely wracked with guilt over being responsible for telling Voldemort about the prophecy. He agrees to protect Harry because he feels indebted to her until the day he dies.

Question 5: Who, In your Opinion, Is more evil: Voldemort or Dolores Umbridge.

What a funny question. The first thing that comes to mind for me is Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump and the discourse in 2015-17 about which politician was worse. Voldemort (like Trump) is honest about who is is and what he stands for (self-interest and accumulating power). Alternatively Umbridge (like Clinton) tries to create the perception that she is good and righteous.

Umbridge represents the banaltiy of evil. She's sadistic and abusive, even towards children -all while wearing a polite smile on her face. She has the same vibe as a Catholic nun who abuses people in the name of god, and for Umbridge it was about the rule of law.

However, Voldemort's evil can't even be measured on the same scale. He's a meglomaniac eugenicst willing to purge the world of things he deems inferior to him. He was inspired by dictators like Hitler and Stalin.

It's far easier to hate Umbridge because she's not honest about who she is, and we've met a figure of authority who's exactly like her. Voldemort by all accounts and purposes, was far more powerful, influential and destructive, but too grandiose to relate to.

Question 6: Which death in the series is the most heartbreaking?

Sirius, Fred, Remus, but especially Fred. It was cruel to take him away from George. I think it would've been more satisfying if Percy, as a way to redeem himself to his family, sacrificed himself to save his brother during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Question 7: What Quidditch position would you play?

I wouldn't. I'd probably be in the stands or take advantage of the school being empty and fuck around in the empty castle all day.

Question 8: What Wizarding Career would you pursue?

Probably a teacher or academic/Unspeakable as I love research. That or someone who paints the magical portraits.

Question 9: Which book in the series is you favourite?

PoA was always my favourite as a kid because I really loved Lupin's character, and hearing about the Marauders. The time-turner plot gives me an eyeroll now but the climax is still one of the most thrilling to me. We also got a taste of Powerful Harry, which actually never came to fruition, but I really loved the idea that Harry was a very exceptional wizard who was coming into his powers and not just an every-man character.

Question 10: Who should have ended up together? Hermione/Ron or Hermione/Harry?

Hermione/Harry if it was developed earlier on. The author explained that Ron/Hermione was something she pigeonholed herself into in the first two books but later regretted it. I think canonically, Harry and Hermione are like siblings, but if their relationship was developed after PoA then it would've been really satisfying to see.

Question 11: Have you read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child?

No. Never will.

Question 12: Was Dumbledore a Hero or a Villain?

A hero. His plan worked in the end, as convoluted it may have been. I don't see Dumbledore as an all-good Santa-Claus-Grandpa character like his die-hard fans do, but I also don't see him as a chess-player villian twirling his moustache from the shadows.

I used to really hate Dumbledore because of how secretive he was. It was absolutely insane for him to have put Harry on that wild goose chase with such little information and it was a miracle they won the war at all.

At the end of the day, I think he was a man that feared having too much power due to the mistakes he made in his youth when he was hungry for it. He influenced things from the sidelines because he knew he was imperfect. He made mistakes all the time, and owned up to them, and if he was all-powerful those mistakes would have much graver consequences.

He loved Harry, in the end, and did not want to see him in that mess, but had the pressure of saving the world on his shoulders.

Question 13: Who is the real Hero of the Story? Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom?

Seems like a redundant question to me, but perhaps there's discourse around it I'm not aware of.

Harry is. But he doesn't carry that tile alone.

[teacup-gathering-itself]

Thinking about who Ollivander saw die that he can see and work with thestral hair as a wand core and the implications of it.

Is it a deliberate thing, do wandmakers apprentices work a shift at St. Mungo’s or something to ensure exposure to death? Is there a rite of passage revolving around gaining the ability to use the material?

Is there a way to ensure a correct amount of inventory is kept/tracked for those who can’t see thestrals?

Is a wandcrafters first thestral hair wand a major milestone, showing that they as a craftsman have been irrevocably changed? Like how art historians break artists’ work into groups chronologically based on events they’ve lived through?

Is it rare to find a wand maker who even uses the material?

Is it indicative that the craftsman lived through war that they use thestral cores?

So many thoughts about it.

[inmy70schaos]

can someone tell me what was the deal with Harry’s grandparents? Like how were the Dursleys “the only family he has” ????

Were Effie and Monty like dead or something? I mean if it was about needing non magic family so that he would be kept away from the wizarding world while growing up, even Lily’s parents would have been better!!

I haven’t read all the books so idk if it mentions why

[jennymayg13]

When first years buy their uniforms, do they transfigure them into their house colours? Like the ties and such?

