#i grew up reading harry potter books and i remember being so into them until like. late 6

[frostiifae]

tag commentary on posts is fun because i can change my mind whenever i want and only my mutuals would ever tell on me. and you wouldnt do that to me would you guys 🥺

[robin1729]

living in the moment ft. my dad

I have always had my head in the clouds, a little bit? I have spent my entire life lost in stories. It started with those magazines they have for kids. Champak, Magic Pot, Tinkle. Then it moved to novels for kids. Secret Seven, Famous Five, anything Enid Blyton really. Then Fantasy. Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl. Then as we grew older, the classics. Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist, Black Beauty. I was the kid who always had his nose in a book. In our substitute periods, my friends would be calling my name and I simply wouldn't hear them because that's how engrossed I was. I would be walking down the stairs with my head in a book and people would warn me that I am going to fall, and I would tell them (with a bit of pretentious snobbiness, I have to admit) that I had been doing this shit since I was 6.

Then came college, and like a lot of people I shifted to shows and movies. How I met your mother, Parks and Recreation, New girl. The same thing happened. My eyes were now always glued to my phone screen. I watched with so much concentration and watched the same things so many times I ended up memorising entire 9 season long shows. I started narrating movies dialogue-by-dialogue in front of my friends.

My dad didn't help either. He had to see every movie that came out. If too many movies came out in a month, he would bring pirated CDs for 50 rupees each and we would watch them on our tv. He would randomly come in his car in the evenings when me and my brother would be playing with our friends, roll down his windows, and say "Get in the car, we are going to the theater." Our friends would watch with childish jealousy as we just randomly up and went to see a movie. We wouldn't even check what was in the theaters that week. We would just get there and sit for whatever was starting in the next 15 minutes. I have seen so many sequels without watching the original?

Somewhere in all of this, I think I lost some sense of reality. I would be writing novels in my head. And no, not just outlines. I would be sitting on the dining table, writing them in my head sentence-by-sentence as I ate my food, mouthing dialogues that my characters would speak in the way they would speak them and not realise what I was doing until my brother pointed it out. That must have been creepy for him, to say the least. Suddenly I am 23 and life is more complicated than in any book, show, or movie I had ever read or seen. People on LinkedIn talking about the best investments and wanting to build careers and customer service strategies and I find it so hard to care sometimes??

Why can't I just be happy that my friend Hagrid has come back from Azkaban where he was wrongfully imprisoned for being the heir of Slytherin and that Gryffindor has won the house cup again? But noooo, I have to make excel sheets, and powerpoint presentations, and think of the best way to automate our processes. The real world is so, so boring.

My dad, somehow though, lives in both these worlds. He still watches every hindi movie and show that comes out. But never gets too attached. He really just watches them for simple entertainment and then doesn't get obsessed??? what a maniac?? He doesn't even remember plots of movies he saw two weeks back. And I remember movies I saw when I was 15 like I saw them yesterday. Whenever we talk, I want to talk about astronomy, and philosophy. About how tiny and insignificant we are in space and time, about thought experiments. And he never has anything to say about any of those things. He just nods and listens. "I don't really think about this stuff," he says. He has experienced way more stories than I have, and yet his head stays on the ground. If it's not something that affects him here and now, in the real world, he doesn't wanna hear about it. Who cares if wormholes can exist or not, when it's not affecting his life in any way?

And like, I get it. Life already throws so many things in your way; why add to it, right? He keeps his head clear, focuses only on the present, and on what is directly in front of him. A simple man. And on some level, I admire that. And I have been trying to be like that. But I don't want to lose my passion for stories, for things like the universe and different theories of ethics.

There's this very young businesswoman and internet personality I admire, and she is a great speaker. She always comes across as very confident and very sure of herself. And she was asked in an event how she deals with any failures or setbacks. And she said that she has learnt to regulate her emotions, so that she doesn't get too happy when something goes her way, and she doesn't get too sad when something doesn't.

Isn't that... kind of sad? It broke my heart, to be honest. I wanna be madly happy when something goes my way, dude. I wanna party and feel like I am on top of the world and that I am invincible. Moderating your emotions sounds like dulling the human experience.

Like always, I don't know what the answer is. But right now I am a little tired of feeling too much, of thinking too much. So I am going to try my dad's approach for a while, and let you know how it goes.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Can you explain why you ship batcest?! I’m sorry I’m just confused by why you like JayTim or DickTim or whatever…

I feel like I already answered this but: I just really like the dynamics of their relationships and it’s fun to go: what if they kiss?!? The pure enemies to lovers of JayTim and the freaking adorable puppy crush to love of DickTim is so good. I don’t want them canon. But it is so damn fun to read them as a couple. That’s it.

For a longer answer and as to why I explore these pairings:

I’m older then most of the people poking around in fandom and making their complaints. I’ve been participating in fandom for almost two decades, since I was a tiny preteen who was hitting puberty who suddenly got a BUNCH of issues we never figured out until I got older because hormone disorders suck ass and my autism went undiagnosed even longer. I remember my first fanfic found on Deviant art: a Harry Potter one where the golden trio and Ginny were the reincarnations of the founders and they got transported into another universe. I remember that so well because it’s just this core memory for me. Finding a place I could be me.

I went through multiple accounts and wrote some dumb shit. I roleplayed Loonatics Unleashed and did some stupid shit there to. I was a weird ass child.

I have been around for a while here kids. I read fucked up shit way to young (and it’s why one thing I am loud about is that kids shouldn’t be allowed to troll the internet without someone aware cause holy shit is some stuff messed up on here. My parents should have been watching.) and I did stupid crap. I was introduced to sex from fanfics and learned about sexuality and gender identity.

And one thing I learned through this is that: people need to grow the fuck up and realize that while fiction doesn’t exist in a vaccum it also isn’t as black and white as people like. Just because someone writes Jason and Tim kisisng doesn’t mean they are like: adoptive families don’t count or incest is fine and I’ll make out with my sibling now. It just means: hey this dynamic is interesting and let’s play with it.

Fiction does not exist in a vaccum. Racism and sexism along with other issues are common for fanfics, headcanons and comics. I recently admitted to falling prey to a few issues I was unaware of as someone who is white and grew up in a Baptist church town in bumfuck Canada.

But when people start whining over pairings it becomes a thing where all you can do is yell: ‘IT IS FICTIONAL’ and walk off. Cause anyone with critical reading skills can tell that it’s 1) not real and 2) not hurting anyone. If someone uses it to hurt someone and that’s the issue? Might as well get rid of all the books in the world and stop all TV and games because people use those as excuses to. So many people talk about the Bible, Twilight, the MCU and more being used to groom them. So… yeah. I don’t have an issue exploring pairings and relationships others would because it’s all fictional.

[skyfallscotland]

Hiii me again! I, too, have questions for the ask game 🍓🦋🥤

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

I feel like it's redundant to keep saying the same ones, but *whispers* storm in the quiet @justallihere and Political Gain @sarahwyland

But also, in terms of underrated, I just read a little series by Ramzes called The Unseen One, furthering the Sloane/Bodhi agenda (🙏🏼 the lord’s work) and I've also enjoyed The Princess Gambit by JuliLyng so far as well, which is Xaden/OC. Not sure if they have tumblr, but if they're here, hi! 👋🏼

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

So I've always been a reader/writer, since as far back as I can remember (maybe three years old?), I'm pretty sure with the knowledge I have now that I'm hyperlexic.

I'm old enough to have been around for dial-up internet, but when I was a preteen, we got broadband (showing my age). This is to say, don't judge my parents too harshly because internet safety was not a thing back then, but...

I found fanfiction because back then, a lot of people either used livejournal or hosted their own sites, so a lot of fansites, had fanfiction. So while looking at Buffy fansites, I stumbled across Buffy fanfiction and realised I could actually read stories!!! so many stories!! where Buffy and Spike got together earlier or things didn't end tragically for them. So yeah, at 11 I was reading very explicit Spuffy smut on the internet 🫢 I had a system set up where I would play The Sims all day or do school project powerpoints, except I was really reading fanfic and I would flick between screens whenever my parents entered the room.

My mum now has KU and reads dark romance every day, so I guess she comes by it honestly (and yes, I did mean it that way around, I was here first!) 😂

Anyway, when I was 12 I started publishing my first few fanfics on ffnet - Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, and a Harry Potter/X-Men Crossover. Each originally written on paper, they were all ridiculously bad, but the latter had people interested enough despite the writing, which encouraged me to try again later down the line with The Vampire Diaries and Jurassic World. I hadn't written for almost ten years and had never finished anything much until last year, by chance, I decided to finally get back into reading actual books and picked up ACOTAR. I finished the series within a week and I was left like?? That's it????

The archive had such a small number of works, I couldn't believe it, so I decided to write my own. I wrote Fury and Siren over the course of three months. I wasn't game to post anything in case I didn't finish it, because I'd never finished anything before. I also put off starting this little book I'd bought 'Fourth Wing' by three months, because I knew I'd be sucked in and would lose the hyperfixation I had, so I forced myself to finish Siren first. And now you all know my life story lol omg I'm so embarrassing to myself 🫠

TLDR: internet

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

Honestly, this is kind of angsty, but this last week I’ve thought a lot about male-dominated fandom spaces and how we’re not welcome in them. We, meaning everyone who isn’t a straight, cis, white male. The Formula 1 community on here seems a little better, probably because it’s female-led, but everywhere else I can’t even look at the comments.

To be honest, I’m tired of being told I don’t belong, or that my opinion means nothing because I’m female. I grew up in a motorsport family, my earliest memories are at racetracks, but men on the internet would have you believe I’m only interested because of what the drivers look like. It’s just…tiring. Those fandom spaces have become a no-go zone for me now, because it just isn’t worth it. We live in a time where no matter what you say someone will attack you which is sad in itself, but it’s so much worse when you’re a woman commenting on a “man’s sport”, not to mention endlessly frustrating because they’re too stupid to tell the difference between equity and equality.

🦋 On a larger note, Palestine. I don’t think more than that needs saying. It hurts my heart.

[donovanpaak]

INTRODUCING...Donovan Paak.

STATS:

Nicknames: Donnie, Don.

Character Age:  33

Neighborhood: Midtown

Occupation: Firefighter

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthday: June 29th, 1990

Faceclaim: Charles Melton

Hometown: Asheville, NC.

Years of Residence: 25 Years

Pinterest Board /

Character Inspiration: Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Patrick Verona (10 things I hate about you), Kevin G (Mean Girls), Rick O'Connell (The Mummy), Neville Longbottom (Harry Potter)

tldr;

-- DONOVAN PAAK grew up in a loving home where knowledge was everything. his parents went missing when he was only seven years old and he ended up being fostered by the yoon's, a family that showed him nothing but real love. not long after, a single mother with means adopted him and helped him try to connect the dots of his biological parents' disappearance. after years and with no answers, donnie made it his mission to save people that needed to be saved. he became a firefighter after spending a year in south korea, thriving in his career until three years ago when he made a mistake and his friend decided to take the fall for him. since then, donnie wonders how long his conscience will let him keep the secret and struggles with keeping up with the lies.

READ BELOW for fun facts, biography, possible connections.

random facts

donnie loves drawing and will do so at any time of the day, even when he's having a conversation with his close friends or family

has quite the graphic novels collection; however if you ask him about any tv show or movie, he will probably not have any idea of what you're talking about

hosts video game nights once a month at his mother's home in carriage falls

can and will outdrink you under any circumstances

can be a little quiet and reserved upon first meeting him

will do anything for the people that he loves

donnie can fall asleep very easily and will take naps at random times of the day

owns too many backpacks

prefers to stay in rather than going out, but will still have fun when out with friends

owns way too many books, his collection includes all the books that belonged to his parents. he hasn't read half of their stuff but reads one book a week

he's a people pleaser and is mostly happy when he makes other people happy

biography

Donnie was born in Asheville to loving parents whose real and only love was their research and their son. The Paak’s had found love in what most people would call a movie story, two archaeologists that met in university and married right after. Donovan was born two years after their marriage, and then five years later they found a topic that turned their research into their whole lives.

Donovan doesn’t remember a lot of it, or of his parents, but they traveled more often than not when he was a child. His grandmother would take care of him until she passed away, then came the nannies,or the aunts. It was during one of those trips that his parents never came back from. Donnie was seven.

The foster system is one of the first things that he can remember, but unlike most kids, Donovan remembers it fondly as that is where he met the Yoon’s. Minhyuk came first as his social worker, but also who eventually became his foster dad which led to Donovan’s move to the town that he now calls home: Wilmington. With the man came Sara and Mahi, who Donnie grew so attached to that by the time that he had to say goodbye to his temporary family, he knew he would never be able to let them go.

With the Yoon’s, he learned what a home cooked meal was, what having siblings felt like, what sharing toys really meant, but most of all, he learned that his parents hadn’t left him, but that they’d been missing after their flight to Berlin.

It worked out perfectly when almost a year after being in the system, Donovan was adopted by a single woman in her thirties who’d always wanted children but couldn’t have them with or without a partner. Adela Garcia was a sophisticated, fairly rich museum curator and collector. But Donnie’s favorite thing about the woman was that she was local to Wilmington and that was all that mattered because that meant that he would stay in touch with his sisters. He could get through anything with them.

Adela was the perfect mother though, food was always on the table, traveling overseas only happened when she could take Donovan with her, she didn’t miss a school play or sporting event, bought him anything and everything that her son wanted. The one thing that she could not give him though? Answers. 

At thirteen, Donovan only wanted to know what happened to his parents, how could they have disappeared out of thin air and why had no one ever asked these questions? So, Adela helped him. She hired investigators, let him miss classes when needed, hugged him when they hit dead-ends. 

Slowly, Donnie realized that his parents’ disappearance would always be a mystery to him. This led to him acting out a little bit. He tried getting into fights with older kids in school, tried drinking, yelled at his adoptive mom, yelled at who’d once been his foster dad. High school was a roller coaster, too much pent up frustration and heartbreak that he was finally letting out. Donnie often wondered if his mom would give up on him but she never did, neither did the Yoon’s.

When no one left him, he realized that despite not having answers, he had a family, and although he would never stop looking for his birth parents, Donnie had to move on. Meeting Chloe helped, it was like someone finally understood him. He’d found the missing piece to his support system.

At eighteen, Donovan graduated high school. He and Adela spent a year in Korea, where they found his father’s side of the family and although he loved spending time with them, he was even happier to be back home in Wilmington when they did come back. Spending a whole year doing nothing but drawing, reading and sightseeing gave him answers that he hadn’t had upon graduation.

He joined the fire academy the day that they landed back in Wilmington. Two years later, he joined the Wilmington Fire Station as a candidate. His mother wasn’t particularly happy, she could have paid for any school, any major, but her son had chosen to put his life at risk everyday of his life. Donovan’s answer was and will always be that he can’t do anything that isn’t helping those who need it. 

Naturally, Donnie thrived as a firefighter, graduating top of his class and becoming the driver for the truck in record time according to the older firefighters. He has worked his way up in the past decade and is thought of very highly by his teammates and superior officers, but he’s never really wanted up the hierarchy as the reason why he wanted to be in the job was that he could save people. It’s his calling.

Three years ago, Donovan and another firefighter went on a call with everyone else and Donnie messed up by being impatient and not following his chief’s direct orders, which led to one of his teammates getting extremely hurt. When Donnie woke up, his friend had taken the fall for him, telling him in secret that with his injuries he couldn’t keep being a firefighter and Donovan deserved a second chance, he’d only done what he thought was right.

Despite his friend’s support, Donnie has felt incredibly guilty since then and for a few years struggled to be happy with his job, feeling as if he’d betrayed the firefighter spirit and honor by letting a dear friend take the fall for his mistake. He’s never told anyone but as much as he loves his job, he wonders if his conscience is going to let him continue working and has found himself not as centered as he’s always been, trying to see if he should follow his gut, come clean and lose everything he’s worked so hard for or to keep quiet and keep going.

possible connections

friends, childhood friends, fwb, hook ups, one night stands, enemies, rivals, drinking buddies, partners in crime, love interests, anything you can think of that your character can fit into his life!

