#have you seen those things????? oh my gof

[oscillating-fan-whore5]

God I wanna learn baaaasssssssss

[tryingmybestpls]

Not A Team: Part 2- New World Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The Reader gives a speech at the opening of Steve’s exhibit and has a talk with Sam following his speech.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER, talks of death, talks of mental illness, feelings of isolation

Read Part One here

Listen to the playlist inspired by the series here

Y/N felt like coming here today was a mistake.

Her stomach tossed and turned like a stormy sea, threatening to send her breakfast all over Rhodey's shiny shoes. She was second guessing everything. Was her dress nice enough? Rhodey had told her she looked great, but she hadn't worn a dress since Steve's funeral-Oh God, what if he was lying to her? No, he wouldn't lie to her-but what if he felt bad? Jesus, dd her shoes look stupid? Maybe she shouldn't have worn heels-but then she always wore heels with dresses and if she wore flats that would look childish. Did her speech sound coherent? Fuck, what if she messes up. Would they think she was doing it on purpose out of retribution for what Steve did? No, they didn't know what Steve did, what he had done to her. What if-

"Hey, hey. What's wrong? You look like you're going to blow chunks." Rhodey cuts through her thoughts like a hot knife through butter. He puts his hand on her back, "Breathe, Y/N."

"Maybe this a bad idea, Rhodey. I mean they have Sam. I think Sam can handle this." She stumbles over her words, trying to calm herself down. Her heart was racing a hundred miles a minute and she swore her hands were shaking,

"You're going to be okay, but you need to relax. I've read and reread your speech a dozen times. It's perfect." Rhodey tries to soothe her, his hand rubbing her back. Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, working on slowing her breathing. In through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Hey pretty lady, I was wondering where the exhibit is. I'm supposed to be giving a speech there today." A voice calls out, sending Y/N's eyes flying open. She turns on her heels, being greeted by the sight of Sam walking towards them, holding the leather case that carries the shield. Y/N can feel the tension melting out of her shoulders as a smile spreads across her nervous face.

"Rhodey, I think they might be letting anyone speak here today." Y/N teases, the anxiousness slipping away, releasing its hold on her. Rhodey chuckles, shaking his head at his friend's antics. She hadn't seen Sam since the days following Steve's funeral and right now, he's a welcome sight. Sam rests his hand over his heart, feigning hurt as he gets closer.

"You wound me, woman." Sam jokes, smiling right back at her. They embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck as his go around her waist, "I missed you, kid."

"I've missed you too, Sammy." She murmurs back, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. They pull away and Sam smiles at her, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. Rhodey clears his throat, gently touching Y/N's upper arm.

"Hey I need to go talk to some people, alright?" Rhodey announces, almost as if he is asking permission. Y/N just smiles and nods, the smile staying on her face until he walks away from the two.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" Sam questions, to which Y/N sighs, looking down at her shoes.  She stays quiet for a moment, feeling his eyes on her.

"You want the truth or you want me to tell you what I tell Rhodey?" She replies, looking back at him. Y/N shifts from one foot to another, glad they were far from the crowd that was gathering. He gives her a look, giving her an answer without opening his mouth. She sighs again, twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

"I don't sleep, not really. I get maybe an hour a night if I am lucky. I-The house is filled with boxes that I can't unpack because-" Her voice cracks, her chest rising and falling quickly. She bites the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to not cry, "I thought that leaving the apartment would make him go away, but it didn't."

"Well Steve was always stubborn." Sam responds, making a laugh bubble out of her throat before she could stop it. There was an "I'm sorry" buried in the joke and Y/N knew it, but decided to only focus on the joke.

-

The stage looked daunting.

She forced herself up those steps, the person who had introduced her still had his hand outstretched towards her. Y/N wondered if she could make a run for it. Sure people will be mad at her, but she won't be forcing herself through this. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, the clapping nothing but a ringing in her ears. For a moment, her eyes landed on the giant banner of her husband, a lump forming in her throat. He was watching over her, his face emotionless as his eyes seemingly followed her every step. Cameras flashed as she stood on the stage, striding over to the podium. Once she stood in front of it, a hush fell over the crowd.

Y/N Rogers had saved thousands of lives. She was an Avenger and had faced countless foes. Hell, her wedding had more people in attendance than this event, but she still felt sick to her stomach. Y/N gave them all a smile as she forced herself to calm down, swallowing hard before speaking.

"To say that Steve Rogers was a special man is putting lightly. He was a hero that many of us, myself included, aspired to be one day. And while many of you only knew him as Captain America, I was among the lucky few that got to know him just as Steve Rogers. Now I could stand up here and tell you about every battle he won, how valiantly he fought-but everyone else is going to do that. Hell, you can read about it in the exhibit." Y/N chuckles, blinking away the tears in her eyes as the crowd laughs.

Y/N finds Rhodey and Sam in the crowd, both of them giving her smiles of encouragement. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the diamond on her wedding ring sparkling in the light. It's the first time she's worn it in a while, but it felt almost right to wear it. Once again, she's pretending like Steve didn't leave her. No, Y/N is ignoring that completely, almost blissfully. These people only know Steve as Captain America, as a god-damned American hero. She isn't going to tarnish that, won't ruin his legacy. And regardless of what Steve did to her, she is still in love with him and she wants to talk about the man she fell in love with, not the one that hurt her. Y/N inhales and exhales shakily before continuing.

"Steve was so much more than just Captain America. He was my best friend and my husband. He was the type of man to pick up flowers for you just because. The type of man to tell you that you looked really pretty even though you were covered in dirt and ash. He would let me go on and on about things that didn't even matter, but with the way he paid attention you would think that I was telling him the secrets of the world. Steve loved staying in and having movie marathons-he-he had a list he'd carry with him to write down things he needed to learn about. Before we dated, he would text me randomly, asking me why Jar Jar Binks is hated so much or asking me to explain what emojis are. He never quite got the hang gof the latter." A laugh comes out of Y/N's mouth, the crowd following suit. There was a smile on her face, a warmth spreading in her chest.

"He's the man I'll be in love with until the day I die, but then I'll fall in love all over again because I'll be able to see him again. Steve was the sweetest, kindest man I've ever met and while I will always wish we had more time together, I was lucky to have him as long as I did. We were all lucky to have him." Y/N pauses again, her throat constricting with emotion, "Even though he's gone, Steve lived a long life-a life longer than some of us get and I am happy that so many different facets of his life is going to be explored and shared with so many people. I hope you all enjoy the exhibit. Thank you."

The applause that followed was almost thunderous. Y/N smiled as her heart slammed against her ribcage, cameras flashing as she made her way off the stage. She was glad it was finally over as she moved to stand next to Rhodey and Sam. Sam kissed her cheek before he climbed up the stairs to the stage. Rhodey rubbed her back, telling her quietly that she did great. She just nodded in response, her eyes on her friend, watching as Sam leaned the shield against the plexiglass podium.

"Thank you Y/N for making my job a lot harder." Sam teases, causing everyone to chuckle. Y/N smiles right back at him, shaking her head as her friend carries on, "Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered poising stoically. "

Sam's a natural at this, standing up there like its nothing. And while Y/N should be focused on the speech, her eyes keep drifting down to the shield at his feet.

"The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols...are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning. And this thing," Sam chuckles, picking up the shield, "I don't know if there's ever been a greater symbol. But it's more about the man who propped it up and he's gone. So, today we honor Steve's legacy, but also, we look to the future. So thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you."

Y/N feels sick to her stomach as she watches Sam hand the shield off. Her chest feels tight and she-she can't be here. There's a ringing on her ears and she can't breathe. Y/N pushes through the crowd, not bothering with pleasantries as she does it. A dozen emotions rack her body, causing her hands to start to heat up. She forces it down, deep down as she walks into an empty bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Sam gave away the shield.

He gave it away.

Like it was nothing.

And she wants to scream, wants to cry, but it won't come out. Y/N won't let it, not now when she is still in public. She walks over to the sinks, her hands gripping the counter. Her eyes are rimmed with red, eyes all watery. Her red painted lips press into a thin line as she forces herself to not cry, practically glaring at her reflection. What did her therapist tell her to do? Ah yes, breath in and out. In and out.

This was all too much way too soon. She couldn't handle this. She was being bombarded with memories and emotions already and now Sam giving the shield away? She felt like she was going to lose it. A part of her felt like she was overreacting. overthinking this whole situation. And maybe she was. Y/N did that from time to time. Tony had told her she was an expert of making mountains out of molehills. Maybe Sam just didn't want to be Captain America, didn't want to shoulder that burden. That was understandable. It was a shitty, shitty job-one that Sam didn't ask for. He shouldn't be forced to take on the mantle of Captain America, not when the previous owner had tossed it away so carelessly.

Yet, the bigger part of her was incredibly upset. Angry at the fact that Sam handed off the shield to be shelved in a museum. Overwhelmed by the amount of Steve that was everywhere. Confused over the multitudes of feeling that were swarming her body.

And there was nothing she could do about any of them. She just had to grin and bear it, just like she's been doing since Steve decided he much rather spend an entire lifetime with a woman he knew for a few months. So Y/N collected herself, blinked away her tears, and left the bathroom. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her towards the one place she didn't want to be.

The exhibit.

Steve's image is plastered on every single surface, telling the details of every part of his life. Scrawny Steve, bootcamp Steve, darling icon of patriotism during the war Steve, frozen Steve, Battle of Manhattan Steve, cartoon Steve punching Hitler, Steve during Sokovia, Steve on the run. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve. He covers every single square inch, which makes sense because this is his exhibit. And while Y/N knows she should just turn on her heel and not put herself through it, she throws caution to the wall. She's already incredibly upset, so she might as well pour gallons and gallons of salt and lemon juice into that open wound.  So she forces herself deeper into the exhibit, running straight into the very last man she wants to see at this moment.

"You know I wasn't expecting to find you here." Sam tells her as soon as her foot enters the next room. She keeps her mouth shut, so he adds "Rhodey is looking for you."

"You know on his right sleeve of his suits, right near his wrist, he had my initials stitched. He told me he wanted to carry a piece of me into every mission, into every fight." Y/N announces as she looks at a picture of Steve on a mission, most likely taken by Natasha. Sam sighs, walking over to her, wanting her to see his point of view.

"Look I know you're upset-" He starts, but is immediately cut off by a dry chuckle slipping out of Y/N's mouth as she walks around the room. She wants to lay in to him, wants to give him a piece of her mind.

"Oh I am far past the point of being "just upset", Wilson. It wasn't yours to give away. I-I don't care if you didn't want the mantle, but..." Her angry words trail off once she realizes what part of the exhibit she has reached, her face dropping.

Y/N stops in front of a part of the exhibit labeled 'Two Heroes United'. Her eyes roam over the pictures of her and Steve's wedding and the pictures taken throughout the duration of their relationship, so much more than what the file Rhodey had left detailed. So many smiles, so much happiness filling each and every picture. Her facade is cracking, chipping away as she forces herself to study every picture, studying their faces over and over, trying to see if there was something she had missed, if-if there was something she could have said or done to hold onto him a little longer. If there was something hidden behind his smile, behind his touches, they don't reveal themselves in the photographs.

She's just a footnote in his life, a blurb at the end of a long story. A tool to make him look like an all-American family man. Bucky and Sam had much larger parts of the exhibit dedicated to their roles in Steve's life and who they are outside of being Steve's friends. Y/N-well Y/N gets this, a paragraph saying that she was on the team and then married Steve. She is just haphazardly tacked onto the story of his life, a cute story to make people feel all warm inside. He got his happily ever after, they'll say-or they'll whisper to one another God she was so lucky to have him. They won't ask if she got her happily ever after or if she feels lucky now.

Sam got to hand off the shield, got to throw away the title of Captain America. He gets to keep on living his life after this, but Y/N-Y/N will always be Steve's wife. And it doesn't matter how many people she saved or what she did with her time on earth, she will only be know for being the wife of the man who abandoned her. Y/N's tied to him for eternity, stuck loving a man who decided to love someone else.

And then, just like that, something inside of her just snaps. Her facade fully crumbles, leaving her unable to mask what she's going through.  Y/N's eyes fill up with tears and she's unable to blink them away before they spill over the edge, sending tears rolling down her cheeks. And as she stood there, crying in the middle of the exhibit dedicated to Steven Grant Rogers, a depressing epiphany popped into her mind.

The shield was the last part of Steve that she had that wasn't tainted in some way, a piece of him that she could still bear to see. And Sam had just given it away, leaving her with nothing but memories that would haunt her.

-

"I watched your speech. You did really good, Y/N." Her therapist praises, giving her a soft smile. Y/N nods, twisting her wedding ring on her finger. She had decided to start wearing it again, even though her feelings about Steve were still conflicted. While a part of her thought that this meant she was healing, Y/N knew it was more likely tied to the fact that Sam had given up the shield.

"It-It felt good." Y/N replies, shifting in her seat. She had thought it was a subtle movement, but Dr. Raynor gave her a look. After a few months of court-ordered appointments, the therapist knew Y/N all too well and she sure as hell knew when Y/N wasn't telling the truth.

"Something is upsetting you. What happened?" The doctor questions, clicking her pen. Y/N dreaded the noise. It meant a longer session, more bandaids being ripped off in order to force the wounds into the light. It would mean she would return to her home a little colder, a little emptier.

"Nothing happened. It-I had a good day. A good week." Y/N tries to reassure her, even going as far as to give her what she thought was a honest smile. Dr. Raynor held up her pad of paper, making a show of slowly bring the pen down to the paper. Y/N's smile falls and she looks down at her hands, letting out a small sigh.

"He-Sam gave away the shield. He gave it away like it was nothing." The ex-hero announces, feeling like a scolded child. Raynor lowers her pen and paper, settling back into her seat.

"And you feel like he shouldn't have?"

"No. No, Steve-Steve chose him. Steve gave him the shield because he knew that Sam was good, that Sam could handle it. And-And Sam just gave it away." Y/N stammers, picking at a thread that was hanging off her shirt.

"You know, I think that is the first time you have said his name aloud." Raynor mentions, causing Y/N to stop her movements. The thread is caught between her fingers, pulled taut. The doctor continues, "You always refer to Steve as 'he' or 'him' or 'my husband'. You never say his name."

"I don't think I was ready to be around...Steve. Not that much." Y/N tries to shift the focus, shame filling her, her face feeling hot. She knows she has her reasons not to say his name, but she still felt terrible about not being able to say his name.

"But you still spoke at the opening of his exhibit. I'm sure everyone would more than understand why you couldn't. So why did you decide on speaking?" The therapist asks, taking down a couple notes of her pad of paper. Y/N stays silent for a moment, letting go of the thread to start twisting her ring again.

"I-I don't know. Rhodey asked me and I-I guess I thought I could do it. And the speech wasn't bad I just-I wasn't expecting Sam to give away the shield." Y/N responds, her voice soft. She feels so small, sitting here on this charcoal grey couch. Y/N almost felt...stupid for being so angry at Sam. It wasn't his fault at all and as Y/N said everything out loud, she felt like such an asshole.

"If you would've known that Sam wanted to give the shield away, would you have stopped him?" Dr. Raynor replies, leaning forward slightly as she takes a few notes. Y/N feels herself sinking into the couch.

"I don't know. I-I wish he would have just told me so that we could've talked about it." She answers, looking out of the window. Dark grey clouds filled the sky, blocking out a lot of the sunlight that wanted to shine down on the city. Y/N didn't know if she would have actually forced him to keep the shield. That wasn't on him to have hold on to hat chunk of vibranium. It was wrong for Steve to have thrown that all on Sam. What would be the alternative? For her to keep the shield? Y/N highly doubted that the United States government would allow that.

-

Y/N was watering her garden when her phone started to ring in her back pocket. She quickly moves to shut off the water hose before she slips the phone about her pocket. Sam's name and picture appears on her screen, making uneasiness fill her stomach. Y/N exhales through her noise loudly before answering it, holding the phone against her ears.

"Have you seen the news?" Sam asks, not even letting her get a single syllable out.

"No, I've been outside-What's going on, Sam?" Y/N questions, making her way to the house. Something was definitely wrong. Sam never called her unless it was for emergencies. if they did communicate, it was mainly through texting. Her heartbeat started to race, as did her thoughts. A million different scenarios filled her head, each one worse than the last.

"You need to turn on the news right now." Sam replies as she opens the back door, quickly crossing the kitchen and walking into the living room. Her hands are almost shaking as she picks up the remote, turning the television on. Luckily for her, the last thing she had been watching was the news. Unluckily for her, she was greeted with a man holding the shield-Steve's shield, dressed in what looked like an off-brand, shitty version of the Captain America suit.

Anger filled her body. It had been four days tops since Sam handled off the shield and already, they had found their 'new Captain America'. The man in question was smiling smugly in the ill-fitting suit, waving at the camera, holding onto his shield tightly. God, Y/N wanted to beat the shit of the man and every single person who had okayed this. She could only hear bits and pieces of the speech as the news replayed it, but even that bullshit was too much for her to handle. She muted the television, tossing the remote on the couch.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?" Y/N exclaims, her hands getting warm. The Avenger was unable to get to anything articulate as rage filled her. She quickly put the phone on speaker, setting the device down just in case her hands caught flame.

"I know. I know. It's fucking bullshit." Sam replies, sighing. Y/N paced in front of the television, trying to calm herself down before she burned a hole through her rug. On the screen, the fake Cap was talking about something, a saccharine smile spread across his face. Y/N wanted to take that God damn shield and smash his teeth in.

"That asshole has my husband's fucking shield. They-He isn't supposed to be Captain America, okay? It's just not-It's not theirs to give away." Y/N's voice cracks towards the end, tears filling her eyes. While she wasn't Steve's number one fan, she hated that they had already chose someone to take up his title. If Sam wasn't going to be Captain America, then no one should be Captain America.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I wouldn't have given away the shield if I would've known...I'm sorry." Sam murmurs over the phone. Y/N covers her face with her almost glowing hands as she tries to control her breathing, not able to respond to Sam’s apologies. Her sadness and anger quickly shifted into something else. 

Something inside of her switched on, something that she hadn't felt in a long time, not since she was a hero, back when she was an Avenger.

Y/N wanted to go to work.

------

Not A Team taglist (if you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know!)

@lady-elena-adeline​ @simonedk​ @hersilencedscreams​ @rqmanoff​

[vivithefolle]

What are your favourite fanfic tropes/aus for romione?

(I’m gonna try to make my way through old asks I received AGES ago and never answered because I’m a procrastinating lump. Here’s betting I’m going to give up and play videogames all day instead.)

Oh my god, so many.

Okay so as a rule of thumb as long as it’s nice to Ron I’ll read it. I’ll read anything. I have been known to read Ron/Draco and even sacrificed my dignity and everything I stand for as a human being by reading some Ron/Snape stuff. Yes. I was THAT desperate. This is how low I’m willing to go because of sheer love for Ron.

Which means that when a fic will go “oh poor Hermione, poor Hermione who is waiting for Ron to grow up because She can see one day he could be worth it but for now he’s all dumb-dumb and inferior and doesn’t deserve Her perfection :(”, I will be judging. Judging very hard. I may not leave a comment but rest assured, my thoughts are loud enough for me. This is 2010s mentality. This is “haha I’m so like Hermione, not like other girls who throw themselves at boys, I’m so special and girl powery :)” Horribly Bad Feminism. Fuck that. We’re doing better now.

Speaking of doing better. Recently I read something about how Ron is, paraphrased, “the brute of the Trio”, spun in a positive way since he uses his strength to protect them but, but, still... please no? Just no! Just eff no with these takes about how Ron is a hypermasculine dudebro M For Manly™! No, no, fucking no! Just because he’s the Sulfur to Hermione’s Mercury and Sulfur represents the masculine component to Mercury’s feminine one, DOESN’T MEAN Ron is “the brute”! (”the” brute... seriously... who’s the more brutish one, the one who punches a racist in the face or the one who uses a torture curse as retribution for spitting on his fave teacher?)

