“I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.”

“Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. “You are a wizard.”

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

Headcannon where Harry wants actual proper electricity in his and Draco's home.

But Draco doesn’t understand the concept of a light switch, so Harry installs the clapper for all of the main lights in their home.

Which was an awful idea because now every time Draco passes by a room with Harry in it, he claps, and then scurries away to the sound of Harry cursing and clapping the lights back on.


harry potter in motion (1/?) - pansy parkinson

“Why are you here?” Parvati asked Pansy once. People asked her a lot, when they found her in Flourish and Blotts, or at work on the Prophet. Their eyes raked her, looking for green, for silver, for venom. Sometimes she’d smile back and let them see the danger.

“Because I’m not fifteen anymore,” said Pansy. “God, do you know what precious Potter Sr. got up to at school, the bully? But boys get to grow up to be men, you see, and us girls just grow up to be bitches.” {x}

Some people might judge me for having a more thorough understanding of Harry Potter’s life than my own, but in my defense, I’ve experienced Harry’s life at least a dozen times, and mine only once so far.