[theclearblue]

When reading a book or watching a series, have you :

a. Finish a book or a series, even when you dislike the mc until the end but love the story (What's the title?)

b. Finish a book or a series, even when you dislike the story but love the mc (what's the title?)

c Finish a book or a series, even when you dislike the mc and story but love the worldbuilding (what's the title?)

d. Finish a book or a series, even when you dislike the mc, story, worldbuilding but still finish it for whatever reason (what's the title?)

The thing about me is I will drop a series very easily, if it can't hold my attention I'll be usually just drop it and move on lol. A and C are automatically out because I'm a big character reader/watcher, so if I find the main character boring or annoying, it's not for me. Not that the main character needs to be my favorite, they often aren't, but this is the character that the reader spends the most time with and it's through their POV usually, I should find them likeable or interesting enough to continue to care about plot/worldbuilding/everything else. There are exceptions to this in the form of I grew up reading the same YA slop that everyone my age read, so looking back I completed a lot of series that weren't very good and had main characters I found annoying. Harry Potter, Divergent, Maximum Ride, Pendragon series, Cinder, none of these hold up unfortunately (main exceptions to this being PJO, Hunger Games, and the Uglies series <3).

For the second question, the only one that comes to mind is Legend of Korra. LOVE Korra, I think she's a really interesting avatar and her character journey is really great to follow, but the series does get hampered by convoluted romance plot lines that I didn't care about, production issues that greatly rushed the pacing in season 4, and I didn't really care about the plot by the end because it was so all over the place. I don't think Korra herself is an issue in the series though, she gets way too much shit.

The last scenario where I finish it without liking anything is usually when I've invested a lot of time and love into a series and then it just falls on it's face at the end. Voltron comes to mind instantly where I just hated everything about Season 7 and 8, but I'm on Seasons 7 and 8 so I might as well finish the damn thing. Same exact scenario with Game of Thrones (the tv show). Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu is a 10/10 series until the "twist" with the open ending, it was soooo unnecessary and like. It wasn't crashing and burning like Voltron and GOT, it just abruptly slaps you in the face with it before leaving lmao. So maybe it doesn't fit because I DO love everything else about it, but this ending would color how I view the series on a reread, and that sucks. Other series like this would be Blue Flag, Death Note, Attack on Titan (kind of, the series is mostly fine I just got really grossed out with the antisemitism in season 4), The Promised Neverland season 2, Darling in the Franxx (idk why i started let alone completed this), Eragon series, Allegiant (looking back I hate the entire Divergent series, but this is the first time I remember finishing a series and hating the ending). There are probably more than this as well lol.

[wingardium-levioshiiit]

Look. I get that people shouldn't buy Hogwarts Legacy because of the things JK said but can be take a moment to remember how much HP has impacted our lives and how it has helped millions of people? Yes, JK stands for some horrible things but have you ever considered that many of your favorite artists and musicians have some horrible ideals that you don't know about? I'm not saying they all do.

The Harry Potter universe helped me. I literally grew up with the HP world from the moment it started. It helped me become brave, courageous, unafraid of speaking my mind, to stand up for myself, to not judge people before getting to know them, and so much more. An entire generation grew up with these positive morals. For some, it literally saved their lives. For some, if Harry Potter never came out and gave the messages it did, they wouldn't be here today.

Yes, JK isn't perfect, but no one is. Hogwarts Legacy has been a dream for many of us. We have waited years for an open world game. Just because the author of the series is a shithead doesn't make the HPverse a terrible place.

You say she doesn't represent those of color yet many of the characters mentioned in the books were never described with a race or ethnicity so how can you get upset when she purposely left those out because it allows the READER to invision what the world looks like based on some minor details. Thats what books for meant to do: give you some bare basic information to get you started are on your visual journey while reading. Look at Hermione. We weren't given any information on her race/ethnicity UNTIL the movies came out...and the way the movies were portrayed was how the director invisioned them. She could have been portrayed as black but at the time of the first film, leading roles with colored folk was not that popular. Today is a different story. Today she'd probably be portrayed as black and maybe even a little gay.

The times are different. Things have changed. People who grew up in the same time as Rowling don't understand trans people. They are allowing faith and religion to cloud their judgment on things like this. They think its an abomination to be like that. I mean, some people think that gay couples are somehow going to turn children gay by looking at them. And we all know that's highly false and crazy insulting.

All I'm saying is: screw what JK has to say and buy the game, especially if you grew up with the HPverse. Life is too damn short to get pissy over things you can not control. No one will ever change her mind so why continue to fume over it? Why allow ONE person to ruin something for you? Regardless of whether you buy the came or not, shes still making millions every day. Harry Potter world, the movies playing on different TV channels, merchandise being sold, etc.

[fandom-imagination-ss]

day 6 of 31 days of  Halloween Imagines

Imagine: The Building is having a Halloween Party and you confess to Mabel that you have a massive Crush on Theo Dimas 

(Author Note: this is being writing in August and the second season is still playing So if This Adorable Man is Dead, or the killer or doesn’t have happiness even a little bit by the season of season 2 i will cry ) 

you grew up in the building, you knew Bunny, you Knew everyone in the old impressive building. you were friends with Mabel and you were generally shocked to learn about the first murders. and that Theo Dimas was a jewel thief. you tried to communicate with Theo. Even going as far as learning Simple ASL. Theo wasn’t Ever Mean or Rude but he always was too busy dashing in and out of the building. Hinge sight Now knowing his Dad forced him to Rob Dead peoples Graves. you understood why he was always so busy!

getting to the Halloween party across from your Apartment you were dressed as Hermione grander Not a Sexy Hermione you dressed as close as possible to the character without sexualizing your fictional idol! you were holding a bottle of wine to give to the Host the entire Building was invited and you were standing out in the hall with Mabel, Charles and Oliver were bickering with each other as Mabel asked how you not so Sutle Crush was going.

During the first Murders Charles, Oliver, and Mabel questioned you for the Podcast you were convinced that Theo and his dad who was always So kind to you weren’t killers. and it came out that you had a crush you had to Beg on your hands and knees. and ended up feeding Oliver for a week for that to stay out of their podcast. Now. with the murder of Bunny, Theo, and his Dad on House arrest you rarely saw Theo. you didn’t even know he was back until Mabel mentioned it. 

Shaking your head as you spoke up, “he just seems so Hug deprived and I love giving Hugs!” Mabel who was dressed up as an Old Lady spoke, “well why don’t you ask him out? he isn’t that bad of a guy.” 

you reached over grabbing her arm as you laughed, “I Would take just a conversation in the Elevator. He Doesn’t like me! I spent weeks learning Some ASL and he Never sticks around to let me show him!” 

“But it’s So romantic you learned it for him.” 

you laughed taking a drink. you knew your crush on Theo was one-sided and pointless he would never look at you that way Hell you would take Him just glancing in your direction. you realized after It came out he Robbed Dead people of their jewelry that you had No chance. Not that you thought he was a bad guy. but you learned he liked Zoe and you remember Zoe. she was Nothing like you so you gave up. 

the Pumpkin flavor drink you were having was Awful. somethings shouldn’t be Pumpkin spiced flavored and Liquor was one of them. you took another sip as you spoke, ‘I would have better luck with the ghost of one of the dead tenants.” 

“it can’t be that extreme yet that your sinking that low on the Dating pole.”

“I mean out of Charles and Oliver. Charles is the better match- but he’s older than my dad. so-” Mabel laughed loudly saying god her ears as you spoke, “I shall Live with the fact I will never attract Theo Dimas. it just sucks.. but not as bad as these drinks! I’m getting anything else that isn’t Pumpkin flavor you good/’ 

she nodded her head as you went into the apartment to get better drinks. Mabel noticed Theo walking in a few minutes ago he was dressed in his normal regular clothes so not on the floor to attend the party. the truth was he came to see what you dressed up as. he wasn’t disappointed to see the bushie brown hair, the white tube socks, and the black cloak. he knew you were Hermione. you Loved Harry potter and he knew it. you would read the books growing up and would have a Harry potter theme party once a year. always a different location last year was the Hogwarts express train. it was mainly an excuse to have a marathon. Mable noticed Theo watching you leave as she spoke, ‘hey Theo.” he nodded his head Signing Hey as he Signed, “Did Y/N say she liked me?” 

he couldn’t believe read your lips correctly. He wasn't great at lip reading. But sometime he swears he can understand everything you saym it was in the eyes. Every emotion or thought is visible to your face. And he waa stunned he lip read you liked him .he he was dreaming of hearing say you fancied him for years.hes. liked yoi since. you moved into the apartment and you were always smiling and he was addicted. he found himself taking the Long way In and out of the building just so he could catch a glimpse of you. 

“Shit.. yes! But - Look I didn’t tell you.” 

you returned with two drinks as you spoke, “the table is full of Pumpkin flavored things. it’s awful oh Hi Theo.” you waved weakly as he smiled back beaming brightly as you spoke, “I got you a drink Mabel just cause that line for the drinks is long.” 

I’m Good why don’t you offer it to Theo.” you smiled at Mable you had been waiting for almost 3 years to finally Sign to Theo. For Once he wasn’t speeding off. you handed the drinks to Mabel who grabbed them awkwardly still holding her own drink as you started to Sign, “do you want a drink?” Theo smiled brightly as he signed ‘Yes Please.” you smiled handing one to him as he smiled thanking you.

Oliver and Charles came over dragging Mabel away as you ended up sitting on the floor in the hallway as you talked with Theo all night. you ended up asking him out you meant to Sign “Do you want to go get food.” but you signed “do you want to get Glitter?” Theo chuckled as you smiled saying as you spoke, “was I close to Food? I was asking you out for food.. did I sign food? it was that or this one you signed for food as he chuckled as he signed, “you were close.” you laughed as he smiled he couldn’t really hear your laugh but he loved the way your head titled back and he could see it was a genuine laugh. he smiled nodding his head as you smiled as you spoke up, not knowing how to Sign “take out?” he nodded his head knowing what you said as you both got up and left the Halloween party. for taking out at your apartment. 

[danpuff-ao3]

Comfort Characters

@givereadersahug wrote about Comfort Characters and I thought I'd do the same!

This was always a weird concept for me to consider. Like...do I have a comfort character? The answer feels sort of obvious, but in the way that both yes and no feel obvious. Thus: the dilemma.

When it comes to fandom, I read so much angst, whump, darkfic, etc. And I favor portrayals of characters that are real, gritty, imperfect, and messy. My fandom preferences feel a bit at odds with the word "comfort." But...I do find a strange sense of comfort in these subjects and these characters, don't I?

And with that in mind...let me answer the dang question, yeah?

To really get the full picture, I think first we need to focus on what the Harry Potter books mean to me.

In recent years, with the author's outrageous and shameless vitriol, being a fan of HP has been challenging. It feels wrong to love this fandom so much, when the author shows such unmitigated hate.

The problem is: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone was published in the U.S. in 1998. (Usually I remember HP was published in 1997, but I just did a Google check for the U.S. publication to make sure I had my facts straight!) I was six years old when the books came out here. I was a bookworm since I could read! I inhaled books at an alarming rate. But no book from my childhood stuck out to me more than Harry Potter. I don't remember life before those books. And they were probably the first books I ever reread. And I never stopped rereading them. I'm not sure I've read anything more times than I've read those books.

Are they a literary masterpiece? Of course not. But they are whimsical, magical, joyful, colorful, touching, adventurous, and just plain fun! More so when I discovered fandom properly and my creativity ran loose in fanfiction.

My childhood was not especially good or happy, and these books were my escape. The fandom was my escape. Whenever life was dark or scary or hurtful, I had somewhere to turn. I had no one in my real life I could turn to. But I had these characters. And I had the friends I made through fandom. Facts that hold true even to this day, though I've escaped all the worst life had thrown at me (up until this point, at least!)

The books and fandom were a great source of comfort to me. And a large part of it must be because of the characters that were such a comfort to me.

Of course, my two comfort characters make up my beloved OTP.

Severus Snape, who I loved from the start. Which is funny when you think about little 6 year old Danni mooning over the "mean teacher." The dark mystery of him seduced me even then! He was clever, and creative, and cutting. He was the bad guy who wasn't really a bad guy, which blew my little socks off!

Harry Potter, of course...our titular character. My partner now likes to joke that I'm a "main character simp." (Hello, Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and Rand al'Thor...) I can't help it, okay? But Harry was always such a precious bean. Wide-eyed awe for magic. Spunky and bold, in spite of his poor life circumstances. The sort of fearlessness I admired, but could never quite replicate. My whole life was tied up in fear. I was scared of so much for so long. Harry's openness and honesty and bravery drew me in.

But those were the simpler, surface-level attractions for a young girl. But I'm not a young girl anymore. I'm a woman who grew up with these characters. I watched Harry grow and change; I watched him learn; I watched his trials and errors; his failures and his successes; I watched him save the day. And for Severus Snape, rather than moving forward, we looked back. I watched his story unfold in all of its horrible, messy glory. And I fell more and more in love with them both.

Harry and Severus both came from troubled backgrounds. Severus represents the stark reality. How deeply those wounds impact you, and how they don't always heal. Harry represented the ideals. All that I hoped to be; the behavior I respected and the principles I learned.

Harry overcome his circumstances and became a truly good person in spite of it all. But "good" doesn't mean without flaw. And his strength doesn't mean no damage was left behind.

On the flip side, Severus' trauma pushed him along a dark road. He reacted poorly. He made bad decisions. But hope wasn't lost, was it? Bad decisions didn't mean he could be written off as a villain. He was so deeply wounded, and he carried on despite that. The pain of his past plagued his every moment, but he still moved forward and kept fighting through it all. And for all the ways his trauma had made him flawed, there was still goodness in him. He was still worthy of love and respect. He was still capable of great deeds.

They are both men who were hurt by their life's circumstances, and who were bound by terrible fate. And they chose to embrace that. They chose to keep doing and being better, even when they screwed up. They never let life keep them down.

So much in them speaks to me. They can share my pain. And they give me hope and strength to keep going. And in them and all their messy, imperfect glory, I can reflect upon myself. And in loving them for their best and worst qualities, I can accept and love them in myself.

...and then I make them fall in love again and again and again (and again and again) (and again and again and again.) And that brings me even more comfort. And joy. And endless entertainment. And emotions. And basically all the good things life has to offer. Snarry for life, if you didn't already know I was a massive Snarry stan.

[pens-swords-stuff]

Hi there! For your AMA asks; what are the kinds of asian characters that you would personally like to see in the media that you consume?

I personally don't have a certain kind, archetype, trope, or anything specific type of Asian characters I want to see.

I just want to see more of them. In every possible iteration and archetype possible. As long as they're well-rounded, have a lot of depth, are treated with the same love and care that white characters are given, and aren't just caricatures or stereotypes, I'm here for it.

Seriously, any sort of Asian character will do. It doesn't matter what they are, as long as they're well-developed!

I had a bit of a shock and a minor identity crisis a few years ago when I looked back on some of the characters I really loved in American media and realized... Oh man, they were really my favorites just because they were Asian. In Harry Potter, I've always cited Cho Chang as my favorite character even though objectively, she's not written to be that great of a character. I didn't even realize that Numbuh Three in Codename: Kids Next Door was Japanese until I was doing a deep dive into the lore of the show when I was an adult, but she was my favorite character anyway because I related to her; she looked like me.

Every single Asian character (especially if they were a female character) that I grew up watching in American shows and reading in American books, I gravitated towards as a child. It didn't matter if they were well written or badly written; they were my favorite.