[incognitopolls]

This is specifically asking about how your enjoyment of the work has changed based on your knowledge of the author's politics. Vote based on that, not based on whether you think the quality of the work itself has gone down.

TERF = trans exclusionary radical feminist. JK Rowling has been very openly anti-transgender in recent years and has poured unfathomable amounts of money into funding anti-trans legislation in the UK.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[longdaytogo]

interrogation room

[hodhodthealmighty]

oh the miserly,

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

We will meet again. | pt 2

Short summary: Ever since you had met Tom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was mysterious and intriguing in the best possible way – if only he hadn’t disappeared out of nowhere at the Christmas market. It’s two weeks later now and you intend to spend Christmas Eve by yourself. Or will you?

Warnings: 18+ only! stalker!Tom, dub con, rough sex, extreme choking, impact play, degradation, biting, bondage, slight blasphemy ig, unprotected p in v, no aftercare

A/N: All I want for Christmas is… uhhh…

wordcount: 2,9k

part one | part three

Nobody messes with Tom Riddle’s head.

Especially not a muggle girl.

He let his guard down that day, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. You intrigued him in the worst possible way– an odd feeling he wasn’t used to blooming in his chest. One that only got stronger every time he had looked into your beautiful eyes, one that he couldn’t seem to let go, one that distracted him any time he wanted to simply read a book or study.

It has been driving him close to insanity.

Two weeks have passed since your encounter at the Christmas market and he had since found out where you lived, when you arrived home after work and, most importantly, he had a well worked out plan where he would teach you a little lesson.

Christmas Eve.

Fourteen days ago you met Tom, and he has never left your mind since. He has even followed you in some of your dreams. The necklace – you don’t wear it. Too much of a reminder of how he just left you behind, essentially having your friends think you’ve gone crazy as you rambled on about this tall, handsome stranger who you swore was just sitting there next to you on the bench. Without paying it any further attention, you have put the jewellery away, somewhere where you were sure you wouldn’t have to encounter it again for the next few months.

You live in your own apartment, within a small living room currently decorated with a middle-sized Christmas tree. The smell of pine needles and gingerbread hangs thick in the air, altogether creating a pleasant holiday feeling which perfectly fits to your tradition of watching a seasonal movie on Christmas Eve.

The season of love and peace doesn’t feel much like it when you have to decorate and organize everything yourself. The past few days have been nothing but tiring, which is why during the movie your eyelids flutter close every few minutes and you have to fight sleep with all your strength. Your exhaustion finally gets the better of you and you decide to head to bed, slipping into your fluffy bunny slippers and turning off the TV. After, you make your way to your bedroom, only the flashing Christmas decorations you had put up leading your way, casting a faint light on the otherwise empty hallway.

You touch the cold metal of the door handle and push down, entering your bedroom. Instead of darkness the dim light of your motion-sensing lamp greets you. It has been bugging often lately, just like the camera surveilling the front door entrance. Not even technicians you had hired could fix the issue – strange, you thought, especially as you have never had problems before. It’s probably due to the chilly weather they told you.

As you take a breath, a strange, yet familiar scent hits your senses. It reminds you of that day at the Christmas market. As you try to figure out where it was from exactly, Tom crosses your mind. It was his perfume, unmistakably, one that was so unique it was easily recognizable. Then, on the other hand, how could-

“You left your front door unlocked.”

A familiar voice, which you instantly make out to be Tom’s, snaps you out of your thoughts. You shriek, turning to face the figure behind you. You weren’t mistaken.

Your blood is rushing through your ears as he’s just standing there, arms behind his back, staring at you. Even in this faint lighting you could swear his eyes have gotten darker than last time you saw him.

“What the-? How did you get in here?” You breathe heavily, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of how calmly, eerily so, he was standing in the corner of your bedroom.

His lips twitch slightly, almost like he was about to reply, but instead he takes a measured step towards you. “Why aren’t you wearing my present?” he asks, voice low and controlled as his gaze sinks to the exposed skin of your cleavage, scanning it for the silver necklace he had left you in your handbag.

A scoff escapes your lips, and you shake your head. “Now tell me one good reason why I should. We have barely talked. You left without saying anything. I never asked you to come back either, especially not by breaking into my house.”

It wasn’t exactly true – of course you have been thinking about him. About how he caught your attention so easily in the first place, how different he was to other men. You even have dreamed of him. Yet, you weren’t a person to just simply forgive and forget.

“Leave, just like you did two weeks ago. You have no business being in here anyway.”

Tom’s expression doesn’t change as he stands still for another moment. Though, he then quickly advances toward you and before you can react properly, he grabs your arm and pushes you back against the cold wall of your bedroom, pinning you in place with his body.

“I am not going to leave any time soon.” He snarls as his hand wraps around your throat, just enough to feel your pulse under his touch. You have been messing with my head. And you know what happens to people that mess with my head?”

