Tag: harry potter

uncontinuous:

I don’t care what you say. The Potters were Tamilian British Wizards.

Like sure they probably had some white relatives, because Wizarding Pureblood British world. But lbr they’re mostly a huge faction of Tamilian Pureblood wizards that emigrated during the Raj.

Like sorry, Tamilian Potters is like Hermione Granger being black. It’s true and I refuse to believe otherwise.

genandhisqueen:

Harry Potter Muggle AU: Dumbledore’s Army, wildly known as the D.A., is a gang of teenagers who fight the oppressive authority of the government. They are fondly named after their mentor, the late Albus Dumbledore, whom was killed in a hate crime earlier in the year while hoping to loosen the grip the government has. Every member of the D.A. is to be handled with the utmost caution and be reported to the nearest fez.

greyjoyvs:

the very first time I saw you Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They’re your mother; Lily’s. Yes, I knew her. You mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves. Your father, James, however, had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed onto you. You’re more like them then you know, Harry. In time you’ll come to see just how much.


hippity-hoppity-brigade:

ginathethundergoddess:

darlinghogwarts:

My favorite thing ever is how Ron just sent Charlie a random letter like “hey yo there’s an illegal dragon at hogwarts, could you come and smuggle it out of here, please?” and Charlie was just like “yeah sure, I’ll trespass into the castle and steal a dangerous magical creature, of course, lemme just hit up my friends”

It’s better if you imagine Charlie and co as a group of Grad Students trying to avoid their other responsibilities.

Charlie is drunkenly revising the third draft of his thesis on proper care and feeding of greenhorns when his family owl slams into the window. 

Three of his friends jump and look around. Glinda doesn’t raise her head from her folded arms; only groans, “Is that Baines coming to do me in?” 

Charlie totters to the window and fetches Errol from the window pane. “No such luck,” he says. “You’re still going to have to take the exam.” After some consideration, Charlie lays him on a clear patch of floor to recover. “Do owls take firewhiskey?” he asks the room at large. 

“It’s not fair,” Glinda wails into the tabletop. “I swear he didn’t say anything about Bridgewort’s handling practices when we did the review in class.” 

“Oh, Merlin,” says Ali, freezing over their notes like a Medusa wyvern had bitten them. “Oh, Merlin’s sweet saggy socks. Is he covering Bridgewort?” 

“That’s what he said when I went to his office hours.” Glinda sits up. “You know his lapdragon singed my new sweater?!” 

Charlie decides not to give Errol a nip of whiskey. Flying under the influence is really not done. He unties the letter from Errol’s leg. Ron’s childish spiky handwriting spells out Charlie’s name on the front. Inside is a hastily scrawled message. 

“Yes, we know it ruined your sweater,” snaps Ysabelle. “You told us twenty times. Why didn’t you tell us Baines told you we’re going to be tested on Bridgewort?” 

“I meant to,” says Glinda. “Sorry.” She flicks her pile of notes. “I was lost in the miasma of gloom and desperation.” 

Ali puts their head back and groans. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna say ‘fuck it’ and just fucking walk into a dragon’s mouth so I don’t have to do this.” 

“Hey,” says Charlie. They don’t hear him. 

“How much is this worth again?” Glinda asks her bottle of butterbeer. 

“Twenty-five percent,” Ali and Ysabelle chorus. Ysabelle adds, “and the thesis is fifty percent of our total grade.” 

“Hey!” Charlie repeats. They look at him. He waves Ron’s letter. “My littlest brother at Hogwarts has an illegal dragon he needs to get off campus. Anybody up for a midnight flight?” 

Ali slams their hands down on the table and stands up. “Fuck yes,” they say decisively. “Maybe I’ll fly into the Whomping Willow and die a quick death.”