I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! I only write Charu, so I’ll talk about her here, and Lai @yamibakuraofficial will take over for Adi and Madhu!
Charu looks overwhelmingly like James, similar to Hari. I think we’ve mentioned that in the stories– she’s got long, wavy black hair, James’ nose, his skin tone and his eyes. She avoided the Potter elephant ears curse though, so good for her. At first glance, people immediately think she looks exactly like her father because of the glaring physical similarities, but when you look at her a little longer, you notice Lily’s ears and her smile and a couple other small things you’d have missed the first time. Plus, she’s inherited the Evans temper in full, so it’s hard to miss the bits of Lily in there when she’s mad. 🙂
Random Headcanon: The reason the Wizarding World in Harry Potter uses such arse-backwards technology isn’t cultural elitism. (Well, not entirely.) Rather, it’s because if you enchant anything more complicated than a screwdriver, it tends to become sentient over time. Devices that use electricity are particularly bad for this, and almost always “wake up” eventually. Arthur Weasley’s car going rogue and running off to live in a forest is actually a fairly favourable outcome; the students still tell horror stories about what happened to the guy who smuggled in (and subsequently enchanted) a digital wristwatch.
this is the best answer to this plot hole i’ve ever heard
So I’ve been seeing this post floating around Tumblr about how Harry should have retrieved the Resurrection Stone and imagine how wonderful it would have been for the characters to have closure with their loved ones and how beautiful and emotionally satisfying and and and… heart-wrenching stuff.
But… that’s completely not what the Resurrection Stone does.
The Stone is a liar, designed by Death to draw people away from life. The Second Brother literally goes insane from the image of his lost love, and kills himself to join her in death. And if you don’t believe the fairy tale (heh), look at what happens when Harry uses the Stone: Yes, his mother, father, Sirius and Remus appear, but they lure him to death. They literally encourage him to walk to his supposed grave. What does StoneLily say? “You’ve been so brave”. Compare that to the urgency of Goblet of Fire’s ShadowLily. Do they seem quite the same? Does it seem quite like Remus to be so passive in the face of dying before getting to know his son? Or for Sirius to encourage anyone to simply accept their death lying down?
Time and again, J. K. Rowling has emphasized the importance of “moving on” in the context of death. Think about it. Harry has another experience with the memories of his parents which nearly derails him – the Mirror of Erised. The Stone – which creates a far more tangible memory and far more dangerous allure – is devastating by nature. It’s not heartwarming or romantic or sweet. Frankly, I’m baffled that we would forget such a critical part of the Stone’s mythology. It is no less a murder weapon than the Elder Wand. It simply kills in a more roundabout way.
I get harry that harry wanted to name his kids after people he
loved and people who died protecting him. I totally get that feeling of
gratitude but what bugs me is the choice of names.
Sirius, James and Lily? Justified.
But Albus Severus? Really? One of them literally protected him
to kill him in the end and the other one bullied him and his friends. They may deserve some recognition but didn’t they already
get a hell lot of recognition?!
What about the other people who actually gave away their lives
to protect Harry without demanding anything in return. They just fought selflessly
to protect their world and their loved ones and got no recognition what so
ever.
17 year old Cedric Diggory trying to make his parents proud.
18
year old Regulus Black trying to right the wrong of his ways.
Alastor
Moody trying to protect the only hope left in the world he’s grown old
protecting.
Ted
Tonks trying to protect his wife and daughter in a world where his kind are in
grave danger.
20
year old Fred Weasley trying to protect his family, and fighting for what is
right and for the kind messy haired boy who’s now become family.
38
year old Remus Lupin trying to protect his best friends’ (who he couldn’t
protect) son and to make the world a better place for his own son.
25
year old NymphadoraTonks trying to make a world a better place for her son,
fighting for her dad and against the unfair practice.
17
year old Lavender Brown doing what she felt is right.
16
year old Colin creevy trying to protect his childhood idol and not caring if
he’s underage because this is what he feels is correct.
And 50 other people who we don’t even know the names of
because
Harry doesn’t bother finding out.
And Rebeus Hagrid? He made Harry a birthday cake and bought him an owl for his
11th birthday and he didn’t even know him. He loved everyone unconditionally
and was extremely loyal even after all he’s gone through. That man deserves the
world. Hagrid deserves more recognition than
he ever got by anyone (be it Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dmbledore and the whole
wizarding community).
These people are the real heroes and they don’t deserve to be
forgotten.
He’s only in Prisoner of Azkaban, and he has two lines:
“It’s among the darkest omens in our world. It’s an omen… of death.”
and don’t forget, the ever popular:
“It’s like trying to catch smoke… Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.”
It’s like okay, kid, we don’t know who you are, but go ahead and say the two most intense lines in the entire movie. I guess that’s cool. Whatevs.
This is Bem, the only student to ever successfully change Houses. In the third movie, he’s a Gryffindor. In the fifth he magically becomes a Ravenclaw. Bow down to Bem for he holds all the knowledge.
BEM IS OUR KING.
It’s because after he uttered those two lines everyone was like ‘DAYUM BEM’ and he was sent to Dumbledore’s office and Dumbledore was like I boy you twoo fuckin’ wise to be a lion you gonna be a eagle now. Get your ass in Ravenclaw.
and thats how it happened.
the end.
