Whenever Hagrid finally decides to retire as Care of Magical Creatures professor you can bet your last knut that Charlie Weasley flies back to England the following week excitedly waving his resume and recommendation letters from no less than two Scamanders and the Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger.
I’m pretty sure he would also have recommendation letters from Rubeus Hagrid, the retiring professor, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and a very confusing one from Puddlemere United player, Oliver Wood, saying that he was one of the best Seekers he had ever seen.
Not to mention the fact that he flies back to England not on a broomstick or any other normal form of transportation, but landing on the Hogwarts grounds on the back of the largest dragon anyone has ever seen.
Reblogging again for that last addition.
Charlie: *glides in on a dragon* HELLO HIRE ME
Everyone: What the fuck
Ron: (in the background, mortified) this is normal
I love how Harry just genuinely likes Luna. Not in a romantic way, but in a “I don’t know how or why but I get you and you get me and I’d be honored to call you a friend and if anyone messes with you I’ll wallop them” kind of a way. I think he just marvels at her level of don’t give a fuck and her absolute sense of self. And then he and Ginny partially name their daughter after her (Lily Luna) and that to me is just fucking precious.
You have to at least ship their friendship.
It’s because Luna leaves him alone. Harry feels upset? Luna talks about her newest theory on whatever magical creature she believes exists. He feels down and depressed? Luna distracts him by talking about Amazon river spirits. Luna gives Harry what he needs, in that she reminds him he is not the center of the universe. That’s what he wants. Harry never wanted to be the savior of the Wizarding World. He never wanted any of it, and he hates that his parents died for a prophecy about him, and he hates thinking about his miserable childhood.
Everyone else keeps accidentally reminding Harry of who he has to be.
Luna is so absorbed in knowing she never once cares about his name as a legend. He’s Harry, her nice friend who holds her shoes for her when she wants to walk barefoot in the woods so she doesn’t startle the moss-people.And he never complains about her oddities, like so many people, and she appreciates that. And for him, she’s Luna, the friend who just needs him to hold her shoes for her. Luna never wants anything from him but for Harry to hold her things and listen to her talk and give his own input to her theories, mad as they might be at times. When Harry is with Luna, it’s always these quiet, content moments. She’s a bit mad, yeah, but she gets him. And he gets her.
Harry will fight anyone who calls her “Loony Lovegood”. Even though she doesn’t care, he does.
I bet for the professors teaching Ravenclaws is like herding cats away from empty boxes.
Older Ravenclaws have finely honed the art of asking just the right argumentative questions to direct their teacher onto an entire-class-session-long tangent about something entirely irrelevant to the course material.
Can you imagine Ravenclaws trying to overhaul the entire school system with Muggle ideas. Trying to figure out how to best teach people, more concerned with how people learn than what they’re learning.
“Why do we force people to learn things they aren’t interested in, we should create our own curriculum.”
“We should figure out everyone’s learning styles.”
“We need smaller class sizes.”
“No, no, wait, guys, what if we eliminated grades entirely.”
Yeah, Ravenclaws would drive Hermione up the wall.
“Fire the whole staff and start over.”
“Present more opportunities for seventh-year independent research!”
“Why hasn’t anyone made magically modified calculators yet?”
“Why are we still using quills and parchment when pencils exist? Please explain.”
“I don’t want to enter the work force directly after school, what are my options for higher education? Is there magical university?”
“I don’t feel confident in my professor’s qualifications because she’s teaching me astrology but doesn’t know any facts about space beyond about the year 1764.”
Muggleborn Ravenclaws forming rogue study groups to teach other students chemistry and algebra and English literature, just imagine.
“They call this the astronomy tower but we’re learning about the effects of Venus when it’s in the fourth house and the professor doesn’t believe Neptune is a planet I am really concerned.”
“Okay but what’s the oxidation state of Mandrake root in pepperup potion?”
“But can you apply differential calculus to arithmancy or not?“
“The portrayal of the witches in Macbeth has some pretty troubling implications, also, I don’t think their potion would have actually done anything.”