My point is: Representation matters. Even if I didn't realize it at the time, it apparently meant a lot to me; It's not a coincidence that I gravitated towards Asian and Asian-coded characters, what few that I had. Think of how much powerful that could've been for me if they'd been written really well? If there were a lot for me to choose from? But instead, I was left with a startling realization that wow, I really wanted that representation as a child, and I clung to the few that I was allowed to have — even if they weren't even that good.

And I also personally never found the question of "what kind of Asian character do you want to see more of" very helpful or enlightening. To me, it seems like there's no real answer and risks further stereotyping or swinging too hard the other way. (For me! Personally! It's a valid question, just one that never really worked for me). I want to see every kind of Asian character, just as many as white characters. I want every single background, heroes and villains, love interests and main characters, best friends and enemies... Everything. Absolutely everything.

I don't want to be drawn to an Asian character just because they're an Asian anymore, just because they're the only ones I had in American media, just because they're the only ones that look like me. I want to have so many Asian characters to be drawn to so that I can pick and choose which ones are my favorites and which ones that I identify the most with. I want to have the chance to be choosey and picky about which ones are my favorites.

As long as they're well-written and developed and have depth, that's valuable representation. And it matters so much. It definitely mattered to me when I was a young child.

AAPI AMA 2022: Ask me anything about being Japanese!

Remember that these are just my personal experiences and opinions! My thoughts and experiences are not necessarily representative of every Japanese person, and should not be taken as such.

[fleetsparrow]

The greatest disservice adults do for kids is the insistence that adults know better about what kids can handle.

I first read the Sherlock Holmes canon in elementary school, along with the junior classics series. My favorite books in middle school were 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and Harry Potter. In high school, I read Peyton Place, Lolita, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrel, and Jimmy Buffett's Where Is Joe Merchant?.

Kids should be able to read anything they want. They should also be able to have someone they trust to talk to about what they've read if they want to. They also should be able to say, "I don't like this book" and have the option to stop reading it without shaming.

The corollary to "let kids read what they choose" is also "let them decide not to read what they choose without consequences"*. The goal is to treat kids like the autonomous beings they are.

Seriously, let kids read what they want. If they don't like the book, they should be able to put it down and stop!

Like abstinence only sex education, the more you tell someone they CAN'T do a thing, the more likely they will do it anyway AND will not do it safely AND will feel deep shame and guilt around having done it to begin with. That's not healthy! If you want kids to read, let them read anything they want!!

Also, the argument that books are like websites and you wouldn't let your kids go to just any site, like—

My sibling in Satan, that's literally how I grew up. Let kids go to the Forbidden Sites! Kids should be allowed to see things they don't understand! It's fine! Let them do what we did in the early internet and lie about their ages. Let them find the smut fics and the erotic fanart.

The key is you can't punish them for having done so!

Kids are not Good Behavior Machines. They are tiny people. Growing people. And people need to be able to make mistakes AND learn that mistakes are fine! Mistakes are normal! Mistakes are how we learn and develop!

A kid should be able to follow their internet threads to the Weird Site and be able to say, "Yep, I'm out of my depth here", and close it, AND be able to tell their trusted adult about it if they want to without the adult punishing them for natural curiosity.

"Let kids be kids", yes, but actually let them do it. Let them learn and stumble and need help and get help and learn discernment for themselves. Kids should be fully able to say "I'm into this" or "Nope, not for me" WITHOUT punishment for either.

Jesus fuck, it's like y'all don't remember being kids.

[*In before "what about assignments?" because I know reading comprehension is shit here, that applies there, too. There were so many books I had to read in school that I hated, and I was the most avid reader in school. The problem with them wasn't that I had to read them, necessarily, but that I had to read them a certain way. It was not allowed to get ahead of the class when we read A Tale of Two Cities. Reading Beowulf would have been fine if I'd been able to do it at my pace. Was Catcher In The Rye with the group really so important that I couldn't have been reading something I enjoyed afterwards as a chaser?

That's not even getting into how my classes had "reading assignments" where you had to keep track of your reading per week and then be quizzed on what you read. We had to have slips signed by our parents to say that we did read X amount of time. I had mine filled out ahead of time (because, as I said, I never stopped reading ever), until the teacher started changing the paper the slips were printed on to a different color each month specifically so we couldn't do that. Like, my gal, what do you think you're teaching us? I should not need to give you "proof" that I'm reading, you have to keep telling me to focus in class BECAUSE I'm reading something else.]

There is genuinely no such thing as an inappropriate book for a child.

[missdawnandherdusk]

Beautiful Ghosts

Ghost!Reader X Draco

Summary: Request: @sydthekid1518​: I had an Idea for a draco fic, where y/n is a ghost that’s fairly popular with the students and staff, and draco falls for her and stuff? And then maybe y/n and Harry create a plan that would allow reader to come back to life and stuff and be with draco.

A/N: Happy spooky season to all and to all a good night filled with Draco Malfoy. I’m so excited about how this turned out and that I got it done before Halloween because the odds weren’t looking to hot not gonna lie, but here it is and it’s beautiful. As always, let me know what y’all think,,,

“Y/n, please don’t disturb my students,” Snape droned with a monotone voice.

“You’ve got no power over me, Severus,” I laughed, ghosting away from his Slytherins working on Polyjuice potion.

“But I do have control in this classroom, dead or not Miss Y/n, this is my domain,” Snape argued, ruffled.

“I’m eternally bonded to this school. It’s my domain more than it is yours,” I countered, perched on his desk.

“Blasted ghosts,” A boy muttered, catching my attention, “No respect for authority,”

Tilting my head, I made my way over to him, studying the young Slytherin. He was about the age that I was when I had died, moved on, crossed the veil—whatever. His steady grey eyes and twisted sneer told me all that I needed to know about him.

“Another Malfoy,” I mused. “Interesting... And where’s your respect for the dead Mr. Malfoy?”

His eyes went wide at the idea that I was addressing him at all. Like I spooked him. Imagine that, a ghost spooking someone.

“Enough Ms. Y/n. Kindly refrain from scaring my students if you must stay,” Snape intervened. “I’m not scared,” Malfoy shot back.

“Boo!” I teased before passing through the walls of the dungeon and into my favorite spot in the entire castle, even living: the library.

I never had so much time on my hands before being dead, and now I could just take a book and read. Pince had been able to enchant them in such a way that I was able to hold them and turn their pages still. I was in the middle of a riveting tale about a boy who never grew up and had his destiny forced upon him and could fly. Perched on one of the tops of the shelves, I was lost in another world of magic.

“I didn’t know you could read,” I heard the same condescending voice from Severus’ potions class earlier that day.

“Little Malfoy,” I smiled down at him, closing my book. “And why would you assume that? I don’t look that stupid, do I?”

“Well, no,” He fumbled. “But you’re a ghost, you’re dead,”

“Yes, and I like to read, anything else?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t call me little Malfoy. My name’s Draco,” He huffed.

“But it annoys you,” I mocked a pout. “And you are a little Malfoy, a bit taller than your father, but young all the same,”

“Who are you calling young? We’re the same age,” His voice raised enough that Pince had to shush him.

“I was born in 1776, I think you’re a little young,”

“1776!?” Draco’s eyes bulged. “But... how? You’re...” Pince hushed him again. I floated down and perched on the desk, trying and failing to contain my laughter.

“Oh, so now you care little Malfoy?” I teased lightly. “What happened to your dismissal of spirits not hours ago?” He didn’t have an answer for that. He just stared and didn’t dare to meet my eyes. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you some time, but you’re going to be late for McGonagall if you don’t get going,”

Flustered, Draco headed out of the library and I watched him go. Knowing that Remus had a class this hour with the infamous Harry Potter, I headed over and perched on a desk in the back.

“Miss Y/n,” Remus acknowledged, “Perhaps you’d like to aid us today as we learn about ghosts and spirits?” Even though he had grown quite a bit over the years, there was still the same shine in his eyes when he was able to teach—even if it wasn’t a rag-tag group of marauders.

“So... you’re a ghost?” A young Hermione asked, a girl who spent a lot of hours in my library.

“Yes,” I smiled at her. “There are different types of ghosts however,”

“Oh, yes, Poltergeists, Funnels, Whisps, Orbs, and Shades,” She said matter-of-factly.

“Exactly, and Hogwarts has them all,” I looked to Remus who nodded for me to continue. “Most of you know that Peeves is a Poltergeist, a trickster loud ghost. Sometimes they were loud and violent, sometimes... well sometimes you have something like Peeves.” The class laughed.

“I’m sure you all have heard of the Grey Lady?” Remus interjected. “Helena Ravenclaw was murdered by the Bloody Baron and spends the rest of her days here at Hogwarts, they are both what we classify as Funnel ghosts. Ghosts who visit loved ones or loved places,”

“What about Whisps?” An intrigued Weasley asked.

“Well, most others are Whisps,” I explained. “Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, and most others you see strolling about. There is no strict reason that they’re here, other than they chose not to move on, or felt their work on earth was not completed.”

“Orbs are normally the spirits of animals or humans travelling about,” I continued, “They mainly show up in photographs. It wasn’t till after I died that cameras were invented, and they were found,”

“Any what kind of ghost are you?” A shy kid in the back asked. The class of kids turned to me, all expectant.

“I’m a Shade,” I explained. “It means that when I died, I wasn’t meant to. My soul knowing that, remained, and here I am,”

“Shades are very rare in the Wizarding World,” Remus cut in, “Not many are killed before their time, and many of them are very young,”

“Aren’t Shades allowed to come back though?” Hermione asked. “Because they were wrongfully killed? Doesn’t fate allow them another chance?”

Remus and I shared a look. I remembered when he had asked me that same question when he was no more than a third year as well. There was a solemn sorrow in his eyes.

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. “There is a possibility, but the odds are almost impossible. Most of them have to do around prophecies.”

Class had ended, and Hermione waved as she went to leave. I lingered behind a bit with Remus for old times’ sake. He was one who had always been kind to me. I was one who never judged him for being a werewolf before he found his marauders.

“Sirius escaped from Azkaban,” He whispered softly, his gaze fixed on the papers on his desk. “I... I thought I was over it. Over him. He had my best friends killed,”

Pity flooded my chest as I hovered over to him, my hand ghosting above his.

“That wasn’t your fault Remus...” Was I going to give away the truth that I knew? Or would I keep it a secret? “And it wasn’t Sirius’ either,”

“How can you say that!” Remus slammed his hand on the desk. “He gave away Lily and James’ location! Then he killed Peter!”

“Remus,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you everything, because it’s not in the stars, but... your friend isn’t who you think he is,”

A quiet moment passed between us and rather than get upset at me like I had thought he would, he spoke softly and surely.

“You’re... you’re saying there’s hope?”

“There’s always hope,” I offered a soft smile. “For all of us... even me,”

“How are you doing with that? The prophecy?” He asked.

I sighed and shook my head. “I might really be stuck like this for the rest of... forever...” 

“Is there anything...?”

“No,” I denied softly. “Interfering with a prophecy can ruin it,”

“Can,” Remus stressed. “Not that it will,”

“But is it worth that risk?” I countered. “I could lose my one shot to come back. To be human again,”

“If I could be human again, I’d take any chance I could,” Remus’ eyes held a sadness that very few could sympathize with. One of those was me.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I murmured and let him be, drifting around the halls for a bit then back to the library to think some more and maybe find the right answer.

What I didn’t expect to find however was Draco, fast asleep where we had spoken earlier, draped over a few books and handwritten notes. I hadn’t noticed the late hour, sometimes time did elude me, and the days seemed to run together.

I didn’t want to wake the young Malfoy, instead, I peered at the books underneath him. Potions books, it seemed. Supposing that a Slytherin might have a partiality to Snape’s class, there was no need to question why he’d rather work on this subject than the others. Knowing Pince would chase Draco out of the library if he didn’t wake, my notion to not disturb him fell to the wayside.

“Malfoy!” I whispered loudly. “Draco, wake up!”

It was useless to try and shake him awake, I wasn’t able to. I could however pull the book out from under his resting head. So, I did.

“Bloody hell,” Draco grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What’d you do that for?” 

“You fell asleep?”

“And that was the only way you know how to wake a person?” He snapped, blinking into consciousness.

I gave him a flat look and reached out to touch him. He shied away, but it was in vain because my hand passed right through his material body.

“Oh,” He muttered. “But you can touch the books?”

“Pince and I worked on that together,” I informed him. “Did you think I would spend eternity and not figure out how to read?”

“I... uh,” He stammered, blushing a bit. “How come I’ve never met a ghost like you before?” 

“And that means?” I pressed, perching on the desk.

“Well, all of the other ghosts are... I don’t know... stuck in their ways? Not sad about being ghosts? Haven’t kept up on things like reading?”

“You think I’m sad about being a ghost?” I mused.

“I... you—I mean,” He stammered, looking down in embarrassment. “You just seem... optimistically hopeless,” It was almost mumbled through his exhaustion.

“You know those words have opposite meaning, right?” I teased softly. “And... I’m a Shade. I doubt you’ve met another before like me,”

“A Shade?”

“Do you not pay attention in Remus’ class?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t have his class until tomorrow,” Draco dismayed. “And it’s a stupid class anyway,”

“Defense against the dark arts isn’t stupid,” I refuted. “Especially with Remus teaching it,”

“You knew him then... when he went here. Professor Lupin,” Draco noted.

“Yes,” Lost in thought, a quietness passed before I spoke again. “When you learn what a Shade is, you’ll understand,”

“You could just tell me,” Draco whined, listlessly tired.

“But then you won’t pay attention in class,” I smiled. “Go on to bed, Draco. I’m not going anywhere,”

____________________________

Draco sulked in bed that night, thinking about you. Thinking about what a Shade was. Of course, he didn’t wait for class in the morning, instead he took out his DADA book and began to read up on ghosts. And he read. And read. And read. And barely found anything about what a Shade was. All that he knew was that you died when before your time. Maybe that was why he saw the sadness in your eyes.

He had every intention to be at Lupin’s class that day, but having Mythical Creatures beforehand, things hadn’t gone as planned.

“There’s always one,” Your voice sounded amused. “Why am I not surprised it was you, Little Malfoy?”

“It was the bloody hippogriff,” Draco snapped back.

“And somehow I don’t think that’s the entire truth,” You mused, hovering at his bedside. Until Pomfrey gave him the clear to leave, he was stuck with you.

“Won’t you just leave me alone?” He groaned, closing his eyes and laying back on the lumpy pillows of the hospital cot.

“Did you not want to learn about Shades? You’re going to miss Remus’ class after all,” The smile he heard in your voice made him look over to you, skeptical.

Your offer was tempting. Very tempting. He didn’t care much about magic other than excelling at it, therefore things that didn’t pertain to his advancement—mythical creatures and the like— held no inkling to him. And yet, you were a mystery he didn’t mind learning about. He wanted to know more about you. And you specifically.

“I guess, since I’m stuck here,” He tried to play it off as nonchalance, but you raised an eyebrow at him, seeing right through his charade.

“Well, Little Malfoy,” You hovered and perched on the end of his bed. “What do you know?”

“I... uh. Shades are people who have died before their time,” He stammered, not sure why he was so nervous.

“Quite,” You nodded. “Anything else?”

“Our book didn’t have anything else,” He admitted.

You went pensive a moment then nodded. “I suppose that you’d learn more about me in Divination than the Dark Arts,”

“Divination? You’ve got to be bloody joking! That class is a circus!” Draco exclaimed, wincing when he moved his arm too much.

“Perhaps,” You didn’t berate him, but seemed to be lost in thought once more. “But all Shades are tied to prophecies.”

“All of them?” Draco pressed.

“The fates understand that these souls left before their time, and give them another chance, a prophecy... to come back and live one more time.”

“So, you have the chance to live again?” His genuine curiosity seemed to shock both of you. “How?”

“If the prophecy is fulfilled, then I get to live again,” You said it as if it were obvious. 

“So, why haven’t you, I don’t know... fulfilled it?” Draco asked.