The way I see him, Ron is a balance, a blend of feminine and masculine qualities intertwined close together. I LOVE that he can swear like a sailor but can only say “scarlet woman” or “cow” when it comes to insulting a woman. Some will probably see it as “hurr durr he sexist he doesnt think women can take it!!!!!!! >8C” but given that those are probably also the peeps who say “HE CALLE D HERMOANI A NIGHTMURRR!!!!!!! DDDDD8″ I’m gonna venture the idea that we don’t care about those folks’ biased, sexist opinions.

Where was I going with this... oh yes! Ok, so Ron can swear like a sailor yet couldn’t insult a girl to save his life. He’s strong physically but most of all he’s strong mentally (to put up with the way his friends treat him for years speaks a lot of his mental fortitude... and to top it off he comes back for more to boot! I’m not sure if that’s more mental fortitude or straight-up masochism though.) When he succeeds at things he gets a bit attention-whoreish but at the same time, you can see that when he’s being complimented he’s all unsure of himself and blushy and shy and you just, dude you can’t handle positive attention because you don’t know how to react to it I don’t know whether that’s adorable or the saddest thing I’ve seen in my life? He’s insecure but he’s always the first to cheer on Harry and Hermione when they’re doing something great, which speaks VOLUMES of Ron’s selflessness and of his actual character: to quote @peetamaellark​, Ron doesn’t think “Harry is great, therefore he sucks and I hate him”, he thinks “Harry is great, therefore I suck and I hate me”. THIS is Ron. THIS is why Ron will lash out, not because he hates Harry, but because internally he hates himself and you can’t keep that sort of feeling bottled up for too long before... you got it, you explode.

I. Want. More. Fics where Hermione isn’t this ~oh dear~ Victorian damsel in distress who cries and Ron is the Big Strong Man who holds her with one arm and is stony-faced and goes “I’ll protect you”, please no that was old before it existed, let us have nice, realistic depictions of Ron and Hermione please.

Like, Hermione is more than capable of kicking butt herself. She IS absolutely nervous and scared and cries easily and that’s a vulnerability we NEED, but the fact that she can be super scared and crying but still hex her opponent into oblivion? THAT’s good, THAT’s excellent. It’s a very important message for girls, I think. “You can cry, you can be sensitive, you can be emotional, AND you can still kick butt”. And as important as that message is for girls, it’s also a very important message to give boys, because boys are socialized to “never cry” and that’s super unhealthy. I love Ron’s admiration of Hermione. I love the way Ron hesitates, the way he can be cautious when he needs to as much as he can be reckless and impulsive. I love how he shows himself to be a big softie and a sweet soul. I don’t think that makes him an “emasculated doormat” (to quote a guest I once saw on FFN), on the contrary it makes him an even better man in my eyes. You know why I love the locket scene so much? Because Ron’s tears aren’t ridiculed. Ron gets to cry about the terrible ordeal he’s been put through, and while Harry “pretends he can’t see Ron cry” because it’s more comfortable for him personally, he doesn’t try to tell Ron to “man up” or anything. His reassurance is pretty lousy but he lets Ron cry, he lets his friend be upset, and he doesn’t try to invalidate Ron’s pain. (ok, the “I thought you knew” is kiiiiinda on the way there, but it stops at that and I’m grateful for it).

I like. Seeing Ron distressed. I like seeing Ron upset and be allowed to be upset. I like to see Ron’s pain treated with respect. So when Ron is having a shit day I like to see him get a cuddle. I like seeing Ron go through horrible ordeals and break down and for his breakdown to be properly acknowledged and not turned into insensitive comic relief (ISN’T THAT RIGHT, LATTER HALF OF THE SILVER DOE????). I mean seriously, just imagine GOF, Harry sitting in the hospital wing after Cedric’s death, Molly Weasley gives him a hug and it’s all very sad and angsty. And now picture Ginny running into the room screaming “HARRY JAMES POTTER” and punching him over and over and saying “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER MAN, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER” then after two pages of Harry “explaining” himself to Ginny she goes away saying “aight but if you do that shit again you’ll have to answer to me” then Harry’s friends are like “damn she’s spunky huh?” and Harry laughs and everyone laughs and this is how the book ends? How would it be funny? How would it be appropriate? How would it feel like “romance”? When Ron returns in The Silver Doe, he’s been psychologically tortured (”tortured” is the actual word JKR uses, please), we don’t need him to be hurting outside as well.

I want more accountability for Hermione. More “uh hey Hermione maybe don’t do that”. More “hey Hermione you know you think of yourself as a good person buuuut yeah actually if all good persons were like you I’d be very afraid”. More “Hermione please for the love of God educate yourself”. More “Hermione sweetie I love you, but you can’t actually learn everything from books”. CHARACTER. DEVELOPMENT. PLEASE. Don’t be afraid to punch Hermione down and tear her apart the way the best Ron fics maim and torture our poor boy. Just because Rowling treated Hermione with kiddy princess gloves doesn’t mean you have to mimic her.

So when Hermione does a genuinely shitty thing let her own up to it. When Ron is a victim let him be upset and angry, even if Hermione is the one treating him badly. Just because he loves her doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be disappointed in her or that she’s entitled to his immediate forgiveness. Give Ron and Hermione equal consideration. If you’re brushing off Hermione’s actions but condemning Ron for the slightest mistake, I am sure to hate it.

Okay, uh, so, those aren’t really tropes. Those are more just, guidelines I presume.

Oh, yeah, a trope that annoys me! Ron saying “you’re mine”, “my Hermione” and stuff, and Hermione just swoons and says “yours” and shiz. Ok, once in a while, why not. Once in a while. BUTT. I WANT HERMIONE TO SAY IT TOO. “Mine”, “my Ron!” and Ron swoons and says “yours, absolutely yours”. DO IT YOU COWARDS. FUCKING TAKE THOSE GENDER ROLES AND PUNCH’EM IN THE FACE.

Oh, right, while we’re on the subject of gender roles! Dad!Ron is everything. SingleParent!Ron is mwaaah. Stay-at-home-Dad!Ron is ALKZLDSJDLQSKLFJ <3. AnimalLover!Ron is HHHHNNNGG. Remember, the small gestures, the tiniest, softest acts Ron does (helping Harry get dressed when his arm is deboned, giving Dobby his brand-new sweater, praising Ginny, Luna and Neville when they escaped Umbridge), those are often those unremarkable, unmistakeably kind and sweet actions that tell us who Ron really is at his core: not a guy who’d want power at all costs, not a guy who’d give it all for ambition, not a guy who sees people as possessions, but someone kind who wants to make others happy.

Ok, I was also asked for AUs, so, uh, pretty much every AU is game as long as Ron gets treated with respect? I mean I don’t really care for Mafia!AUs or such but if you can find a way to fit good Romione then go for it I guess. Royalty AU, yeah why not but I often see Ron being made a prince while Hermione is a poor wee servant girl and like. Uuum, we’re talking about the same characters here? Hermione the highly educated girl who keeps on walking over everyone’s toes and loudly talking about how things should be done and is definitely Nouveau Riche, Ron who is a country boy who lives on a farm and is lost in the constant shuffle of his brothers, you think she should be the peasant and he should be the royal? Whaddafack? Oh, and all the “Hermione is a Muggle, Ron is a wizard” AUs that start this way BUTT! Suddenly... Hermione... turns out... to be (wait for it!)... A WITCH! And a super powerful super talented very good one too!!!... yeah ok, yawn. It’s quite scary, actually, how often I’ve seen that plotline, but in the rare cases when it’s Muggle!Ron and Witch!Hermione, Ron never ever EVER (I mean, seriously, NEVER EVER) turns out to have been a wizard, not even a mediocre one, all along. No, when Ron is made a Muggle for the sake of AU he stays a Muggle. But when Hermione is made a Muggle she has to turn out TO HAVE BEEN A WITCH ALL ALONG OMYGAH. I can count on one hand the number of Mugglemione/Wizardron fics that actually stick to their Mugglemione premise till the end - and usually they’re one-shots. (Also I don’t mean “Ron mistakes Hermione for a Muggle because he meets her in the Muggle world and assumes he must hide his magic from her, oh wait she was actually a witch!” fics, I mean genuinely “Hermione has been raised a Muggle her whole life, never had weird things happen to her her whole life ever, then Ron comes in and is a wizard and he does magic and Hermione wonders what it’d be like to be a witch and oh surprise! Don’t worry Hermione, you won’t have to feel not-special or mundane for long, here comes the plot contrivance to tell you you really were in fact the specialest of them all!!” fics.) Fairytale!AU is cool. Very good. But honestly I like to see them swapped around. Ron cursed by a nasty fae to be a Beast and Hermione stumbling upon him? Neat, especially if you don’t go the boring route of “oh let’s just rehash the Disney/the original book with different names and call it a day”. But Hermione cursed by an asshole fae for, let’s say, not sharing books, turning into a Beast, and Ron stumbling upon her as she’s trying to survive in the woods (and not doing a very good job of it)? Yes, brava, chief’s kiss. Rapunzel AU where Hermione’s bushy hair turns into the most impractical, most suffocating improvised ladder ever for Ron? Hilarious. Rapunzel AU where Ron has A GIANT EFFING PONYTAIL OF THE GODS and is screaming “ow ow ow” as Hermione makes her way up to his window cringing and saying “sorry! sorry! sorry! (damn his hair smells good)” on every step? Equally hilarious. Go! Be creative! Please I beg of you

Creature!fics! Oh my god there’s not enough of those, at least that aren’t focused on a bullshit pairing! Soulmate AUs! Give me everything! I’ll even take A/B/O if you insist on making it Romione! That’s how far I’ve fallen from human decency I’ll take anything just give me some good Ron content please I beg of you (Ah and to those that are going to say “Alpha Ron Omega Hermione :)))” well yes, but actually no. “Beta Ron Beta Hermione”? “Beta Ron Alpha Hermione”? “Omega Ron Alpha Hermione”??? HELL YEAH NOW WE’RE TALKIN)

Oh dear god I’m still not finished and I haven’t gone through everything someone stop me.

AND NOW BE CAREFUL CHILDREN, BELOW WILL BE SMUT.

Okay I don’t know if it qualifies as a trope, but. But. A more realistic depiction of Ron is usually what I’m after. All those fanfics that have Ron be “the sexy experienced one ;)))” ravishing “naive virginal Hermione ;))” is just UGH. We spent all the 2000-2010 period having fics like this, mind adding a bit of EQUALITY to the mix???

It’s just... I hate it okay? So many fics read like they’re just projection, writers who are essentially making Ron their big strong sex toy stud who's so attentive and sweet and cherishing, and so it does indirectly ends up as "servant Ron is so devoted to his goddess Hermione, providing pleasure to her while she doesn’t have to lift a finger”. The Dom!SexGod!Ron thing honestly depresses me... Since it's Ron taking care of Hermione, AGAIN. Like, he spends his WHOLE LIFE doing that already. Can we give him a break for once?

In the endI feel that it's less "Romione smut" and more "self-inserting into Hermione smut". In "real" Romione smut I think Ron and Hermione would switch roles according to what they feel like. And honestly I ALWAYS picture Ron being super nervous during Dom stuff, like he spanks her once then immediately he goes "oh my god are you okay?? did that hurt, do you want to stop?", things like that. I cannot imagine it happening any other way. XD Ron is just... too caring, too sensitive to do stuff like hard BDSM and that kind of thing in my opinion. He’s too much of a caretaker. I understand if it’s your kink and you’re perfectly free to project and write the fic you want, I’m not the fun police, but it’s just... I don’t think that’s really what Ron would be like. I just want MORE realistic Ron.

Also I’m trying really really hard to not point fingers here but WHY is it that it’s always “Ron growled” while it’s always “Hermione whimpered” or “Hermione moaned”? Like... you know it’s okay for a man to moan or whimper in pleasure too, right?  You know Ron isn’t 110% muscles and testosterone? You know Hermione is allowed to be fierce too? Hermione can 100% “growl” and be dominant and pin Ron to the wall and reduce him to a puddle of goo if you’re brave enough?

(Honestly how sexy would Ron think that is? The woman he loves is half his size yet can pin him down and ravish him. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG RON HAS WANTED TO BE RAVISHED AND CHERISHED DO YOU KNOW HE’S BEEN WANTING THIS ALL HIS LIFE)

Oooo-kay, so that’s... mostly it, I reckon. Oh also Ron has a gigantic penisraise kink (and a great penis too, but mostly a praise kink). That’s canon and that’s all.

[transsexualhamlet]

🔥 bsd

abs;iofdhiob;gof;wefw you're the second one that's asked this<3 help<3 the good thing is i have so many unpopular opinions on bsd and i will never run out

I see so many theories that see Dazai as related to the Book Lore in the way of he's made from the book / he's aware that he's in a book / he's in some other way not a normal part of the bsd universe and I don't know, they always just sit the wrong way with me. I've heard people say "oh the reason he's always trying to commit suicide is because he's aware he's in fiction"???? bestie he's trying to commit suicide because he's severely depressed

I don't really like the fourth wall breaking stuff with that in general, but if anyone's really related to the book, I think that it's Oda, not Dazai. Dazai may be constantly and continuously fucked over by the book and the writer of it, and in some ways he might consider the idea in his head, but the thought that his detachment and depression surrounding this world is because of some outside force, that his alienation and feeling that he is fundamentally different from the rest is because he's Literally Not The Same really invalidates the very real issues his character is all about.

Esp related to no longer human, I think one of the very important things about it is that Dazai's real feelings in that book ARE relatable and ARE human feelings, despite all he's thought about them- it's about neurodivergence, it's about mental illness, it's about the very human environment he grew up in. Taking those as applied to bsd Dazai (which, you know, those two are in fact connected) and blaming them on. Supernatural bullshit. Just really makes me feel like you missed the whole point.

Same thing with Fyodor, because I've also seen "fyodor is part of the book" discourse and, yknow. Same deal.

Fyodor and Dazai are both desperately trying to reach for that book and that ability for change, but they are just as much characters and human beings in that universe as everyone else and considering them otherwise makes me sad and angry.

So there you have my hot take, now i will go and answer my SECOND bsd unpopular opinion ask :)

[ottogatto]

Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I really like the way you interpret things and was hoping you could help me clear something I’m confused about. There is this claim of Snape being groomed into being a death eater which I don’t completely get so can you please go over it because the only thing I can think of rn to support the claim is Sirius saying that snape was Lucius’s lapdog (I want to understand it better)

Hello! Yes I’m doing well. Sorry if I answer a bit late, I’ll try to be clear (unfortunately there were some meta explaining this better but it’s long lost into my reblogs--oh well, maybe one day I’ll find it back).

One day I wrote this:

And finally there’s an element that cannot be forgotten because of how essential it is. An element that none of the other “good guys” had.

None of them were, like Snape, Sorted into the House of Slytherin, plagued by prejudice, and they never had to deal with the inevitable influence and grooming of several Death Eaters, some of which were purposefully trying to recruit students, using brainwashing and manipulation tactics; tactics that are seen in cults and diverse ideologies, one of which JK Rowling herself fell into. 

And yet, we clearly see Lucius putting an arm around Snape as he joins the Slytherin table, which clearly means that Lucius is trying to drag Snape on his side; Sirius will later say that Snape is pureblood Lucius’ “lapdog”, and Umbridge will say that Lucius speaks highly of Snape in the Ministry.

As for the manipulation tactics…

“Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ’em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ’cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches . . . terrible things happened. He was takin’ over."

“I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me.” Quirrell shivered suddenly. “He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me...” (PS)

“But I [diary!Tom] was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom… I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in… It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket… […] If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed.”

“Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away,” Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. “This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.” (PS)

“Once the [Barty crouch Jr] had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.” (GoF)

“Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again,” said Sirius. “In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he’d bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they’ll be just one group he’s after. […] Voldemort doesn’t march up to people’s houses and bang on their front doors, Harry,” said Sirius. “He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them.” (OotP)

Voldemort is known for manipulating people into joining him; as in real life radicalization, abused, bullied, lone, rejected and deprived people like Snape are the perfect targets.

And combining all the factors I mentioned, it shouldn’t be a surprise Snape turned to the Dark Side and became bitter, spiteful and vindictive, but it is surprising that he stayed loyal to Dumbledore and the Light Side after all the ways they have deceived him.

It comes from here.

Dear @rose0jam recently wrote this: Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult, an essay by Rose0Jam

@snapeaddict explained this very well too:

Snape had nothing. More than nothing, he was hated by society and denied the right to a basic support system. Sorted in Slytherin house and half-blood, his only option was to become a death - eater. It's too easy to turn a blind eye on social inequalities, even if fictional. You cannot compare, and allow yourself to be judge of the actions of two people who did not have the same chances. You are also very quick to forget Snape turned against this ideology, and the bullying he suffered pushed him even more into it.

"Children who are at risk of radicalisation may have low self-esteem, or be victims of bullying or discrimination. Extremists might target them and tell them they can be part of something special, later brainwashing them into cutting themselves off from their friends and family."

- UK Government

You will find this on all government's prevention websites. Blaming radicalised youth is already questionable when they had no support system whatsoever, but using this to prove the moral superiority of privileged people within the same society that did not provide help for those who need it is utterly disgusting. This argument is completely invalid.

And finally:

This is where I fall back on Avery and Mulciber. After Snape has learned that the adults would rather protect his bullies than ensure Snape’s life is saved—after learning that for the Light Side, Snape’s life wasn’t worth anything, it’s possible he resorted to the only protection available: his mates in Slytherin. In HBP he talks to Draco about how it’s foolish to wander through the corridors alone, without protection. It’s likely that Snape only sought protection through the wrong crowds. After all, it seems effective, as the Marauders won’t attack him unless it was 4 on 1, meaning when Snape has none of his mates to protect him in the corridors. Imagine the level of stress this victim of bullying has to cope with just so he can walk through the school without fearing to be attacked from every corner?

In short: Snape was a vulnerable person; and vulnerable people are targeted by organizations of radicalization. Snape, abused by the “good guys”, falls within those who seem to care for him. And Voldemort has plenty of ways to make Snape feel understood and accepted.

”I too had a despicable Muggle father” - “Muggles are dangerous, we are only protecting wizards and witches from further harm” - “Dumbledore installs his own aristocracy through nepotism, that’s why James Potter was Head Boy, why he privileged two purebloods’ lives over yours, a half-blood; you see very well that it’s all a lie” - “Dumbledore has brought Lupin the werewolf in the school so he can teach lessons or even try to kill those he sees as a menace, and he’s right to see you as a menace” - “you’ll find your true family, your brothers among us, you’ll get what they’ve denied you” - etc.

A bit like Rowling said: he sought protection amongst those who seemed to offer it. Blinded until he could no longer deny the truth. Spending years regretting his naivety and his foolishness.

[romioneflufffest]

Practice Calls

Title: Practice Calls

Creator: @hillnerd

Rated: G/PG

Description: Ron and Hermione practice calling each other (missing moments set during POA through summer of GoF)

Easter Break was just around the corner, and it was not a minute too soon. Hermione was happy to have a time turner free week, as well as have her two best friends back in her life. She needed them now more than ever, as the pressures of her class schedule was starting to wear on her in little ways she had not even considered. She knew she hadn’t actually aged all that much, really, but somehow felt old and creaky anymore. Next to the Gryffindor fireplace she was longing for a nap, but something warmed her through far better than any fireplace could.

Ron had just walked into the Common Room and made a beeline for her, a lopsided grin gracing his freckled face.

“Mum sent Easter gifts. You got one too,” Ron said, handing her a wrapped package, the paper covered in little finely drawn quills.