“Bad things. Horrible, in fact.”

You avoid his piercing gaze best as you can. “Well,” you huff, “that is not my fucking-“

Smack.

You hiss, head whacking to the side as his palm strikes your cheek forcefully, the burning sting radiating through your body. And damn – it shouldn’t make you feel the way it does.

“I am going to scream.” You croak best as you can, though you aren’t quite sure if you could under his firm grip.

“For help?“ he taunts, his lips curling up in a smug grin, “I would like to see you try.”

“I know what you have been dreaming of the past two weeks. Exactly this, isn’t it? My hand wrapped around your pretty throat, fucking you senseless. You can’t hide from me.”

“I have no clue what you-“

You hiss as a sharp pain in your head cuts off your lie, and the world around you shifts into something oddly familiar, a scenery you recognize from one of your dreams you had two nights ago.

It was you and him after your encounter at the Christmas market, but instead of disappearing, he had come home with you.

Not only that, though.

“God Tom, please!” You whine, lifting your hips from the mattress to meet his harsh thrusts, desperately chasing your high as he hits all the right spots that have your vision blur.

He looks so perfectly messy like this – sweat glistening on his skin, his beautiful brunette curls sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes. The most raw and gorgeous groans come from his slightly parted lips, and you swear that sight alone would push you over the edge soon enough.

“Tell me what you need, and I will give it to you.”  Tom encourages, sucking marks into the tender skin of your neck.

“Need you to choke me. Please.” You manage, and his hand tightly wraps around your throat in an instant, as though he was waiting for those exact words to spill over your lips.

“Anything for you.”

And just like that, the scenery shifts again. You whimper as the stinging pain in your head disappears, and you are met with the brunette staring right at you with a cruel smirk, his face inching closer to yours until he is merely a breath away.

“It would be oh so cruel of me to deny you-“ Tom rasps, his voice laced with sarcasm as his hand finds its way under your skirt, “what you have been craving for so badly, don’t you think?”

A nod. A nod is all you can manage in return. You don’t even have time to question whatever just happened, inhaling shakily as his hand travels up your bare thigh, thumb brushing over the damp spot on your panties. Tom furrows his eyebrows and groans, lowly, at the feeling of your arousal on his finger.

“This turns you on? You are more pathetic than I thought.”

The firm grip he has on your throat softens, and your lungs finally expand with oxygen as you suck in a deep breath. He takes out a weird looking stick from inside his coat and mutters something for you inaudible. Just a second later your clothes are neatly folded on the floor and you stand there – half-naked, merely your lace underwear left on your otherwise exposed figure. You gasp in surprise and instinctively try to cover yourself, however Tom is quicker, grabs your wrist and sits you down on the soft mattress of your bed. Then, he does the same thing again, to himself this time.

Your eyes widen, trying to comprehend whatever just happened right in front of your eyes. “How- who are you? Some kind of magician?”

The brunette huffs, pushing you down onto the velvety sheets of your bed. “I am much more than a mere magician.”

And this time, he would let you keep the memory.

Before you can reply anything, he hovers above you, trailing kisses down your neck. Not like those you are used to from past experiences, though. They are rough and full of hunger, teeth grazing your skin, biting down here and there, practically marking you up as his own. Just like those dreams you have had.

Tom trails lower, stopping right at the swell of your breasts. “Still wearing too much.” He mutters under his breath, but it’s too late when you realize his intention. The material of your bralette rips with a sharp tear as it gives way to the force he is applying, the fabric sliding off to each side.

You want to complain, tell him that was one of your favourites, but when his teeth sink into the flesh of your breast any sane thoughts vanish from your mind. “Tom! Are you crazy?!” You shriek, attempting to push his head off you.

“Some people would say insane.” He retorts almost too calmly, lifting his head to answer, though not wasting much time before he dips down again to wrap his lips around your stiffened bud, sucking and biting down on it.

You throw your head back as soft moans escape your parted lips, your fingers raking through his perfect curls, tugging on them just slightly. His hand wanders down your stomach, and with a quick motion your panties are thrown on the floor.

“That is by the way no proper way to undress a woman.” You scold, and his eyes meet yours for a moment.

“You must be utterly delusional to assume I cared about that.”

Shaking your head you reach to the waistband of his briefs to get rid of them, blindly taking his length in your hand while you study his facial expressions. Only when you stroke him up and down, rubbing your thumb over his with precum glistening tip, you notice his size. Fuck.

His hand takes yours, pinning both of them above your head. Tom stills then, his eyes skimming over your naked figure underneath him for a brief moment as though he wanted to imprint your form into his mind forever.

