harry and a little boy

anonymous asked:

so today went to the beach and saw a little boy maybe he was 2??idk but he was very tiny and cute with a baby belly and remembered to Alfie like can you imagine the family in Hawaii and like the missus and P are playing with the twins in the sand and Alfie and Harry are in the water Alfie with his little airbands in Harry's arms ❤️❤️❤️ cute boys 1

MY HEART. OH MY GOODNESS. THIS IS SO CUTE. 

Alfie’s a little water baby so being in the sea doesn’t bother him in the slightest, so, he’s just splashing away with his kicking and squealing when Harry lifted him up and dunked him back into the water and cackling out when he splashed his daddy and smacked his palms on the surface. And when they walk back up the sand together, hair dripping wet and toes covered in sand and stones and tiny shells, Harry settles his son down on his towel and sticks his own sunhat on him to keep the sun away from his head, letting him curl up with a bottle of apple juice that missus had kept in the cooler, and have a tiny nap whilst he let his daughters bury him in the sand - giving him another excuse to bolt down to the water with his children and wash away the grains that stuck to their skin. xx

I’m kind of sad that CDs and Vinyls have lost their popularity. Personally I enjoy the feeling of opening up a new album and watching it play right in front of me.
I also feel that it gives the album more life, rather than just being something that’s floating around on the internet.

Anyone else?

2

Harry and the little sleeping boy. 💛 

“We’re gonna sing, very quietly, You & I.”

Ice cream

Draco grunted as he fumbled with the collar of his dress shirt. His face was contorted in distaste as he felt little beads of sweat running down his neck. Ugh, disgusting! Potter had already pointed out that it was far too hot outside to be wearing a dress shirt, but Draco refused to wear the kind of sordid clothes Potter seemed to love so much. It suited him, of course, but Draco had a reputation to uphold.

That was a bit of a stupid reason, even Draco had to admit it, seeing as they were out and about in Muggle London, but Draco, unlike Potter, had class.

Them being friends was still very new to him and definitely needed some getting used to. Potter seemed already comfortable around Draco, always blabbering on about this and that, bumping Draco’s arm with his elbow, grinning at him mischievously…

Blaise had remarked that it very much seemed like he and Potter were dating, but that was just ridiculous. They had just met for coffee a few times, had gone to the movies (Potter’s idea of course and Draco was still a bit traumatised) and had gone for a few walks, like now. Yes, Draco had been a little surprised earlier when Potter had asked him if he wanted to come back to his place later for dinner, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, was it? Friends did that… right?

As they continued walking down the street, Draco peered sideways and saw that Potter’s face was rather flushed and there were little beads of sweat running down his neck, too.

“Maybe we should have stayed inside today,” Potter wheezed. “I honestly don’t understand how you haven’t fainted yet.” He gazed at Draco’s shirt and his cloth trousers in discomfort.

“Well,” Draco began, eyeing Potter’s burgundy T-shirt and his short trouser, which reached to his knees, “I was taught elegance is a virtue, as well as endurance. Clearly, a concept which seems to be lost on you.” He let his eyes wander over Potter’s body and gave him an appraising look when their eyes met again. Potter seemed to stifle a giggle.

“What?” Draco snapped.

“Endurance,” Potter snorted. “Alright then.” He flashed Draco a toothy grin. Draco had no idea what was so funny about that, but didn’t get the chance to ask. Potter’s eyes had focused on something on the other side of the street. Draco turned around, but had no idea what had caught Potter’s attention.

“Wait here,” Potter told him and and sprinted off. Draco crossed his arms over his chest, huffing. What was Potter up to? And how dare he make Draco wait alone in the middle of the street like this?

Draco tapped his foot impatiently as the minutes passed by. When Potter finally came into view again, Draco saw that he was holding… two ice lollies?

“Here,” Potter said enthusiastically, holding one out to Draco. He gave it a quick glance and made a face.

“No thank you,” he grunted.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like ice cream,” Draco shrugged. Potter’s eyes widened at that.

“What? How can you not like ice cream?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

“I just don’t.”

Potter kept staring at him, the incomprehension at Draco’s revelation clearly visible on his face.

“You’re dripping,” Draco noted with a raised eyebrow.

“What? Oh!” Only now did Potter seem to notice that the ice lollies were melting quickly, dripping all over his hands. He lifted one hand to his mouth and dragged his tongue over his knuckles slowly. Mesmerised, Draco watched as Potter did the same thing to his other hand.

“You sure you don’t want it?” Potter asked, oblivious to Draco’s sudden inner turmoil. Not trusting his voice at this moment, he just waved a dismissive hand in the air. Potter shrugged and lifted one of the ice lollies to his mouth.