Every Adult In “Harry Potter” Let Us Down At Some Point And That’s Important a 900 page dissertation by me
And that includes Joanne Kathleen Rowling a tear stained afterword by me
Hagrid Is The Exception a rebuttal by me
The Time Hagrid Told Voldemort How to Take Out Something Protecting an Object that Grants Immortality When He Was Drunk and Other Well-Meaning Fuck Ups a lengthy chapter
You’re Absolutely Right a retraction
How dare you assume Molly Weasley has done anything wrong ever
That Time Molly Yelled At The Twins And Ron For Saving Harry From Abuse And Starvation, Thus Likely Communicating To The Abused Kid In Her Presence That His Welfare Was Less Important Than Not Borrowing The Car, That Time Molly Was Utterly Condescending About How Harry Is A Child And Doesn’t Deserve To Know Anything In A Way That Probably Heightened His Determination To Prove Otherwise, That Time Molly Said The Twins Put Together Aren’t As Good As Any Of Their Brothers Over OWL Results That They Worked Hard On And Were Proud Of, That Time Molly Forcibly Cut Her Adult Son’s Hair Right Before His Wedding, That Time Molly Spent A Year Being Mean And Rejectful Toward Her Son’s Fiancee, That Time Molly Sent Hermione A Deliberate “Fuck You” Present For Easter Because She Believed A False Story Written In Witch Weekly Without Making Any Attempt To Ask The People Actually Involved, Those Times She Made Her Youngest Son’s Christmas Sweaters His Least Favorite Color, And Every Time She Belittled Her Husband’s Hobby, The Twins’ Interests, And Bill’s Appearance Because She Couldn’t Be Bothered To Understand Or Value Or Even Be Kind About Thema detailed reminder that no one’s perfect and sometimes what one person doesn’t mind or see hits another person hard
Florean Fortescue Just Wanted To Sell Some Ice Cream And Help Harry With His Homework He Is The Only Adult Who Didn’t Mess Up Until Getting Killed By Voldemort, RIPan increasingly strident addendum by me
OK You’re Absolutely Right Florean Fortescue Was In Fact Perfect As Far As I’m Awarea concession by me
the sixth year gryffindor boys dorms must have been so awkward like imagine being in a situation where you’re bunking with a girl’s ex boyfriend, current boyfriend, and older brother at the same time
slkdjflkdf like IMAGINE!!!! oh my god…like harry comes in with seconds to spare before curfew or whatever and ron like wants to know where he was and gets halfway through asking and then just trails off awkwardly and harry tries to laugh out of answering and dean’s just like unabashedly sulking/glaring and whoever else is in there just watching the whole thing wanting to crawl out the window
I would like to point out that the other person in their room was seamus who had a massive crush on dean so it was worse
fleur delacour falling in love with bill weasley because he sees her. his youngest brother looked and went hair-eyes-teeth-legs, thought body, thought sex. her whole life, men have been looking and seeing a thing, not a girl. since she turned thirteen and bud-breasts pressed up against her shirts and boys at school wanted to sit close, men back home lingered too long in hugs.
until she was fifteen she dressed herself in shame before she put any clothes on at all. wore everything a few sizes too big, a few inches too long. draped herself in thick fabrics to hide the body beneath them. never learned that hot eyes on her were the fault of their owners, not her. took the uncomfortable stares and the endless flirtation as a fact of life. was fourteen the first time she dared to say “stop looking!” and met only laughter.
it’s not until she’s nearly sixteen and her sister is turning ten that she sees eyes begin to slide over her and to gabrielle. a friend of their father’s, not even that deep into a bottle of wine, caresses a child-round cheek and murmurs a line from lolita, eyes too bright and lips too dry. gabrielle flickers a panicked glance around the room. that look is so familiar.the same hour fleur switches her baggy sweatshirt for a crop top and rolls her skirt over two inches.
they will look at her. never at her sister.