You laughed something sad and soft. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve read every prophecy, every book, every scribble. I’ve tried everything... after so many centuries, you give up hope and accept your fate,”

“But this wasn’t your fate,” He argued back. “You were meant to live, back then, whatever that life was,”

“Do you know what happened when I was young, before I died, Little Malfoy?” You spoke, and he could hear the age in your voice though you liked no older than he was. It was your sorrow that aged you. He waited for you to continue. “I was born in 1776, the year the Americans went to war with the King of England. At the time we were living in the French countryside with my aunt because my father had gone to fight in the war. He was a general,” A smile ghosted your lips. “My father died in the war... the battle of Yorktown... that’s what it’s called today. Back then it was just a letter and inheritance money that went to my brother,”

“Hang on, you’re saying that your father fought in the American War of Independence? Under the king?”

“So, he can be taught,” You smiled at him. “Yes, the king at the time was a wizard and until parliament and the ministry were born and declared that muggles and wizards should rule themselves. Of course, the ministry was formed in the beginning of that century, but it took the war for them to call the final straw.”

“So, your father died in the war, that doesn’t explain what happened to you,” Draco pointed out, deeply invested.

“Well, tell me, what happened in France after that war ended?”

“The French Revolution,”

Your warm smile had the same effect as the sun. “Yes, and as I said, I was in France at the time, being tutored at home for the summer. Muggle girls weren’t allowed to go to school back then... I travelled to Hogwarts to receive schooling and even then, I was only allowed to learn Herbology and Potions. At least those two classes stayed the same,” You sounded sad and wistful. “But the revolutionists were going for the rich, any sort of rich. And at the time, they saw knowledge as wealth and power, and I had a reputation for being able to read and attending a private school out of the country and well...”

“They killed you because you knew how to read?” Draco distressed, sitting up, enraptured by your tale. “That’s so... stupid,”

“It was. But perhaps it was my own fault, I wouldn’t deny that I could read. I was proud.” Your smile faded again as melancholy settled on your face. “Now it seems that’s all I do. Fate is funny like that...”

“You’re free to go Mr. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice seemed to draw you both from whatever world had been created with your words.

He had to blink a few times to come to grips with the fact that he was currently in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and not centuries behind, trying to imagine death for the reason of knowledge. There was an awkward moment between the two of you as you both seemed to realize that you were no longer int eh late eighteenth century. You offered a smile and left without another word, a curious look on your face as you left.

That was the last time he saw you that day, and that week for that matter, but he always wondered what you were doing. What were you reading today? What was your prophecy? Was it really as hopeless as you said it was? Was there a reason that he found himself caring?

______________________

“Oh, hello Harry,” I stood from the corner of Remus’ office, intrigued that the young Potter had come. He looked so much like his father that my heart ached for Remus and to imagine what he felt when he saw Harry.

“Y/n,” Harry seemed surprised. “I... uh... you know Professor Lupin?”

“Well I was here when he went to Hogwarts himself, so yes, I’m quite fond of him if you can believe it,” I smiled as Remus eyed the situation.

“Is there something that you needed Harry?” Remus asked, trying to sound professional, but I could hear the sentiment in his voice.

“The map...” Harry turned slightly pink.

A smile grew on my face. “You have the Marauder’s Map?” I almost laughed. “How in the world did you get that? Oh, if your father knew,” I did laugh this time.

Remus shot me a sharp look and Harry looked at me in wonder.

“My father? You knew my father?” The realization seemed to dawn him.

“Yes, well,” Remus interjected sharply. “Don’t get caught again Potter,”

“Why haven’t you told him?” I demanded as soon as Harry left. “Remus, come on, that’s not fair to Harry,”

“I’m not the one to tell him though! I can’t be!” He protested and I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Remus, I’ve known you a long time. And I’ve known James and Lily. They would want you to talk to him. They would want you apart of his life,” I argued, or perhaps encouraged softly.

“Maybe you’re right,” Remus mumbled.

“Of course, I am,” I smiled. “It’ll work out Re, with Sirius, and with Harry,” 

“I hope you’re right,”

I left him to his thoughts and on my way to the library, I was ambushed by the younger Potter. Not that I wasn’t expecting it, I knew that Harry would have questions for me as soon as he knew I knew his father.

“Hello Harry,” I smiled.

“You know about my dad,” He burst out, hope in his eyes and tone.

“And your mother,” I smiled and perched on the windowsill nearby.

“Can you tell me about them? Please?” His eyes went glossy with tears that he blinked away.

“Your mother was bold, but still kind and gentle. She looked out for the little guy. She rooted for the underdog and protected the younger years of any House. She was always kind to me. Her and Remus both.” The memory was fond, if it was a memory. Did ghosts have memories after they were dead?

“And my dad?” He clung to every word.

“He... was a bit like you. Always finding trouble whether it was his fault or not. Totally deserved to be smacked a few times... but the war changed him. He grew up rather quickly. Into a protective caring young man. Almost everyone had eyes for him, but he only saw your mother,”

“Do... you think they would be proud of me?” His gaze dropped to his beat-up sneakers. 

“Harry,” I called his attention. “You’re their son, they’ll always be proud of you,” 

“But—”

“No buts,” I interjected. “That’s all it takes for you to make them proud, I promise,”

He nodded and mumbled a thanks before taking off toward the Gryffindor dorm. Finding solace in the library, I began to read again. Maybe a week had passed. Perhaps two. I wasn’t sure. I was so wrapped up in my books that I became lost to time. Until a blond-haired boy came in, his nose stuck in a book.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again Little Malfoy,” I smiled, from my perch in the library. He didn’t acknowledge me, causing me to frown. “Draco?” I ghosted down and perched on the table next to him. “Are you ghosting a ghost?”

Though he ignored me I could see the smile that twitched at his lips. That gave me little hope. “Is everything alright?” I asked, genuine concern coloring my voice.

“Ask Potter,” Draco snapped. “You seem to fancy him lately,”

“Excuse me?” I was taken aback. “Harry? He just wanted to know about his parents, that’s all,” 

Draco frowned at this and he finally looked at me. “His parents?”

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like he has a lot of people who know his parents and are willing to tell him anything. Dumbledore has made almost everyone vow not to talk to him, but what good is a vow to someone who’s already in the grave?” I shrugged. “Poor kid knows nothing,”

“I...” Draco didn’t seem to have the words. Instead he looked back down at his book. I smiled and rolled my eyes at his antics.

“If you care that much, you are still my favorite Little Malfoy,” His cheeks tinged pink and I laughed. “You’re something else Malfoy, you know that?”

“Says the girl who died for admitting that she could read instead of lying,” He raised an eyebrow at me. I chuckled and shrugged.

“Says the boy who avoided me for what, two weeks, because I talked to a boy about his dead parents,” I mused.

“It wasn’t two weeks,” Draco grumbled. “Nine days,” 

“Oh, forgive me,” I laughed. “Nine days.”

He smiled and looked back down at his notes. I think it was the first time I had ever seen him smile and not sneer.

“So, nine days,” He prompted. “I assume you haven’t left the library... read anything interesting?”

I laughed and somehow the hours passed as Draco and I spoke about books and stories we had read as kids, and the ones we were currently invested in. It shocked me to know that he was an avid reader, of fantasy novels, nonetheless. Though I had read just about everyone that he had mentioned, there were a few that I added to my mental list of his that I said I would check out. He seemed sincerely happy at my interest of the books he read.

“Father thought they were childish,” He muttered when I asked him about it. “Fairytales and fantasies,”

“That’s stupid,” I scoffed, and Draco gaped at me, aghast that I would dare to call something his father said ‘stupid.’ It made me pause. “You... you know you don’t have to always agree with your parents,”

His gaze cast downward. “I don’t want to disappoint them,”

My face furrowed. “You’re they’re son, that’s enough for them to be proud,”

“You don’t know my parents,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I think the last time they were proud of me, is when I was sorted into Slytherin.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I protested.

“You don’t know my parents,” Draco argued again.

“I do,” I retorted. “Or I did,”

The notion seemed to dawn on Draco as he stared up at me with wonder in his eyes. 

“You did,” He realized. “Can you tell me about them... have they always been so...” 

“Strict?” I offered.

“Suffocating,” Draco supplied.

I pressed my lips together and thought a moment.

“Your father, perhaps. I never spoke to him much, and he never paid me mind. But you mother,” I smiled at the memories that came flooding back. “She was bold, cunning. She loved her sisters with a fierce passion.” My smile. “The three of them were some of the brightest witches I’d ever seen,” I glanced over to him. “You have her eyes, her same spirit,”

A smile drew on his lips as his face turned a soft shade of pink. “Do you know that because you’re a ghost?” He mused.

“No, I’m just a girl who can read character pretty well. After seeing so many faces pass through here, and reading so many stories, there are those who stand out and stay with you. Your mother... she stood out to me. And I can see her in your eyes,” My demeanor softened as I realized the words I was saying and if I could have, I would have blushed.

“Thank you,” He whispered as the clock chimed a late hour.

“You should head back,” I sighed softly. “Get some rest,”

“Why don’t I ever see you near the Slytherin dorm?” Draco asked, gathering his things. 

“I’d rather not cross paths with the Baron,” I admitted.

“The Baron? Why?” Draco frowned; his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Never you mind,” I smiled. “Get to bed Little Malfoy,”

“Don’t call me that,” He grumbled, trudging out of the library.

The night progressed as did the month and I went from one book to another, soon searching for a book I hadn’t in a long time. My diary from when I was alive. Published as its own book that I had found a few decades ago. Tucked into the pages was what held my fate. My prophecy.

I went to the shelf in which I knew my book had its home, but it wasn’t there. Instead a sliver of time carved away by my missing book. Drifting over to Pince I asked her about where my book had gone. She told me that Malfoy had checked it out and had it for about a week—since the day we spent in the infirmary together.

For the first time in a long time I felt... embarrassed that my story and thoughts were on display for anyone to read. I never cared before, but this felt different.

Cursing the late hour, I knew that there was no way to get to Draco now. The Bloody Baron was protective about other ghosts coming into the Slytherin dorms. I’d have to find him in the morning then. I considered loitering outside the Slytherin portrait, but I also did not want to go anywhere near the Bloody Baron. I had heard and read enough.

So instead I headed to the Astronomy Tower to watch the stars again, having silent conversations with them, wondering if they’d ever grant me life again.

“You’re glowing,”

The voice startled me enough that I actually jumped. The irony of scaring a ghost. I turned to see Draco behind me, his eyes glued to my shimmering skin.

“Yes, all ghosts do it under the moon and stars,” I noted. “By the way, can I have my book back?” I stood, going over to him.

“Your book?” He questioned.

“My book,” I restressed. “My diary? That you have from the library? The one that has my—” I stopped myself.

“Your prophecy.” Draco finished, offering me the book that he had drawn from his robes. “Yeah, I know.”

I stared at him curiously, pulling the book back into the security of my arms, where it belonged. That uncertain feeling returned to my chest.

“You know it’s rude to read a girl’s diary,” I retorted, defensive.

“It’s a published book in the library, anyone can read it,” Draco rolled his eyes. I gave him a flat look and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So, have you figured out what it means?”

I sighed softly and shook my head in defeat. “The only thing I’m sure of is the great star is Sirius,”

“Sirius, like Sirius Black? Escaped Azkaban criminal?” Draco exasperated.

“Well, the star is his name sake. But I’m sure you of all people know that Draco,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Your family has a knack for celestial namesakes. If I remember correctly, Sirius is your mother’s cousin,”

“What?” Draco demanded. “No! There is no way!”

“Draco,” I reached out for him in vain as he paced in anger and confusion. “Draco will you calm down?” I nearly shouted.

“Calm down!? How can I when I know that I’m related to that criminal!?” He demanded.

“Sirius isn’t a criminal!” I argued back. “He didn’t kill Peter or those people!” I gasped, covering my mouth in shame, my eyes wide. That was a secret that I wasn’t supposed to tell.

“What do you mean he didn’t kill those people?” Draco sneered, stalking up to me.

“I—I’m not supposed to...” I took a step back, ghostly tears welling in my eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to... Merlin,” I cried, sliding to the ground.

Draco’s demeanor changed from anger to worried and concerned. Not that I noticed through my distress. I felt as if I had just betrayed one of my best friends.

“Y/n, what... what in the world are you talking about?” Draco asked sitting beside me, a failed attempt to reach out and comfort me.

“I promised. I promised I wouldn’t tell what I knew until the time was right,” I sobbed. “Bloody hell, he’ll never trust me again,” I squeaked.

“Who?” Draco demanded.

I looked at him, wide eyed with fear, shaking my head softly. “I... I can’t. I’m sorry Draco,”

I dematerialized and rematerialized in a quiet portion of the castle grounds, away from the rest of the students, among the woods. The trees welcomed me and the further I walked in, the less tied to the castle I felt. I came to a lake and sat beside it. Crying tears that would never fall in my undead state, I stared at the water and my lack of reflection.

“I’m so sorry Sirius,” I wept softly. “I didn’t mean to tell him... I was just defending you,”

“I’m surprised you kept the secret this long,”

Again, I jumped, startled by the voice behind me.

“Hey there Spooks,” Sirius gave a lopsided smile, the years in Azkaban resting in his eyes and in the lines on his face.

“Sirius,” I gasped. “What are you doing? It’s not safe here!” I protested.

“I couldn’t leave my girl to cry, now could I?” He smirked, before his expression sobered.

 “You should,” I sniffed. “I’m so sorry Sirius, it slipped out,”

“I know,” He held his hands up in a calming effort. “I knew it would, and it’s okay. Who did you tell? It wasn’t Moony was it?”

“No,” I looked down. “But you need to tell him Sirius, he deserves to know,”

“He won’t even talk to me. He thinks that I betrayed James and Lily and killed all of his friends,” Sirius toed at the dirt—the same tick he had in his Hogwarts years when he had been caught in a lie or prank.

“But you didn’t,” I protested. “He still loves you Sirius, I can see it in his eyes and when he talks about you and James...”

“He—no,” Sirius shook his head. “That’s not for you to worry about,”

“Do not make me mother you,” I threatened. “Talk to Remus,”

“I will,” Sirius sighed. “When the time is right,”

“As a girl who’s waited for centuries for the right time... talk to him as soon as you can,” There was a pity-filled look on his face that I brushed off.

“Any luck with that? Your prophecy?” He seemed almost hopeful.

“No,” I sighed. “But there is one who took the time to ask this year. Like Remus did his first year,” The memory was a soft spot for both of us.

“You were his first friend,” Sirius smiled at the same memory. “So, who is it this year?” 

“Little Malfoy,”

Sirius snorted. “We both know you don’t have a sense of humor, drop the act,”

“I’m ser—” He gave me a look and I paused to rephrase. “I’m telling the truth. It was Draco who asked, who read my diary, and knows about the prophecy,” I hesitated. “He’s also the one I told,” My gaze dropped to the ground waiting for the backlash.

“Malfoy!?” Sirius demanded. “You told Malfoy!?”

“I’m sorry! I told you I was sorry!” I shouted back, bristling, feeling my body shudder. Sirius seemed to notice and took a few paces away and composed himself.

I dared to speak. “All he knows is that you didn’t kill Peter. That’s all. I’m so sorry Sirius,” I turned, and he was gone. “Fine! Leave!” I shouted. “Like always... like everyone...”

I let out a scream of frustration that was carried away with the wind. Letting out a sigh of defeat I wandered up to the castle again.

“Y/n?” For the third time tonight, I jumped at the call of my name. It was Draco again.

 “Draco, look,” I started. “I...”

“No,” He stopped me softly. “I’m sorry... I...” He shook his head and took off down the hall towards the Slytherin dorms. Chasing after him, he was too far gone, and I was face to face with the Baron.

“Oh, could this night get any worse?” I shouted to no one in particular. “I don’t mean to trespass, apologies.”

“Stay out of my territory and away from my students, you little harlot,” The Baron sneered. 

