i think bill would have been with the times for a wizard

The day after the battle, Hermione Granger got up before the sun did. The Lake was covered in fog, and she was used to having somewhere urgent to go, to be, to fight. 

She closed the tent flap up behind her. Hogwarts had something like enough beds, but Hermione hadn’t had it in her to climb those moving staircases, to step through the painting’s open frame and make her way to the Gryffindor girls’ seventh year dormitory. Her bed would have been there, months untouched except for the bras and scarves and bottles of sparkly purple nail polish Parvati and Lavender had strewn onto every open surface. 

The fog rolled in off the Lake and Hermione stood at the damp shore and shivered until the sun rose and burned it all away. 


The day after the battle, they buried their dead out on an island in the Lake, the day after the battle. Madame Pomfrey fretted and hovered, but every injured witch, wizard, and squib made it out to those conjured chairs. They might sit with assistance– with spells, with braces, with a friend’s shoulder– but they sat quiet and they listened to Flitwick read out the names. 


The day after the battle, Ron Weasley stood on tiptoe when he stepped back into the Great Hall, looking over a sea of bent heads to find a cluster of red. They’d brought the tables back. 

The cluster was only a tiny blip of three– Bill and their parents were flitting about, helping Flitwick float steaming bowls of pasta down onto each table. But Ginny and Percy were sitting on either side of George, keeping up a lively conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair. 

Ginny was sitting half in Harry’s lap, like if she didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting up to help, or to pace the castle, or to walk out to the Forest and not come back. She was holding his hand, her freckled thumb running over the words written into his skin. 

Ron thought about sitting with Luna, instead. Percy tried to laugh at one of Ginny’s jokes, and Ron didn’t know how to be kind like that. Ginny held Harry’s hand. Ron had thought for a long terrible stretch of heartbeats that he had lost two brothers yesterday. 

He could sit with Dean. He could walk out to the Forest and punch Aragog in his ugly eyes, because normally when he walked away from everyone he loved it was because he was scared and maybe change was good for the soul. 

Ron pushed his hands through his hair. He crossed the Great Hall, swung into a seat next to Harry, and filled his plate with lukewarm pasta. 


The day after the battle, Luna Lovegood climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, because it was the furthest she could get away from everything. She laid on her back on the cold stone and cast balls of light and enchanted birds to chase each other across the ceiling until she felt like descending down to the ground again. 


The day after the battle, Neville Longbottom went down to the greenhouses to see what the damage was there. He had sat all night and all morning in the infirmary, fetching water for Anthony Goldstein and holding Dennis Creevey’s hand and folding extra blankets down over Professor Sprout’s cold feet. Madame Pomfrey had banished him to go get a spot to eat and some sleep, so he walked down to the greenhouses to see what was salvageable. 

Whole panes of greenish glass stood jagged and shattered. Protective spells had put out any fires, but stray blasts of magic had killed beds of vegetables and flowers and taken almost all the silver-green leaves off an olive tree that twisted in the corner of Greenhouse 4. 

Neville went in through the door, even though there as a broken hole in the glass wall big enough for him, and almost fell back through it when Hannah Abbott stood up from the row of pots she’d been crouching behind. Dirt streaked every crease of her hands. “Hey,” he said, and let the door click shut behind him. 

“Hey.” When she saw where he was heading, she added, “The olive’s still alive.”

The bark was rough under his hand, gnarled from decades of slow growth. He could hear the green magic whispering down its xylem. 

“I was thinking I’d try to mend up the walls, close this place up again,” said Hannah. “But I wasn’t sure I could do it alone." 

"Alright,” said Neville. When Professor Sprout argued her way out of the infirmary and thumped downhill with the wind throwing her cloudy hair in her face, she found every pane of glass healed and Neville and Hannah asleep on the softest patch of moss in Greenhouse 2.  


The day after the battle, Parvati Patil sent an owl to Lavender Brown’s parents. 


The day after the end of it all, Hermione skipped lunch and found her favorite secluded corner of the library instead. The chairs stood silent and sober, all gouged dark wood. The high windows threw light gleaming across the polished table, catching on the dust motes drifting through the air above it. 

She dumped her carry-all down on it and reached inside– up to her elbows, her shoulders. She tried not to feel like it was eating her alive and she pulled out protein bars and unicorn horn and crumpled wanted flyers. 

She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so cluttered– sometime before the night in the ditch outside the little Scottish village with the awesome curry shop. Sometime after the time they hid out from a storm in an unknowing Muggle’s barn, wrinkling their noses at the itch of hay as they ate their dinner. Hermione had taken first watch, listening to the thunder roll over the shallow hills outside, and she’d gone through her bag pouch by endless pouch. Harry had twitched in his sleep with every flash of lightning, but everything in her bag had been where it was supposed to be. 