“That was nice of her,” Hermione smiled, ripping into the paper much more delicately than Ron. Inside was a large chocolate egg with a hand-piped orange cat on it. She would have pointed out out the cute cat, but she had been avoiding mentioning Crookshanks in front of Ron the past few weeks. She was so happy for them to be on speaking terms again she was willing to never speak of her cat again.

“Well?” said Ron through a mouthful of chocolate. “You should eat some. You’ve had a tough week,”

It had indeed been a tough week. She’d slept through a Charms class, slapped Draco Malfoy, and even quit Divination. Ron had said he thought she was cracking up, and she wasn’t so sure he was wrong. He happily tucked in to his Easter egg before he took out a great deal of paperwork.

“What are you studying? Perhaps we can work on it together,” Hermione offered, breaking off a small piece of chocolate to nibble.

“It’s Buckbeak’s appeal. Wanted to send it off before the break,” he said, carefully writing something on it. She’d never seen his penmanship look more legible. Something about this made a tiny thrill rush through her.

“Yes. That’s a very good idea,” she said, feeling herself flush.

“You doing alright?” Ron asked, looking up from his neat papers.

“Oh yes! Yes I’m fine!” she said, leaning over to look through her book bag. Cheering charms. That’s what she needed to study. They spent the next twenty or so minutes in silence as each saw to their own tasks. She didn’t mind the quiet when it was her and Ron together. Harry was away at Defense lessons with Lupin, leaving just the two of them together. The companionship Ron provided was always welcome, though. Any time he was near her she felt just a little more capable, a little lighter, and a little more calm. It was no wonder she had been falling apart so much this year. She’d had to spend months out of his, and Harry’s, company. If it weren’t for that, she was certain her very busy schedule would not have made her so overwrought. Harry was nice to hang out with as well, but he just wasn’t quite the same as Ron.

“And… I think that’s done then,” Ron beamed looking down at his work. “Hermione, you mind looking this over?”

“Of course not,” she smiled back. She read page after page where Ron cited prior cases similar to Buckbeak’s, cited formal texts on Hippogriff behavior, and had many witness statements regarding Buckbeak’s behavior both before and after Malfoy’s run-in with the beast. It was more meticulously done than any paper of his she’d ever read.

“This is very good, Ron.”

“You think so?” he hopefully asked.

“I know so. If this doesn’t get Buckbeak cleared it’s due to pure malice on the part of the committee.”

“Good! I’ll ask Harry if I can borrow Hedwig after his lesson with Lupin,” said Ron, leaning back in his seat and putting his hands behind his head. “Don’t have any work due til after break! Mind you, my hand’s so cramped from writing the appeal, I don’t think I could do homework right now if I tried.”

“Would you mind showing me your notes from Charms?” Hermione asked. She’d missed Cheering Charms and knew they would show up on the exam. Ron quickly got them out, and she noticed they were a bit more detailed than usual. He’d done the same thing when she’d been in the hospital wing the prior year. His notes were inconsistent in quality until either she or Harry were absent- then suddenly his notes would look almost as detailed and neat as her own. They’d always had the odd doodle in them, so in some ways she preferred his notes. She found the funny little sketches to remind him of certain movements of the wand, and little notes Harry highly entertaining. She never told Ron this, of course, otherwise he’d never stay on task in class.

“Thank you.”

Ron took a large bite of his chocolate egg and seemed to be preoccupied.

“Y’know, this is the third Easter Harry’s been here, and that pissant ‘family’ or his never sends him so much as one letter,” he said, wadding up the wrapping paper from his egg and tossing it into the fire.

“Well… That’s not unusual for them, is it? They don’t give him real presents for birthdays or Christmas either.”

“Not even one bleeding letter! It’s ridiculous!” said Ron crossing his arms. “I wish I had an owl of my own so I could write him more often this summer.”

“Maybe we could try calling again?”

“After what happened last time on that fellytone thing? I flummoxed it up so badly, I think that fat uncle of his would have a coronary if I called. Worse, he might just put bars on Harry’s windows again.”

“Oh don’t!” Hermione cried out, not wanting to even think about how horrid Harry relatives were. “Those people are such monsters. It’s a miracle Harry turned out as well as he did.”

“Yeah…” Ron said looking down. “Well, I’m hoping to get Harry out of there early this summer, if I can.”

Hermione smiled. She loved how quick Ron was to find ways to help Harry out. Then a little thought began to form at the back of her mind.

“Ron… I was thinking. Maybe we can practice phone calls this summer,” said Hermione, eyes suddenly bright.

“Like I said, I don’t want to get Harry in trouble. That Uncle of his–”

“No no. Not You and Harry. You and me.” Before Ron could put forth any reservations, Hermione quickly went on. “It would be purely for getting better at calling people! Who knows, maybe Harry’s relatives will let him have a phone call. Either way, it would be good to practice. Who knows if you’ll need to call someone in the future.”

Yes. It was purely for practical reasons she wanted to practice phone call with Ron, and not at all because she would love to hear his voice over the summer.

“You don’t need to sell me on it,” Ron said with a laugh. “I can walk down to the village again. It’ll give me a chance to get out of the house without my whole family breathing down my neck.”

Hermione beamed, somehow looking forward to a phone call that was months away, even though Ron was right beside her.

____

Ron kicked a pebble along the dirt road as he made his way to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He’d been down the road hundreds of times at this point, but had never felt quite so nervous before. He wasn’t sure why he was so filled with nerves. It was just a phone call, and it was just to Hermione. He talked with her all the time at school, and wrote to her more often than he cared to admit to his family. When he’d told his mum he needed to go to the village to call Hermione his mum had insisted he bring a basket to pick up a few things from the farmer’s market around the corner. He was glad to have this as an excuse to give his siblings. He knew they would tease him for calling Hermione, just as they teased him for everything else.

Ron spotted the family pub just down the street and popped in, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“Excuse me,” Ron said, giving a small wave to the same bartender who had been there last summer. “Is your felltone- I mean— er— telephone available for a call?”

“We ‘ave the same phone booths as last time you was ‘ere,” the older heavyset man said, giving a nod to the set of phone booths at the far end of the pub. They each had old-timey phones in them, according to his father, making it a bit of a tourist attraction. And they were free, which made them a lot more attractive to Ron. Ron had been screaming into one of the phones last summer, so it was no surprise that the gruff man remembered him so sourly.

“They’s for payin’ customers only, though.”

“Right…” Ron said, sorting through the cash his mother had given him. “You have anything cold to drink? Butterbeer?”

Ron winced the moment it was out of his mouth. Butterbeer was a wizard drink! Why was he so bad at this? The barkeep’s red face scrunched up into a frown.

“Think you’re funny? I ain’t givin’ you no beer.”

“Er, whatever’s cheapest then,” Ron said with a shrug. The man rolled his eyes and took out a long snake-like tube and pressed a button, filling a glass with bubbly water the color of coffee. Ron thanked him and shakily doled out change. The man seemed impatient and Ron nearly dropped all the wonky coins he was so nervous. He managed alright, though, and finally made his way to the line of phones, fizzy drink in hand. He fumblingly got Hermione’s letter out of his jeans pocket and scanned it for her phone number. Dialing was an arduous process, and the phone’s dial tone was obnoxious to listen to as he turned the dial for each number. Her number had three nines in it, making it even worse to dial on the wheel of numbers. And then it was ringing. He took a nervous sip of the drink and nearly gagged at the overly sweet taste of it.

“Hello?” said a voice clear as a bell. Hermione!

“Pshlab,” Ron let out with a gagging noise.

“Hello?”

“Sorry!” Ron said rather loudly into the phone, before forcing himself to lower his voice. “Sorry. Had to buy one of those muggle drinks to get to use their phone. It tastes awful!”

“Ron! I’m so glad you called!”

He could practically hear her smile over the phone. Even with the bartender glaring at him, and the prospect of the twins teasing him about the phone call, he couldn’t help but smile back.

———————————————————————————————–

Hermione had been worried about their first phone call, as Ron’s previous experience with phones had gone so poorly, but it had gone very smoothly. She had given him fair warning not to yell into the set, and conversation seemed to flow just as easily over the phone as it had back at Hogwarts. He didn’t need to practice after the first call, but somehow Hermione didn’t want their phone calls to end. Ron didn’t seem to want their phone calls to stop either. A few times a week Ron would hoof it to the village to call Hermione, and tired of the teases from her parents as she tied up the downstairs line, she took the phone from the guest room to her own bedroom. Her mother caught her as she was carrying the phone, its long springy cord trailing behind her on the floor.

“Where are you taking the guest phone?”

Hermione blushed.

“I didn’t want to make my phone calls to Ron downstairs. There’s always noise of some sort, and it’s quieter up here, but more comfortable in my own room. I didn’t need a phone until now, and it’s not like any guests are using it, so I decided to borrow it for the summer. If that’s ok, of course. Sorry I didn’t ask,” Hermione babbled.

“You’re at the age where you’re having long calls with boys. Oh dear!” her mother teased, making Hermione blush harder.

“It’s not boys. It’s only Ron,” Hermione muttered.

“You write him so often, I didn’t think you’d keep up with the phone calls too,” her mother noted.

Hermione really could have stopped writing Ron, but there was something fun about doing both, then talking about the letter they received. She thought they might have nothing to talk about, but they actually had loads. Each phone call was getting longer and longer. That was why she wanted to do it in privacy as well. Her father would look at her, point at his watch, then continue to walk by.

“Well… It’s ok for me to take the phone, then?” Hermione hopefully asked.

“Of course. Just do it when your father’s out. We still only have one line, and he gets nervous when the line is tied up for too long.”

Hermione beamed, and ran the rest of the way to her room. She could have her phone calls with Ron and have them in private now.

Their next phone call was just as pleasant as ever, and Hermione found it so much more relaxing to lay on her bed as she talked to Ron. She could just imagine him there beside her as they talked, and a rush of girlish giggles making their way out of her mouth at the thought.

“You know what, at first I thought they’d be barmy, but I actually like telephone calls!” Ron said into the receiver. “I just wish I could see you, though. That makes Floo calling a bit better.”

Hermione beamed and wrapped the cord around her finger.

“Oh! We could see each other! Let’s practice Floo calls! I’ve never done one, and I don’t want to be the only witch at Hogwarts who doesn’t know how.”

Ron fell silent a moment.  

“Well… The telephone calls are private…” he said, suddenly not sounding very enthusiastic. Was she that bad to look at? Or did he not want anyone to know they were talking?

“Oh… Well, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh I do! I really do,” Ron said fervently. “It’s just… They would be in the middle of our house, and I it’s so mad around here we’d barely be able to talk.”

“I understand,” Hermione said, unable to completely hide her disappointment.

“You know what? Let’s do it. But it’ll have to be after everyone goes to bed, otherwise it’ll be nothing but the twins and everyone else butting in. We can even do it tonight, if you like. You’re already connected to the Floo network for when you come here next week. I can send Pig with some powder and you can try your hand at it. Around eleven?”

“Ok then! It’s a date!” Hermione let out, excitement making her wiggle in place.

“Er yeah! It’s a— yeah see you at eleven!” Ron said back. With that their phone call ended, and Hermione, for the first time she could think of, started to worry about what she should wear and what she should do with hair. She hadn’t seen Ron in nearly two months, and didn’t want to look poorly for him… Perhaps she should plait her hair? Should she still be dressed in her normal clothes? Or as it would be so late at night would it be more natural to have her pajamas on?

———————————————————————————————

Ron had sent Pig to Hermione’s earlier that day, but Pig hadn’t gotten back yet. Perhaps Hermione had borrowed him to send something to Harry? He hoped Hermione had gotten the powder alright. It was only a few minutes to eleven, and Ron couldn’t stop himself from pacing the floor. He wasn’t sure if he should wear his normal clothes or not, given the late hour, but thought he looked more presentable in them than his tatty pajamas. Percy had given him a pair of rarely worn jeans that fit alright, so he decided to wear that and a t-shirt that almost fit right, even though it was a bit tighter through the shoulders than it had been earlier that year.

Right at eleven the fire grew and sparked a bit.

“Ron?” He heard Hermione’s voice say through the fire.

“Yeah, I’m here!” Ron said, sitting down on the ground with his legs crossed. “You can put your head through, if you like.”

“Are you… Are you sure it’s safe?” Hermione said, sounding nervous. Ron chuckled a bit at Hermione being nervous about something. She was always such a little firebrand about things, so it was almost cute to hear her fret about something so common place to him.

“I promise, it’s as safe as a phone call,” he said, trying to hold his laughter as bay. He did his best to not laugh or tease people brought up with Muggle things when it came to new experiences in the Wizard world. Merlin knew he was clueless enough at Muggle things, so he tried to be as patient and aware as he could. He’d felt awful guilty the times he’d overlooked informing Harry or Hermione about something they should know.

The flames danced brightly for a bit, then Hermione’s face came through the flames, her prominent top teeth biting her lip.

“Oh!” she let out nervously. “This is so strange! Can you see me?”

“Yeah, I can see you,” Ron said with a smile. “You can see me too, yeah?”

She nodded before letting out a laugh.

“It doesn’t even feel warm. It’s so odd! I can’t believe it. It feels the same temperature as the rest of my house! I was worried it’d burn my hair, but it hasn’t.”

He could see her wild hair was plaided down the side of her head. It looked different than usual. He preferred it when her hair was all over the place, but wasn’t about to tell her this. In fact, she looked a bit different all over her head. Her eyebrows were a little thinner, and her eyes somehow looked a bit bigger?

“Your eyelashes look different,” he noted.

“Oh!” It was hard to tell in the flames, but Hermione’s tan skin looked a touch darker on her cheeks. “Well… I tried to… My mum gave me some mascara…”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a sort of… A sort of makeup that girls put on their eyelashes.”

“Why?”

“To make the eyelashes longer and darker.”

“Oooh. Do they make that for guys? Half the time I think I look like I don’t have eyelashes at all,” Ron said with smile, fluttering his light lashes at her. Hermione laughed at this and whatever was making her nervous seemed to dissipate.

Their Floo call was going quite well, and they’d been talking for well over an hour when Ron heard a scream on the other end of the Floo and Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“Oh! Mum! It’s fine!” Hermione cried out, pulling her head out of the fire. Ron could hear her mother sobbing as Hermione comforted her.

“It’s fine! It’s just magic! Let me say goodnight to Ron so he doesn’t worry. Look, watch this!” Hermione said, and then her face was in the flames again. “Ron, I have to go. I just gave my mother a terrible fright.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no worries. Sorry about that Mrs Granger!” Ron called back into the fire. The flames went out after that, and Ron had a great deal of trouble falling asleep.

The next morning he woke up to Pig dancing about his bed, a roll of parchment in tow. It took a moment to grab the excited little blighter, but after a few jumps he grabbed the little owl and untied a letter from Hermione.

In her even hand it read:

Dear Ron,

I’m so sorry our call had to be ended so abruptly. Mum was very hysterical to find her only daughter’s body lying headfirst in the fire. It took quite a long time to calm her down. I really liked getting to call you like this, but perhaps we should stick to letters until I come next week? I’m ever so excited to see you (And Harry and everyone else.)

I hope Ginny won’t mind me being in her room. She’s always been so nice all the times we’ve talked before, but I hate to put her out!

Maybe we can have one more phone call before I come over? Get that last bit of practice in for the summer?

I would write more, but it’s well past midnight.

Love from,

Hermione

——————————————————————————————

It had taken almost an hour for Hermione to calm her mother down after she had walked in on the fire chat with Ron. She couldn’t blame her mother, of course. It must have been a ghastly sight to come across at almost half past midnight.

Neither of her parents had been exposed to much magic, despite Hermione having been at Hogwarts for three years. There was little chance for them to learn, really, given how Hermione wasn’t allowed to use magic, and they’d only been to Diagon Alley a few times. She wished she could show them all the different spells and potions she’d mastered, but frankly they always looked perplexed as she described the lessons to them.

They failed to see how turning a teapot into a tortoise was something that would translate into a job down the road. Hermione tried to keep to lessons that made more sense to them, but couldn’t fail to see the mild disappointment and confusion that would cross their faces as she described class. They could understand making great grades, though, so she tried best she could to emphasize that, and lessons that pertained to history, healing, or performing useful tasks even they could appreciate. She had to be careful to avoid all the political bits of school, such as the Blood purists, the corrupt government officials, and the school board.

She also had to avoid mentioning how in danger she was each year. They had no idea how close she had come to dying each year, and the school didn’t deign to contact her parents about much of anything when it came to her exploits. Their hands off approach was rather shocking to Hermione at first, but over the years she came to appreciate it, as she could  almost fully control what information her parents were given about her goings on

Convincing them to let her travel to the Burrow by Floo took a good thirty minutes, but when they were assured over the phone by Ron that he and his father would escort her personally, they finally seemed ok with the choice. Her mother was not entirely happy with this, and let out a small scream when the fireplace broke out into tall emerald green flames, and a soot covered Ron had to crawl out of their low, by wizard standards, fire place.

“Hey Hermione,” he said with a smile. Ron’s father came up right after, and did a quick spell to clean them, as well as the carpet and hearth, of all the soot.

“Hi Ron!” Hermione smiled, and gave him a large hug after he was dust free. He returned her hug with gusto, his ears burning, probably since everyone’s eyes were one them. He seemed taller than he had been just a few months ago, and he was wearing a pair of jeans that fit him much better than most of his others.

Ron’s Dad was every bit as excited to see her parents as he ever was, so Hermione took the opportunity to give Ron a quick tour of her house. At first he seemed quite keen, but after the first few rooms his mood seemed to dip low.

“Are you alright?” she asked, seeing him frowning a bit.

“Yeah… It’s just… Well, you’re house is really nice,” Ron said with a forced smile.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah… Yeah…” Ron said starting to look worried.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Course I am. Just… Well, you’re coming to stay at our place, and I think I could fit three of the Burrow in your living room, and we have almost four times as many people who will be under one roof. It’ll be tight, and not as nice as this…”

“I’ll be with you,” Hermione said with a smile, before catching herself, “and everyone else. I’m sure I’m going to enjoy every single second there. Plus, I’ve never been in a magical home before. It will be amazing, I’m sure.”

“It’s just my home…” he trailed off, still looking uncertain.

“That’s why I’m sure I’ll love it,” she assured him. He seemed to get out of his funk as they entered her room.

“Oh wow,” Ron said, letting out a whistle.

“What?”

“It’s just, this room is a very Hermione-ish room, isn’t it?” he said with a laugh.

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked, uncertainly twisting a curl around her finger.

“Nothing bad,” he said with a lopsided grin that made her toes curl. “You just put your mark on it, didn’t you? Tons of books, the way the photos are all lined up just so, the wall calendar. It’s just very you.”

He gave an inhale.

“Yup. Smells like a Hermione room.”

“It smells like me?” she almost squeaked.

“Yeah, smells like books and that chapstick you always have around. The vanilla smelling one.”

“Oh… I… Oh…” Hermione didn’t know how to respond. Ron was commenting on how she smelled, but it seemed to be in a flattering way. She felt as nervous as she did before exams.

Ron let out a laugh and pointed at the far wall.

“Who in the world is that bloke?” he said, pointing to a poster of Einstein where the scientist had his tongue out.

“A famous Muggle scientist. He’s known for the theory of relativity.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Ron said with a shrug, “but he sure knows how to take a picture.”

“He did the Muggle equivalency of arithmancy, and figured out a lot about how the universe works, including gravity.”

Ron nodded at this and was about to say something when they heard her father call up the stairs, “Ron! Hermione! It’s about time to go!”

They went downstairs, and Hermione gave each of her parents a large hug. Her mother in particular didn’t seem to want to let go.

“You will write us often, won’t you?” she asked.

“Of course I will,” Hermione said, feeling a touch guilty knowing she wouldn’t see them for more than nine months.