“Gladly,” I growled back. “Arse,” I muttered as I ghosted back to the upper levels of the castle.

Utterly lost on what to do, I found myself by the Black Lake, staring up at the moon and stars. I stayed there until the sun rose over the dark waters, painting the valleys in a golden light. I remained there, watching the sun and moon dance in the sky in an unchangeable waltz that continued for eternity.

“They said you were out here,”

I didn’t jump this time at the sound of his voice as the moon rose to her duet again.

“Hello, Draco,” I murmured softly. “Come to watch the stars with me?”

“Sure,” I could hear the smile in his voice as he sat beside me on the bank of the lake, the only sound was the music of the night, the lake lapping at the small beach, and his gentle breaths.

“I... I’m really sorry,” He murmured softly. “For that night, I didn’t mean to get so angry. I wasn’t upset with you...” Silence fell softly between us. “My parents never told me... I wrote to my mother...” My eyes widened as I gazed over at him, his pale skin almost having the same affect that mine did in the moon light. “I never knew...”

“I’m sorry,” I offered.

“Merlin don’t apologize to me,” He laughed hopelessly.

“Well I did sort of freak out on you, so... sorry.”

He shrugged and his gaze fixed on the moonlit water. “My father thinks it’s absurd that I’m talking to you... and I think my mother is slightly worried about me for it,”

“Any particular reason?” I mused.

“Father has always been against those different than him in any way... my mother probably worries that I’m not making friends...talking to ghosts...” A smile toyed at his lips at the mention of his mother.

“Are we not friends then?” I teased lightly, causing him to laugh.

“Sure,” He rolled his eyes at me, this time causing me to laugh. “Do you miss them?” He asked after a quiet moment.

“Who?”

“Your parents... your family?” He seemed almost afraid to ask.

I pondered the question. “Yes, sometimes... but I’ve spent a lot of years wasting tears that will never fall over people I can never see again... you move on and learn to live after a while... well as much as a ghost can live,”

“You can’t cry, can you?” He came to the fact easier and saner than most did.

I shook my head. “I can feel bitter sorrow, the worst loss, but I can never shed a tear,” I chuckled humorlessly. “The irony, I have the most to mourn and I can’t even cry,”

“I’m sorry,”

I shrugged. “I’ve lived a long time without being able to cry... just reminds me that I’ll never be quite human again,”

“But you could be,” He had more hope than I ever had about the fact. 

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “That stupid prophecy,”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,”

“You’ve haven’t spent centuries wondering what it meant,” I argued back:

“In the days when evil lurks around every corner; 

The condemned will become innocent; 

And the innocent will become condemned; 

True love can reanimate a deceased heart; 

Under the star of Great Dog; 

She will become alive as time is altered; 

Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.”

“True love,” I scoffed again; my lips pressed together. “Like some sort of stupid fairytale,” 

“I thought you said that fairytales weren’t stupid,” Draco raised an eyebrow at me smirking.

“They’re not,” I rolled my eyes. “Believing that there’s true love out there to save me? That’s stupid,”

“Then maybe there’s no hope for any of us,” Draco sighed. “If someone like you can’t find true love, where’s the hope for the rest of us,”

A smile ghosted me lips at his words as I looked over to him, his eyes still trained on the water.

“You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that Malfoy?” His eyes darted to mine as his cheeks tinged pink.

“Will you come back inside?” He asked softly. “The library isn’t as interesting without you there,”

“Sure,” I smiled warmly at him.

Fall turned to winter turned to spring, and Draco and I spent a lot more time together than I cared to admit. He was almost easier to talk to than anyone else I had met. And that was saying something, because I knew Remus Lupin, who was fascinated with my fascination of the young Malfoy.

But all the same, I found myself crave Draco’s company more and more and cursing the Baron for not letting me see him while he was in his dorm. It was rough when he came down with a cold and I wasn’t able to see him for a week. No number of books could distract me from the fact that he wasn’t there to talk to. That he wasn’t here to talk to me. I had never missed anyone like this before.

But when he felt better, we’d press curfew to mere minutes just to get another word in with each other. Then he’d have to be human and I’d have to remember that I didn’t belong in his world and never could. It didn’t stop me, however, from finding and talking to him the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Then there was a day in late spring that caught my attention as Sirius had finally gotten to Harry and his friends, but things had gone from bad to worse as I watched the scene unfold, doing the only thing I could think of, I spirited away to find Remus. He would know what to do, he would know how to help.

After I had explained what I had seen, Remus grabbed his wand and took off towards the Whomping Willow. I followed him, and as soon as I left the castle, I felt the dark presence of the dementors around me.

“No!” I shouted, going up to meet them, and for the first time in a long time gave into my spiritual power, long enough to hold them off and let Remus pass through safely.

I hovered over the Shrieking Shack, keeping the dementors as bay, away from Sirius, away from Remus. They didn’t dare to go near my pure light that was amplified by the full moon. Soon I saw the three of them emerge, Peter in chains, when the light of the full moon hit my little Remus.

With a cry of desperation, I did my best to keep the dementors away as I watched the horrors unfold before me before I couldn’t take it any long and chased after Remus, who was not a wolf into the wood.

“Remus!?” I shouted; my voice lost with the wind. “Remus, it’s me! Please come out!” I caught sight of Hermione and Harry and gestured that they should leave, and quickly. “Remus!?”

I heard a growl and turned, seeing golden scared eyes. 

“Hey,” I cooed softly. “You’re alright, you can’t hurt me,” 

A pained howl left his lips.

“I know,” I replied. “But you’re going to be alright, let get you back, yeah? To Prongs and Pads, they’re waiting for you.” Tears I wanted to cry weren’t shed at the pitiful heartbreaking whine that left his lips.

But he let me lead him back to the Shrieking Shack all the same. I stayed with him until McGonagall and Dumbledore came. There was a soft thank you from the both of them. I drifted back to the castle, pacing in anxiety.

“Y/n?” It was Draco’s voice. I turned.

“Draco, it’s not safe!” I squeaked. “What are you doing out of bed!?”

“I had to see you,” He confessed. “There are rumors, about Black and Lupin... I thought you’d... Are you alright?”

“Draco, really,” I glanced around, cursing that I couldn’t drag him inside to where it was safer. “It’s not safe for you out here,”

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what about you!?”

“I’m already dead! So, unless you’d like to join me!” I shouted, realizing after the fact what I had said. “Draco, I didn’t mean that,”

“You’re keeping things from me,” It was a broken accusation. “About Sirius, about Remus,”

“Draco, please,” I pulled away. “I... I have to go, I have to make sure that he’s alright,” My eyes trailed up to the top of the tower, knowing that I may have been the reason that Sirius was in chains again.

“No!” Draco shouted, drawing my attention.

He had never demanded anything of me before, not like this. It wasn’t the fact that he told me to stop, it was the notion that he had found his own voice in it that caused me to pause. I waited for him to continue.

“I’ve spent all year, all of my three years here, knowing you, and getting to know you and I’m not going to let you walk away again! I want to know! I don’t want this you can’t tell me act. If anyone, you can tell me. Can’t you trust me? Please,” His voice broke, unshed tears in his eyes.

“Draco,” My non-material heart broke a bit as he stood before me, vulnerable. Shaking and terrified I nodded. “Remus... is a werewolf. Sirius is an Animagus. Peter betrayed the Potters, and Sirius went to confront him. Peter faked his death and killed all those people and it was blamed on Sirius...” In my nervousness I began to ramble:

“...and Sirius and Remus confronted Peter tonight and Harry and his friends were there and I had to fight off dementors so that Sirius would be okay because I couldn’t bear to see him get hurt for something he didn’t do and then I had to go and help Remus because it’s a full moon and he won’t hurt me but for the love of merlin he will hurt you so will you please go inside!”

Draco gaped at me, in utter disbelief.

“Please Draco, go inside,”

“Only if you come with me,” He recovered.

My thoughts for Sirius were forgotten as I took a step closer to him. Instead, all I could see and focus on was the heartbreak on his face and the hand that he held out for me. A hand that I wanted to accept but knew that I couldn’t because I would phase right through him. Never had I loathed being dead so much but in that moment when all I wanted to do was comfort him.

For the first time in almost two hundred years, tears slid down my cheeks. I barely noticed. 

“Please,” His voice shook as did his hand as it remained extended to me. “Please, Y/n,” 

The moon fell behind the mountains as the sun shed her first light onto us.

And with reckless abandon, I reached out for him, for his hand. In desperation and false hope, closing my eyes, knowing my heart would never break more that in the next few moments for not being a part of his world.

Then my hand felt softness and warmth.

I gasped and jerked back, and Draco seemed to realize this as I did.

“You just...” He stammered.

“I...” Trembling, I held my hand up, the sunlight no longer passing through it but refracting off of it. I finally reached up and felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks as I gasped in pure joy.

“I’m human,” I laughed, “I’m human!” I marveled at my rosy skin and the soft green fabric of my dress as I felt the grass beneath my feet. After a moment, I, at last, looked to Draco, who seemed to be frozen in a state of wonder and disbelief, and almost... scared.

“Draco,” I called softly, “It’s me,” I offered my hand to him, the grin not leaving my face. 

“You’re... and...”

I nodded and smiled, taking a step closer to him. “Not scared of ghosts, are you?” I teased softly.

He finally laughed and took my hand, pulling me close, into the comfort of his arms. I began to cry again because for the first time in two hundred and fifty years, I was hugged. I clung to him, my fingers marveling at the softness of his shirt, trailing up into his hair.

“Merlin,” Draco pulled away softly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,”

Before I could ask him what he meant—or argue that I had been waiting longer than he ever had—he pressed his lips to mine, and in that moment, I swear I could have died all over again in his arms.

.

In the days when evil lurks around every corner, 

The condemned will become innocent,

And the innocent will become condemned.

True love can reanimate a deceased heart, 

Under the star of Great Dog,

She will become alive as time is altered; 

Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.

.

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[literary-creature]

Thoughts on Fantastic Beasts Franchise: Why am I upset? (But still a little hopeful)

I've been reading everybody else's opinion on the trailer and the future of the franchise for the past two weeks, so I thought I could write something about it myself. I'm not as happy as I expected to be, and there are some reasons for it. I’m going to start with a short overview of what the first two FB movies left, and what I think about recent news.

I watched Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in November 2017, a year after its release. As someone who grew up reading Harry Potter, I was curious about the movie but didn't expect much from it. Even if it offered an opportunity to go back to the magical world, I wasn't sure I could love a whole new set of characters as much as I had loved the HP ones, or find their story as compelling as the one I knew. But I wanted to give it a chance.

During the first half of the movie, I was lost. There were wands, magical creatures, and adventure, but it felt unfamiliar. It wasn't until the death cell scene that I started to find it interesting. For me, it's the film's breaking point: The moment when Newt and Tina start to trust each other, and when along with Queenie and Jacob, they become a team; one that can go through impossible and dangerous situations together. A little like Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but different. These characters were not kids in a school, dealing with the typical problems of teenagers while saving the world; but adults facing real-life (magical and non-magical) troubles the best they could. I could connect with that. From then on, I started to enjoy myself.

I think the reason I loved the film so much was that it brought back to me the excitement I felt for HP as a child. For some years these books and movies were my entire world, and even years later, they hold a special place in my heart. For two hours I had the strange and wonderful sensation of being an eleven-year-old all over again. But it also made me emotional in ways the HP movies never managed to. My favorite scene is the one where Newt releases the thunderbird, obbliviating New York, with all the wizards walking around and reconstructing the city. Watching it always makes me feel strangely emotional. It may be that as we grow up we start to need more magic in our life, or at least, be able to imagine a world when magic can solve problems and make things better.

By now, I must have watched the film like a million times, and it still makes me feel that childlike excitement. As the credits rolled that first time, I remember I ran downstairs to take my copy of fbawtft and make sure that Newt indeed, married Tina.

I watched it again a few days later and put special attention to detail. I think one of the biggest assets of the film was that the HP references were subtle: If you were a fan you could get excited by identifying a spell, or remembering a creature from Hagrid's lessons, or wondering why the obscurus description sounded familiar. But someone who had no idea, could easily ignore all those things and enjoy it as well. It was a perfect balance between nostalgia and surprise, the old and the new.

I only had a year of waiting before Crimes of Grindelwald. When I started to read the HP books, most of the movies were already out, so I've never followed the promotion for any of them. 2018 was a tough year for me, and keeping up with the trailers, the posters, the interviews, gave me something to be cheerful about. It was fun. I must confess my expectations were high. It was also the first time I was going to watch a release. I grew up in a small town, and the cinema didn't work regularly.

But watching CoG my disappointment was immense: After the promotion, I expected something big, but the movie wasn't much more of what we had already seen in advance. Everything that made the first one great, was taken away. Instead of our four beloved protagonists, there were three hundred new characters that did not have much screentime; some didn't even have much relevance to the plot. Most things regarding Newt, Tina, Jacob, and Queenie were not even explained, as if they lacked importance.

The most painful omission was the situation between Tina and Queenie. Queenie's storyline in CoG confused many fans, not because the twist in her fate was not interesting, but because it was never correctly developed.

In the first film, we're told that the sisters raized each other and are incredibly close. They would not "stop talking" just because Tina disagrees with Queenie seeing Jacob, unless that conflict, for some reason, turned more serious in those months previous to the Paris incident. This is important not only to see Tina's point of view, but also to understand the events that led Queenie to be desperate enough to think Grindelwald was her only option. If we consider that Queenie feels the most important people in her life, and her government are not supporting her, then her making a radical choice could make sense. Explaining all of this was of huge importance to three of the main characters' storylines, and so, to the general plot. Big mistake.

Tina's storyline made no sense either. The first film introduced us to a female character that was strong, independent, and brave, but also insecure, lonely, awkward; someone who has had a difficult life, and had to do the best she could. A character with the potential to grow and change throughout the five movies. In CoG they turned that character into just a love interest, someone who had no story of her own, and no mission apart from turning the protagonist's head. Queenie's character arch, even if poorly developed, had the advantage of being "cool": The sweet and innocent sister who joined the bad guys. Standing with the "good ones" is not that interesting. True to life: Doing the right thing is for boring people only.

The HP references were everywhere. It looked wonderful in the trailers, but most of them didn't make a significant contribution to the story. Characters and elements "magically" appeared where the plot needed them, ignoring of it made sense or not.

There was no emotion. The bigger scenes didn't feel moving. I watched the ending on a big screen and not a single emotion went through my body. I left the cinema trying to figure out what the hell had happened to the franchise. Suddenly, instead of making the most of what had been built in the first installment, it was about bringing HP back. And that was not what I wanted to see.

I suspect the people making the film believed that if they gave us enough HP references and special effects we wouldn't realize there was no plot.

Over these past three years since CoG, I have re-watched it many times, and even though I don't consider it a good movie, I've found some things that made it worth watching (Mostly Newt, Tina, and Jacob scenes, but some of Grindelwald's as well)

When FB3 was first pushed back, in 2019, I knew it was probably the best thing to do. They promised us a bigger and better movie, and I imagined they were going to learn from their mistakes. For me, the solution was obvious: They had to go back to the things that made the first one great. They had to go back to the four main characters, to the magical creatures, and stop trying to fit so much HP into the plot.

After all the troubles the third film has gone through, I was happy to have all the little news we could get. But when they released the title...I felt uneasy. The Secrets of Dumbledore. More HP. The leaks going around bothered me, but the trailer was the thing that really upset me.

The worst thing is that the trailer was good. There are so many things in there that I wanted to see! Newt and Theseus behaving like brothers, Pickett being adorable, Jacob being Jacob. But there was a single point that monopolized my attention: Tina's absence.

Of course, I was disappointed because she is my favorite character, but it's not just about Tina, it’s about what she represents to the story.