She summoned a wastepaper bin to hover beside her and got to work. Quills and ballpoint pens went in a neat heap to her left. Books she stacked by subject matter around her, except for the ones she flew back to their homes on Hogwarts shelves. She checked potions ingredients for decay, tossed the bad ones and wrapped the good ones back up in their oiled cloth and ziplock bags. 

She ate a protein bar while she piled duct tape and the radio and a travel-sized magnetic foldable Muggle chess set and a depleted first aid kit all up around her. She threw the wrapper away and wondered if the smell would ever come out of the bag’s insides, or if she should just buy another one.  


The day after the battle, they started putting the stones of the castle back into place. They put bones back together, first, skin and knit muscle and tendons. McGonagall escorted every statue and suit of armor back to where it belonged. 

Sue Li sat atop a pile of rubble and ate the biggest chocolate bar she’d ever seen her life. She thought she could still taste a film of Polyjuice on her tongue, but she told herself that was dumb. She dropped little pebbles down the ragged tumble of stones, counting their bounces and calculating averages, until Astoria Greengrass showed up with a glass of water and a pasty and put them down beside her. 

Astoria got her hands dirty every chance she got, put her back into sweeping up glass shards or hauling bandages or Wingardium Leviosa-ing stone blocks the size of a horseless carriage. She would stay in the castle as long as she could, finding odd tasks and errands and corners to lurk in. When she finally went back to the Greengrass family estate, it would be to pack her bags, kiss the old house elf on the cheek, and steal her dog away with her. 


The day after the battle, Ron went out to Hagrid’s cabin in the stubborn chill of the afternoon and sat in his pumpkin patch. He didn’t go knock on the rough-hewn door, and Hagrid didn’t come out, but after twenty minutes Fang trotted into the yard and patiently got slobber all over his shirt. 

Ron watched the sway of the shadows beyond the Forest’s edge. Buckbeak’s old tying post stood among the twining squash vines and their giant fuzzy leaves, the metal ring hanging empty against weathered wood. He thought about Ginny brushing her thumb over Harry’s scars and wrapped 
his hands over the pale marks that curled around his wrists. 

When the air started biting and the sky started darkening, Ron pulled himself back to his feet and climbed up to the library. He had never lived there, never really liked its labyrinth of stacks and dusty air, but he knew the way there better than he knew the way to the Quidditch pitch or the Room of Requirement or all those other places he liked so much more. 

It was empty, except for Hermione, and he was glad. She squeezed her last book into her bag and looked up at him, shoving her hair back off her forehead. 

“They doing dinner down there?” she said, her dry throat rasping on it. 

He shrugged. “Mum’s organizing, I think. It– helps, I think." 

She nodded, looking down to do the clasps up slowly, one by one. 

"I just wanted to go back to the tent,” said Ron. “Be alone. It’s quiet." 

"I won’t get in your way,” she said. “It’s still pitched down there." 

"I know,” he said. “With you, I meant.”

“That’s not alone,” she said. “I’m not quiet,” she said. She clasped and unclasped the bag. 

“Words. Accuracy. I never claimed to be the clever one." 

"But you are, Ron–" 

"Hermione,” he said. “Come with me? You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Come home.”

They went down the grass through chilling air. Ron could hear his mother in his head, telling him to take her bag and carry it for her, but he just reached out for her hand. 


The day after the end of it all, Ron laid on the floor of the tent, counting stitches in the canvas, while Hermione read Hogwarts, A History like she didn’t have it memorized. She read her favorite parts aloud, stopping mid-sentence when the tent flap rustled and opened. 

“Ginny’s sitting on Neville until he agrees to sleep in a real bed and not a pile of shrubbery,” Harry said, stepping inside and shutting it up behind him. “She got Luna to help because she says otherwise Luna will just fade into a corner and not come out for food.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m not intruding, right?" 

"Don’t be daft,” said Ron and patted a bit of floor next to him. “C'mon, join in, Hermione’s trying to bore me to sleep. I suspect it’s an act of caring concern.” Hermione threw a pillow at his head without looking up from the pages.  

The day after the battle, they fell asleep in a tangle in the center of the tent that they had lugged across their country, across these long, cold days of the war. They had danced here to the radio, had chewed protein bars, played chess and bled and yelled at each other. 

But the war was over and they were growing into it, slow, staying up too late as they leaned into each other and whispered on this threadbare rug. They meant to wobble to their feet and get to bed, but Harry was clinging to Hermione’s hand and none of them wanted to go. 

They would get too old for this– hard floors and the way Harry’s neck was cricked up on Ron’s bony shoulder. Hermione’s snoring would get worse and Ron would have to sleep with four carefully arranged pillows to stop his back from aching in the mornings, but Harry would always have a place here. He had slept on Ron’s bedroom floor at fourteen, leaned on Hermione outside his parents’ broken home. 