Sweet Merlin!

Draco almost choked as Potter’s lips closed around the ice lollie. He pushed it deeper into his mouth and started sucking. Draco had to control himself not to clutch his chest in surprise. He winced when Potter made a slurping noise.

“You know,”  Potter said happily, “I had my first ice lolly when I was ten years old. I really like them.”

Draco had trouble concentrating on what Potter was saying, but still, a frown formed on his face.

“You hadn’t had ice cream before that?”

Potter shook his head and looked at the two ice lollies in his hands. They were both dripping like mad. He lifted one to his mouth again and licked it, painfully slow, from the bottom up, before sticking it in his mouth again. This time, he twirled it around, before releasing it again with a little ‘pop’.

Draco was sure he was about to faint. The heat wasn’t exactly helping, either.

“Potter,” he spluttered. He stepped forward and gazed at his mouth intently. “Ugh, you really are an imbecile, aren’t you?”

Potter’s mouth and his chin were smeared with the remnants of the ice lolly. Draco reached out and stroked the corner of Potter’s mouth with his thumb. He saw Potter’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“It’s sticky,” Draco muttered. He wasn’t really aware that he was leaning down, until his tongue made contact with Potter’s skin. Surprised by his own boldness, he quickly stepped back.

“I don’t know why I did that.”

Potter was flushed and he looked like he was trying to decide something.

“Sod that,” he suddenly muttered and let go of the two ice lollies. Before they hit the ground, Potter had his arms around Draco’s neck and their lips pressed together. Draco made a startled sound when Potter’s tongue pushed into his mouth. He tasted like artificial oranges. Yuck! But the things Potter apparently could do with that tongue…

“Let’s go back to my place,” Potter panted after a few moments. “Oh, but first, let me go back to that store real quick.”

Draco frowned.

“Why?”

“Because,” Potter said with one of his mischievous grins, “I want more ice cream.” He dropped his voice to a low, seductive whisper. “I want creamy, rich chocolate ice cream.” Draco shuddered at the way Potter was looking at him. “And I plan to lick it off your chest and out of your navel.”

This time, Draco really did choke. He recovered rather quickly, however, and grabbed Potter’s hand.

“Merlin, what are we waiting for?”

i just.. . can’t get over sign of the times. there is so much feeling in it - hope, desperation, strength, vulnerability, pain, love, bravery - and all of it is so palpable, i feel like i can taste it in the air while the song’s playing. he pulls you in at the very first note and tangles you into his soul with every note after that. the energy in his voice just. it washes over you, wave after wave, like an ocean of electricity and emotion. 

anonymous asked:

What if Harry Potter, the chosen one, had turned out to be a squib, how do you think history would have turned out differently?

It was Mrs. Figg who suspected first.

She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.

Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.

She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.

When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.

Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.

When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.

Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”  

“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.

“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”

“Be taught what, Albus?”

But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.

Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.

When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.  

“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”

“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”

Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.

Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.

In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily…  strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”

Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.

“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”

He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.

Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.

Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”

Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.

“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.

“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.

“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”

Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.

They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.

As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?

Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.

The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.

Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?

Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.

Please, thought Harry. Don’t send me back.

Keep reading

Favourite Scorbus Tropes:

-Scorpius with glasses
-jealous!Albus
-Rose being all like “I know I’m not the Weasley you want smh”
-Scorpius/Harry friendships
-drunk!Scorpius confessing his feelings
-quidditch!!
-nerdy!Scorpius
-Draco being overdramatic about everything
-Scorpius offering sweets to Albus whenever he’s in one of his moods
-Lily shipping them so hard
-“how is Scorpius such an angel” -the entire Potter family
-sneaking into the same bed together
-Albus comforting Scorpius through his nightmares
-SCORPIUS WITH GLASSES
-harry being oblivious like “don’t all best mates act like that?”
-Scorpius basically being both Ron and Hermione rolled into one cinnamon bun and Harry just eating it up
-forced Harry/Draco friendships and holidays
-Scorpius staying with the Potters over Christmas break
-time-turner references
-library cuddles

Okay, but imagine if...

Cedric Diggory hadn’t died.

Imagine, just for a moment, that when they take the portkey, instead of an Avada Kedavra, it’s a Stupefy that hits him. Or that the AK misses him by an inch, hits a grave instead, knocks him out for a second.

Imagine that everybody forgets about the Hufflepuff boy out cold on the floor, because they are so intent on resurrecting Voldemort. Peter forgets as he ties Harry to that statue. Voldemort forgets as he is dumped into a cauldron full of flesh and bone and blood. And every death eater that comes sooner or later, well, no one tells them about the boy either - there are more pressing concerns.