“She can borrow my owl any time she needs to, Mr and Mrs Granger,” Ron supplied, and Hermione felt proud of how polite and courteous he was coming across. Ron then walked her, and her parents, through how they would Floo over. Apparently Mr Weasley had already explained the Floo Networks logistics, but they seemed to calm a bit more having a boy know how it works and treats the task as quite mundane. Ron threw the powder into the fire place, stood in the flames, and said ‘The Burrow’ very clearly.

Hermione received another firm hug from each parent before she followed Ron’s example and walked through the flames the same way, with Mr Weasley following behind with her trunk.

The Burrow smelled of freshly baked bread, and some other undefinable flowery scent she was almost certain she’d smelled at Hogwarts at one point or another. There was a brush magically scrubbing pots all on its own, a clock with pictures of the whole family pointing to different locations instead of times, and all the photos were moving. It was tight, but homey and Hermione felt immediately at peace as she walked further into the room. Ron bit his lip and looked a bit uncertain, until Hermione took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“This is the most amazing home I’ve ever been in!” she let out, and the beaming smile he gave her was so warming, she was certain she could power a Patronus with it, even though she’d never tried to do a Patronus Charm before.

“You know, I know it sounds barmy, but I think I’m going to miss our phone calls a bit,” Ron said as he pulled her towards the stairs.

“We can always do it again next summer.”

“I’d like that,” Ron grinned back at her.

She felt pleased down to her tows as he lead her for a tour around the house, her hand still in his.

[rhodesmystery]

quell

With a careful look to Charlie, to judge where he was at, she could see that he was absolutely thrilled, as she had come to expect. Except, there, at the corner of his eye. Just the touch of sadness, apologetic towards how the dragons screamed. There was the Charlie she knew.

In my kind of spun out canon, Natasha works at Durmstrang for a time post-Hogwarts (and some traipsing around tombs with Bill), which ultimately coincides with the triwizard tournament, because I can do that, I write the fic lmfao

coincides with chap19 of GoF. Dragons. Love it. Charlie x MC, ofc ofc. 

With nearly half an hour to midnight, Natasha makes her way from the Durmstrang ship with quiet ease. Having made sure the students were settled in their beds, lighting several warm fires at the insistence of not telling Karkaroff, extra charms laced into several pairs of socks, she was free. Practically skipping across the frosted grass towards the Forest, Natasha only has to look out at the scenery once just to be sure, before continuing on.

Easy enough to follow the path. In his letters, Charlie had been rather specific about just where to walk, what to avoid. Keep an open mind, he’d said, and Natasha could only stare into the overgrown trees, some amount of fondness as she thought of her fourth year. An open mind had helped her before, also at Charlie’s insistence.

Not long until she feels like she was walking the entire length of the Forest. Couldn’t remember the last time she had walked so briskly, and with a quick look behind herself, could no longer see the lake or castle. Must have been getting close, as slow rumbles seemed to drag across the remaining grounds.

Moonlight was no longer providing enough light. A quick wave, ‘lumos’, and she could see the short distance in front of her. Several people were ahead, their wands raised at the sudden light. Alarmed, Natasha felt herself falling into a defensive stance. 

“Who are you?” one particularly enthusiastic wizard asks, waving his wand towards her. “No one’s allowed here.”

Despite herself, Natasha did keep a close eye on how dangerously the wand was being flourished. “Charlie Weasley sent me an owl to meet him here,” she says, carefully conscious of her tone. Damn him for being so vague and suggesting something that was almost romantic. A midnight meeting while they had a chance. She hadn’t thought to actually question Charlie’s motives, positively melting at the way he had signed the letter.

Someone calls down the line then, repetitions of Charlie’s name echoing. Whatever the rumbling was, began to grow, taking over the shouts of ‘Weasley!’ She couldn’t see through the trees, not entirely, but she could see figures moving. More people than the crowd at the front it seemed, all running about. Voice rose, as if trying to compete with the noise from whatever was beyond.

A witch steps forward, tall and strong nosed, light emitting from the tip of her wand. Closer to Natasha’s face than she would’ve liked, and perhaps they recognised each other. Had been a few years since she’d been out of Hogwarts, anyway, and she had thought to have been quite memorable somewhat to those closer in year to her. 

Regardless, Natasha pushes the witch’s wand away with the tip of her finger. Almost goes to continue glaring, had it not been Charlie’s arrival, with the background of a vicious scream. Everything seemed out of place, especially when he pulls her into a tight hug. Natasha returns the embrace, perhaps a little loosely, as she tries to peer over his shoulder.

“What in the world did you call me out here for?” she presses, when he pulls back enough that she can still see his smile. 

But his eyes are bright, and Charlie takes her by the hand, leading her on. Almost bats her question away, really. “We only have a bit of time, really.”

“Weasley, isn’t she with—” the witch calls after them, only to end her own question with a shake of her head. “Merlin’s beard.”

As Charlie brought her closer, deeper into the trees, Natasha noticed that a large area lay before them. Numbers of witches and wizards were scattered around, and in between it all, were four immovable, thrashing creatures.

“Dragons?!”

Of course Natasha had seen them before, having visited Charlie in Romania before. Except that the feeling she had there was far different, to seeing the dragons now. They must have only just been transported, judging by how one in particular, blue in colour, was stumbling a little. But that didn’t prevent any others from thrashing about. With a careful look to Charlie, to judge where he was at, she could see that he was absolutely thrilled, as she had come to expect. Except, there, at the corner of his eye. Just the touch of sadness, apologetic towards how the dragons screamed. There was the Charlie she knew.

And just when Natasha was caught in the magic of it all, Charlie suddenly sprints forward. Hands catching a chain, he was joined by several others, as the dragon closest roared once more. Whipped it’s tail around, missing three wizards by a small margin. 

Natasha is pulled back by another witch, following them without question. Screeching, trying to move, trying to be free. Charlie shouts something over his shoulder, and it’s then that Natasha whips her head around, noticing that she was not the only one to come and see what was happening. Slinking further into the shadows, Natasha watches as Hagrid leads the Beauxbatons Headmistress towards the fence once more.

In a shower of red sparks, the dragons slowly fell to the grounds. Placated, for the moment. But that was not the immediate concern. Whilst her own loyalties had been questioned by Karkaroff more than once, she had sworn to assist Viktor Krum in any way she could. Her little outing, now of course filled with more than enough information, had not been intentioned that way. Madame Maxime, however, eyes glittering in the light of a nearby fire, was already formulating a plan.

And if Karkaroff found out that she knew about the First Task, without divulging information, she would never hear the end of it.

Charlie was aside with Hagrid, talking freely about the dragons. Until, of course, he spotted how Madame Maxime drew closer. Chides Hagrid, from what Natasha could hear, but the irony was not lost on her. Even the disparaging comment about a date, when Natasha was under the impression they were going to have one of their own.

Until, of course, a hand gripped her arm. Natasha wasn’t jumpy, but her wand was met with another, held tightly. 

“Karkaroff,” she greets, coolly. Here she thought she had managed to shake him off. “What brings you out?”

Nostrils flare, perhaps at her insubordination, but Karkaroff was too busy looking past Natasha. Proceeds to pull them further into the thicket, further out of the light. With a quick look, she noted that Charlie was still preoccupied, before shaking off Karkaroff’s hand.

“I was invited, before you ask.” Holds a finger up, before tucking her wand away. “Had no idea it would be about dragons.” Not at all romantic, Charlie, thank you very much.

Karkaroff gives her a look that Natasha doesn’t even try to decipher. Only settles for pulling her cloak tighter around her, as they stand in silence, surveying how witches and wizards move between the dragons, eggs in arms. A green one, towards the back, breathes heavily, snorting out flames as it goes. Four of them, one for each champion. Natasha held no ill will towards Viktor (on the contrary, she actually found him to be quite a funny individual, when he wasn’t being smothered), but as she stared at the dragons, she couldn’t deny the conflicted feeling. 

“I assume you’re developing a plan?”

“Viktor must win. This gives us just enough time to devise one.” He looks just as unpleased. On the boat ride over, in between trying to calm one particularly frightened student, they had discussed what might happen. Creatures, of course, had been assumed. After all, if a Cockatrice hadn’t run rampant, the Tournament would likely have continued for years to come.

But dragons? Natasha had never anticipated dragons. 

“It would be best to discuss this with him, Karkaroff. Allow him to strategise as well.”

Most definitely not what Karkaroff was looking to hear. But it was what was most fair, in the grand scheme of things. Not for the other schools, oh no, of course not. Natasha could just see how much Viktor despised Karkaroff, with how much he threw him off. Never mind that Viktor too, seemed to be skirting the rules more than usual. More than once she had found him hiding around Hogwarts, avoiding the classes, the fans, everything. She pitied him, she truly did.

She notices then, that Hagrid and Madame Maxime were turning to leave. “Karkaroff, go. Before you’re seen.” Nods her head in the direction of Charlie’s approaching form, and how he was looking back and forth.

“Natasha?”

“Go!”

Karkaroff scowls, but does as he was told, disappearing into the dark woods just as Charlie finds her. “There you are!”

“Sorry, didn’t want to be seen by Hagrid.” And his guest, she adds, but draws closer to Charlie regardless.

Charlie was unaware, completely, of what transpired. Perhaps, a comment about Hagrid’s date, champions not supposed to know. Just made her position a little more precarious, in fact, as he had clearly invited her along knowing full well just where she was working. Yet, Charlie kept an arm around her shoulders, as they strolled almost casually around the length of the fence. The dragons were almost mewling, strangled noises resounding, as wizards and witches continued to mill about. Far less tension than when she had first arrived. 

“What are you going to do now?”

“Got some time until later tomorrow, if you’re free.”

It’s then that Natasha raises a very pointed eyebrow. “Charlie, it’s the middle of the night. I should be back on the ship, if anything.” 

They had made it towards the entrance of the clearing. His hand slips, down her arm, to thread their fingers together. “I know, sorry. Got stuck with the later work than usual, so I’m sleeping during the day. Once this Task is over, it’ll be back to normal.”

“Are you staying for the entire Tournament?” she asks, idly, as her free hand goes to rest gently against Charlie’s neck. A new scar just there. Barely visible, as if something very small but very vicious had been quite overzealous with affection. 

He makes a face, then. “At this stage, probably not. Not the only one who wants to watch, and we had to pull names out of a hat to find out who even got to bring the dragons here.”

Despite the disappointment, Natasha couldn’t help the laugh at the idea of a lottery to figure out who got the job. “Really?”

“Honest.”

Laughter subsiding, they stood like they were for a few moments more. Charlie was the first one to move, pulling Natasha’s hand away, only to bring it to his lips, the lightest amount of pressure on her palm. “How are you, since the World Cup?”

Natasha shrugs. “As good as I can be. You?”

“Still amazed you punched a Death Eater. You’re an idiot, you know that?” Charlie chuckles, affectionate and sweet, no punch to the name. If she were being honest, she couldn’t believe that was her immediate reaction either, but that was a thought kept to herself. 

After another moment, Natasha pulls her hands free, to drape her arms around his neck, sliding just a fraction closer. “How long until you need to be back?” Try as she might, grumbling about the time, and thinking of how in the morning she would have classes with the Durmstrang students, the inevitable meeting with Karkaroff and Viktor, Charlie was warm. 

Smelling of honeysuckle, grass in the summer and an open fire all at once. Natasha had never quite divulged what Amortentia smelt to her, especially after Penny had brewed it fantastically that one time. But she inhales deeply, recalling the exact moment she realised. 

“I’ve got time.” Charlie is all strong hands, easy grin. Resting politely on her waist, as they kiss each other tenderly. 

“Good,” Natasha breathes, taking him by the hand this time.

[authormitchel-blog]

GOF: Part 18

As soon as Harry hit the ground with Cassius’ dead body, he knew he had to tell someone, he knew he had to tell them about Moody, or the not Moody. He knew he was still here, in the stands somewhere, was he sitting beside Millicent or Ron and Hermione, was he talking with Ely in sly tones, wondering about how his boyfriend was fairing in the maze when he was the one who had just murdered him?

           But he didn’t have to say a word.

As soon as not Moody saw Harry hit the ground. He stood and with a fierce anger in his crazy eyes fired the Dark Mark into the sky. Then before anyone could do anything, he slung killing curse after killing curse at Harry.

           He was too far away to hit him, but faster than Harry thought possible, Sirius was by his side knocking him away. Remus was dueling with Not Moody over the heads of screaming students. Then Dumbledore joined in, binding Not Moody with the ropes the way that Harry had just been bound.

           “He is risen. The Dark Lord is alive. He’s back. He’s back!” Not Moody screamed, still glaring at Harry as if he could cast the curse to kill him with his eyes. His wand had fallen and Remus had picked it up. He had levitated it to Dumbledore who cast prior incantatem on the wand, and the blood spell that had resurrected Voldemort played out for the enclosed group to see.

           “He’s back!” Harry cried. “Voldemort’s back!”

Then Ely McGovern was at his side, faster than even Not Moody in his zeal to defeat Harry, faster than anyone could stop him because Cassius Warrington laid dead on the grass. Ely fell to his knees beside the dead body, and shook him.

           “Cass? Cass! Please….what happened? What happened?!” he asked Harry. But all Harry could say was. “He’s back. He’s back.”

           Sirius pulled him into his arms and helped get Harry to his feet.

“Sirius, get Harry inside the castle. Remus levitate Crouch to my office and wait for me. Severus, help me with the boy.”

           Cornelius Fudge made his way over to the lifeless body of Cassius Warrington and a screaming Ely McGovern. Warrington’s mother was making her way to the ground, pushing through the horde of students and aurors trying to keep back prying eyes. Warrington’s father was nowhere to be found.

           Dumbledore motioned to let her through.

They should all bear witness to this, his eyes seemed to say.

           Harry, for one, couldn’t look away.

***

           The real Mad-Eye Moody was found in a trunk, wizard’s space; he had been stunned and under control of the Imperious Curse. He was weak, but alive Not Moody turned out to be Mr. Crouch, or at least Crouch Junior. Harry hadn’t recognized him in the graveyard, but when the remnants of the polyjuice potion he had been making all year finally wore off, Harry was told it was him. The man who Ely had written him about. Crouch’s death eater son.  

           Crouch, in the custody of Dumbledore and with a mouth full of Veriterserum confessed to everything. His sick mother had convinced his father to grant her one last wish. To save their son from Azkaban. She took his place and the dementors never suspected a thing. No one did. She died but they buried his body.

           Crouch had been kept under lock and key by his father. Imperioused and under an invisibility cloak at all hours until he heard something, felt something. Harry knew that something was Voldemort calling to him.

           Winky had been the one to watch him. She had nursed him, had cared for him since he was a child, before he was a Death Eater, before he knew what a Muggle born was, or learned to call them Mudbloods instead. She had loved him since he was born and so she wanted him to be free. One night out, the Quidditch World Cup would be perfect because Winky knew how much little Junior loved Quidditch. But things had gone wrong.

           Crouch Jr. had been learning to fight off the Imperious Curse, and when he saw the other Death Eaters the ones who hadn’t been searching for their master, “the ones who lied and pretended”, he had released the Dark Mark into the air. His father had found out, gotten rid of Winky, but by then Crouch Jr. was free and he got to Mad-Eye Moody. He killed his father. He entered Harry into the tournament, and had been using the Imperious on Warrington periodically throughout the year, used him to help Harry get to the Cup, and then had murdered him when he was no longer proved malleable to his will.

           “You is a bad master,” Winky had said, sobbing into Harry’s chest.

“Winky has no family,” she proclaimed, despite Crouch’s pleads.

           Winky had heard everything, and Harry couldn’t shake the sound of her tears as she learned that the little boy she once loved was no longer the person sitting in front of her as she listened to his confession.

           Later, in Dumbledore’s office with Sirius and Remus, Harry told them what happened.

“He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone elses,” Harry told them. “He said the protection my mother left in me…he’d have it too. And he was right, he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.’

           For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.

           “He asked me if I knew how to duel,” Harry went on, but when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort’s wands, he found his throat constricted. He tried to keep talking, but the memories of Cassius, the old man and Bertha, his parents flooded into his mind.

           Sirius broke the silence.

“The wands connected?” he said looking from Harry to Remus. “Why?”

           “Priori Incantatem,” Remus muttered.

“The Reverse Spell Effect?” said Sirius sharply. “Exactly,” said Dumbledore. “Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,” he added, and he pointed at the scarlet and gold bird that had perched itself peacefully on Harry’s knee.

           “My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?” Harry said, amazed.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand the moment you left his shop four years ago.”

           “When a wand meets its brother,” Remus explained. “The wands will not work properly against each other.”

           Dumbledore continued. “It’s a rare effect, where one of the wand’s will force the other to…regurgitate the spells it has performed in reverse. The most recent first, and then those which proceeded it.”

           “Which means,” said Dumbledore. “That some form of Cassius appeared.”

Harry nodded at the nonquestion.

           “He came back to life?” Sirius asked sharply.

“No spell can reawaken the dead,” Dumbledore said heavily. “All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cassius which retained his appearance and character.”

           “An old man came too,” Harry said, his throat still constricted. “Bertha Jorkins. And…..” He looked at Sirius and Remus.

           “I saw my parents.”

Sirius grip on Harry’ shoulder was now so tight it was painful.

           “They protected me, told me to hold on…dad….he told me what to do. Cassius told me to take his body back, to show them what had happened, and to tell Ely… to tell him that he loved him.”

           At this point, Harry found he could not continue. Fawkes had left his knee, having fluttered to the floor, he rested his beautiful head against Harry’s leg. Pearly white tears fell to his injured leg and it started to repair itself.

           “Harry,” said Dumbledore. “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. Now, I suggest a sleeping potion. There’s no need to return to the dormitory tonight. Sirius, Remus would you like to stay with him? I’m sure Cornelius will allow this in light of current events.”

           When Dumbledore pushed open the door to the infirmary, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Blaise, Hermione, Ron, and Millicent grouped around a harassed looking Madame Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as he entered with his two guardians and Dumbledore.        

           Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.

“Harry. Oh, Harry!”

           Dumbledore tried to move between them, but Mrs. Weasley side stepped him, pulling Harry into her arms. Harry felt himself start to cry. He hadn’t been able to touch his own mother, but Mrs. Weasley’s comfortable arms surrounding him, her hand in his hair was real and strong and clearly not an echo of anything but love.

           “I’m all right,” he said as soon as he was able. “Just tired.”

Sirius and Remus helped him get into bed.

Sirius eyes watched over him carefully as he smoothed his bed covers. With the help of dreamless sleep Harry quickly fell under. He hoped that he wouldn’t dream about cauldrons, and the shrill voice of Voldemort. He hoped he wouldn’t hear anything at all. And he didn’t. Until the next morning.

Harry kept his eyes closed, hearing the curiosity in Mrs. Wealsey’s voice as she and Bill Weasley listened to the conversation that was quickly turning into an argument right outside the hospital’s doors.

           “What has happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, coming through the doors and looking from Cornelius Fudge to Professor McGonagall.

           “Minerva, I’m surprised at you…. I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch.”

“There is no need to stand guard anymore, Dumbledore,” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”

           Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. Not when Crabbe transfigured his teapot into a bowling ball and nearly knocked several holes in her desk or even when Tracey Davis, transfigured her quill into a pair of scissors deciding that then would be a good time to trim her bangs in class before the scissors took on a life of their own, cutting not only people’s hair, but also people’s robes, in rather inappropriate places and patterns. Crabbe’s nipples still burned into Harry’s memory.

McGonagall’s hands were balled into fists, she was trembling with fury.

“Mr. Fudge called for a dementor when we were finished questioning Barty Crouch.”

           “I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore,” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him that you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but….”

           “My dear woman!” roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, “as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous criminal. Mr. and Mrs. Warrington thought that it was a fine idea. They care for my personal….”

           Sirius laughed.

“They don’t care about you, Fudge. All they cared about was getting revenge for their son. They used you, Minister.”