In the weeks after the battle, Hermione would track down her parents and move back home, and they would all help the Weasleys rebuild the Burrow. Harry would move in Andromeda Tonks’s spare room. “We’re almost like family, after all,” she’d say briskly, shooing him into the house and showing him where she kept the tea, Teddy’s diapers, and the whiskey. They’d come for visits and talk through the night in each of those homes, curled up under Molly’s quilts or out on the Granger’s back porch swing or over fingers of firewhiskey with Andromeda. 

In the months after the war, he and Ron would get a flat while they went through Auror training and Hermione would crash there five nights out of seven. Her university textbooks would take over their countertops, shelves, tables, and floor and Harry wouldn’t tease them (too much) for how hilariously long they tried to pretend it was the couch Hermione slept on. 

Every home Ron and Hermione lived in, for the rest of their lives, would have a place for Harry– a spare room or a patch of floor or an old sofa. He would know how Hermione took her coffee, and his favorite cereal and Ginny’s favorite oatmeal would always been in the cupboard, and their children would have giggly cousin-sleepovers in magical tents they pitched on the living room rug. 

When the kids came shrieking in to wake them at absolutely unacceptable, ugly hours, Ginny would groan curse words they’d repeat gleefully among themselves, but Harry would let them grab his hands in their little sticky ones and pull him barefoot and messy-haired out into the morning.

Moving on After Fred Weasley Passes Away - Headcanon/Would Include

Warnings: This broke my heart to write):