“Keep your hands up there.” He demands lowly, and that is when you feel him aligning himself with your entrance, pushing into you steadily. You gasp at the blissful stretch Tom is providing you, burying his cock in your warm, welcoming walls.

“Season of love and peace, hm?” He rasps, pulling out of you almost entirely. “Let me show you what that means to me.”

A whole lot apparently.

“Because all you have caused me is anger and frustration.”

“Oh fuck- that’s too deep!” You cry out as he thrusts back into you at his last words, with much greater force this time. “Yeah? And I know you love it. Look how greedy you are, sucking me right in. See what a pathetic slut you are for it.”

His demeanour has in the meanwhile changed into something darker, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he mercilessly pounds into your tight cunt. You don’t exactly know what you have done wrong – he left you behind after all, not the other way around. However, who were you to complain if it meant you would get this?

Your hands reach to hold onto him, digging your nails into his skin, mark him like he did with you. A short-lived idea, it turns out. Tom hisses something, a word you can’t quite understand, and your hands return to their position above your head. Securely fastened with invisible binds.

“Wh- oh god! Oh dear god fuck-“ you cry out as he repeatedly hits that one spot deep inside of you that has stars blur your vision, subsequently having his hand wrap around your throat to muffle your moans. Then, his burning gaze meets yours.

“God? Pray to me. I am the only one above you, pray to me.”

Tom’s grip on your throat tightens at that, almost cutting off your airflow entirely.

Dreams do come true, after all.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other fills the room, and the air grows thick with the smell of lust and desire. You get to feel all of him, every single vein, even the slight curve of his perfect length. It all feels too good, too much for you to take. With your hands tied and voice taken away, that though is the only thing you can do – taking it.

“How does it feel-“ he breathes heavily, his dark brown curls sticking to his forehead as he punctuates his question with particularly rough thrusts. “How does it feel to be completely at my mercy, hm? To have me decide whether you get to take another breath?”

You can’t manage a reply, too caught up in pleasure clouding your mind, too focused on the slight sting you get as he brushes your cervix with every thrust as your walls give way to him entirely.

Soon your eyes flutter close, your consciousness slowly fading away under the firm grip he has on your throat. His hand then releases you, instead delivering a harsh smack to your cheek.

He adds another one as you don’t respond immediately.

“Breathe.”

You cough, gasping for air as your vision slowly comes back to you and are met with the brunette glancing down at you. “Doing so well for me.” He groans lowly, his thrusts growing more erratic as you clench around him, feeling your own high building rapidly.

“Please- please I need you to-“ you whine, bucking your hips against his thrusts for more friction. He reaches between you two, thumb finding your clit, rubbing figure eights on it. “S’ that what you need?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, oh Tom-“ your wrists pull at the bindings, but it’s no use. “Come. Come and show me how much of a slut you are for me.”

That’s the only thing you need to hear before the waves of your climax wash over you, repeating his name like a prayer as your cunt greedily pulses around his length, encouraging his release as well.

“I fucking- hate you-“ he grunts, emptying himself inside of you, biting down on your shoulder and collapsing on your spent body afterwards. You two stay like this for a brief moment before he pulls out of you. Tom keeps your legs spread and you whimper softly as his fingers swipe through your glistening folds, gathering some of your mixed arousal before he brings it to your lips.

“Open up. Taste us.” He demands, and you follow his command, taking his digits into your mouth to suck them clean. You never take your eyes off him, and the sight in front of you is heavenly. Tom looks oddly messy like this, hair disheveled, beads of sweat visible on his forehead, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Lord have mercy, you think.

 He withdraws his fingers from your mouth and cleans himself with what you have learned to be his wand. “You are a wizard?” You ask, sitting up to meet his gaze.

Tom nods. “Do not speak to anyone about this. Or I won’t have mercy with you next time.”

You grin. “There will be a next time?”

Just another second later and he stands before you, fully dressed in his black robes, his eyes wandering over your figure and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe. If you wear the necklace.”

You point towards the mess on your sheets and inner thighs expectantly. “Could you-“

“I am quite positive you will be fine.” Tom replies sternly, getting ready to leave.

It’s not that you were expecting him to stay the night, though you couldn’t help but feel disappointed he was leaving so soon. Your eyes follow his tracks, and when he then stands before you to hand you your clothes and a towel, you take the opportunity.

“Would you stay if I wanted you to?” You ask, still hopeful, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “No.”

And so Tom takes out his wand, hesitating for a moment before he turns to face you for one last time.

“Happy Christmas.”

Just like that, he is gone again.

And the necklace? The most beautiful you have ever worn.

tagging for pt 2: @theacreativity @sirenseaborne @tomriddleswhcre

[sparrowlucero]

this is the iconic dinosaur horror jurassic park wishes it was

[frm9pm]