           Fudge scoffed.

“By all accounts, he is no loss. It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!”

           “But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore. “He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people.”

           “Why he killed them? Well, that’s no mystery is it,” blustered Fudge. “He was a raving lunatic from what I’ve heard. He thought he was following you-know-who’s orders!”

           “Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan has succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”

           Fudge blocked this out. Argued. It was as if Fudge had his hands over his ears saying, “Nananananananana.” For all he was listening to the rest of them.

           “I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore, his eyes blazing now.

“I heard Crouch’s confession under veriterserum, and I heard Harry’s account of what happened after they touched the cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.”

           Fudge smiled strangely.

“You are prepared to believe Lord Voldemort has returned on the word of a lunatic murderer and a boy who as I understand it is not only a Parselmouth but has also been having funny turns all over the place.”

           “I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?” said Dumbledore cooly.

           “You admit that he has been having these pains then?” said Fudge quickly.

“Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly hallucinations?”

           Remus had to hold Sirius back.

“I suggest you stop reading Skeeter’s swill, Minister. There’s only so many brain cells you can sacrifice,” said Sirius. Fudge snarled.

           “Listen to me, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge. “Harry is as sane as you or I or anyone else in this room. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by or feeling particularly murderous.”

           “Look, I saw Lord Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted. “I saw Death Eaters. I can give you their names. Malfoy. Avery.”

           “Both cleared,” roared Fudge.

“Macnair,” Harry continued.

           “Also cleared, now working for the Ministry!”

“All old names. All acquitted thirteen years ago.”

           “And we all know the Ministry is flawless,” barked Sirius.

“You fool!” cried Professor McGonagall. “Mr. Crouch, Cassius Warrington, these deaths are not the random work of a lunatic.”

           “What evidence?” shouted Fudge. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything that we have worked for.”

           “Voldemort is back,” said Dumbledore. “Cornelius, you are blinded! Act now, get to the giants, the dementors or history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild.”

           “Insane…” whispered Fudge, backing away. “Mad….”

“He can’t be back Dumbledore, he just can’t be…”

           Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore pulling up the left sleeve of his forearm and showed it to Fudge who recoiled.

           “There,” said Snape harshly. “The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater we were to disapparate and apparate instantly at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think he fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Death Eater’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

           Snape was a Death Eater.

Fudge turned to leave before stopping and dropping Harry’s winnings on his bed then leaving. Mr. and Mrs. Warrington seemed to be waiting for Crouch in the hallway. Harry rose shakily to his feet, and moved to the door.

           “Do you know what he died for?” Harry nearly shouted at the prim looking couple. Red, tear stained eyes turned to Harry in surprise.

           “He died trying to protect me. He died fighting for what was right. He broke the imperious curse for me, and for himself…for the life that he will now never get to live. Ely…”

“Don’t say that name to me!” Mr. Warrington shouted, staring at Harry coldly. “That gold digger is the reason that Cassius is dead. He never should have been involved in this tournament. He never should have been the one to touch that Cup. He should never have been with that overly ambitious sod. And now he’s left his entire inheritance to that boy. I’d say that was the plan all along. To ruin my son and then reap the benefits. It should never have happened!”

           “No,” said Harry calmly. “It shouldn’t have, but you know that’s not Ely’s fault. Don’t you, sir?”

           Mrs. Warrington eyed her husband discreetly.

“Don’t you want revenge for the person responsible for your son’s death?”

           Mr. Warrington looked like he was about to say that he just had, but Harry couldn’t stomach that.

           “Crouch may have fired the curse that killed your son, but don’t you think Voldemort could have stopped it if he wanted too? Don’t you think he could have saved him? But no, he condemned him. You, too. Cassius chose what side he wanted to be on, now you have to do the same.”

Then Harry turned and left the grieving parents in the hall. He had his own family to be getting back to.

***

“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.”

           He looked at the Slytherin table and Harry felt as if he was looking at each of them.

“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Slytherin table, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all to please stand and raise your glass to Cassius Warrington.”

           They all did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the hall stood and raised the goblet and echoed, in one loud, low rumbling voice, “Cassius Warrington.”

           Ely wasn’t at the feast. He hadn’t been able to leave his room, Harry had heard his roommates saying.

           “Cassius Warrington was a good person and a great friend. He was steadfast and strong, gifted in astronomy and like the stars he had memorized, he was headed for a bright future. His death has affected you all whether you knew him or not. I think that you have the right therefore to know exactly how it came about.

           Cassius Warrington was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror.

           “The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. Some of your parents may be horrified that I have done so either because they believe you are too young to know or because they will simply not believe it themselves. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferred to lies and that any attempt to pretend that Cassius died as a result of an accident or some sort of blunder of his own is an insult to his memory.”

           Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sat ashen faced, but attentive to Dumbledore’s words.

           “The Triwizard Tournaments aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened Lord Voldemort’s return, such ties are more important than ever before.”

           Harry looked at Madame Maxime and Hagrid, Fleur who had went to the ball with a Hogwarts student and who Harry knew had exchanged promises with Hermione to write and Viktor Krum who sat only a few seats from Harry, Millicent and Blaise. The boy who was more than just his talent on a broomstick.

           Viktor momentarily looked as if he thought Dumbledore was going to say something to him, but Dumbledore had forgiven worse crimes then going to a school that supposedly teaches the Dark Arts. Snape had been a Death Eater and somehow he had wormed his way into Dumbledore’s good graces again.

           “Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all once again that we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great, but we can fight it with an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.

           We are all facing dark and dangerous times. Some of you in this Hall have already been directly affected by the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder, and not one week ago, a student was taken from us.”

           Dumbledore looked at Harry then.

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cassius’ body back to Hogwarts. And to show the world what Lord Voldemort has done. And for his bravery, I honor him.”

           Many raised their glasses in salute of Harry, but a few noticeably did not and not just the sons of the Death Eater’s that he had escaped from.

           “As some of you leave these halls for the last time, I implore you to show the world what you have become, so that when it comes time, and I fear it will come, to choose between what is right and what is easy. I hope you remember how you feel right now in such loss and remember that the boy we mourn, the boy who loved the stars, chose right.”

           As they left the Great Hall, someone bumped Harry’s shoulder, but instead of seeing a green robe it was a blue one.

           “Murderer.”

Harry looked around, but no one else was stopping. Then from across the hall, Harry heard, “Slytherins always do betray their own kind.”

           Harry instantly shook his head.

“It’s all a lie,” said someone else and a Hufflepuff pushed him, nearly causing him to stumble. “Wanted to be champion so bad he murdered Warrington!”

           “Yeah,” called someone else. “Dumbledore’s just covering it all…”

“Enough!” roared a voice, who sent a spell that knocked the most outspoken of the group to the floor.

           It was Ely.

He looked gaunt and wild, nothing like the normally well-dressed, put together, impeccable image he normally presented to the world. Harry hadn’t seen him all week, but had gone over every variation of what could happen when they met again, but he could have never thought of this.

           Ely stopped beside him, calling the attention of every student present though he didn’t say a word. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott stood not far off absorbing everything intently.

           “Cassius was a two hundred and thirty pound seventh year Slytherin. He learned how to cast hexes before he even came to Hogwarts that most only learn well after third year. He had a fast dueling arm and used to love playing Exploding Snap. He was every bit the conniving, strategic, ambitious, biting Slytherin you all have this vision of…” he stopped briefly.

           “and you think, you honestly believe that this scrawny nothing killed him?”

Ely laughed cruelly.

           “You all really are fools.” Ely looked straight at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed Cassius.”

           Everyone heard. It seemed as if no one had left the halls except for the staff. No one planned to miss this.

           “While I saw Potter here, as nothing more than a nuisance, something that stood in the way of Cass becoming a champion Cass thought that Potter was a good kid, defiant, unruly but better than most.” Ely eyed the crowd, contemptuously.

           “I was close enough that night to hear what Harry was saying. I saw, we all saw Crouch Junior attack Harry Potter so that he would stay silent, but I will not stay silent. This unruly, mouthy fourth year didn’t kill anyone. The Dark Lord killed the boy I love, and I won’t let anyone taint him with lies.”

           He raised his wand.

“And I’ll curse anyone who says differently.”

           Just then, the upper year Slytherins who had been watching stepped up and joined Ely then. Then Krum, “Harry Potter is a valiant champion and I stand by him.”

           “Me too,” said Fleur and a whole host of others stood by him, his friends even people he had never talked too.

           The dissenters nodded meekly before filtering out of the Hall. Harry nodded to his friends and they too, walked away. Ely moved off as well, but Harry couldn’t let him go.

           “Ely!” Harry called. He had to tell him. He might not get another chance. Ely stopped. His cheeks still red with anger. He was breathing heavy, no energy from lack of food for the past week.

           He looked at Harry expectantly, but impatiently. Harry’s mouth went dry. But after everything Ely had just said for him, he could say something for Warrington.

           “Cassius, he wanted me to tell you he loved you.”

Harry said, but instead of tears or more yelling, Ely simply laughed.

           Ely shook his head, “No, he didn’t Potter. Cassius never once said those words to me.”

He turned to walk away, Harry followed him.

           “He said, tell Ely that he’s the exact opposite of the thing I despise the most.”

Ely stopped, then faced him. A gentle smile now on his face.

           “That’s more like it,” he said. “He always said things like, “I adore you.” “You’re brighter than the lights from the Lake.” “One day it will be us.” “I’ll show you how.” “Study with me?” Cass never said, I love you, and yet he said it every day since fourth year.”

           Ely put his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“If you think life right now is shit just wait, Potter. Cass has got it easy now. The dead don’t have to make any choices.”

           “Won’t you miss him?” asked Harry. He thought Ely was being a bit pragmatic about this.

           “Weren’t you guys going to live together, make a life? That’s what Cassius said in the maze.” Ely laughed again. “I’m surprised he told you that, Potter, he must have thought you were more than what you let on.”

           Ely released him.

“It was only an idea, Potter. Cass comes from a great wealthy family and would have been expected to make a good marriage and produce an heir. The only good place we had was here and in his imagination. We both knew it wasn’t going to happen.” Harry shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t. Harry looked straight into Ely’s eyes.

           “Perhaps you should contact Cassius’s parents before you taint him with anymore lies. Or at least send an Owl to Gringotts,” said Harry. Harry moved past Ely’s still disheveled form.

           “He loved you more than you think.”

Ely nodded. Harry didn’t have to see the tears in his eyes to know they were there.

           “Thanks P….Harry.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said.

[kmclaude]

Something I've noticed lately...have you also seen that a lot of kid characters in popular ships that antis scream at seem to be written as if they're adults, not kids? Like, I swear a lot of these characters could be drawn as 23 instead of 13 and seem absolutely 0% different in personality.

I’ll be honest, I’m not super involved in fandoms but drawing from my experiences and things I’ve noticed, you’re very much not wrong! I think there’s a few things involved there. 

Gonna put it under a cut because it’s a bit rambling, I’m just throwing some thoughts out there...

The biggest factor ime is that a lot of the media starring youthful characters that fandoms spring up around also has these youthful characters dealing with experiences that are decidedly grown up! So you’ve got preteen and teen protagonists in their very canons fulfilling very adult expectations and dealing with very adult responsibilities, in a sense. Which makes sense because a lot of these media are either adult stories containing child/preteen/teen characters if not protagonists (and so very adult things happen around or even to them, like in It by Stephen King) or YA media, in which latter case a lot of these situations function as “coming of age” moments or even stories -- think of how dementors in Harry Potter are a metaphor for depression, which is something that yeah we as a society hope children and teens don’t have to deal with and often try to protect them from but also it’s something many adults have to deal with and sadly many teens to and for many of us it’s a part of our transition into adulthood.

For examples of the latter, look at Black Butler or Harry Potter. Now I know Black Butler is rated TV-MA and the manga is rated OT for older teens but it’s also a shonen manga if I remember right so I’m going to consider it YA manga--perhaps geared to older teens, mind, but still young adult. Harry Potter is of course children’s literature but it also is known for having grown up with its audience. Both of these have a preteen protagonist who Goes Through Some Shit and has to take on -- as a child -- the role of an adult. Ciel makes a deal with a demon for revenge as, what, a preteen? He’s about thirteen by the time of the first anime arc and has been serving as essentially the preteen version of the goddamn Hellsing Organization??? Killing people and searching for his family’s murderer and seeking revenge? That’s a pretty adult mindset, drive, and role. Sure he’s a brat like a child is and acts as such and has the limits of a preteen/teenage boy BUT he’s also written into a role of an adult man and in some respects acts as such. In Harry Potter Harry makes a goddamn knowing sacrifice to face off against Voldemort at age eleven! He’s been abused all his life and then gets thrown into a world where he’s both a superstar and a target, has attempts on his life, and decides to take on an adult wizard and by extension (figuratively and, surprise, literally) Voldemort all at age eleven in one year. And then comes back again and does it all over again. By thirteen he’s regained and lost (metaphorically) a family member and seen the injustice of the court system and at age fourteen he witnesses a full on hate crime and then sees literal death in the face and nearly faces his own (again!)

Most of us don’t see all that by age fourteen.

So it makes sense that a lot of fans writing fic about such characters write them in such a way that, with few adjustments (trade high school for college, trade pubertal sexual awakenings for I dunno late blooming or collegiate sexual awakenings, etc.), they’d easily be twenty-somethings rather than tweens.

Another part of that is that writing kids as kids or teens as teens is hard because the people who make Media are all Adults so there’s a bit of an adulthood lens those characters are written through, no matter how damn good one is at writing a kid or preteen (an example of good kid writing is what was going on in the new It movie because preteens act just like those boys do holy shit kids make nasty sex jokes. I know because I was a kid once and we did that.) And when we read that in canon, well, we’re gonna reflect that in fanon, aren’t we? Hell, even the people writing fanfic who are teens are not always writing characters that are their ages and even when they are, well, it goes back to that first point: these characters often in canon go through more in their “”””childhoods””””” than your average child or teenager. For example: I wrote most of my Voldemort/Harry fanfiction when I was a late preteen and early to mid teenager. I actually started sharing a lot of it during Hurricane Katrina which is a Very Big Scary Thing for anyone to go through, let alone a kid, and yet even with A Literal Natural Disaster under my belt along with a few family deaths over the years prior, I still didn’t go through half the shit Harry James Potter went through at that point in the series (Order of the Phoenix had come out two years prior so Harry was a few years my elder but I was mostly writing post-Goblet fic.) Like...Harry seemed much more mature than I was even though I and that character would have been peers, essentially. 

Sorry, I’m a little disjointed -- I’ve been drinking and I’m currently listening to the new Manson album which is not something to write to, I guess.

Another thought that just occurred to me is, perhaps, this is why so many people now push for OH THEY’RE ALL AGED UP!!!! YEAH!!!! when no one used to care about chan or underage (I mean besides to cover their asses, that’s definitely why people go AGED UP THEY’RE AGED UP.) Because everyone kinda wrote characters with a sort of....mature voice, I guess, you could say? So it was like “yeah no teen acts like this but then again no teen acts like the canon character either, it’s fiction, chill Suzette.” Like I can remember a post-PoA “what if Sirius was exonerated and Harry lived with Sirius and over the summer between PoA and GoF a relationship started” fic where like...you know, thirteen year olds don’t act like that, you could substitute a higher age and it’d make sense (well Sirius’ angsting would just cut down from the age and the godson thing to just the godson thing but besides that...)

Also keep in mind that in general: writing kids (specifically speech) is hard. Super hard. People fuck that up a lot. Preteens and teens may be a bit easier but it’s still hard. Most media is of adults or again these, shall we say, Worldly Teens With Adult Problems so it makes sense that the characters talk and think in a more...grown way. So that’s what people read and emulate when they write. It’s easier to do and harder to fuck up. So I mean when you can easily swap in another older age, that might definitely be at play as well.

[fansplaining]

Hi guys! I recently marathoned Black Sails and i loved it! the only thing I'm sad about is that i didn't watch it in real time... I don't care if my ship is cannon, but I found that seeing it all at once means i know what happened to everyone, and I'm having a hard time shutting it off. I want to be into it, bc there are so many characters and ships i like in BS, but i don't know how to make the story feel open for exploration. any ideas or thoughts on how to incept myself into BS fandom?

Hello! Of course Elizabeth is answering this. This is a GREAT ASK, thank you, and not just because the entry point to this question is Black Sails ⚓⚓⚓. 

(I’ll have you know this is one of, like, three gifs of Flint smiling in the entire series. I also googled “Black Sails happy” and…no one looked happy.)

OK so it seems like there are a few things going on here. Apologies for taking what’s ostensibly about one show and turning it into something broader, but I think it gets at fundamental questions of fannish engagement, so I’M GOING IN.

1) Watching/reading a series all at once 

Flourish and I talk about this one a lot, because we (and many others) have observed that younger/newer Harry Potter fans approach characters and plot elements VERY differently than we do, and we chalk a lot of this up to reading the books as a complete text versus reading it with miserable long gaps in which to turn over every freakin detail only to have 75% of it jossed when the next book came out. In 2002 I legit read this one page of Dumbledore dialogue in GoF 100 times thinking there was a clue that was just…under…the surface.

I think that with some texts and with some fans, the serialized nature of TV and book series are the way in—we climb into those gaps and lingering there, waiting and obsessively turning things over and imagining all the branching possibilities, all the future reveals, all the resolutions, is part of the pleasure. I sure as hell wouldn’t have fallen for Sherlock if I hadn’t shown up to poke at the gaping emotional wound between s2 and s3. (Frankly if you showed me all four seasons at once I’m not sure I’d even like the show—my lingering emotional loyalty was the only thing that kept me saying anything nice about s4.) 

If I had not watched Black Sails all in one go it would have been LITERAL TORTURE FOR ME. I had to pause for a week while traveling and I started to read fic that actually spoiled parts of the fourth season WHOOPS. :-/// But I can also understand how watching it all in one go wouldn’t give you enough space. But then, we watched the same way and I am deep in it, plotting out fic and everything. So maybe… 

2) A complete text can stay with you but might not give you a way in

This happens to me with books *all the time*. I’ll read something that shakes me—I’ve often used the metaphor “knocks your world off its axis” when describing a really great book, like it can be the subtlest tilt and you’ll feel like everything’s changed. I think it’s pretty normal for texts to stay with you? If they’re good or if they touch you in some specific way? Especially if you’re fannish and really feel the media you’re consuming.

But one thing I often find about books is they’re more…complete. Even when television shows end properly, rather than being cancelled, they might stretch for longer than what was initially planned, for example, so it doesn’t feel like the arc of the plot was as carefully constructed—often it can’t be, especially with long-running American shows (and of course with classic episodic television, say, a monster-of-the-week show, it’s not even structurally designed to have the same sort of ~ABCDE structure as a novel might). 

Black Sails is not one of those shows—they knew they were bringing the story to a close, and the entire show rests on carefully-plotted narrative arcs. (Not to mention there was an actual ~canonical endpoint for all the Treasure Island characters, ie where the book begins (like, sort of). I mean, there were also canonical endpoints for Jack, Anne, Vane, Blackbeard, Hornigold, and every other historical figure, but…)

Over the years I’ve joined fandoms for WIPs as well as finished products, and often for me fandom’s been a way of trying to mend the wounds of a media property I found incomplete, either narratively (with bad writing) or literally (like, when a show ends abruptly). I think for some fans, this is a crucial piece—they say that when they find something too complete, there’s nothing to mend. 