  • You wouldn’t cry much towards the beginning. Of course when the news hit a barricade of tears fell freely but after that, you learned how to bottle it all up. Everything was so unreal you weren’t even sure if it what was real anymore.
  • Fred was your best friend, your other half, the love of your life.
  • After the Battle of Hogwarts you’d travel back to the Burrow with the Weasley’s.
  • He was buried shortly after the Battle. His casket was a sleek black color and shined in the rain that fell. You placed a flower on the top of his casket and choked on a shaky sob. George stood behind you and his hand found it’s way into yours, giving you a squeeze of reassurance as he cried with you. You had never felt more lost in your life. Your fingers twiddled with the diamond band wrapped around your finger. It felt more like a piece of mockery, there to remind you everyday of what you could now never have.
  • Molly spent an entire week in the twins’ bedroom. She didn’t talk, hardly ate, just stared blankly at the wall next to Fred’s bed. He had pictures of his Hogwarts adventures taped to the wall and she had memorized every prospect of the photos so much she couldn’t rid the image from her brain when she closed her eyes, but she didn’t want to forget.
  • At the end of the week George entered his and Fred’s bedroom for the first time since the Battle. He spent an hour talking to his mother. You never did find out what he said, but you remember the burning visual of Molly exiting the room with reddened eyes full of heartbreak.
  • Ginny spent the nights sleeping in her room with you and cuddled against your chest, silently weeping to herself. Your presence made her feel close to her late brother, like he had never actually left.
  • George, Molly, and you would clean out Fred’s half of the room. It was full of tears and once happy now sad memories. Like the large maroon tie blanket you had made for Fred on your anniversary. Or the book on Magical Creatures that Fred had stolen on accident in Diagon Alley while he spied on you from behind a bookcase. You were shopping for all your school supplies and the redhead had torn from his family, catching glimpse of you in the robes shop and managed to follow you two stores later not wanting to leave you. You eventually caught him as he tripped over a pile of books, the binds of knowledge cascading to the floor with a crash. You smiled and helped him up while introducing yourself. The rest was history.
  • Arthur stood in the doorway of the room watching the three of you clean. Deep aging wrinkles indented his forehead making him appear older than he really was. His face was long, drowning in sorrow. He didn’t say a word, just watched.
  • Ginny cried alone in her room. Harry tried to comfort her but his success was no avail. She locked herself away for three days, lost in a sea of depression.
  • Ron turned to Harry and Hermione who welcomed him with open arms. He was the first to open up after his older brother’s death.
  • You stayed at the Burrow for a almost three weeks before flying to France. You choice was rash but you needed to get away. Molly understood and wished you well. You didn’t know how long you would be gone but you hoped it would give you some time to come to terms with the heartbreak you were experiencing.
  • Fred used to tell you when you were in school together that he always dreamed of going to France. He never knew why. He was rubbish at speaking French and had no idea how he’d survive, but it was a dream of his.
  • Percy, Bill, and Charlie all stayed at the Burrow for a month or so. Their hearts ached at the lose of their younger brother.
  • George… George no longer felt like himself. It was as if a part of himself was missing, torn from his soul. He dragged through the day’s, closing down the shop for a while. After spending two weeks at the Burrow he moved back to the apartment above Weasley Wizard Wheezes that Fred and him shared. The second he walked through the door he broke down. Tears splashed against his cheeks as he finally let all his emotions pour out. He called you, practically begging you to keep him company.
  • Of course you obliged and flew back home immediately. You lived with Fred in the apartment too. It was your home as well and you had been putting off going back to the apartment as much as possible. The home held so many items from your past involving Fred and you. Where he proposed to you, where you had you first blow up fight, where you had you first time together, where you had the million of talks about your future together, and so much more.  
  • This made Molly feel a little better when she heard you would be staying with George for a while. She hated the thought of George being all along right after losing his best friend, his twin, his other half.
  • You left France still clutching a box full of Fred’s belonging. A heavy feeling invaded your heart. You took a train to London after landing then joined George at the shop.
  • The minute the door swung open George’s arms were thrown around your frame as he pulled you into a tight embrace. The barrier you had been working so hard to uphold, crumbled at his touch. Not because you felt you could finally let go of all the emotions being kept inside. No, you cried because George’s embrace reminded you of Fred’s. The way his hold tighten as you sobbed mirrored Fred’s actions identically. Your chest ached as you came to realize you future with Fred was gone. George’s salty tears splashed on the crown of your head.
  • The first week barely any words at all were exchanged. You would mumble a small ‘good morning’ to each other during breakfast but that was usually it.
  • George spent the days in his room and the nights at a bar across the street. This continued on for a week until you confronted him. You waited up all night, worried sick. He stumbled in around three in the morning, eyes brimming red, breath stenching strong from alcohol.
  • “George Weasley, what the hell?” You would screeched. His eyes snapped up at you resembling a deer caught in headlights. His gazed quickly fell to the floor as he shut the house door and brushed past you. You yelled after him making him halt in his path,
  • “George pease just talk to me! I know this is hard for you, believe me I do. He was your brother. You two have never been apart so I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. George I’m here for you and you can talk to me because I lost him too. You did everything with Fred, you two started this business together and we both know he just wants you to be happy again. Please… just try, George. Try for me, try for Fred. Please. I just want to be here for you. If there’s something I did. If you hate me-” Your voice broke at the end and your knees gave up. Crashing to the floor a echoing cry invaded the air. George stood motionless watching you fall apart before his eyes. He could almost hear Fred scolding him and urging him to act. Fred would want George to comfort you, Fred would want you two to be there for each other.
  • George hesitantly crossed the room and bent to your level. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of messy hair from your face. Glancing up at him you started in to question him but George beat you around the bush. He seemed half sobered up and shook his head.
  • “Y/n… it’s not you, I swear. You’re the most purest human being in the entirety of the world, please don’t think that way. Every moment you and Fred were together I could never shake that from my mind, how perfect you are. But god Y/n every time I see you I think of my brother. He loved you more than anything in this world and I know he would hate me right now for not being there for you. I feel like I’ve let him down and that hurts more than anything. I see Fred everytime I look in the mirror, everytime I see the pictures on the fridge, everytime I walk into the shop, everytime I come home and everytime I see you.”
  • His words took you by storm but for once, it made sense. You had been sleeping in Fred and your bed, helping start the shop back up (mainly by yourself), and it probably didn’t help that you had been stealing items of Fred’s clothing, just wanting to be close to him again. For the first time since the Battle, you admitted the burden you’d been holding inside.
  • “I wish I could’ve saved him. If I wasn’t distracted by the helping that student- if I would have been paying more attention to Fred… he’d still be here.” You quivered. George’s eye soften and he shook his head.
  • “Y/n you know no one could’ve stopped what happen. I’ve spent every night laying awake wondering if I could’ve changed something. I’m not sure what god planned this, or if there even is one, but Y/n we had no control over this.” His arms locked around you pulling you against his chest. His lips planted against your forehead sweetly covering you in a blanket of comfort.
  • You spent the rest of the night in George’s arm. You shared memories of Fred, some sweet, some funny, and some that made you cry again.
  • “Remember the time the two of you enchanted endless snowballs to pelt, well technically, Voldemort in the face and Quill in the back of the head?” You giggled into the glass of cherry red wine you held to your lips. George leaned into the cushion of the couch and shook his head with a smile. 
  • “Classic!”
  • George spent the night in Fred and your bed- to keep you company of course.