All hail Bem.
you can really tell we haven’t had a new book for over 5 years now can’t you?
“Ouch,” Harry yelps as he slams his head against the sloped ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs.
He hadn’t expected it to be that close. Reaching out to steady himself on the wall, he blinks the spots from his vision and frowns. There still isn’t any room in this godforsaken cupboard. Which means either the ritual failed and having to request his relatives’ permission to do a magic ritual in their home was all for nothing—a horrifying thought—or the ritual succeeded, but deposited him wholesale body and soul into the past. Which, dammit. He reaches for the cord attached to the light bulb and tugs.
When light floods the cupboard, it reveals a wide-eyed young boy crouched on his cot, staring at the man looming over him.
“Who— who are you?” his younger self asks, clutching at his threadbare blanket. He can’t be more than five or six.
Harry has never seen himself from this angle. Man, no one was kidding around when they said his eyes were eerily bright. It’s easy to disregard the sight in a mirror, but seeing them this way is different. Looming like an ax murderer isn’t going to help anyone, so Harry kneels down next to the cot and reveals the scar usually hidden behind his fringe. “I’m you, just twenty years older.”
While his younger self reaches out to touch the scar, Harry evaluates the situation. Harry… had not been prepared to deal with this. He’d just kind of assumed that he’d be going back in time as himself, becoming this itty bitty kid in front of him. That obviously didn’t happen. Dammit, he’d had a plan. But there is no sticking around with the Dursleys as a twenty-six year old man. And, Harry thinks with a sigh, there is no leaving little Harry here, either. He’d be an asshole of the highest caliber if he left a kid in this situation; the fact that the kid is actually himself may be weird, but it’s a weird world.
“Why are you here?” his younger self asks. He’s accepted the situation rather quickly. Or, actually, knowing himself, he probably thinks it’s a dream. At this age, Harry wouldn’t believe in magic even if it knocked him ‘round the head, which it did on several occasions. The Dursleys’ adamant denial of anything magical wouldn’t crumble for another few years. Merlin, he still thinks the wind helped him up onto the school roof.
Harry shrugs. “You know how it is. Sometimes when you’re older shit happens and you decide that instead of facing that shit you’d rather go back in time than deal with the situation like a well-adjusted individual. That’s the short story, anyway.”
His younger self is silent for a long, judgmental moment. “You’re weird.”
“I know.” Harry slowly reaches out, extending his hand palm-side up. “You want to get out of here?”
Technically the same person or no, his younger self has no reason to trust this strange man in his cupboard, but little Harry takes his hand anyway.
I kind of would be ok with an 8th Harry Potter book that would just involve a series of really comedic/bitterly sad involvements of the gang struggling to return to normal life and failing because nothing has been normal since they were fucking 11 years old
The cupboard was quiet. It usually was quiet in there, since he was the only one in there. His only company was the spiders that occasionally wandered in, and they couldn’t exactly speak to him. But he had his dolls, his toys and his puppets, the ones that he had oh so carefully stolen over the years and crafted piece by piece. Each one was tiny, no larger than his hand, but they were beautiful. Made of wood and porcelain and plastic, wearing clothing carefully made with scraps of fabric, and painted with tiny designs to make them look oh so real. They were his treasures, his precious treasures.
He absolutely could not let anyone find them.
So he hid them, just as he hid all things. He hid them under the threadbare blanket and the thin pillow. Under the mattress that lay in tatters above the cot. He hid them in the darkest corners of his cupboard, where the Dursleys never bothered to look.
He was cold today, shivering for reasons he knew not. He clutched the blanket that he had been given tighter around him. He should be sleeping by this time, it was so very late at night. But he couldn’t sleep. Such had become the norm in recent times, for nightmares plagued him whenever he closed his eyes. The lack of sleep was catching up to him, and people had been commenting that he looked like death.
Green eyes that so seemed to glow, large circular, broken glasses held together by tape and glue, and wild inky black hair that stuck up in every direction. Add in the pale skin and the black bags beneath his eyes, and it went for quite the picture.
But he didn’t care. Freak didn’t care. Boy didn’t boy didn’t care. Harry didn’t care.
Because his appearance felt wrong.
He would see his reflection in the mirror, green eyes, glasses, and everything, and all he would be able to think about was how off his appearance looked to him. It didn’t feel right. He shouldn’t have been wearing glasses. His hair wasn’t black. His eyes shouldn’t be so green. But they were. He was. This was how he looked. But it still felt wrong.
So much in his life felt off. He always felt like he was forgetting something. There as always something missing, something fantastical, something different.
Sometimes he thought his dreams were the answer. The dreams of red sand and people screaming. The dreams of hundreds of figures blotting out the sky, all descending on something. The dreams of loneliness and loss, or long dark nights spent in a place surrounded by blurry colorless shapes. He sought out those dreams at times, because at times they felt so real and damn it why couldn’t he remember more and why was he here and why did something feel like it was missing and the world was wrong wrong wrong.
He schooled his features, forcing a blank mask upon his face. That was his default expression most days, he got in less trouble with his relatives when he stayed like this.
Cheloneuniverse 