We know Tina marries Newt at some point, but that's not the only role she plays. Tina was the person who risked everything to help Credence, the first one to notice him. Tina is Queenie's older sister, the one who raized her. Queenie and Credence are on Grindelwald's side, and the third movie may be the one when the conflicts surrounding both characters are solved. And Tina is not gonna be there? It makes no sense to the character, but most importantly, it makes no sense to the plot.

Tina is as important as any of the other three protagonists, but she has a particularity that makes her indispensable: She is the one that connects all the characters. In fbawtft she is the reason the four protagonists meet, and the reason they got involved in Credence's path. In CoG, even if I do not appreciate what they did to her character, she is again the point where many of the stories connect: She is in Paris looking for Credence, and that makes Queenie and Newt end up in the city as well, along with a very confused Jacob.

If we think about it, in CoG the only thing left standing from the first film was Newt and Tina's relationship. So, apart from messing the plot in an unspeakable way, taking Tina away would feel like severing the last tie this franchise has with fbawtft. From now on, it's about Dumbledore and Grindelwald. And honestly, I'm not interested in that. I want a fbawtft sequel, not a HP prequel.

I know it's the first trailer, and the only thing we are hearing are speculations, most with incorrect information. Sadly, some of these "speculations" are being fuelled by fan pages that have several followers; and that's how the rumors start to spread. Even the "leaks" seem to be from the same source, a screentest that happened months ago (And we're talking about a movie that is still very much in post-production, so the leak is not the movie we're gonna watch in April) We can't tell for sure, but I confess I'm worried.

In CoG, character development, or having a sensible plot were not the main concern, that's why I don't trust either JK, Yates, or WB when it comes to presenting a flawless story anymore. But what I do believe is that they wouldn't do something that could potentially harm the production's image. They cannot take another scandal: FB3 needs to do well if they want the franchise to subsist. If this goes wrong, not only will it be over, but they will lose a lot of money. This is why I find the situation with Tina is very suspicious. Let me explain.

I want to believe that the ones making the movie are not stupid, and can tell that reducing a leading character's role without an excellent explanation is a very bad move, one they cannot afford to make right now. I also suppose they know that not showing Tina in the trailer would make people talk. So I wonder: If they are reducing Tina's role so drastically, wouldn't it be smarter to make her appear two seconds in the trailer so we don't suspect it? Wouldn't it be silly to take her off the story if fans can get upset over it? (And the situation requires those fans to be pleased?) Wouldn't it be weird to put the spotlight on her like this if she is so irrelevant to the plot? Because this is what's happening right now: The spotlight is on Tina. And this goes further than the trailer: the little official material that has been released features every character except Tina. It looks like they are making an effort to conceal her.

Besides, I have the feeling that if there was some reason that escaped the production's control (something like covid restrictions or scheduling conflicts) and could easily explain Tina’s “disappearance”, they would let us know instead of allowing fans to imagine anything that makes WB look bad.

Since the trailer dropped, people have been relentlessly asking about Tina and making theories on her absence. She is receiving more attention than ever before. WB must have seen it coming, I just can’t believe they would make that kind of mistake. If this ends up being a strategy to increase the level of attention around the movie, I'm going to admit it's smart. I wouldn't like the alternative.

Maybe part of the problem is that we keep comparing the promotion for this film, with the one for CoG. But the situation in the world (And in the fandom) was very different back in 2018. If they're trying to keep everything under wraps so we can find out in the cinema, I don't think that's bad. Last time they gave away too much while promoting, and in the end, it wasn't beneficial.

So, even though I'm bracing myself for a huge disappointment, I'm still hoping for a surprise. I'm relying on WB common sense. Because common sense is very important to make films, but even more important for business.

I want the movie to be good, and for that, I need it to make sense. I've lowered my expectations in the past weeks, but I won't consider this a lost battle just yet. I hope the movie is not a disaster, that I can like it (at least a little), and that it saves the franchise. What makes me sad, is that I'm not as excited as I used to be. And I miss feeling excited. Promotion time used to be fun, and it's not anymore. Whether this Tina situation is resolved to the fans' satisfaction or not, I'm concerned about where the franchise seems to be going.

What I'm trying to say with this very long text, is that in their eagerness to catch the eye of every HP fan in existence, the ones making these movies are losing the respect of the FB fans; the ones that love these films, not as an intent to extend a successful franchise, but as a wonderful and different story all on its own.

I want Fantastic Beasts (And my excitement) back.

[amphxtrite]

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), swearing, spelling/grammar mistakes.

do not read if you are not comfortable.

summary: When the twins and the reader move into their new apartment in Diagon Alley, you finally confess to George about the feelings you’ve accumulated through the years, which eventually leads to more.

a/n: This was request from anonymous for a george weasley x reader, first time smut, thank you for requesting, I had a lot of fun writing this!

word count: 4k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“Give her hell from us Peeves!” Three voices cry before soaring away into the clear blue sky.

Everyone knows of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The students who disobeyed every rule, every year to save the wizarding world.

In the Hogwarts walls there was another group of students, while not as heroic, were just as well known. George Weasley, Fred Weasley and Y/n L/n were the notorious pranksters of the school. You couldn’t walk ten feet without someone being a victim of their work. For years, the school was their playground, pranks ranging from covering students in feathers, slipping belch-powder in professors’ tea and making products of their own that would take the world by storm in the years to come.

Every student at Hogwarts knew their group by name, swiveling heads in alertness when one of your voices was about, or running the opposite way when a familiar laugh rang out. There was never one without the others, so when your grand scheme of fireworks and sparks flew through the air, no one was surprised to see three brooms zipping about, accompanied by laughter and the screams of the pink toad who had terrorized the school of magic. Your names would go down in history among the students and as you zipped away through the clouds, a giant ‘W’ in your wake. The joyous feeling of freedom breaks free and you join the twins in the life you’d been dreaming about since you met the two in your first year, and away from the hell you’d endured.

With the help of Harry’s generous donation, the three of you set up shop in Diagon Alley, making the most bizarre and far-out designs the three of you could think of. Working long and hard to perfect each and every one of your products for your grand opening in a couple months.

The three of you spent most of your time in the apartment above the shop, concocting your brews and relishing in the new-found freedom you had taken for yourselves. The three of you worked, laughed, high-fived and dusted each other off after bad days, you grew even closer to the twins and with the new atmosphere and life, and feelings you’d accumulated through the years came about that had your stomach erupt in butterflies around your best friend.

If you were to ask anyone in Hogwarts about the mischief trio, first you’d see their head swivel and panic cross their eyes, next they’d tell you. While you were all close and the twins were practically connected at the hip, George Weasley and Y/n L/n had an unspoken ‘thing’ between them, and it was quite obvious to everyone, but them, and although cliché it was one of the castle’s favourite subjects for drama.

While oblivious to the gossip, George had fancied you since the moment he met you in first year. Watching your eyes light up at him and his twins’ antics and then showing them some tricks of your own. He must’ve been blushing beet-red because at that moment he fell. He fell for your sarcastic remarks, your love for books and muggle movies, he fell for the way your nose scrunched when you were concentrating and the way your eyes lit up whenever it snowed. George could go on for hours about all the things he loved about you, but actually telling you was a whole other story. You were such a positive, bubbly person, he could hardly tell the difference between a romantic or platonic action. Did you mean to brush his hand like that? Was that little smirk for a reason? Did you know what you did to him when you bit your lip like that? Or when you walked with a little more swing in your hips.

George wanted nothing more than to wrap you into his arms and hold you close against him, murmuring every moment he fell in love with you into your ear, listening to your heartbeat and pressing kisses across your temple, but at the same time he wanted to make you squirm beneath him, make you scream his name and take away your ability to walk, leave his mark across your skin and taste you. He just wished he had a hint to how you really felt about him.

“Oi, George! Get down here, we need some help with this stand!” Fred’s familiar shout shakes the daydreaming red-head out of his daze, cutting his thought of you short.

“Alright ya twat, no need to yell!” George huffs, speeding down the stairs to the shop area and walking towards you and Fred.

“How can I be of assistance, my dear brother.” George smirks as he approaches. “Well this stand won’t fit in between the other displays, we just need help pushing it in.” You shrug, jabbing your thumb towards the empty display stand.

George claps his hands together and the three of you get to work. You did your best to pry one of the displays to the side while the twins push the stand into place. Everything was going well, you made great progress and the display case was starting to slide in. It wasn’t until the twins gave a final heave, that you lost focus, your eyes dropping to a certain twin’s toned bicep, peeking out from his skin tight shirt, and you failed to remove your finger from the crevice.

“Bloody Hell!” You cry as your fingers are crushed in the closed space. Quickly yanking your digits out of the gap, you hold them close to your chest, you double over in pain. “Fuck, that hurt.” You groan, examining your fingers to be lightly scratched and bruised. 

George can only just register your pained yelp before he’s fussing all over you just like his mother would. “Oh my goodness, are you alright love? I left my wand in my room, come on, I’ll fix you right up.” George gently takes your arm and hurries up the stairs leaving a confused Fred behind. 

“Hey it’s alright Georgie, it’s just a small cut!” You try to reason with the persistent ginger, but George doesn’t let go. “Nonsense darling, your finger is bleeding, I’ll heal it in no time.” He continues, sitting you on his bed as he picks up with wand from his bedside drawer and takes a seat next to you.

You extend your hands to George and without a beat he murmurs the healing spell. “Episkey.”

Your cuts begin to close and the bruises fade away, leaving no pain and no sign of injury. “Thanks George, you’re the best!” You giggle wrapping your arms around the tall Weasley and inching closer to him.

It had become something of a tradition for the two of you to heal each other if one of you were to get hurt back in school. Whether you’d scraped a knee or had come to the other bearing Umbridge’s scar, you’d done your best to help one another, learning new healing spells for this specific reason. 

A smile spreads across your cheek as you think back to the days you’d run to George with a burn or a cut, only coming to peace once he’d had a go at it, or at least wrapped it in a bandage.

“Do yo remember, back in Hogwarts, when we’d come to each other just to heal our little wounds.” You pull back from the hug and take George’s hand in yours. 

“Of course darling, how could I forget.” George grins, reminiscing of the days not so long ago. 

Back in your days with the pink toad, George would be the first person you’d run to after detention, small sobs racking through you as you showed George the first of many scratches in the back of your hand. 

‘I must not laugh in class’ 

George had helped you reduce it to a pink scar, but the pain remained with you for long after as the memories of that horrid quill raked your brain.

George was always your comfort, he’d stuck by your side and was there for you when you needed it the most. Long nights of star-gazing, studying, planning and laughing had also helped you come to terms with the love bubbling inside you for George Weasley.

“Thank you for everything, back in school I mean.” You sigh, leaning onto George’s broad shoulder, a light smile gracing your face.

“There’s no need to thank me love, if anything I should be thanking you for saving me from detentions.” George smirks, wrapping an arm around you. You begin to laugh a bit as you think back to when you’d trick filch into leaving his post before pulling the red-head through the long halls. 

“Feels like so long ago.” You murmur and look up towards George, finding him already gazing back at you. “Last time you did it was only a year ago love.” The younger twin smiles, leaning closer.

Your eyebrows knit together and your face heats up at the sudden closeness and a question that has plagued your mind for years spills from your lips. 

“Not to be nosy, but why do you always call me darling or love, Georgie?” 

This was it, George’s thoughts began to race. This was the moment he could finally confess to you, finally know how you felt about him. 

His lips turn up into a huge smile, as he pulls you closer to him and looks down for a moment, gathering courage. 

“Y/n, I’ve fancied you since the moment I saw you on the train. You immediately caught my attention, but once I really got to know you, I knew that I was done for. You’re so funny, beautiful and absolutely perfect, but you’ve never really showed me you fancied me and-” George pauses for a moment, trying to pick his words right. “Well, I just want to know how you feel.” He simply states, looking deep into your mesmerizing e/c eyes. 

Your smile widens as George finishes his confession, and tackling the red-head onto the bed you hug him tight against you. 

“I fancy you too idiot! Why else do you think I’d only go to you for my scars and bruises, why I’d save you from detention all those times, I’ve fallen in love with you!” A melodic laugh rings from your lips as George wraps his arms around you with a hearty chuckle, pressing kissing on your head just like he’d dreamed of doing. 

Rolling the two of you over, George now on top, the blushing ginger admires your laughing form beneath him. You were positively angelic and he couldn’t help himself from what came next.

George leans down and captures your lips in his, snaking his arm up to hold your hand against the mattress while the other cups your face. The kiss is chaste at first as George familiarizes himself with your lips, truth be told he hadn’t had his first kiss yet, only daydreamed of doing it with you. Now, with your lips finally against his, he wanted it to be perfect.

Running his tongue against your bottom lip, George wordlessly asks for permission to deepen the kiss, nipping lightly on your soft pink lips. Parting your lips you allow George to run his tongue around your mouth, as your teeth clash and your tongues swirl around each other. 

George eventually pulls away to catch his breath, never letting go of your hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that love.” the prankster smiles, pressing a small kiss to your nose. 

“Oh I can imagine, especially with that pressure on my thigh.” Your eyebrow raises in a teasing tone as George goes a brilliant shade of scarlet, his freckles seemingly disappearing under the dark hue. 

“I- uh, I’m sorry. It’s just-” George begins to ramble, trying his best to explain himself to no avail. 

A small smirk plays on your lips as you capture George’s lips into a loving kiss again. 

“It’s alright Georgie, I want this too.” You sigh onto the gryffindor’s lips, circling your hips around underneath him.

George lets out a low moan at your action, squeezing your hand and looking back into your eyes, pupils dilated and dark with lust. “I’ve never done this before.” You admit, running a finger up and down George’s side, glancing down at his lip caught in between his teeth. 

“I haven’t either, but I’ve imagined doing this with you before.” George shrugs, removing his hand from your cheek and placing it on the waistband of your shorts. “That makes two of us.” You tease, running your free hand up the beater’s toned chest. 

George doesn’t hesitate to crash his lips onto yours again, rolling his hips against you. Your mouth parts enough for him to slip his tongue past your lips again and explore every inch of your opening as his hand pulls the waistband of your shorts down your thighs before promptly flicking them to the floor. George uses his long digits to tease your clit through your panties as he kisses down your jaw and collarbone nipping and sucking, leaving a path of pink marks down your upper chest. “So wet for me already love?” He smirks as his fingers find the soaked patch on your heat, eyes darkening as he pushes harder against your clit.

“Yes George, f-fuck, right there.” You plead softly as George continues to ravage your clit, hitting the sensitive bud perfectly and sending waves of pleasure through your being. The gryffindor obliges, rubbing your heat faster and harder as your eyes shut and your head falls back against the soft pillows, allowing George access to your neck, sucking dark hickeys onto your skin as you writhe beneath him from the stimulation from his fingers and lips were granting. 

Slowly inching your fingers up, you pull the beater’s shirt up to his chest, motioning him to take it off as your fingers move lower to the waistband of his trousers. George removes his fingers from your panties to teasingly pull off his shirt, sitting up a bit to show off his toned abdomen, taking his sweet time to throw the shirt aside and fix up his short hair, sending a wink down at you. 

Your hands seem to gain a consciousness of their own, slowly tracing down each muscle, drawing dangerously low before George leans down to push your shirt up your chest. Raising your arms, your shirt joins George’s on the floor. “You’re absolutely stunning love.” George praises as he reaches behind your body to unclasp your black bra, quickly throwing it away and pressing kisses across your breasts. 

You begin to run your hands up the toned red-heads chest when he takes hold of your hands and pins them above your head against the soft cushion, his grip soft, but firm, unabling you to move despite how hard you squirmed. 

“Don’t bother darling, now stay still like a good girl.” George smirks, lust evident in his low rasp as he kisses down your naked chest, swirling his tongue around your nipples and massaging them with his calloused hand. Your attempts to escape George’s grasp are forgotten as his teeth begin to nibble on your sensitive buds. Head falling back between your arms, you arch your back against George, silently begging for more. George grins into your skins and pulls back to admire your pleading form, reaching down to undo his belt with a small fumble, eventually pulling his trousers and briefs down completely. Your eyes fly open at the feeling of George’s hard cock brushing up against your inner thigh as George’s dark, brown eyes display a playfulness as he teases his tip against your clothed core. 