  • He kept you company for the rest of the nights to follow
  • The two of you began to drift into a weird zone
  • You had always lightly fancied George but it was Fred you loved.
  • He would randomly start bringing you home flowers and other small gifts
  • Some days George would come home to find a bundled up new sweater placed on his work desk. You always claimed the things you bought him were on sale so you just couldn’t resist but George knew better
  • A strong connection was growing and it confused you- George too. You wanted another shot at happiness but you weren’t sure if you were ready yet until another vacant Friday night rolled around and you found yourself laying on the couch in George’s arm talking about the week and before you knew it he was leaning forward.
  • The first time you kissed George you screwed your eyes shut tightly and imagined his lips as Fred’s. You knew it was horrible but you had no clue what else to do. It was like you were cheating on your fiance- your dead fiance, with his twin brother. But when you realized it was George, you didn’t entirely hate it. It was actually quite a fulfilling kiss. A part from inside of you warmed up for the first time in a long time.
  • George had a sickening vibe settling in the pit of his stomach after he pulled back. His heart sped up at the newfound affection the kiss brought although kissing you made him feel like he was betraying his brother. Fred planned to marry you for Merlin’s sake and there George was, making out with his dead twin’s girlfriend.
  • But you kissed him again the next day and he didn’t pull away
  • And the next
  • And the one after that too
  • Kissing you made George think of his brother. Fred loved you and George could understand why. Kissing you, sleeping beside you, comforting you, it all made George feel as if he was somehow growing closer to his twin.
  • At first your relationship with George was based solely on the fact that he was identical to your late lover but as time passed on George made you feel differently than Fred did. Despite you never thinking it was possible, George taught you how to laugh again. He would slowly crack back into his prankster self again. It took his almost a full year after Fred’s passing to invent a new product for the shop or even enter the store for more than passing to get to the apartment. He tested out the product on you during breakfast one morning. Pouring a lilac solution into the base of your black coffee and giving it a swirl, George carried on with breakfast as if nothing had happen. Dragging in, you hugged George from behind before taking a seat at the nook. You instantly sipped on the brewed mixture in front of you and spit it out in shock as the odd flavor set in.
  • George howled in laughed and bent over the kitchen stove pointing towards you. Furrowing your eyebrows you set the mug down and spoke up agitated,
  • “George what the hell did you put in- oh my god!”
  • You realized the change in tone quickly and covered your face in embarrassment. Your voice was as deep as a well making you sound similar to that of a male that had spent over half his life heavily smoking. George rushed over and planted a kiss to your cheek.
  • “It worked!” Although you were thoroughly ticked off at his choice of targeting you, you were happy he was back to his old ways. The bills were piling up by the second and the landlord wanted the shop either back up and running, or both of you to move out. Dumping your infected cup of coffee down the sink drain you started to make a new batch. Smiling to yourself you laughed softly,
  • “Well, I’m glad to have you back, George.”
  • That was only the beginning. George and you spent almost every moment inventing and creating new sale items. The first handful were absolute rubbish but it didn’t matter. Both of you were trying to get back in the swing of things and sometimes that took a while.
  • Within three months Weasley Wizard Wheezes was back up and running again.
  • Sales flooded in and shot straight through the roof steadily for a long term.
  • As a ‘thank you’ present for helping him get back on his feet George invited you out for a fancy meal out on the town.
  • You decided on a Muggle restaurant and dressed to the nines. George’s jaw skimmed the floor when you walked out of your room and slipped on your heels. He held your hand and escorted you out.
  • During dinner you had ntoiced how fidgety and nervous George was acting. You made the choice to question him on it over a glass of champagne right before the main course and he physically stiffened. Tilting his glass back, George chugged down the large intake and wiped his lips on the red amber napkin. His hands clasped together then unclasped at his side. His soft eyes found yours and he darted them back down to the tablecloth.
  • “It’s just- well, Y/n… what are we?”
  • It would get silent very fast and he would instantly fill it.
  • “What I mean is, I like you… I like you a lot but I know how you felt about my brother. I saw the glint in your eyes that would sparkle whenever you saw him and how happy you two were together and Y/n I want to be able to make you as happy as Fred did. With that being said I don’t want you to be with me because I remind you of him or because you can’t stop thinking about Fred. I’m not gonna lie at the start of our, uh, relationship I was hanging out with you because you made me think of Fred but all those late nights and million cups of coffee have made me realize the truth. I love you Y/n- and not because you dated my brother. I love you for you and I think I have for a very long time. What I’m asking is… Y/n would you um, like to be my girlfriend?”
  • You cried, a lot. George’s heart broke at the sight only confirming the love swelling in his heart. His feelings were genuine and it warmed your soul. You lunged across the table knocking over the bread bowl in the process and threw your arms around George’s frame.
  • “Of course I will! Oh my god, George. You’re making me cry like a bloody fool!”
  • George called his mother the second you got home. Molly was hit with a wave of shock at first. She gave both of you long speeches trying to inspect if the love was real or a mask to feign the hurt of bonding over the lose of Fred. She demanded both of you come home to the Burrow for the week so you did and the moment she looked into both of your eyes, it was clear as crystal.
  • “Good lord you are in love!”
  • It was hard for the rest of the Weasley family to accept at first. You understood completely since you had the same weary, unsure feeling as well but eventually they came to accept it. They were all happy to you and George happy once again.
  • But as happy as you were, small memories with Fred would constantly pop up.
  • Like one night when George and you were lying in bed together whispering softly realization would settle in and you’d comment,
  • “This is where he proposed. We were lying right here when Fred asked me to marry him.”
  • You knew how horrid it was to put this on George but you had no control. George thought about this all the time and was reminded of your relationship with his brother at every corner he turned.
  • You would then apologize feeling god awful for saying such a thing but George would hush you saying,
  • “It’s alright Y/n. Just because he’s not around anymore and because we’re together now doesn’t mean we have to pretend he was never alive or your relationship with him didn’t exist. He loved you, and I know how much you love him. I’m not upset- actually I’m more than thankful my brother managed to snag a girl like you. You two were perfect together and he will always love you just like how you will always love him. Fred… he is… was my brother and for a long time I thought he would hate me for me being with you and for a long time I thought my heart tricked me into loving you. That maybe it wasn’t love I was feeling but rather so the relationship my brother and I had and maybe because he loved you so much, being with you would make me feel less lonely about losing him but I know the truth. I love you, Y/n. Hell, maybe I always have but the important thing is I love you now and I will love you tomorrow and I will continue to love you years from now and that’s not because of Fred, it’s because of you and who you are. I love you.”
  • You two learned how to live your life no longer feeling guilty for the love you shared. Fred smiled down his heart warming at seeing his two favorite people in the world relying on each other and sharing a piece of their heart together.
  • He proposed to you in the middle of a busy work day right as you were restocking a shelf. The rest of his family were there to see. Molly, Hermione and Ginny cried a river while the boys patted George on the back. On your wedding day the tears were never ending, though happy ones.
  • You two eventually moved to London- kept the shop but decided you needed more room, well of course your growing stomach demanded that. One cold night in the middle of December George and you were blessed with the birth of your first son, Fred ll. He had a head of wicked red hair and a small mischievous smile toying on his face and you had never felt more complete in your life. George planted a kiss to your head muttering a string of ‘thank yous’. You knew in your heart this was exactly where you were meant to be.