However, Harry doesn’t forget. Because Harry has been in that sort of situation since he was eleven. He’s used to looking out for others, by now. Hermione and the Troll, Ron on the chess game, Ginny in the Chamber, Sirius and Hagrid and even Buckbeak- Harry always looks out for everyone, and never forgets about anyone, even if they are not really his friends.

So while he stares in horror, while he’s powerless and sees his greatest foe come back to life, a tiny part of his mind is screaming at him to check on Cedric, to get them out of here. Both. Alive.

Now let’s say that the ceremony, and the Death Eater meeting after the resurrection takes time. Lots of it. Let’s say that Voldemort, being the drama queen he obviously is, takes his time, and enjoys every single second of attention he gets from his followers and that Potter brat.

Let’s say he takes enough time for Cedric to come back to consciousness.

He awakes, lying in the grass and dirt, surrounded by bits of stone, his head aching and confused. The cup is laying about, not too far from him, and he could take it to go back but- he’s a Hufflepuff. He’s loyal. He doesn’t forget either, and that’s why, even if he’s confused about why or how he’s here, he doesn’t take the cup and goes searching for Harry.

Now, the tournament is a vicious thing, isn’t it ? Who’s to say to poor confused Cedric that this is not one more, secret, task ?

So Cedric goes looking, wand in hand, ready to fight, because he’s a Hogwart champion - and really, a Graveyard ? That’s creepy. And because he’s on his guard, and he’s moving around silently, no one notices him creeping behind one of the graves. No one notices the Hufflepuff boy, his horrified expression, and his frantic gaze as he slowly understands that no, that wasn’t a task, and that wasn’t a dream either.

Maybe not even Harry, or maybe he does, but that’s not the important thing.

The important thing is that being in Hufflepuff doesn’t make you stupid at all. The important thing is that Cedric is a champion, and smart, and a quick thinker and a hard worker.

The important thing is that Cedric thinks fast, and casts an ‘Accio’ on the cup as he runs towards Harry while he duels Voldemort.

He breaks through the crowd of amazed and struck Death Eaters, catches Harry’s arm with one hand, and with Seeker reflexes, catches the cup with the other.

Cedric lives, and both Harry and him go back to Hogwarts, terrified, bloody, and flinching away from the sudden noise coming from the public. They both live, and thus no one notices that something is amiss immediately, no one sees their wild glances around - as if someone was still out to kill them. The public cheers, and sings the victory of both Hogwart’s champions, and they are suddenly hugged by their families - the Diggorys and Weasleys.

No one notices, and that’s why when the noise dies down, and someone casts a sonorus on them to ask them how they feel about that victory, everyone hears them say, in a still disbelieving and trembling voice.

“He’s back.”

Obviously, everyone is confused, but they start talking, a bit over each other really, but they are in shock - and they say he’s back, Voldemort’s back, and he took my blood, and we were in a graveyard, and I was knocked out, missed most of the ritual, but it was him, yeah, and there were Death Eaters, in a circle, torturing Harry, horrible, had to get away, he’s back, he’s back.

And that’s when the people notice their faces, the blood, Harry twitching fingers - cruciatus - and their wands still clenched in their fingers, as if ready to attack anyone on sight.

This time, though, Harry doesn’t get ushered away by fake-Moody - because Cedric still has a hand gripping his arm, and wont let go for the world. He tells Dumbledore, and their families, though, when the Headmaster asks them to talk “More calmly and clearly, please, young men” at the Infirmary. Barty Crouch Jr is still apprehended, and the real Moody discovered, and it puts their incredible tale in a new, horrific and real, light.

Imagine if Cedric Diggory lived.

Two witnesses of His return. One is Harry Potter, Hero and Saviour of the Wizarding world. The second is beloved Hufflepuff Prefect Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts Champion. Even if people didn’t believe the first, they would believe the second, and vice versa.

Obviously, the ministry doesn’t take it well, but Amos Diggory and the Weasleys, and Dumbledore make a move together. Susan Bones helps her fellow Hufflepuff by contacting her aunt. Together, they get memory evidence - and they even agree on submitting to truth serum.

Because if Harry alone couldn’t do it - or had no idea he could - Cedric is there, and his father works at the Ministry, and he’s a seventh year. He knows more, and he has people ready to help him - and if he asks them, to help Harry Potter.

Sure, the ministry would try to get all this under the rug, but they couldn’t. Because Weasleys, and Diggorys, and Dumbledore, and Bones, and even Longbottom and soon every name that has a contact in Hogwarts - except some of the Death Eaters - are pushing for the truth to get out, and with a bit of blackmail, Rita helps - and this time, the Daily Prophet can’t repress all of them.