You begin to struggle against George’s grip again, wanting to take his throbbing length into your mouth and make him beg beneath you. Unfortunately, George has different plans and his clutch stays firm. 

“Ah ah ah, just let me make you feel good y/n, save that for another time.” George purrs, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs. Your arms grow limp as George uses his hand to spread your thighs apart and place himself between your thighs. Right in front of where you needed him most. “Please don’t tease me anymore George, I-I need you.” You beg shakily, desperately rolling your hips to gain any friction, your timid demeanor being overthrown by overstimulation and need. 

“Patience darling, you’ll get me I promise.” George smirks, closing the space between you to press another heated kiss to your lips and continuing to coat himself in your slick, sliding himself up and down. Bringing his free hand to your clit again, George pushes his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves, swirling it around with a light pressure, swallowing your loud moans into the kiss. Once you were squirming beneath him again, back arched and hips thrusting up for more, he finally begins to push himself into your soaked core.

A feeling of ecstasy and satisfaction runs through your veins, bringing a whole new feeling of pleasure and clouding all your senses as George pushes deeper into you, awakening an intoxicating new feeling you could get addicted too.

George pauses for a moment, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to check in on how you were. Your eyes are shut, your mouth agape in a small ‘o’ and with the loss of his lips, desperate moans spill past your lips, mixing beautifully with George’s name. 

The toned red-head begins to thrust in and out, incoherent groans falling from his lips as your core clenches around him and your hips buck up to greet him. Picking up the pace. You cry out George’s name over and over again as he continues to snap his hips in and out of you, your body growing limp and your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust. George continues to pound deep into you using all his strength to go deeper and harder, reintroducing his fingers to stroke your clit as he desperately swirls and thrusts his hips. 

“Fuck, you make me feel so good darling.” George growls against your ear, peppering kisses to your jaw and burying his face into your neck to try and stifle his loud moans. 

With George whispering sinful praises into your ear you can feel a knot tighten in your lower stomach, and your hips begin to buck again and again, begging for release. “Oh fuck George, d-don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.” You mewl breathily.

George, fueled by your moans pushes himself even more, thrusting and swirling his hips until he feels your core clench deliciously against him and your shaky moan cry out.

As your coil snaps, spots flood your vision and your body tenses as shockwaves of euphoria shake your body and your hands beg to grip onto something, cries of pleasure mix with the sound of George’s skin hitting yours as the beater continues to snap his hips into your throbbing core, his cock twitching and pulsing deep inside you as you ride out your orgasm and his release builds up. 

George throws your leg over his shoulder in a desperate action for release, using the new angle to push deeper into you and feeling your core contracts to grip his cock, driving him absolutely insane. 

“Oh my Godric, George you make me feel so fucking good, please let me help you.” You look up to your constricted hands and back into George’s dark orbs, pleading with him to release you. 

George gives a couple more lazy thrusts before he releases your hands and pulls himself out of you. Despite your legs being unsteady, you lay George’s head down on the other end of the bed and begin to kiss down his sweat stained body, slowly making your way down his long body.

Licking a stripe from the base to the tip of his cock, you slowly take George’s length into your mouth, swirling the pulsing tip around your tongue and hollowing your cheeks before going deeper. George’s eyes shut once again as you take him, burying his fingers into your hair and helping you to guide your lips down. Taking what you can’t fit into your hands you start to bob your head up and down, using your lips and hands together as you lick and suck at the sensitive skin. George begins to spew profanities and buck his hips into your mouth, pulling your hair up and down a little more forcefully as you begin to gag lightly. George continues to buck and moan, your name being sobbed from George’s lips as he feels his orgasm taking over him and hot cum floods your mouth. You try your best to swallow every drop, only a couple beads sliding down your chin as you lift your head from George’s length. 

“God you look so gorgeous with my cum dripping down your face.” George smirks pulling you onto his bare chest and kissing down your cheek. Your only response is a blush as George continues to stare down at you as if you were his last meal, drinking in all of your post-sex features. Messy hair, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and swollen lips. Sighing, he pushes those thoughts away as he pulls you up to see him face to face. 

“That was amazing love, thank you.” George grins, pulling you against his chest and playing with your soft hair.

“Of course Georgie, but Merlin my legs are sore.” You groan into George’s chest as his chest vibrates with a chuckle. 

“I’m afraid Episkey won’t cut it for that darling.” The red-head prankster teases, reaching down to caress your legs lightly. “That’s too bad, have you got any other remedies?” You joke, wrapping your arms around George’s torso, a smile growing on your lips. 

“Just lay here with me darling, Relax.” George sighs, pulling back to gaze into your eyes again with a growing smile. “Sounds good.” You respond, a small yawn falling from your lips.

“I-I love you y/n, I’ve fallen in love with you so many times over the years and the fact I still haven’t asked you this question yet is killing me, would you be my girl? Please?” George pouts, giving you his best puppy eyes as you giggle and cuddle closer to his chest. 

“I’d love nothing more, my love.” You sigh happily as George’s eyes light up and he peppers your face with butterfly kisses.

“Next time the two of you shag, at least put a silencing charm over the room!” A disgusted shout, causes the two of your to flinch. “Sorry, Fred!” You laugh at the older twin’s plea and turn back to your love. “Guess we were a bit loud, weren’t we?” You tease.

“Me? Oh no darling, that was all you.” George smirks. “And who’s fault was that?” You reason, pressing a gentle kiss to George’s lips once again. 

“All mine, I can say that with honor.” The red-head smiles victoriously and pulls you against him again with a chuckle.

“Godric, I can still hear you!” Fred’s annoyed scream rings through the room again.

The two of you only laugh at Fred’s interjection, too busy staring into each other’s eyes to care. The two of you had come so far, from pulling pranks in the Hogwarts halls, running to each other for a spell you could easily perform when you were hurt, to moving into the same apartment to follow your dreams and making love to each other after your confessions of love. You’d only dreamed of being able to hold the boy who’d stolen your heart with each Episkey and prank, and here you are lying in his arms with love bites scattered across your chest and legs too tired to move, slowly drifting to sleep as all your dreams came true.

[idiotic-genius]

How to write an immersive scene

requested by @noa-i - check out their blog, they have amazing lists of helpful links to writing guides!

As a writer, it is mostly inevitable to get to the point in writing where you are questioning whether anyone will actually want to read what they have created. A question greatly important to writing something the reader gets hooked up with is: How do I lure them in and make them feel like they are part of something? Sometimes, writing immersive makes THE difference between a scene quick to skip over and a scene you can't take your eyes off. But how do you create immersion?

In this post: 1. Worldbuilding 2. Narrators 3. Writing visually 4. Setting the scene 5. Example to summarize

Step 1: Learn your own facts

It might be banal, since you are the author, to re-read your own notes and think about what you have written so far. However, to get the reader hooked up, make them INTERESTED. This is easily accomplished by creating a detailed fictional world that doesn't seem flat. It might be a tiring process, but it always pays off! Knowing exactly what kind of world your character finds themself in makes it a lot easier to fill in details that subconsciously make the reader believe they are dealing with an actual real-world instead of "just" a fictional one. But even though it may seem harsh, cutting out some details and facts might make the reader feel much more comfortable. Their mind wants to insert them into the universe they're reading about, so overloading them with too many unnecessary details can be just as defeating as giving them too little info. Here is a link to a great beginners-guide on worldbuilding.

Step 2: Know your narrator

As we all know, there are a bunch of different narrator types to pick from when starting a new story, and each of them is good for a different thing- reaching from the typical first-person narrator (The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson) over personal third-person (Warrior Cats, Harry Potter) to omniscient third-person (Anne of Green Gables) and biased third-person (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). If you are writing an unbiased third-person narrator in your WIP, you can just skip this step. However, if you have any indication at all in your story as to who the narrator is, you might want to think about this more closely. The narrator is the bridge that connects the reader to the fictional world. To immerse the reader in a book, it's usually easiest to use the first-person narrator or the personal third-person narrator, because that way the reader will either imagine themself as the narrator or as a friend of the main character, which keeps them interested. If your narrator is an actual character in the story, it is necessary to keep their speech and description patterns consistent with themselves and the events of the story. For example, a character narrating that has never visited a school or similar should not use highly scientific words to describe what's going on, etc, because it will interrupt the reader's reading flow and disturb the immersion just as much as time skips do.

Step 3: Writing visually

After making sure you have the narrator and the world they're in all set, it's time to choose a writing style, more specifically, to decide the visuality of it. What I mean by that is that having a fictional world so flat it's boring is just as bad as not describing it in a way that delivers it in the way it deserves to be delivered. Picture it like this: Every scene starts in a white room, with neither windows nor doors. If you as the writer don't describe what is going on in that room and what it looks like, at best while keeping the narrator's character in mind while doing so (to make it "3D"), the reader will never know what is actually happening. This also includes adapting the length and complexity of sentences to the scene: In a combat scene, you will usually find short and cut-throat sentences to represent the intensity and living-in-the-moment mindset of a fight, however, in a meaningful conversation between two characters about a heavy subject, it's more likely that longer and more complex sentences are of use to mirror the narrator's deep thinking of the subject and their concentration on the conversation.

Step 4: Setting the scene

By setting the scene, you fill in this white room in the reader's mind, adding characters, sounds, furniture, windows, and scenery in general, while still leaving space for the reader to fill in the blanks. To find a middle between these two extremes is up to every individual writer and depends on the writing style. If you over-describe the room, the reader will know every detail about it, but it will take away their focus from what is actually happening in the scene. However, if you don't set the scene at all, the reader automatically makes up what the room might look like based on what they imagine, and then breaks out of the immersion as soon as you mention something, later on, to be in the room that they did not picture. For example, if you just say that A enters B's bedroom, the reader might quite as well imagine there to be small windows, some bookshelves, a standard bed, etc. If you don't set that up right in the beginning and later on mention that B has small windows, the books stacked on the floor, a bunch of plants, an aquarium, and a bunk bed, the reader will get confused because it doesn't fit what they had pictured before. So ask yourself: What is so important that the reader should know it before the scene actually starts? Context also matters in that case.

5. Example

In the following, I will write the same scene multiple times in different styles to illustrate what makes a difference in writing immersion. The scene goes as following: Jae falls into a dark room underground with a hooded, mysterious person waiting for him. The hooded person greets him and lights a candle, and in the emitting light, Jae realizes who he is talking to. Remember: These are more caricatures of the different writing styles than actual representation and are very overexaggerated, but you get the idea.

1. first-person narrator (Jae), scene not set properly, no visual writing, no consistency in speech pattern

After three seconds, I landed on something soft and realized I had landed in a chamber underground, slightly lit by the moonlight above me. I walked through the only doorway and found myself in a second room. A hooded figure in the middle of the dark lifted their arm. From the table beside them, they picked up a candle and lit it using a lighter. "Hello, Jae", they said, and in the newly emitting light, I recognized them in front of the fireplace.

-> feels flat and jumpy, gives no significance to the change of scenery

2. biased third-person narrator, scene set properly, overly descriptive visual writing, consistency in speech pattern

After falling for what felt like an hour, even though it was probably just a few seconds, Jae finally landed on something soft. Before even attempting to get up, he shivered at the fresh memory of what slimy, earthy, suddenly appearing tunnels felt like. He stared up through the hole at the moon and the stars, and immediately recognized the constellation of Cassiopeia, high up above him. Cassiopeia is said to have angered the Gods, so they gave her the gift of divination, but made it so that nobody would ever believe her prophecies, finally banning her into the sky as this constellation. Weirdly enough, the stars' pattern doesn't look like a woman, or a human, at all. Jae slowly stood up from where he landed and realized he had fallen onto a rather big cushion with a print of primroses in yellow, pink, red, and blue. He looked around in my new location and found himself stuck in a small portico with no windows at all and only one doorway. The walls seemed just as dirty and muddy as the tunnel he had fallen through, and as he looked closer, he spotted about a dozen small, pink worms slithering through the soil. The floor on the other hand was made out of dark wooden panels- if you wanted to call it a "floor". The pieces were just loosely stuck onto the earth underneath, and mud squeezed out from the gaps in between. Jae slowly walked over them and reached the doorway after just four steps. He saw a hooded figure standing in the center of the next room. The room had two sources of lighting: One, the moonlight shining through the disgusting tunnel, and two, a crackling fireplace. It looked like it belonged in a small cottage, being made out of red bricks and looking a little old with the small black-and-white pictures put on top of it. The flickering orange glim of the fire met the silvery-white shine of the moon in the middle of the room. On the right side, Jae saw a big old round table made out of similar wood as the floorboards outside. There were obvious scratches on it, some made by smaller knives, others bigger and maybe made by swords, with splinters on their edges. Apart from two, the fours chairs around it seemed just as maltreated, but the two others were polished and reflected the two light sources, with no scratch marks at all. On top of the table rested a metal candlestick with one slightly burned-down candle stuck inside it. The candlestick had a few scratches as well, on the side and at the bottom. "Hello, Jae", the figure said snarkily, with a voice deep and rough like sandpaper. They wore a black cape, smooth on what Jae could see of the inside and rough on the outside, with a big hood covering their hair and most of their face. A few of the blue buttons with a golden pentagram engraved on them were missing from the coat, and it was slightly ripped in a few places. One strand of dark hair fell into the person's eyes as they reached out for the candlestick, lighting the candle inside with a silver zippo-lighter. The lighter had small scratches as well as a few symbols on it. Slowly, the flame grew bigger and bigger, until the shine from below reached the figure's face. Jae's eyes went big as he realized who he was talking to.

-> little place for the reader's fantasy, but details make scenery deeper and less flat. This kind of description does make sense if the narrator/the character the narrator fixates on (Jae in this case) is very observant and/or intelligent because they will notice details that others don't. The question is whether those details are important enough to keep in the story.

3. first-person narrator (Jae), scene set properly, visual writing, consistent speech pattern

After what felt like an eternity of falling and silently begging not to die from the impact, I finally landed with my eyes squeezed shut. Okay, legs, arms, and head still in place... I slowly opened my eyes again, realizing I had landed on a soft pillow with a flower print. Cautiously, I got up, gazing up at the tunnel through which I had fallen. The view of the slimy earth made me shiver involuntarily as I blinked against the bright moonlight far above me. The sky was clear enough to see stars, which could have been far more enjoyable if it hadn't been for my miserable situation. I had landed in a small chamber underground, with a single doorway leading into a bigger room. The walls were just pure earth and seemed to swallow all noise, but when I took the first step, the sounds of my shoes on the dark wooden floorboards and of the mud squishing out from beneath them was louder than I had anticipated. I could hear the crackling of fire from the next room and see the orange glow as I made my way over to the doorway and took a glimpse into it. The room was not very big, but also not as small as the one I had landed in. There wasn't much space because of a wooden round table and four chairs, which all seemed very old and maltreated, judging from the scratches on them. I could make out a few pictures on the fireplace, and in front of that- "Hello, Jae." I had to suppress a gasp as I realized that I was not alone. In the middle of the room, right where the silvery moonlight and the orange glow of the fire met, stood a hooded figure. Their coat looked as old as the few pieces of furniture, with missing buttons and rips. I couldn't make out much of their face, even though I squinted my eyes, but the flickering light made it hard to see anything, let alone recognize. But that voice... Before I could come to a conclusion, the figure reached for a metal candlestick standing on the table and lit the candle inside with a silver lighter. As the flame grew bigger, they dispelled the shadows below the hood that had disguised the person's features before. I could feel my eyes get big as I finally realized who was standing before me.