3) Different modes of fannish engagement

So here’s another thing I’ve observed—different friends have different definitions of “fandom.” So people are like, “Oh yeah, I’m in the fandom, I love that show!” And I find out that means they enjoy the show and livetweet it and look at some gifs and that’s that. Which is totally fandom! And then there’s me, nodding nervously as I debate mentioning that, “Oh yeah, I’m in the fandom, I love that show!” for me means “THIS IS THE ONLY THING I WANT TO THINK ABOUT, HELP ME, I AM DROWNING.” It’s funny, sometimes I think about archetypal nerdboy fandom and its dick-measuring fact recitation, and then I think about all the times I tried to read the room to see if it was safe to let another person know how much I thought about something I loved, how much I felt about it. Even in totally fannish spaces, I still hesitate. :-/

There have been some things in the past few years that I’ve really enjoyed and toyed with checking out fandoms for, but what I’ve come to realize over the years is for me, it needs to be like falling in love. I think for some people, interest and obsession grows, and for others, you fall in head-first. And for others still, it depends on the thing. 

I understand this ask might have been specifically looking for resources or suggestions and while I’d just say if you’re not feeling it in this way, that’s cool, there are lots of different ways to fan, and you can keep thinking about something even if you aren’t drawn to, say, create transformative works about it? But maybe I should say something about Black Sails in particular…

4) Black Sails-specific: unreliable narrators and transformative works

If anyone hasn’t finished Black Sails, stop reading here, I’ll keep it vague but there’s only so much I can do. This is one thing that’s especially interesting to me about this ask: while I’m going on about how final and precisely plotted it all was, it’s not…that final. Because the entire point of the show is about narrative, right? Who gets to write them, who gets to own them, how they can be manipulated, how they shape “civilization.” Characters constantly talk—and constantly show—how both Flint and Silver (and, like, most of the characters, from Max to Thomas to Vane to Woodes Rogers) are these masterful shapers of narrative. Flint is the victim of clashing narratives: what’s actually happened to him, what he tells the world he’s doing, what he’s actually doing (note that explosive scene when Miranda calls him on this, ahhh I love Miranda). But the show’s choice to shift to Silver’s narration to wrap up events is a really fascinating one: the man who works so hard to obscure his past, laying out the narratives of the future. Should we believe him? 

I recommend this interview with creators Johnathan Steinberg and Robert Levine—the Flint section at the start is really delightful if you’re into artists being super into open-interpretation of their work. “Do we have a sense of what we imagine is happening?” Steinberg says when asked if we should believe Silver’s speech to Madi. “Yes, but if I was someone else, I wouldn’t want to watch it with my interpretation coloring it.” They talk about how this is essentially a transformative work (they don’t use that term)—a certain decision “made sense as a way to both acknowledge the book and spin it.”

So this is like the literal opposite of, say, JK Rowling, who seems intent on letting us know every freakin detail of canon and post-canon and seems genuinely unhappy at the idea that people will interpret things in ways that “aren’t true.” (At least in interviews I’ve seen/read of hers in the past few years.) Steinberg and Levine seem to be the ultimate “open to interpretation” guys, which really is like this big blank slate for fandom building on and playing with this world they’ve created. That being said, if oppositional fandom is your cup of tea—if you love fic and fandom as a corrective, as a way of wrestling a creator over the text—then the, “Go for it, interpret however you want” thing is probably not super appealing. 

This is the first time in my entire fandom life, going on two decades now, that I have simultaneously been really satisfied with a show’s ending and still wanted to write and read fic. And that seems…weird to me? So I don’t think it’s that weird that it wouldn’t work for someone. TL;DR: I’d just say if it happens, it happens. But it’s OK to love something and not find a way into the fandom. But if that changes for you, I’ll be there. :-)

[remedialpotions]

things that wouldn't have been that hard to add to the movies

- “you can have me, keep me!” it’s just an extra line for Rupert, like just have him say it - would have required like actors and props and such, but I would pay money to see Ginny’s singing valentine depicted in CoS, it would have only been like an extra five minutes of movie - “you asked us a question and she knows the answer! why ask if you don’t want to be told?” and that way we could have seen that Ron is the type of kid who defends his friends (and doesn’t side with bullies!) and it would have only taken like 3 seconds - wouldn’t it have been so much easier to have Voldemort just thud to the ground like he did in the book instead of dying of extreme dandruff to show that even after everything he was really just a man like everyone else? - “she’s like my sister. I love her like a sister…” seriously just film Dan and Rupert talking in the forest it takes two extra minutes geeeez - (yeah most of these are about Ron) - like they could have had Rupert standing there with his besties at the end of HBP instead of sitting in the background like a chump - I’m positive it’s less expensive to just not set the Burrow on fire at all - “good luck Ron!” *smooch* oh wait, there was no Quidditch in that movie nvm - couldn’t they have had James Potter say “until the very end” when they’re all in the forest? he says “until the end” and I just don’t understand IT’S ONE WORD - at the end of GoF maybe Dumbledore, in giving his speech about Cedric, didn’t have to sit in his fancy chair like he was bored and inconvenienced by making said speech - two seconds of Ron and Hermione dancing at the wedding. just put Rupert and Emma in one of those awkward teenagers-slow-dancing poses and film two seconds of it and so many people would be so happy - toss a pair of glasses on Arthur Weasley for heavens sake I’m not asking for much here honestly but this would have made such a difference to me

[nibimatatabi]

Only Human

Word Count: 2972 Summary: Set roughly around/between PoA & GoF, Cassandra notices a dog digging around in her trash can. Leo is a weird dog, and not even actually a dog. Mostly a cathartic exercise for her, plus I already told @hogwarts-junkie about this thought when I was washing my dog, so I might as well write it. Warning: Rated T for teen due to heavy language.

“That is not a dog, that is a Grim,” Lucile is sipping coffee in Cassandra’s living room. She’s looking out the window at something. The other woman isn’t distraught, just amused. “And it keeps coming back?” Cassandra is pulling turkey out of her fridge.

“Yep, comes back like clockwork to dig in my trash can. Wait, don’t go anywhere, watch this,” Cassandra pushes Sebastian back - the cat is well over twenty years old and still going strong; Cassandra has long since admitted that ‘cat’ is just what he resembles - and then swings open the door. “Dog! Heads up! I have turkey this time!” She launches the meat cuts out the door, as near the sidewalk as she can throw (and boy has this girl learned to throw and hit hard since leaving Hogwarts; one does not trifle with the should-have-been-Black woman). The canine has dropped down, hiding behind the trash can, caught, but when he sees the food he lunges forward, gobbling it down quickly. “Poor thing is skin and bone,” Cassandra shuts the door - and then locks it for good measure.

“You afraid of Black looking you up?” Lucile asks in that wary I-should-know-better-than-to-ask voice that Cassandra knows too well.

“Sirius isn’t dangerous,” she’s back in the kitchen, and her married friend is rolling her eyes. “He isn’t. Sirius was a lot of things, and none of them - not a one - said he was a murderer. He would have DIED rather than give up James. James was more his brother than Regulus,” she slams her palms against the table, frustrated. She’s almost in tears again.

“That’s not what-”

“The minister is a goddamned liar, Lucy. I might not have been with Sirius that long, but I knew his brother damned well and if Regulus would have never done that, then don’t look at me and try to claim that Sirius would have,” Lucile leans back against the window sill, looking out.

“Grim’s gone.”

“Don’t call him that. He’s not a Grim.”

“Then what is he?”

“A dog.”

Three days later, Cassandra stepped outside with her coffee, enjoying the morning before it was too hot to be outdoors. There was the dog again, standing on his hind legs, in her trash. It was empty today, though - there was nothing for him to find. Cassandra clicked her tongue once, and then whistled. “C’mere boy,” she called, as if the dog would actually come. He jerked backwards, falling from the trash can in an ungraceful flailing of limbs. “Come on, sweetheart, you’re okay,” Cassandra cooed, sitting on her front step. She was in a tank top and striped pajama pants, fuzzy slippers, and her shoulder length hair was in a sloppy bun. The words ‘hot mess’ were what could easiest be used to describe Cassandra before she got ready to go to St. Mungos. Today she worked an evening shift, which gave her the morning to kill.

“Come on, puppy dog. I’ve got food in the house, but I’m not getting it if you won’t come here,” the dog crept around the trash can, low to the ground. She couldn’t tell if he was really black, or if he was a dark gray that was just grimy. “Come here sweet pea,” he was creeping toward her, tail down, watching her. His ears were up, alert, and as he drew closer Cassandra was suddenly aware of just how large the dog was. “Oh...my...” he was skinny and underweight, but the dog was almost as big as a white tail deer at the shoulder. “Sweet baby, come here,” she collected herself quickly, reaching a hand out slowly from her cup. No fear. Never show fear.

The dog bumped her head the same way Sebastian did, head against her palm. Cassandra exhaled, not having realized she was holding her breath. “Hi there, baby dog,” she murmured, scratching his head, moving her hand down his neck. No collar. She didn’t expect one, but she had tried to be hopeful. “Can I stand up? You aren’t going to run, right? Come on, come inside with me,” Cassandra convinced the dog to enter her house, and was stunned that he wiped his paws on the doormat outside. “Someone loved you once, didn’t they, boy?” She shut the door, and from the couch Sebastian was suddenly standing, staring at the dog. “Sebastian,” Cassandra’s voice was warning. He meowed, loudly, and then hissed once. The dog was just staring at him. “Leave the cat alone, buddy,” Cassandra moved between the two. Sebastian had sat down. Sebastian meowed again, but this time without the hostility. “Come on, puppy, upstairs. You need a bath.”

The canine didn’t even have to be dragged up the stairs. He went willingly, wagging his tail slightly as Cassandra praised him for being so good. She let him into the bathroom and shut the door, going to change into shorts and a different tank top to wash him in. When she went into the bathroom, the dog was sitting in a tub of water. “I’m sorry what?” She hadn’t filled the tub. The dog lifted a paw and pawed at the faucets until he got one on, and then back off. Totally possible. “Are you one of those failed service dogs?” She ventured after a moment, grabbing her shampoo bottle. The canine whined at her, looking up at her with soft gray eyes.

Cassandra was rubbing shampoo into the dog’s coat and had to stop. “You have blue eyes,” she stated, blinking, trying to find blue. They were gray. Gray like storm clouds, warmer than ice and soft enough that her chest felt like it was being squeezed. “They’re gray,” she whispered, and for a moment she felt her world collapsing around her again, felt as if her life were being shattered all over again. And then she inhaled sharply and shook her head. “Dog with gray eyes. What a strange thing,” she laughed, forced herself to laugh, and kept washing her new found companion.

It took an hour and a half to full bathe the dog, so that his fur was free of grime, and he wasn’t matted up. Cassandra toweled him off, surprised at how still he was. “You were so loved, baby, what happened?” She asked, sitting down on the tile and drying his face. He lowered his head, bumping into her shoulder. “Sweet baby,” she considered possible names for him while she sat there, petting his shoulder and he rested his giant hulking head on her shoulder. She thought of the constellations she knew - Sirius, Orion, Regulus, Arcturus, Canopus, Polaris, Vega, Altair - and dropped her forehead against the dog’s chest. “Nope, none of those, not in this lifetime or the next,” she muttered. “Leo? Leo. I like Leo,” it was the constellation with Regulus. Of course she liked Leo.

The dog whined at her, lifting a massive paw into her lap. “What, do you not like your name?” She asked, bringing her head up and coming eye to eye with the dog. “Good God in heaven you are such a large dog,” and his eyes were the same uncanny intelligence of Sebastian’s, perhaps more so.

When she left for work, she warned Sebastian to behave. “You leave Leo alone. And Leo, do not chase that cat.”

Cassandra found that she adored her hulking canine. She bought him a nice collar and leash, and took him for walks. He balked whenever Cassandra got near Grimmauld Place, and the woman had to drag the canine past twelve. And then one day the dog was gone. She came home from work and her dog was just gone. She scoured the neighborhoods in both directions, but nothing. No dog, no one had seen a dog, what dog?

Cassandra had, in the years since Walburga’s demise (hallelujah, praise the Lord) taken to stopping in and checking on Kreacher. She hated that he was alone in the big house, but he wouldn’t leave it. So, after ensuring her dog was flat out gone, she made one of her bimonthly stops at the Black residence. It was not Kreacher that opened the door. “Are you fucking serious?”

"Last I checked, yes,” the lopsided grin, shaggy black hair, soft gray eyes. Cassandra wanted to punch him in the nose.

“When were you going to tell me that you-” words, so many words, silenced by Sirius shaking his head, and then something farther inside shrieking.

“Great. You woke Mother.”

“Good! I have a few words for that insufferable bitch that Kreacher hasn’t let me say.”

“Wait, how do you-” but Cassandra had shoved past Sirius, and murder was in her eyes.

“Listen here you stupid woman! You are DEAD do you understand? I have no patience for you!” Kreacher was watching, wide eyed, as the muggleborn laid into the portrait. “You don’t have a clue who I am and you want to know why?! Because your son was in love with me and didn’t want you to run me off! Oh nonono, not Sirius! No, no no, no I mean Regulus you wicked evil witch. I mean your little pride and joy the one who joined the Death Eaters to please Mummy and Daddy, the cousins, and their twisted sense of righteousness - don’t you even give me that offended look you HAG,” literal years of pent up rage spewed from Cassandra until she’d had enough of the woman shouting back at her - mudblood, insolent little girl, how dare you enter the noble house of Black - and snatched the curtains shut with violence radiating in her little body.

When she whipped around, Sirius was sagged against the wall, staring at her, looking exhausted from listening. “I’m sorry, Sirius,” she lowered her eyes. “I’ve had a lot to say to that woman since I was seventeen and never got the chance.”

“Safer to just scream at her painting,” Sirius mumbled, seeming unable to collect himself. Cassandra wanted to help him, she really did, but following the screaming match with Walburga - oh it was cathartic - she didn’t know how. Instead she knelt down in front of Kreacher, smiling at the house elf.

“I’m sorry for yelling at your mistress, Kreacher. But the way she treated Sirius and Regulus wasn’t right, and I’ve held that in for a very long time now,” she swallowed the lump in her throat. Kreacher regarded her carefully for a moment before he nodded.

“Would Miss Delacroix like some tea, then?” Sirius blinked from where he was, watching the two.

“Miss Delacroix? You call me all kinds of foul names and SHE gets Miss Delacroix, pleasant as can be?”

“Tea would be lovely, Kreacher; for both of us.”

“Of course Miss Delacroix,” Kreacher scurried off, leaving Sirius fuming.

“Why?! You’re muggleborn! You’re as bad as I am!”

“Did you miss the conversation I had with your mother? No, no no wait, let me try this a different way. Did you miss the part where after we broke up your brother developed an interest in me?” She had always known she would lie to Sirius about that. Lie like the dog she was trying to find. “Look, Sirius, stop. After that framed hellion died, Kreacher was alone. I’ve known where this house is since I was seventeen. I wasn’t going to leave him - Regulus died because Voldemort was willing to leave Kreacher to die. Your brother-”

“Was soft and an idiot and died because of Voldemort!”

“No he didn’t! He died trying to undermine him!” They had moved to the dining room, and Sirius had cast a silencing charm to prevent his mother from being awoken again by their snapping and snarling.

“How would you know? Where were you then when he was trying to be all noble and heroic, hmm? If you loved my brother then why weren’t you with him?!” Cassandra wasn’t near Sirius, but she still recoiled as if he had hit her. Tears rose into her eyes, hot and unbidden.

“He wouldn’t let me. He said it wasn’t safe. He said Kreacher would show him where to go, and Kreacher could get him out and then he DIED Sirius! I BEGGED HIM to not leave me!” She wished she were yelling, wanted to still be yelling, but she was choking out the words in a far softer voice than she had wanted to. She sat down in the nearest chair, leaning forward and hiding her face in her hands. She couldn’t breath, she couldn’t speak. Something whined a few moments later, and then bumped into her leg. She reached out, expecting Sirius to be sitting beside her, and instead her fingers curled into fur. Dog? Dog.

When the tears were done, the dog - Leo, yep, gray eyes - left the room, and Sirius came back. “You done yet?” His own eyes looked like he had been crying. Cassandra nodded.

“You have a dog.”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Gray eyes.”

“Mhm.”

“What’s his name?”

“Snuffles.”

“Looks like a dog that was dumpster diving at my house. I call him Leo.” Sirius narrowed his eyes on her for a moment, as if trying to frame that. “Better than calling him, say, Orion,” Sirius flinched at that. “Can we be done yelling?” She asked after the silence spread out between them. Kreacher came in with the tea cups, handing one to Cassandra and then taking the other to Sirius.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can be, Cassie,” her eyes were on her cup and they jerked up for a moment. Sirius sounded defeated. She dropped her eyes back to her cup, sipping her tea.

Silence.

“How exactly did you know where this was?” Sirius finally ventured, sitting beside her. She glanced over at him, and when gray met blue her heart dropped. The wrong gray. Too warm. Too naturally soft.

“Regulus. We went to Paris, that summer,” she swallowed, fought back more tears.

“And not once did you think to say something.”

“He firmly believed you didn’t care about him, Sirius. There wasn’t a thing I could say or do,” she spoke into her teacup.

“No, not about that. You didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me anything about him, what was going on with him,” Sirius’s voice was accusatory. Cassandra wanted the dog back. The dog was nice, and comforting, and didn’t make her feel like she was a terrible excuse for a human being.

“What was I supposed to say, Sirius? Oh hey so when I started dating your brother I found out he was a Death Eater? No wait - I knew your brother was a Death Eater before we started dating, let alone before I started dating him, and I didn’t say a Goddamned thing to anyone because my first thought was ‘oh my fucking God they’ve hurt this boy if I tell anyone what else might happen to him?’ Because I can see that going really well. Honestly, I can see Slughorn going to Dumbledor, and then what? Azkaban that’s what,” she was frustrated - it was a circular conversation with a man she hadn’t seen in years, and... “How did you get out of Azkaban?!” She rounded on Sirius suddenly, light blue eyes alight with confusion and near panic. “You couldn’t have done that to James I know that good and well so what-”

“Shh. Stop. Breath,” Sirius held up a hand. He wasn’t emotionally, physically, or mentally capable of dealing with this. He put his teacup down, leaning forward to the woman who had left him for his idiot brother. Her eyes were flickering across his face, and he knew that it was concern there, not fear, not distrust, just worry and concern. “You’re right. I didn’t betray Lily and James. I would have never. Harry is my Godson. I should have...if I wouldn’t have chased Pettigrew that vial filthy RAT-” Sirius stopped himself. Took a deep breath. “I didn’t get a trial, you know. They just assumed I was like the rest of my family,” bitter, he was so very bitter. Cassandra leaned away instinctively. One too many Black meltdowns will leave a woman a little gun shy. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Look I just screamed at my could-have-been-mother-in-law and discovered you alive and well. You’re not going to surprise me much more,” Sirius smirked - oh good God that had been taken as a challenge. He stood up, stepped away from her, and untied his robe. “Sirius Black-” she started, becoming furious in a heartbeat. Right up til Leo/Snuffles was sitting there, wagging his tail, looking at her innocently. “Kreacher! This is just tea, right?”

“Yes Miss Delacroix, only tea, why does Miss Delacroix ask?”

“Uh...dog. Sirius. Sirius dog. Turned into dog,” the word ‘animagus’ didn’t even come to mind until the dog grabbed the robe and dragged it to a more hidden spot. And then Sirius was coming back around, tying his robe back on.

“Animagus.”

“Alright, yep, that about does it. Come here. Just, yeah, right down here,” Sirius leaned down, looking her right in the eye. Cassandra punched him in the chest. “Mark it off my bucket list, sleeping with both of the Black’s,” she stated as Sirius picked himself up. “I’m sorry,” she added as he rubbed his chest.

“Where did you learn to hit?”

“Oh somewhere between ‘boyfriend’s dead’ and ‘Voldemort’s dead’ you know, cover all my bases,” Cassandra was studying her nails - she’d chipped her manicure at some point.

The silence rolled out again. Finally Sirius broke it, being Sirius. “I know you’re upset, Cassie, but I can’t leave here except as a dog...”