- Daizy xx

Write me another story

Write me a world where Love is to Love, not blood and quarreling and bitterness

Write me a world where a Godfather is worth more than an aunt who neither cares nor loves

Write a world with justice

Write me a world where someone stopped to listen to Sirius Black.

Write us a world where Mad-eye stood up for Sirius’ chance to defend himself because “it doesn’t matter how it looks, dammit, vigilance goes both ways, you watch your back against the people you fight with but you watch their backs too” where Minerva trusted her gut “I don’t know, Albus, remember those boys…” where Dumbledore used his political clout and paid attention and made a difference

Write me a world where there was time in the rejoicing of the aftermath of Voldemort’s defeat to stop and, not recoiling in horror from betrayal and murder and a decimated corpse, locking it up and throwing away the key, to take it and examine it and think for a second before destroying another life

Write me a world where a young man, terrified and heartbroken and completely lost, is handed a new world and a tiny human life as he walks out of Ministry security

Write me a world where a one-year-old laughs for the first time in a week when he sees his godfather, who comes for dinner every thursday night and throws him highest in the air - even higher than daddy - where is daddy - begins to whimper then laughs again when Sirius picks him out of Minerva’s arms

Write me a Deep Magic written into a stronger, stranger, older bond than DNA, a Dumbledore who sits his old pupil down in his office (with Snape - eyes red and face haggard - and Minerva and Flitwick standing behind) and sits down between them on the desk this child who wraps one tiny chubby hand around one of each of their fingers and grips tight; A Dumbledore who explains as best he can to an exhausted starving 21-year-old “Sirius, Harry’s mother gave her life for son… you are his Godfather and the one they both loved the most, will you love Harry like they did, will you protect him? Because I believe -” And a Sirius Black who cannot shut up (Sirius Black never could shut up), who blurts “YES yes of course please Dumbledore let me look after him, he’s mine now, its my job - I’m sorry I should have - my fault, it’s my (Minerva steps forward and lifts a hand towards his shoulder - he cannot stop saying my fault since it happened) - and, when Harry starts to whine again at the distress in his voice - “dear Merlin he’s soaking why has no-one changed him yet, I’m sorry, lil’ man -” (and Minerva lets the hand fall).

Write me a new visitor at the Weasleys’ that night, because “really, Sirius, you can’t keep him there now the place is freezing and trust me dearie I’ve got seven already one more bottle won’t make a difference now go and have a shower and NO I won’t hear of it you are STAYING THE NIGHT now look Bill dear, yes, he’s Harry, you’re right, no, a bit younger than Ron, I think, that’s right Sirius dear isn’t it, he’s…” but Sirius has already gone for a shower and the hot water rushes down his back like pure relief that finally, finally, here’s something like normality and finally, finally, he lets himself cry for his best friends, for his brother, for one more orphan in the world.