-> Gives enough information to "fill the white room" without dwelling on details too much, shows the context of the story, gives Jae a consistent personality

So that's it for this post! I hope I managed to pass on a thing or two that I learned while researching and that this post will help you with your writing. Please acknowledge, I am not trying to attack anyone's style of writing!! If you write the way I wrote a "non-immersive" scene, it does NOT mean that your writing style is bad, let alone wrong, because the existence of many different writing styles is what keeps it individual and interesting! Find your own way and let nobody get you down :)

[zaina-xoxo]

Harry Potter headcanons (sad)

That Hermione and Ron always wanted a huge family. Like, 5 children filling a burrow. However, they ended up with only two. Why? Hermione’s torture at the hands of Bellatrix left its marks, and she couldn’t have children after Hugo. Dark Magic always left marks.

That Dumbledore never really left limbo. He stayed there forever, unable to allow himself to move due to the blood he had on his hands, lives he sacrificed for the greater good.

That George dyed his hair blue after the battle in order to stop reminding himself of Fred every time he saw a mirror.

That Grindelwald never stopped loving Dumbledore, and during their final duel, he actually had an opportunity to kill him, but couldn’t gather the will. Dumbledore used that moment to win.

That during Snape’s death, those tears with the memories, were also a sacrifice. Those tears were the memories themselves. So, when he died and went to the afterlife … he didn’t remember the person most featured in those memories, the one they focused on. In death, he never remembered Lily.

After the battle of hogwarts, Dennis Creevey becomes a photographer …. which was what his brother, Colin, had wanted to become when he grew up.

That Sirius willingly fell into the veil, which only kills if you completely were thrown into it. What happened was that half of his body went to the other side, and he was immediately assaulted by whispers of his dead loved ones, especially lily and James. He died with a smile, as he jumped in to his next great adventure.

That for the first fifteen years of his life, what Tom Riddle saw in the Mirror of Erised was himself with his parents in a rich household, in a loving family. All he wanted was to be loved. All that changed when he made his first horcrux.

That Dumbledore’s boggart was himself. And, that it really was him who killed Ariana, something he found out in the afterlife.

When Ron was a little boy he overheard his aunt Muriel talking to her friend that how amazing Ron's elder brothers were. But she called Ron ‘Molly's failed attempt for a girl’. She also said that Ron was worthless and he was no one compared to his elder brothers. Ron had developed insecurities about not being good enough from that overheard conversation.

When Ron left in DH Hermione wrote a letter. Conveying EVERYTHING she felt for him. She was almost certain that she would never see him again. She would never be able to tell him how she felt for him. She kept that letter in her beaded bag. Years later Ron found out that letter. And he cried.

Once during an auror mission Ron was injured badly. He almost died. Hermione didn't leave his side for once. When he was slightly better, Hermione told him that she was pregnant. That was when Ron had decided to quit his job.

When Ron and Hermione were staying at the shell cottage Hermione had a long conversation with Fleur. Hermione told her that there was a huge chance that she wouldn't survive the battle of Hogwarts. She was a muggleborn afterall. So if something happened she wanted Ron to move on with his life. She wanted Fleur to promise her that she would help Ron to move on with his life.

When the flashing green light came rushing at James Potter's way he didn't see death, but was reminded of two pairs of vibrant green eyes staring lovingly at him.

Death works differently in the HPU. Once you die, you have the choice to stay in limbo for as long as you want, or to take the train. You could also become a ghost. However, along with that there’s also the choice of becoming a creature which is the embodiment of death - a thestral. This is why Luna has a favourite Thestral, and why there’s a huge influx of them in the forbidden forest after the battle of hogwarts.

Neville kept visiting his parents. With every milestone that he hit — graduating Hogwarts, marrying Hannah Abbott, being hired as a professor — he made it a tradition to see them. It was not until he visited with a baby girl in his arms, Alice Francesca Longbottom, that he saw a flash of recognition in his mother’s eyes.

The day Harry was born, all the marauders found themselves in St. Mungo’s. Hours later, Remus awoke in his chair just in time to see a black-haired man with a crooked nose regarding the new-born. With a last glance upon Lily he left, seemingly unseen.

As a child Teddy had a huge crush on his Aunt Hermione, and he would often give her flowers and ask her if they could get married someday. Once he grew up, he was commonly teased about his childhood crush on his aunt (not sad)

During the first few years that Severus was teaching at Hogwarts, all of the other teachers were very uncertain of him. They all thought that Dumbledore was mad for hiring him, as they all knew of his reputation as a Death Eater. But eventually he struck up a very playful rivalry with Minerva. They would sit together at Quidditch matches and pass snarky comments back and forth, both of them snorting in amusement. It also wasn’t uncommon to find them sat together in the evenings, having a cup of tea or a glass of firewhiskey. By the time Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, Minerva believed in him almost as much as Dumbledore did. (He often urged Severus to tell her the real reason he defected from the Death Eaters, but Severus always refused.) His hatred of the young Gryffindor was often a point of contention between the two unlikely friends, but their friendship remained strong. It withstood Voldemort’s return and the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix. But in the aftermath of the Battle of the Astronomy Tower and Dumbledore’s death, Minerva was completely shocked and outraged. She couldn’t believe she’d ever befriended him at all and swore she’d never forgive herself for trusting him. During the last year the two taught together she avoided him at all costs, talking to him only when it was absolutely necessary, and when she had to she did so rather stiffly. After the Battle of Hogwarts ended and he was dead, however, she learned the truth about his actions from Harry, who told her about his tragic tale. She cried on and off for days. And the first time she came face to face with his portrait she completely broke down.

Had Fred not died, the twins would have had an overly casual double wedding [and would probably switch places to mess with their brides]

When Remus woke up in Harry’s compartment in POA, he saw Harry giving him the same comforting and concerned look as James. For a moment he thought he was seeing James again. Then in sunk in that his dear friend was dead and it was James’ son.

Teddy saw Sirius’ picture once. He didn’t know who he was, so he changed himself to look like him. It was only when he grew up that he understood why Harry started crying when he saw him.

Once Professor McGonagall was made headmistress, she let Hagrid become a student. Harry saw Hagrid’s Patronus for the first time in his life three years after the war. It was Hedwig.

When Petunia and Lily were little, they would read Alice in Wonderland. Petunia would read Dudley the book, fully knowing he didn’t like it. She was reading it for Harry, who was listening from inside his cupboard. Petunia believed she owed this to Lily.

When Harry was a baby, he didn’t know his own name. Each of the marauders gave him a nickname. (James called him troublemaker.) When he lived with the Dursleys, and they called him a “troublemaker”, toddler Harry would get excited thinking that his dad was going to take him away from these horrible people.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Nearly-Headless Nick’s head finally came off. Hence, he had to join the Headless Hunt. Thus, Gryffindor needed a new applicant. The new house ghost was a 17-year-old redheaded man and a large group of 12 students were excited to meet their beloved uncle.

When Teddy Lupin was a baby, his color turned into the person he wanted to hold him. Occasionally, it was Harry or Ginny or any other Weasley. But one day it turned pink and he could do nothing about it.

The Marauders used to take turns babysitting Harry, and it became a tradition to pass the baby and say, “You’re it. Good luck.” And the last thing Sirius saw as he fell through the veil was Remus holding Harry, and the last thought that went though his head was, “You’re it. Good luck.”

After Fred’s funeral, George does not return to the Burrow until about a year later. He refuses to go upstairs where his and Fred’s old room is and barely says a word. His hair is some wild outrageous color, cropped short and crooked, and Mrs. Weasley goes into a fit. She loudly asks why he would do that to himself, and is not prepared when he says, “I kept seeing him in the mirror.”

It’s the year after the Battle of Hogwarts. The school is still being repaired and the class size has dwindled down to pitiful numbers. And the Thestrals are so excited about the newfound attention they’d been getting.

Dobby wrote a will in which he sent Harry over 200 pairs of socks, Ron a pair of trainers, and a misshapen hat for Hermione.

No matter what he was doing or who he was with, Harry would always stop and pet any stray dog that he came across. If he could, he would give them any food he had. Eventually he became known as the man with the treats. Not Harry Potter or the Chosen One; just the quiet man with dogbones. When dogs would bound up to him, throwing their paws onto his chest and barking with glee at his arrival, he was reminded irresistibly of Sirius.

At Colin’s funeral, Harry didn’t say a word. He had been to so many funerals recently that pleasantries felt like a waste of breath, and how terrible would it be for him to waste his breath when he was so lucky to have it? He stood silent and watching, and as the last of the attendees left, Harry placed a tiny picture on Colin’s grave, taken by the late boy himself. It was the only autograph Harry Potter would ever give.

On May 2nd, 1998, Hogwarts held a moment of silence for the fallen. Not a single portrait stirred, not a single stair shifted. Even Peeves ducked into a corner and went silent. Then, when the silence ended, millions of different colored sparks took off into the sky.

Tonks is easily excitable and loved entertaining Hermione and Ginny with her Metamorphosis abilities. One day, she found a picture of Harry in Sirius’ room to turn herself into, and ran downstairs to show Remus and Sirius. And it wasn’t until Tonks watched their hearts break that she realized Harry’s eyes were the wrong color.

Harry kept each and every one of the sweaters that Mrs. Weasley had knitted him. One day while cleaning, she saw them folded with so much care in his drawer. She turned to see Harry wearing his newest Christmas Sweater proudly, like it was the greatest honor he could have been given, and she burst into tears.

One day, Harry accidentally calls Mrs. Weasley “Mum” instead of Molly. His face goes bright red, fumbling with apologies, and she (once again) burst into tears.

The first thing Draco Malfoy did after the war was Apparate into Muggle London and march straight into a tattoo parlor. He emerges, his face still bloody and burned, with an arm void of a black skull. Instead, he looks down at the skin covered in flowers and the skull changed into a silhouette of the castle, and smiles for the first time in two years.

George pulls Harry aside:

(“Harry, you’ve died, haven’t you?”

Harry looked up at George and regarded him, careful not to let any incredulousness show in his eyes — he knew all too well of the torment George must be feeling, of the weight in what he was visibly preparing himself to say.

“I have,” said Harry carefully.

George dipped his head; as he did, Harry caught something in his eyes that pained him so deeply, he was grateful George had tried to hide it from him.

“Does it...” George spoke to his shoes, and his voice sounded much older than Harry remembered. “Did... Did dying hurt, Harry? D’you think… that Freddie was in pain when...”

But George did not need to specify. Like he had been smacked right across the face with the words left unspoken, Harry knew, and it was a long time before he answered.

“It didn’t hurt,” said Harry resolutely, like he was deciding it right then and there.“It didn’t?”

“Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”)

When Remus Lupin took the Map from Harry, he sat there for hours, opening and reopening it wrong on purpose just to see the clever insults sprout on the paper. It was almost like his friends, alive and well, were talking to him for the first time in 12 years.

The day Molly Weasley dies, the first thing she sees is a girl with red hair sprinting toward her. She panics, thinking it might be Ginny, but she sees startling green eyes and knows who it is immediately. Lily Potter pulls Mrs. Weasley into a hug and in a choked voice, whispers, “Thank you.”

Harry memorized every name of the 50 Fallen after the war ends. The day he dies, old and surrounded by his children, he repeats their names in his head like a mantra and begs for their forgiveness.

Eleven years later, at Hogwarts, students fill a corridor filled with portraits of those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts. They look for Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and other famous faces, but there’s a blue-haired first year in their midst, trying desperately to remember what his parents had looked like.

James Potter lost both of his parents at once. The news was delivered to him by Professor McGonagall with Sirius by his side, but James was in denial. He kept insisting that she was lying, and it wasn’t until Sirius broke down into tears that James knew, and it broke him.

Crookshanks was the Potters family cat mentioned in sirius' letter and escaped godrics hollow after Halloween and managed to find the magical menagerie. He found hermione and stayed with her because harry was only allowed hedwig and Ron already had scabbers. This is why he was especially angry towards Ron, due to smelling his masters betrayer on him, and didn't run away from sirius’ grim form.

Hedwig was a guardian angel. Hedwig is smarter than most owls and other animals in the magical world, often appearing to harry when he needs to write a letter. Female snow owls like hedwig are mostly white but they have grey marks and spots on their back wings, hedwig is portrayed as a white male snowy owl. White as an angelic being perhaps Perhaps? Perhaps hedwig was sent by his parents as a guard and friend to him, its why hedwig didn't want anyone else adopting her.

Dementors come from the death eater who were thrown into the Veil. Ever wonder why the veil of death is barley used? After the souls escape to the after life the bodies of those who enter become husks of their former selves, hungry for souls. Unmasked before thrown in with only the cloaks on their backs.

Four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Molly Weasley was busy preparing food for Ron’s birthday. She mistakenly barked to George, “Get that chicken out of the oven, Fred!” George silently whispered, “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?”

JK Rowling has revealed that Lily Potter was pregnant was her second child when she was killed. Even worse, she had convinced James to make Snape the godfather of the child.

At Luna’s wedding, the whole of the front seats were reserved. Harry went up to her at the end of service and asked, “Luna, who’s sitting there?” Luna smiled her usual smile and said, “Right. They did sit here in a spiritual way I suppose.” She pointed the seats one by one, “Right, that’s for my mother, those are for your parents, that one is for Sirius, that one is for Professor Lupin, that one is for Tonks, then Mad-Eye, then Fred Weasley, then Professor Dumbledore, and then Professor Snape. Right then, bye!” Harry had never felt so touched before.

The reason Bellatrix was so wretchedly insane and slavishly devoted to Voldemort was that she lived for the promise that one day, if she did enough, someone might say “I love you” back. I know that she doesn’t deserve this but for love… wow Bellatrix.

When Harry and Ginny went to search for a house to live in they found an apparently perfect house, Ginny loves it, but Harry rejects with a clear excuse about it being too big for them. Ginny doesn’t notice Harry’s fixed look on the Cupboard under the stairs.

Before the Horcrux hunt, Ron and Hermione decided, that if either of them had to choose between saving each other's lives or Harry’s, they had to choose Harry for the sake of the world. No matter how painful it would be for them to let go of each other.

Sirius and Remus saved memories for Harry. Remus left them for Harry in his will, when Harry got a hold of them he got to see a part of James he never got to see in Snape's memory.

After the battle of Hogwarts, Neville went to visit his parents to tell them about it. After he finished, his mother, who normally spoke nonsense, smiled and said one word: “Proud”

On November 3rd 1981, Sirius Black sat alone in a cell in Azkaban softly singing: “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Sirius...” whilst tears streamed down his face, wishing he could go back in time.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter, James and Sirius were out in public together one sunny afternoon. The elderly couple was talking to someone with that someone asking, “Oh, are these your sons?” Sirius turned beet red and becoming utterly flustered. Mr. Potter simply smiled and says, “Yes, they are.” With Mrs. Potter nodding proudly in agreement. Never once did they think to reply in any other way.

Harry as a preschooler drew two blond blots and a big black blot with a little black one standing a bit further away beside them with “My Family” scratched over the top and presented it to Uncle Vernon who ripped it apart and threw it away right in front of him.

When Harry and Ginny were married they moved to a house in Godric’s Hollow. After Lily was born and got older, she would visit her grandmother and namesake's grave everyday and leave lilies.

Harry Potter died at the ripe age of 101 surrounded by his loved ones, when he opened his eyes again he returned to the place he parted from his old mentor many years ago, but it wasn't Albus Dumbledore who greeted him at the station this time around. Standing a few feet away from him where a young couple patiently waiting for the son they were ripped away from so long ago to take him home and Harry Potter, the boy who lived, went gladly.

After the war, Minerva McGonagall went into a spiral of depression. It was brought on by watching so many students grow and die before her eyes.

At Ginny’s wedding she danced with George twice so it would feel like she was dancing with Fred.

After the second Wizarding War, everyone who died was given a chocolate frog card. When Teddy Lupin was on the train going to his first year of Hogwarts, he got the cards that had his parents on them, and it was like they were sending him off themselves.

These made me cry when I read them, I just can't :(