Imagine if Cedric Diggory lived, and how the war would have turned.

Imagine just.

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY SEEING THIS SMALL, SKINNY BOY STRUGGLING WITH HIS TRUNK ON THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS AND OFFERING TO HELP HIM BEFORE KNOWING WHO HE WAS 

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY REALIZING THIS SMALL, SKINNY BOY IS NONE OTHER THAN HARRY POTTER AND THEY’RE SO IN AWE BECAUSE THEY GREW UP HEARING STORIES ABOUT THE BOY WHO LIVED 

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY SEEING THAT THEIR BROTHER HAD QUICKLY BEFRIENDED HARRY AND DECIDED THAT THIS BOY WAS THEIR LITTLE BROTHER TOO

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY BEING SO SUPPORTIVE OF HARRY DURING QUIDDITCH AND ALWAYS STANDING UP FOR HIM

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY NOTICING THAT RON WAS WORRIED ABOUT HARRY NOT ANSWERING HIS LETTERS SO THEY VOLUNTEER TO STEAL THE FLYING CAR TO RESCUE HARRY 

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY MAKING JOKES ABOUT HARRY BECAUSE THEY DON’T LIKE SEEING HARRY UPSET SO THEY TRY HARD TO MAKE HIM LAUGH AND TO MAKE OTHERS REALIZE THE RUMORS THEY’RE SPREADING ARE STUPID 

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY GIVING HARRY THE MAP HIS FATHER AND HIS FRIENDS MADE WITHOUT EVEN REALIZING THEY WERE PASSING DOWN A LEGACY

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY GIVING THE MAP TO HARRY NOT EVEN THEIR OWN BROTHER BECAUSE THEY KNEW HE NEEDED IT MOST 

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY SUPPORTING HARRY THROUGH THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT, BECAUSE SURE THEY’RE JEALOUS, BUT HE’S HARRY AND HE’S THEIR BROTHER SO THEY’RE GOING TO BE THERE 

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY INITIALLY REFUSING TO ACCEPT THE MONEY HARRY HAD GIVEN THEM, BUT FINALLY TOOK IT BECAUSE HARRY WAS RIGHT, PEOPLE NEEDED A GOOD LAUGH

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY TEACHING HARRY HOW TO SHAVE AND DANCE PROPERLY BECAUSE “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU NEVER LEARNED? YOUR UNCLE NEVER TAUGHT YOU?” SO THEY BROUGHT IT UPON THEMSELVES TO TEACH HIM

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY GIVING HARRY GIRL ADVICE, HARRY HUNCHED OVER LAUGHING BECAUSE THEIR ADVICE RANGED FROM SUPER SERIOUS TO “SERIOUSLY, PETTING HER HAIR WHILE SAYING ‘PERFECT’ IS A SURE FIRE WAY TO GET HER TO DATE YOU”

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY OCCASIONALLY ASKING HARRY TO SIT WITH THEM WHEN RON AND HERMIONE AREN’T WITH HIM

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY SHOWING HARRY THEIR EXPERIMENTS AND CONSTANTLY THANKING HIM FOR THE MONEY BECAUSE HARRY HELPED THEM ACHIEVED THEIR DREAM, SOMETHING WHICH HARRY WAS PROUD TO DO

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY KEEPING IN TOUCH WITH HARRY AND CONSTANTLY SUPPORTING HARRY THROUGH HIS DARKEST DAYS BECAUSE THEY BELIEVE IN HARRY SO MUCH

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY MAKING SURE HARRY IS SAFE AND REASSURING THE WIZARDING WORLD THAT HARRY WILL HELP

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY NOT ONLY WORRYING ABOUT RON, BUT OF HARRY, THEIR BROTHER, AND HERMIONE BECAUSE THEY KNOW THERE’S NO ONE TO CARE FOR THEM ANYMORE

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY FIGHTING IN THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS NOT ONLY FOR THEIR FAMILY, BUT FOR HARRY, THE SMALL, SKINNY BOY THEY MET ON THE TRAIN SO LONG AGO WHO WAS NOW A MAN FIGHTING FOR WHAT HE BELIEVES IN. 

FRED WEASLEY DYING BECAUSE HE WAS FIGHTING FOR HARRY, SOMETHING HARRY WILL NEVER GET OVER.

GEORGE WEASLEY NEVER GETTING MAD AT HARRY, BECAUSE HE AND FRED FOUGHT FOR THEIR LITTLE BROTHER AND THEY WOULD NEVER LET THEIR BROTHER GO THROUGH THE WORLD ALONE

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY BEING THE BEST DAMN OLDER BROTHERS TO HARRY POTTER.