Write me a broken man with red eyes and a child who is only happy because he doesn’t understand, but a boiled egg is the best thing either of them could have possibly seen on that night.

Write me a Remus who appears in the middle of the chaos which is egg-and-soldiers-night at the Weasleys’ with a bang that sends the children shrieking and grabs his friend and hugs him tight “damn you damnyoudamnyoutohell Black don’t you ever ever do that to me again where’s Harry” and they both break down again and Molly scolds him for swearing and makes them a cup of tea and Arthur chases the children up to bed and they all sit down in the living room and take stock of this new world and try to tell themselves that now the children will grow up safe, that this is what Prongs and Lily were fighting for.

Write me a Minerva who goes to the Potters’ - and a Hagrid who absolutely insists on ‘helping her’ - and extracts what she can from the rubble and grim-facedly leaved the rest with the wizards who’ve come to begin the clearout and they bring Harry’s cot and blanket (miraculously, somehow, only just a little singed) to the Weasleys’ that very night. Write me a Sirius Black who holds a cup of tea (he never somehow found it in himself to tell Molly he really doesn’t care for tea) tight between his hands and begins to realise slowly (and it will be a slow, slow realisation, but eventually he will get there) that he’s not alone. Write me a Sirius who is exhausted and lost and angry and scared and sad and a room a little too full up of friends and family, and write me hope.

Write me a Harry who smiles a big grin full of exactly three teeth at Kreacher and a Sirius who swallows hard and resolves that this joyful little person won’t grow up in a house full of hate like he did. Write me a master and house-elf who gradually gradually learn to tolerate each other, over many years and with many a bitten-back word.

Write me a Remus who comes over most nights and spends periods living with his friend and their boy, who helps, with Kreacher a bit (he knows what it’s like to be ignored and marginalized and shunned and if Kreacher knew what Remus really was who knows what he’d say, but there’s something between them nonetheless), with Harry more (here, Padfoot, let me read to him - oh Moony thank Merlin I swear one more time through ‘Percy and his bloody purple wand’ and I’ll” - “ok, shh, give him here, come on Harry-my-lad…” ) and with Sirius a lot. Write me friends who help each other heal, and get used to Muggles confusing them for a couple with a son, and the varied reactions and bizarre questions that entails, and when Remus’ mother finally quietly passes away, he moves in for real. Write me a Remus who insists that he cannot take his friend’s charity, and even with all James’ money in trust for Harry and for Sirius as his guardian and all the Black family fortune going to waste will not be convinced until Sirius reaches out and takes his friend’s hand in both of his and says Remus I need you here - and Remus scoffed because Sirius was always such a drama queen and it’s been long enough now that they can joke about this - but at the same time, it’s not quite a joke, and Remus doesn’t suggest leaving after that.

Write me every Sunday lunch at the Weasleys and Harry round to be babysat whenever Sirius has something to take care of or needs time to himself, and Molly trying to teach Sirius how to change a nappy and realising it’s completely unnecessary because who really thinks Lily Potter would have had Sirius hanging about in her house twice a week hyping up her boy and not making himself useful in the slightest, of course he’d have learnt how to change a nappy.

Write me a Minerva who comes by frequently and has Harry to tea at Hogwarts every so often when he gets a bit older, for James and Lily’s sake and to check that young Black isn’t raising too much of a ragamuffin - and for the most part, she and Molly and Remus between them manage a healthy level of manners in a fairly ordinary 6,8,11-year-old boy.

Write me a Harry and Ron who grow up together, an extra slim (but never skinny) dark-haired, pale (but never unhealthily so) brother to an unruly pack of seven, an overgrown garden to race toy brooms in, gnomes to be bitten by and a mother to scold all her children indiscriminately.

Write me a Sirius who comes to collect his godson in time to stay for tea and Molly who says “look there now Sirius!” and Sirius looks out and sees his boy - easy to spot out of among the five gingers fighting over a broom - break away from the group and jump and swing the old cleansweep under him before he hits the ground and zoom away around the treetops laughing “no hands Fred you gnome-end-sucker!” and Sirius feels something sharp clench in his heart because he looks so like James (and James is never ever going to do that stupid move ever again) so it’s grief, fresh as the first month, but also he is six, how can he already do that jump thing? so it’s also pride and, scariest of all he is six, that language - and he finds there are tears streaming down his cheeks and he can’t speak too well and Molly just sits him down and gives another of her interminable cups of tea (he doesn’t mind them so much now) and pats him on the shoulder, and he glances up and sees that there are tears in the corners of her eyes, too. But he drinks the tea and it passes and by the time the children come in complaining about something and clamouring for cake there’s no sign of anything amiss.