“I’ll adopt you, Padfoot, so long as you keep pretending hard to not look at me when I change clothes.”

“Oh thank you Cassie,” utter relief in his voice.

[amorremanet]

Arthur/moody, lucius/moody, lupin/snape?

the brutally honest ship opinions game

Arthur/Moody: ……okay, like, I have basically no positive feelings about Alastor Moody — I mean, I feel the same need to defend him from JKR’s ableist garbage that accidentally got me in too deep with Lockhart, but we are still talking about a guy who supports using Dementors on people and apparently dngaf about what someone’s done, just send ‘em all to fucking Azkaban (GOF ch. 30, the flashback of Moody we see in the first Pensieve scene)

who thinks that the best present you could give to a kid who’s lost his parents and just watched a classmate be murdered…… is going over a photo of the First War Order and telling him about how all of them died horribly and he doesn’t ever stop to think that this might not be the best idea (OOTP)

and who is legitimately less sensitive to other people’s needs and less dismissive of people who aren’t his exact model of “useful” than a literal fucking Death Eater one of the biggest points where Barty Crouch Jr. drops character in GOF is when he takes Neville to his office and gives him a pro-Herbology pep-talk, and goes, “so, hey, Longbottom, Professor Sprout said you’re super-good at this subject, why not pursue it,” because based on the actual canon about him? The real Alastor Moody would never do something like that.

Like, he might have the moment he has with Harry and Hermione, where he goes, “so, hey, both of you could be gr10 aurors if you wanted, you should think about it” because that, from Moody, would be a compliment, and Harry and Hermione more closely fit his own ideas of usefulness, but not so much the Neville moment)

—but seriously, do you hate him or something? Why else would you even dream of shipping him with Arthur Weasley? (okay, fine, I acquiesce that there is enough of a canonical basis for some people to roll with here, and I myself have made ships out of far less…… but seriously, why would you ship anybody with Arthur Weasley. Like…… wow, rude.)

Lucius/Moody: again, I’m not on the Alastor Moody fan-train or anything, but why would you even do this. Nobody deserves to be shipped with Lucius Malfoy, like? He’s not even an entertaining villain, he’s just pathetic. He’s a sad, pathetic fantasy-fascist who gets his kicks by bullying twelve-year-olds and torturing muggles who can’t defend themselves. He’s a complete waste of character space and forcing anyone to be in a ship with him is just unfathomably cruel

Lupin/Snape: meh, whatever. Like, it’s not my thing, but… *shrugs* meh?

Like, idk what you’re looking for here, nonny, but I’m guessing, based on the other two ships, that you’re looking for me to get cranky and ship-bashy and figured that Snu//pin was a good way to get there, since there are a lot of legitimate Problems with this ship in the text

But the thing is, I’m just under 900 years old (at least in fandom terms), and I remember the days back before HBP came out, when Snu//pin was the second-most popular Remus ship (after Wolfstar, to the surprise of no one), and was, in fact, so popular that it had its own private archive and got black-listed from most rarepair comms because it, “wasn’t really rare, just less popular than D//rarry, Wolfstar, Ro//mione, Dra//mione, H//inny, and J//ily”

—I mean, there was a short stretch before OOTP where I tried to make myself like it because there was a BNF whose art I loved, and she shipped Snu//pin, so I felt like I had to be missing something obvious and cool and because I was, like, twelve, I tried to make myself ship the thing. That didn’t work and I eventually just moved on, but one thing that I recall about the Snu//pin fandom that appears to still be more or less true, based on everything I’ve seen of the present-day Snu//pin fandom?

Is that they came out about the same as the Wolfstar fandom, in terms of how many shippers ignored or made excuses for #Problematic things about the ship vs. how many shippers work those things into the overall fabric of how they ship the thing, how many shippers LIKE the ship because of those Problematic parts and having the opportunity to explore them in fiction, how many shippers actively dive head-first into exploring those parts of the ships because that’s where they find the most engaging character interactions or whatever they’re into, etc.

For examples of what I mean when I say #Problematic things about the ships:

the fact that all three of them are self-loathing [human or werewolf] disasters who are often passively suicidal and either prone to acting out on those feelings (Sirius and Severus), or prone to repressing those feelings until they explode all over some innocent bystanders (Remus)

the fact that all three of them have suffered horrific abuse in their pasts — whether from their parents or other sources — and find ways to take it out on other people (Severus on his students, Sirius on Severus and Kreacher, and Remus on almost anyone who tries to get close to him, even as he makes it seem like he isn’t doing that)

Severus outing Remus as a werewolf because he’s upset and felt like punishing someone else for it, thereby leading to Remus tendering his resignation

the fact that Sirius assuming Remus had to be the spy would’ve been at least partially based on anti-werewolf prejudices, and Sirius still clearly had at least some of those prejudices on his own, because even if Peter totally manipulated them in his favor, there had to be something there for Peter to manipulate in the first place, so???

the fact that Remus doesn’t help shit anything, in any situation ever, with his habit of trying to weasel out of any Emotionally Difficult™ conversations and his tendency to mentally spin most situations so that everyone is going to leave him in the end anyway so it’s acceptable to shut down, close himself off, and pull stunts that more or less come down to, “totally up and bailing on everyone,” which is understandable, given his backstory, but dude, that doesn’t make it okay or helpful??

basically, “literally anything about the characters as individuals, or in terms of their interactions with each other — both past and present — that could potentially cause problems for either/both/any/all of them and potentially make the relationship unhealthy (or unhealthier than it already was, in the cases of Snu//pin and Snack because…… oh boy, let’s not even act like either of those — or any ship with Sev in it, for that matter — is ever going to be ‘healthy’ by any definition)”

So, like? Is Snupin #Problematic? Yes, definitely. Are some of its shippers prone to ship it in #Problematic ways? Oh, yes, absolutely (Hell, the BNF whose art I used to like even flat-out said things like, “Sirius would never be able to be there for Remus like Snape could” and… um? Even granted that this was pre-OOTP: ummm???)

But on the whole, Snu//pin shippers aren’t actually any worse about totally ignoring and/or excusing these elements of their ship than Wolfstar shippers are (and, actually, they might be doing better than a LOT of the present-day Wolfstar fandom, since I usually don’t see any more recently made Snu//pin that doesn’t grapple with at least some of the #Problematic elements of it — they don’t always do it well, but at least they’re trying, which counts for a lot, to me, because most people don’t even try — while most Wolfstar these days flat-out ignores all the #Problematic elements of Sirius and Remus as characters, and of their relationship, in the name of what often amounts to borderline-OOC caricatured fanon nonsense, so…)

(……Look, I love Wolfstar, and I have for longer than some people on this website have been alive. But I don’t love a lot of Wolfstar shippers, which has been the case since the beginning of my Wolfstar shipping

stayed the case when HBP came out and I was all, “Hey, guys? I don’t like this BS Remus/Tonks thing either, but can we NOT erase bisexuals or treat Tonks like garbage when we’re talking about it, it’s not her fault that Molly Weasley is a meddling nosy garbage buttinski who thinks it’s her job to play matchmaker to fully-grown adults who didn’t ask and don’t want her input,”

and is still the case as I’m over here, all like, “ugh, man, at least we used to have SOME people in this fandom who enjoyed reading Wolfstar angst, now it seems like nobody cares about anything unless it’s all fluff, all the time, with absolutely no room for anything else because god forbid you ever want to write about LGBTQ characters whose lives aren’t 5,000% perfect, that obviously must mean that you’re a gross fetishistic cishet and not, for example, a neurodivergent, mentally ill lesbian survivor who feels left out by the trend towards forcing every LGBTQ person to act like we’re happy, all the time, and to act like we’re only interested in fictional LGBTQ people who are perfectly 5,000% happy all the time

“and to decry any and all depictions of LGBTQ people being UNhappy as gross fetishistic straight people garbage even when they were actually created by and for LGBTQ people, only to be misappropriated by straight people, as if there’s no way you could possibly be LGBTQ and NOT feel ~used and maligned~ by depictions of LGBTQ people that are less than 5,000% perfectly happy, even when they are being created by other LGBTQ people, yeah? ……but yeah, no, clearly: the fact that I like angst obviously means that I am a straight person because no ~real~ LGBTQ person ever has any need for those ~gross negative feelings~ or fictional outlets for them, never mind how many LGBTQ people get excluded from our narratives and spaces by this bullshit bc lmao who cares amiright. ://”)

—anyway, my motto has been and remains, “It isn’t a question of WHAT you ship, it’s a question of HOW you ship it,” so hey. Snu//pin is not my thing (it’s not even as non-shippingly interesting to me as Sirius/Severus is, because I love how much those two hate each other while unwittingly being perfect foils for each other), but I don’t actually have any desire to ship-bash it and most Snu//pin shippers are okay with me because unless they’re actually doing anything that’s harmful to anyone else, it’s not my business what they ship

That said: “Snu//pin” is still one of the worst portmanteau ship names ever and it still sounds like a deadly virus or something, but *shrugs* Whatever, it’s not the shippers’ faults that their ship members’ names don’t smush up all that nicely

[vivithefolle]

I never said you couldn’t stan Ron, I just wanted to know your opinion. Like I said, I like him by DH, but he did make sexist comments, and it bothered me. Plain and simple. It doesn’t have to bother you, but don’t act like I did something wrong by being bothered by it and was interested in having another opinion

Also, I know hermione did messed up things, as did Fred and George, it’s why I don’t really connect with them either. I don’t think Harry was victim blaming hermione because nothing happened to hermione that we know of, she just had to leave cormac and he might’ve been a little upset about it, but the fact he didn’t follow her there tells you nothing terrible happened, and Harry’s uncomfortable around everyone getting too emotional, that’s not a sexist thing, and Ginny acted like Ron was childish for being insecure that he was a virgin and shaming her for not being, which is completely true. She would never say that if he wasn’t actually acting that way

I’m sorry. I was already tense and I took it out on you (and on your +3 days old ask that I left stew in my inbox like a coward). It’s perfectly fine that you were more bothered than I was by the comments he made. I guess I’m just... desensitized? Never was on the receiving end of the brand of sexism Ron was seen occasionally displaying. It never registered to me as anything serious, because his behaviour also indicated that he wouldn’t following up on his words (the Padma situation for example).

It doesn’t change the fact that he did say those things and it’s not right. He learned that it was wrong and that’s something I prefer to focus on, the fact that he did do better in the end, and even in the first place wasn’t peppering sexist comments everywhere he went. But for some it may have been too little too late and I understand, even if I’m more inclined to blame JK Rowling who was really hellbent on forcing Ron into the role of “the immature one” so she could have her perfect “boy becomes worthy of m- of girl” fantasy.

So that’s why I tend to be lenient on Ron. I’m aware there’s a narrative bias and I... don’t quite like that. So I “counterbalance” with a bias of my own.

I don’t think Harry was victim blaming hermione because nothing happened to hermione that we know of

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhh that’s still pretty shitty of him to say. I don’t really know how to put it but... she was still being actively followed by Cormac through the party? So nothing happened which was, of course, expected since it’s a children’s book *shudders* but it’s still... not okay to just tell her “serves you right”.

Besides apparently McLaggen kissed her without her consent, or at least by the time he was done Hermione definitely wasn’t consenting anymore but he was still trying to chase her. So I reckon that was still pretty bad and could have escalated had Hermione not “escaped” (that’s the word she uses!).

Harry’s uncomfortable around everyone getting too emotional, that’s not a sexist thing

But

“Women!”  he  muttered  angrily

Yes Harry, I’m totally sure it’s because Cho is a woman that she’s crying and not because, oh I dunno. HER BOYFRIEND FUCKING DIED. No I’m sure her gender has all to do with it. /s

He still said something sexist.

As for Ginny...

Ginny acted like Ron was childish for being insecure that he was a virgin and shaming her for not being, which is completely true. She would never say that if he wasn’t actually acting that way 

Eeeh I dunno, she was pretty rotten to him in book 6 (a few times without any reason, just because she felt like it) but she definitely didn’t go there unprovoked.

Thing is Rowling absolutely needed Ron to absolutely date someone to “““mature”““ so she deliberately, painstakingly engineered everything possible (and regressed Ron’s character development back to in-GOF (if you ever reread the books, pay attention to the first three and try to calculate how many sexist remarks Ron makes in them. The number should be close to zero. Then suddenly in GOF he’s suddenly sprouted a sense of sexism out of nowhere.)), all so she could implant her subplot of “RoN mAkEs HiMsElF wOrThY oF hErMiOnE” (her words, not mine).

This is the sole reason for this argument between Ron and Ginny. The sole reason why Ron and Ginny read almost like different characters in this book actually. Just for a stupid “oh look how cool Hermione is and how mean Ron’s been, he should learn a lesson, shouldn’t he girls?” subplot that only ended up making every character look bad. It’s why I prefer to pretend HBP never happened because it’s really a trainwreck in terms of character development.

(Also, when I was writing the above line “oh look how cool Hermione is and how mean Ron’s been, he should learn a lesson, shouldn’t he girls?“, I had the vision of JK Rowling dressed up as Umbridge and giggling. I’m not sleeping tonight. Or ever again.)

[robotlesbianjavert]

it’s my main dude’s bday snape my buddy my pal i don’t got anything to contribute but hey what about his top seven moments.  what i specifically as an individual consider his top seven moments, while keeping in mind, he has a lot of great moments and it was painful paring it down like this.

it was going to be top five bc i was too lazy for a top ten but couldn’t justify fitting what i wanted into a top five and hey seven is the magic number right

SEVEN

‘It has happened,’ she told the silent staff room. ‘A student has been taken by the monster.  Right into the Chamber itself.’

…Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, ‘How can you be sure?’ 

(Chamber of Secrets, pg 217)

chamber of secrets may have been his smallest role, but i had something cheesy to say then i got embarrassed by just how much i love this tiny easy-to-miss bit.  it just think it’s nice.  

also shout out to all the times he kicked lockhart’s ass.

SIX

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. 

(Deathly Hallows, pg 551)

honestly, a crucial moment in understanding how snape’s priorities have broadened since his defection, principally to save lily’s life and then to act in her memory.  but this (whatever dumbledore and snape himself might think about the underlying motives) suggests that even though snape’s never going to be nice, he is capable of caring about the other lives lost in this war.  at the same time, we’re reminded that by virtue of his undercover role, snape’s ability to save and protect other people is highly restricted, now moreso with harry (the central figure in his lily-related incentive) than anyone else. and i just think that’s neat.

also since they’re part of the same sequence, shoutout to “Would you like me to do it now?  Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?” and his attempt to save lupin during the seven potters battle and accidentally cutting off george’s ear that’s hilarious of course that happened.

FIVE

Snape smiled.

‘Before I answer you – oh, yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer!  You can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back, and carry false tales of my treachery to the Dark Lord!  Before I answer you, I say, let me ask a question in turn.  Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions?  And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?’

She hesitated.

‘I know he believes you, but –’

‘You think he is mistaken?  Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him?  Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?’

Bellatrix said nothing, but looked, for the first time, a little discomfited. 

(Half-Blood Prince, pg 31)

actually managing to shame bellatrix for thinking that he could possibly be capable of bamboozling the dark lord like holy shit how does he keep a straight face!!!!!  (the best part is that she doesn’t live to find out she was right this is hilarious and badass)  like bitch!!!!!  bitch!!!!

FOUR

DOLORES UMBRIDGE: If you’re late for class, why are you not heading back to the school?  Why are you heading to the lake?

There’s a moment of pure silence.  And then SNAPE does something hugely unusual – he smiles.

SNAPE: How long have you suspected?

UMBRIDGE rises off the ground.  She opens her arms wide, full of Dark Magic.  She takes out her wand.

DOLORES UMBRIDGE: Years.  And I should have acted upon it far earlier.

SNAPE is faster with his wand.

SNAPE: Depulso!

UMBRIDGE is propelled backwards through the air.

SNAPE: She always was too grand for her own good. There’s no turning back now. 

(Cursed Child, pg 194-195)

not only is this hugely satisfying just in general because, ykno, umbridge – but it’s nice to see one universe where snape is actually able to ditch the undercover bullshit and act openly, even if it’s just for a few moments.  the fact that those moments involve him giving hope to an increasingly despairing and hopeless scorpius is even better.

THREE

Snape strode forwards, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went.  He stuck out his forearm, and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

‘There,’ said Snape harshly.  ‘There.  The Dark Mark.  It is not as clear as it was, an hour or so ago, when it burnt black, but you can still see it.  Every Death Eater had the sign burnt into him by the Dark Lord.  It was a means of distinguishing each other, and his means of summoning us to him.  When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side.  This Mark has been growing clearer all year.  Karkaroff’s, too.  Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight?  We both felt the Mark burn.  We both knew he had returned.  Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance.  He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.’ 

(Goblet of Fire, pg 616)

gof is the first book i clearly remember reading myself – i knew the plots of ps and cos (either through the movies or my mom), knew there was a werewolf in poa, but it was gof that some visiting family decided to bring me as a present when i was nine.  i remember being fucking furious with snape at several points – especially the teeth incident and when he read those magazine articles out in class.  I sat there going “wow he’s terrible i will never ever like him” and then i got over it in like a chapter or two bc i was nine also i laughed a bit?  in conjunction to my anger.  terrible.

anyways by the time this moment rolled around, i was over that kneejerk anger and fully intrigued by whatever the fuck was up with this weird asshole, unaware that i’d be completely hooked for it’s been over a decade now holy shit??

anyways outside of me being nine, this is a real ballsy moment on snape’s part – a last ditch effort to make harry & dumbledore’s story credible in fudge’s eyes, and a risky thing to do in case fudge decided to react differently.

TWO

And now Snape stood again in the Headmaster’s study as Phineas Nigellus came hurrying into his portrait.

‘Headmaster!  They are camping in the Forest of Dean!  The Mudblood—’

‘Do not use that word!’ 

(Deathly Hallows, 553)

we’re all agreed that snape throwing a slur at his friend, although he was sixteen and being assaulted at the time, is incredibly inexcusable & terrible and lily was super right in cutting off her ties with him at that point.  strangely enough tho, a lot of people want to freezeframe snape’s beliefs and ideology during possibly the most vulnerable & lowest period of his life .  snapping at phineas for calling hermione (a student he does not even like) a “mudblood” suggests that he has dealt with his past anti-muggleborn views, the only character we see doing so in the main series – did draco apologize to hermione for calling her mudblood like a gazillion times in cursed child i can’t remember that’s not important this ain’t about draco.

ONE

…as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all.

(Philosopher’s Stone, pg 163)

classic.  

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasReads: Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix

PS | CoS | PoA | GoF | OoP | HBP | DH

The start of my Unread Trilogy within Harry Potter, and thus some new material. I had seen the film adaption, but I don’t actually recall much of it. Or much of any of the films at this point.

Did rewatch Sorcerer's Stone recently, as I have the Rifftrax for it. That was fun. But this isn’t about that, is it?

Let’s get into Order of the Phoenix.

We start, as is tradition, with Harry miserable at the Dursley’s. Harry’s been cut off from the wizarding world, and is forced to eavesdrop on the Dursley’s evening news watching, figuring that, were Voldemort to do anything particularly evil, it would leak into the Muggle news.

This may not stand up, considering how obsessive the wizards are about remaining separated from muggles, but who can be certain? I mean, there was a (modified) warning in regards to Sirius in book 3, after all.

After we get a case of actual physical abuse, Harry temporarily flees the house to hang out elsewhere, eventually taking an opportunity to goad Dudley into a fight, though Dudley doesn’t quite rise to it, and eventually separates from his friends to head home with Harry.

Then they get attacked by a pair of loose Dementors.

Harry defends himself and Dudley from the attack, though not in time to prevent an assault on Dudley. We then learn Ms. Figg, last mentioned as being Harry’s boring babysitter, is actually a Squib working for Dumbledore, and that the headmaster has been keeping an eye on the situation on Number 4 Privet Drive, and not actually doing anything.