at school, the same. at home, the same. slowly, she learns to be less ashamed of the looking. to play to the object they expect her to be. she comes to scotland and she’s the centre of attention. they hear her name pulled out of the goblet of fire and all anyone wants to talk about is her legs in that skirt. she defeats a dragon and boys whisper all the dirty things they want to do to her just moments after they finish comparing cedric’s charmwork to krum’s reflexes to harry’s flying. they watch her pass in the hallways and their eyes glaze over like she’s a thing put there for their pleasure.
fleur lifts her head high and lets the stares keep coming.
then she meets bill weasley, and not long after he asks her how she’s doing. asks it like he really means it, like it matters to him that she still gets nervous going around blind corners, that vines make her skin crawl and that the green flash of a hex makes her mind go too blank with fear to defend herself. he brings her a bottle of his favourite whiskey and sinks deep into it, tells her about his life and his job and asks about that night in the maze she doesn’t think about. he doesn’t look at her legs even once.
the next time she brings him her favourite wine and they share it. she’s giggling and silly by the end of the evening and he laughs with her, laughs at her like an equal and not like a thing he wants to fuck. he takes her to her door and leaves her in the care of her friends and he doesn’t do it because he thinks it’ll make scoring easier next time. doesn’t decide his actions based on which will result in sex the fastest.
he doesn’t ask her out until he’s laid himself bare for her, doesn’t even touch her until she reaches down and presses her fingers into his. the first night she feels brave enough to go home with him he keeps her up at the kitchen table until three am telling her all the things he likes about her. her physical appearance doesn’t even make the top one hundred. he says, how much you love your sister. how fierce you look when i take the last croissant. that funny french way you roll your ‘r’s. how you try to tell me jokes but laugh too much to finish them. how you know exactly how many children you want, and the precise shade of blue you’ll use to decorate your nursery. the bravery of you. the way your mind moves so fast sometimes i can’t keep up with it. the fact that i think you could do my job ten times as effectively as i can. they fall asleep on top of his covers, fully clothed, and the next morning fleur has to say yes i want this i am sure that i want this ten times before he starts to undress her.
his family call her all the things she’s heard a million times before. fleur lifts her head high and lets the insults keep coming. his brothers still sometimes look at her like they’ve forgotten to see a person, his mother mutters under her breath about fleur’s lack of suitability, his sister takes every opportunity to express her dislike. they see her beauty and they think they know her. they watch her move and they think she’s nothing more than her body and face.
but bill weasley sees her. and fleur will not let anything—not a war, not lycanthropy, not a disapproving family—take him away from her.
NOTHING is funnier to me than the fact that Dumbledore literally designed the PERFECT protection for the Philosopher’s Stone but still let the McGonagall enchant a giant chess set and Snape make a Legend of Zelda puzzle purely for the DRAMA of it all. And y’all say Dumbledore wasn’t ever visibly gay.
Dumbledore when Snape and McGonagall came to him with their suggestions, knowing FULL WELL how unnecessary they were:
Flitwick, approaching nervously: Dumbledore, I heard that Snape and McGonagall are helping, and I’d like to design a –
Dumbledore: – a room filled with enchanted keys.
Flitwick: – a room filled with enchanted keys!
Dumbledore:
Sprout: how about a room full of devils snare?
Dumbledore:
Hagrid: I also happen to have this three headed dog that I-well it’s not important where it came from, but he could help guard the stone too maybe?
I can never understand how Snape apologetics can stand up for him when he CANONICALLY does this shit.
I can maybe, maybe, understand those who haven’t read the books standing up for him, because honestly the movies don’t cover all the horrible stuff he does. But those who have read the books and still stick up for him baffle me.
I mean, you don’t see anyone sticking up for the Dursley’s or Umbridge, when they do the same stuff to Harry as Snape. How is Snape any different?
Not to mention – when Snape delivered the prophecy to Voldemort, he asked for Lily to be spared. But he was perfectly willing to sacrifice her husband and child. Even putting aside the history with James, Harry was a *child*.
fadeslikewhispers 