Harry and Dudley get home, Vernon and Petunia see Dudley in a right state, and Vernon has finally had enough of this magical nonsense and sets to toss Harry out.

But Dumbledore sends a note to Petunia to say ‘Hey, we had an arrangement.’

So, once again, Petunia is forced to be an actual character for once.

Actually, this book was good in giving Petunia depth, as she actually had some awareness of what Dementors are, hinting to how much Petunia actually knows of this other world she gets to have no part of. Especially since Dementors aren’t likely to be something casually discussed between a Witch and her NoMaj[1] sister. Also, Dumbledore's Howler further proves there’s more happening with the Dursleys than we’ve previously been told.

Also, it’s nice to see that, despite all of Vernon’s bluster and Petunia’s inaction, when the woman makes her intentions clear to her husband, Vernon will listen to her and go along with it.

It’s… an oddly nice piece of marital understanding?

Anyways, the ministry, being a bizarre, all-seeing yet pretty stupid force, immediately tell Harry he’s been expelled from Hogwarts.

But then Mr. Weasley sends a letter to the effects of ‘Yo, we’re working on it, ignore that last letter.’

Then the Ministry sends a letter to say “Okay, so you’re not expelled yet, but you probably will be. We’re gonna put you on trial.”

Then, after many months of no communication from the Wizard World, Dumbledore finally allows his underlings to nab Harry and bring him to the Ancestral House of the Black Family.

Of course, being in the Wizarding World doesn’t mean Harry’s going to be given any information. Oh no, instead he’s going to be kept totally in the dark about literally everything that’s happening, left angry without so much as an apology from anyone, and made to clean the building to keep him busy.

People complain about how angsty Harry is in this book, but I’m on his side. Kid literally sees someone die at the hands of Voldemort, and is then sent to his abusive relatives while Dumbledore just… Dumbles around? Keeping Harry ignorant about everything possible, worried about what Voldemort is planning, and not even allowed communication with Ron and Hermione.

Then, after being forced to defend himself from a pair of dementors, and suffering mental assaults from Voldemort all year, he is still not given any viable information about what’s going on, because it doesn’t work into Dumbledore’s plans.

Kid has earned his trust issues, is what I’m saying.

Mr. Weasley is kind enough to escort Harry to the Ministry of Magic for his hearing, and we do get a pretty neat piece of world building as some of the workings of the magic government is revealed. Self-propelled paper airplanes are a neat way to handle inter-department communication, and it’s neat to hear all the departments they need to actually rule secret Britian.

Also, Mr. Weasley’s one of two people that work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, based out of a broom closet, showing how much respect muggles get from the ministry.

So they arrive, then find out the scheduling of Harry’s hearing has been jerked about in hopes of kangaroo courting him, and they rush down to the basement for the full kangaroo court experience by Wizengamot.

But, hey, Dumbledore finally shows his face, gets Harry off, then briskly leaves without interacting with Harry.

Now, it’s obvious that Dumbledore isn’t interacting with Harry as a means of preventing Voldemort from doing evil, but it would behoove him to maybe write Harry a note or something? A simple “Hey, sorry, Dark Magic makes interacting with you directly dangerous for us both. I’m doing what I can, you’ll be fine”. Some reassurance.

So, Harry is no longer getting expelled and may keep his wand, and gets sent back to Grimmauld Place. Where he is still kept ignorant, with only Sirius backing him up, and everyone else following Dumbledore through blind loyalty.

It’s that ‘Wizards don’t have much common sense’ Thing Hermione commented on way back in book 1.

School supplies are bought, Harry is given a guard to transport him to the train station, and they’re sent off to Hogwarts.

On the ride there, we meet Luna Lovegood. She’s… okay? Hasn’t left much of an impression on me, but I remain optimistic I’ll come to be fond of the girl.

Oh, also Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy are Prefects now. As an American, I still have very little context for how significant the position is, but it’s another thing to make Harry glum.

Arriving at Hogwarts, we learn a few things: Hagrid isn’t there, with Professor Grubbly-Plank again subbing for him. Also, the horseless carriages are, in fact, not so horseless, instead being pulled along by demonic horses of some sort. Only Harry and Luna are able to see them.

Also, the school is more or less divided between not believing Harry about Voldemort’s return, and not being sure if they should believe Harry about Voldemort’s return.

Oh, also this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is Dolores Umbridge. So let’s talk about Umbridge.

Holy cow has she been oversold over the years. This woman is supposed to be the most despised villain in all of the series, loathed and compared to the middle managers of our lives, and she is just underwhelming. No one likes her, in both the real world and in the book world.

Which, personally, I see as a big limitation on her evil. Because no one pays her much mind, she’s petty and (admittedly) causes some real damage in spots, but she’s not as insidious as she could’ve been. She’s just fangless and incompetent, her eyes glossed over in this oppurtunity to prove herself to her government, and maybe scrounge a little extra power.

When I heard descriptions of this character, my mind honestly turned to much worse people. The sorts that put forth a front so sweet and kindly, and manage to actually convince some that they truly are as such. The sort of people that don’t try to strongarm their power, but instead benignly get put into a position of authority, and then convince those under her that, really, she wants to be your friend. Aren’t we friends here? Such a nice family.

All the while engaging in the quiet bullying. Telling a preteen boy that he should be ashamed of himself for crying, that she has a boy his age who never cries like him. Loudly announces the contents of a note slipped to her meant to gently object to her plans to show an inappropriately graphic[2] film to her class to turn the class on him. The sort that fires you because you aren’t socializing enough with their coworkers, but justifying it with meaningless corporate jargon.

Umbridge was too blatantly evil, too publicly loathed by everyone to truly reflect the evil she represents. A subtler, slower burn would’ve made the loatheable woman much more chilling.

But perhaps it’s the hype that’s also partially to blame.

I do like the comparisons between her and a toad, though. It’s brought up just enough to invoke a very clear image in your mind.[3]

Of course, that’s not to say Umbridge is harmless. Far from it. She is the first DADA teacher to intentionally and actively be useless at teaching her subject.[4] Worse than two literal Death Eaters, who apparently treated the job respectfully and with competence.[4] And it’s not out of malice, either. She wants to climb the political ranks, and since the current official stance of the Ministry is ‘Voldemort’s dead, Dumbledore’s senile, Harry’s lying’ that’s the worldview Umbridge is forced to take, up to and including denying the very real Dark Art threat of Voldemort and his followers, and inflicting a terrible detention of Harry over it.

The Black Quill is an interesting artifact. Expedites the process of contract signing, for one. But… I don’t know, I hold romantic notions over writing implements, so making someone write lines to inflict pain is an intriguing notion.

Also, it’s interesting that she uses it not only on Harry (who admittedly feels too cut-off to reveal the treachery to an authority figure) but at least Lee Jordan, if not others. How do you even get away with that? Surely someone would go to McGonnagall and say ‘Hey, Umbridge is making me maim myself for detention… could she maybe not?’

Eventually, enough is enough, and Hermione, desperate to form some sort of secret society after SPEW continues to fail to take off in any meaningful way despite her hat and sock knitting, instead presses Harry to teach a secret class to cover what Umbridge is willfully not.

Harry doesn’t want to.

Hermione really wants Harry to.

Harry still kinda doesn’t want to, but silently admits it might be fun.

Hermione starts planning for the new club.

Then Umbridge is like “I’m hearing plans of a secret society being formed. Welp, time to be a jerk.”

She then disbands all clubs pendent on her confirmation, partially to head off the cabal of rebellion, but mostly to annoy Harry by disbanding all the Quidditch teams.

However, the Quidditch teams are reassembled in short order, so Umbridge had to wait for Harry and the Weasley twins to get into a physical altercation with members of the Slytherin team to permanently ban them and confiscate their brooms.

So, now with more free time on his hand, Harry figures he might as well do Umbridge’s job for her.

And so they assemble allies, find a secret room, and form Dumbledore’s Army, named as a spiteful joke against Umbridge.

Which will, of course, go very well for them.

Also, this gives Harry an excuse to interact with Cho Chang some more.

Romantic subplots are hard to execute in an entertaining manner, especially if it’s obviously not going to work out. I, personally, hate having to sit through relationships that obviously aren't intended to last and/or exist just to cause Drama. It’s tedious and predictable.

So the TL;DR on Harry and Cho: they kinda date for a weekend, but it doesn’t work and is a remarkably boring detour.

Let us never talk of Cho again.

Because, meanwhile, Harry is having spo-OO-ky dreams about a dark corridor and an ominous door! Woooh!

But that’s fine, until Harry’s dream progress far enough to be in the mind of a snake attacking Mr. Weasley. Harry freaks out, warns responsible figures, and finds out that, yeah, he’s kinda been in Voldemort’s head at nights. Whoops?

Mr. Weasley is saved and brought to the only magical hospital in Britain.[5]

The scenes set in St Mungo's are actually a very well executed sequences. There’s the small details of who’s in the waiting room, showing the various ways magic can mess you up; the various wards; the annoyed receptionist. Then there’s the foreshadowing with the wizard receiving an unexpected present in the form of a plant, that acts as call back later, alongside the surprise return of Lockhart, who is still an amnesiac, but loves to sign things for reasons even he doesn’t understand. What a funny little magical tragedy.

Speaking of magical tragedies: we meet Neville’s parents!

It’s… uh… yeah, a sad scene that takes Neville’s previous hilarious Butt Monkey Status and shows just how much pain this poor child must suffer in all parts of his life, along with the kernel of nobility that lies inside as he gently rebuffs his grandmother’s pride in his parents going bad in service of the greater good. You wish for the best for the injured clan.

Also, another tiny moment I loved is, when the Order of the Pheonix comes to visit Mr. Weasley, Lupin takes time to visit with a nameless patient who’d just suffered a werewolf attack. We don’t get any more information except that, and it’s all you need. Moony’s pretty cool.

Anyways, Mr. Weasley’s fine, and even finds time to experiment with some barbaric muggle medicine (stitches? Such shame![7]) So we can move on.

Because Dumbledore decides Harry needs to learn to shut out intrusive thoughts!

And who better to teach him than Snape?

I mean, literally anyone except Umbridge would’ve been better. Heck, kidnap a Death Eater and make them do it, because apparently Education is one of the central tenants of Voldemort’s regime!

But, really, Harry distrusts Snape, and Snape hates how much Harry looks like James Potter! How are you so bad at this, Dumbledore?

So obviously, Harry doesn’t treat the threat seriously, because he doesn’t feel like appeasing Snape and so doesn’t do his homework.

Also, upon announcement of this arrangement, Sirius gives Harry a present in case Harry decides he needs to contact Sirius to report Snape abusing him. Harry promptly tosses it into the bottom of his trunk, just like he does every useful Christmas present!

Because, what Sirius should’ve done is made Harry unwrap it and explicitly explain that it’s a magic mirror of communication, that will allow them to sidestep the methods of communication Umbridge is spying on.

Once again, someone taking the time to explain would’ve prevented future pain.

Anyways, Harry’s shirking Occlumency homework, and then Cho’s[8] friend betrays the secret club to Umbridge, and they are shortly uncovered!

However, Dobby arrives to warn everyone with just enough time to get everyone but Harry away safe.

Umbridge, however, marches Harry to Dumbledore’s office, where Minister Fudge arrives with two Aurors (Magic Cops) to expel Harry and confront Dumbledore.

Dumbledore’s all ‘Why all the attention? What’s going on?’ Fudge is like “You’re building a secret army! This scared and impressionable girl told me!” Dumbledore’s all ‘Come again? Secret army? Pretty sure this was Granger and Potter’s idea.’ Fudge holds up the charter, pointing meaningfully to the heading that reads ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ Dumbledore then rolls his eyes and thinks a few swears in regards to Harry, and says ‘Okay, fine! You got me! This was a grand plot, and now I must go. Seeya!’ And uses Fawkes the Phoenix to escape. Fudge and Umbridge then just stand there, mildly mystified by what just happened, and Umbridge is made Headmistress.

So, of course, the faculty engages in gentle rebellion by refusing to help Umbridge in her duties, while Fred and George lead a campaign to prank Umbridge incessantly, before deciding to just leave and open a Joke Shop, encouraging the rest of the student body and Peeves to keep making Umbridge miserable, because what else was there to do? Actually take exams?

Oh, wait, Harry actually takes exams this year. What a novelty.

Harry takes the OWLS, because even the wizarding world is subjected to inane standardized tests, and they go mostly well enough until outside influences causes mayhem.

First, Umbridge attempts to fire Hagrid, with assistance of… some random people? But it turns out giants are highly resistant to magic, and thus stunning charms bounce off Hagrid. McGonagall comes to help Hagrid, and gets a couple stunning spells to the chest for her troubles, and ultimately much go to St. Mungo’s. Also, Umbridge manages to run Hagrid out, so she’s a jerk.

Next, during a History of Magic test, which Harry might’ve inadvertently tapped into Voldemort’s mind to get the answers for,[9] he falls asleep and sees Sirius being tortured by Voldemort in that mysterious place he’d been seeing!

Well, Harry’s got to go save Sirius now!

But first, he’ll need to sneak into Umbridge’s office to Floo Powder his head to Grimmauld Place just to double check.

Sirius’s house elf, Kreacher, says Sirius isn’t home.

Welp, time to fly off and save the life of the only person that matters to Harry Potter!

But first, Hermione’s cunning gets Umbridge dragged off by centaurs, and the centaurs scared off by Hagrid’s half-brother.[10]

So Harry, Hermione, and Ron start planning their infiltration of the Ministry!

Also, Neville, Ginny, and Luna join them because why not.

The ministry is the same before, but empty, so the youths board an elevator and go to the Department of Mysteries! OoOoOoo!

The department’s actually a pretty good example of what you can do with a dungeon. Doors that spin and randomize to keep you confused, curious chambers holding the secrets of mind, time, death, prophecy, and at least one un-unlockable door, even when faced with a magic knife.

So Harry follows what he recalls of his dreams and finds an orb of prophecy. But where’s Sirius?

Surprise! Voldemort just exploited his and Harry’s connections, so Sirius wasn’t in danger, and now we have to deal with Lucious, LaStrange, the guy who was hired to execute Buckbeak[11], and a handful of other Death Eaters.

They, of course, fall into the trap of over-talking, giving Harry time to think of a cunning plan.

They smash a bunch of prophecies, then run away, smashing more in their wake.

Those are valuable artifacts, you guys.

The Heroes battle the Villains through the various rooms, taking time to destroy all of the Time Turners ever, so Rowling never has to deal with Time Travel again, and injuries are inflicted on both sides.

But not to worry, the Order of the Pheonix has arrived to save the day! Also Harry’s prophecy is smashed. Oops.

Then Sirius arrives! And is sent through the veil and dies.

Uh… Awkward Jazz hands.

Sirius is dead now, and it’s kind of Harry’s fault, but also everyone else’s?

LeStrange and Malfoy chase Harry out shortly after Dumbledore appears to mop up the trouble.

Harry mocks LeStrange with the knowledge that, actually, Voldemort is a Half-Blood himself, and thus a terrible hypocrite.

LaStrange doesn’t believe this.

Harry also says the Prophecy is already destroyed, and they’ve failed their master.

So Voldemort appears, promising to deal with his Death Eaters failures later, but for now he should probably deal with Potter, I guess.

Dumbledore comes in, saves the day via fancy Wizard’s duel, Voldemort tries to possess Harry, believing Dumbledore would never dare kill Harry, but the Power of Love kicks Voldemort out of Harry’s head as Ministry members and Aurors and Fudge arrive to see Voldemort standing there awkwardly.

Oops.

Voldemort flees to, what I shall claim, Denny’s, forcing Lucius and LeStrange split the bill for the milkshakes for their failures.[12]

Fudge looks at Dumbledore, and admits that, maybe, he was wrong.

Dumbledore says of course he was, and teleports Harry off to the Headmaster’s office.

After dealing with Fudge, Dumbledore appears in his office to tell Harry that, yeah, he messed up, sorry, this could’ve all be avoided had Dumbledore just been upfront with Harry.

But, you see, Dumbledore has come to love Harry, and didn’t want to ruin Harry’s happiness. Like when Harry nearly died getting the Philosopher's Stone. Or when Harry almost died fighting a Basilisk. Or when Harry almost died by being eaten by Dementors. Or the Triwizard Tournament. Or when Harry had to spend summers with the Dursleys, stewing over the return of the most evil snake man. Weren’t those just the best times?

Dumbledore’s an idiot, is what I’m saying.

You know what I really hate? Plots that could be resolved if someone just told someone what was up.

Dumbledore could’ve told Harry being with the Dursley’s extends a Magical Love Shield (somehow), that he couldn’t interact directly in case Voldemort used his connection to Harry, or the Prophecy connecting the two. Or what that hall Harry had been dreaming about is, why it’s important to Voldemort, and thus why Harry must avoid it.

Sirius could’ve told Harry about the mirrors directly.

Harry could’ve told anyone about Umbridge’s abuses, or gotten some faculty members on board to assist in protecting the DA Club.

Snape could’ve maybe told Harry that James Potter bullied him during schooling.[13]

Voldemort could’ve told his followers that he’s a half-blood.

So many problems that exist because no one will just talk to one another. Regardless of the narrative, this always feels so contrived, and only frustrates the audience.

Now look what happened, Dumbledore! Sirius is dead, the Ministry in ruins, the wizarding world’s in a panic, Harry has more PTSD within him, Umbridge has once again given your students a poor education to fight the great evil on the horizon, and Harry and pals have seen how terribly fallible you are, shaking their trust further.

You are bad at tactics, Dumbledore.

And that’s about it! Harry mopes around the rest of the school year, heads home, turns Malfoy and cronies into a slug, and heads home with the Dursley’s, who are threatened by the Order of the Pheonix, since Harry has alternated between ‘Dursely’s are afraid of messing with Harry’ and ‘The Dursley’s know Harry can’t do anything to them’ every year.[14]

Actually, before they leave, we have a charming scene with Luna calmly putting up fliers asking for her stolen things back, says she saw her mother die,[15] and is very aware of what others think of her. It’s very endearing, and I hope Luna gets more to do next book. She’s a sweetie.

It was an okay book, despite utilizing my least favorite plot contrivance. We got a lot more world building outside Hogwarts, seeing more how the Wizard’s world functions; Luna’s a good addition to the cast; the Myth arc with Voldemort is advanced significantly. A lot of good elements, but the parts that they float in are… average? The romantic elements are unengaging, Umbridge isn’t a enthralling threat, and the actual single book story is just serviceable. It’s not my favorite that I’ve read so far. Hopefully Half-Blood Prince will be better.

Kataal kataal.

[1] It’s starting to grow on me. [2] IE, violence. [3] Admittedly this character, who I actually know next to nothing about, and I should probably look into fixing that. [4] I can’t get over the fact that the secret villains of Books 1 and 4 are implied to have been actually good teachers. That’s hilarious. [5] Based off infrastructure alone, the wizarding world should implode.[6] [6] I mean, seriously Rowling? One American Wizard School? Just one? Do you realize how big America is? How impractical it would be to cart Hawaiians or Alaskans all the way to New England? [7] I used to have a bunch of those in mah face! [8] I know, I’m sorry, I’ll try not to bring her up again. [9] Or he actually studied well. I prefer my theory. [10] Who I didn’t discuss because ~eh. [11] His inclusion bothers me. Man is paid to put down vicious wildlife, so he gets to be a magic nazi. Okay, Rowling. [12] LeStrange promises to pay Lucius later, but she never does. [13] Okay, this is forgivable. [14] In order: threat of magical retaliation, knowing Harry’s been expelled, Harry has a Mass Murdering Godfather, Harry’s seen a kid die and fears for the world. [15] Uniquely not because of Voldemort’s influence. Luna’s Mother just made a mistake.