Write me a Harry who grows up with a godfather who makes mistakes, who cries and shakes some nights with flashbacks that overtake him, who never had good parents of his own and isn’t too sure what they look like exactly, but damned if he won’t do all that he can for his friend’s boy - and not even his friends’ boy, either, his boy, his Harry, because really, in the end, what is a godson but a son by another name, and what is blood but love? Write me a Harry who grew up with stories of his parents from anyone who would tell them, pictures around the house (Sirius wonders whether to black Peter out of them, but this house has had enough blacked-out faces, and that was the best part of his life, after all) and no real family, but plenty enough friends to be getting on with.

Write me parties at Christmas with the old Order and their children because if there’s one season Sirius will make an effort for its Christmas and Grimmuld Place is the best venue for things like this. Write me a house too big for just two lads, but more often than not it’s three, (eventually permanently three) and sometimes more, (Hagrid fills up a room himself, every so often in the holidays) and Sirius is never ever used to how much noise and life one 9-year-old boy can instill in the gloomiest of houses, and surely he never had this much energy? (On reflection, yes, he did, definitely, probably more).

Write me a Dumbledore who watches and waits and prays - very un-wizardly habit, that, but he always had his eccentricities - and hopes. He hopes he is right and he hopes against hope that it will never be necessary to test his theories and Voldemort will never return and he hopes that nothing will change. He hopes that he was right to make the choices he did. But when Harry arrives at Hogwarts at the age of 11, healthy and happy and loved, with someone to hug him goodbye at the station and a friend to sit with on the carriage already and a “yes!” fistpump when the hat shouts “GRYFFINDOR!” which - though he will never ever know it, who is to tell him? - is exactly the same gesture his father made when he received the same sorting twenty years ago - when he sits down with a little bit of overawed wonder in the green eyes, which is exactly how his mother looked, and waves to Hagrid, and turns to speak to the bushy-brown-haired girl next to him because she looks even more scared than he feels and Remus told him he should look for someone who looks like that and say hello, and starts to tell her what he plans to write home to his godfather about, and what will she write to her parents, he knows they’ll be so excited to hear about all of this I mean LOOK at it, look at Hogwarts, isn’t this GREAT? (and the very tense Muggle-born girl is relaxed enough to listen to someone else for the first time since Neville introduced himself on the train) - Dumbledore smiles. He won’t know how his choices pan out, and he won’t know what the future holds - but right now (and Minerva, watching the Sorting but with a smile to spare for her young Harry James, so grown up, agrees) it seems like the best that could have been.


Today’s a special day! Today is not only Father’s Day, but Alex and Ariel Hirsch’s birthday! Let’s celebrate by cracking open your copy of Journal 3, prepping your blacklight and invisible ink pens, and jotting down everything here in the special edition so you can have a copy for yourself without resorting to eBay or shady second-hand Craigslist deals!

I was lucky number 02149 to get a copy of the special edition of Journal 3. Well, lucky as in “I could afford to buy it and pre-ordered it back in March the exact day I heard about it going on sale.” Still, I am PSYCHED to share this with everyone! Admittedly I didn’t take photos of every single page – only the ones with black-light effects that were more than ink spatters. Some I had to take [kinda big] pictures of individually, to be able to read the text properly, and others were multi-page spreads that I couldn’t resist capturing in their beautiful glowy glory.

Of course I’ll be captioning them all for you, in case you can’t download/read them. Also, there’s a few secret codes in here! But did you really expect anything less? Also also, this is a 9 page word document (not counting pics), so I’m splitting it up into 3 parts. Especially considering the size of these pictures. 

Keep reading

Hogwarts and Ilvermorny

So a lot of people have been trying to figure out which Hogwarts house = which Ilvermorny house, but I don’t think that can be done. The two school’s houses represent different things about a person.

Hogwarts houses show what is important to you, and what you value. Ilvermorny houses, however, show who you are, and how you define yourself.

So there are a lot of cross overs with the eight houses, and the combinations narrow down who you are, in my opinion, anyway.

Because of this, I came up with my own guide to the house combinations.


-Horned Serpent: These Gryffindors are more reserved and analytical. While still passionate, brave, and daring, these witches and wizards don’t rush headfirst into anything, and think things through.

-Wampus: These Gryffindors are very protective. They are passionate and fight to the death for what/who they believe in. They never give up.

-Pukwudgie: These Gryffindors are very open minded and understanding. They accept differences in everyone, and won’t tolerate discrimination or bullying.

-Thunderbird: These Gryffindors are quite the multitasking kind. Very ‘shoot while asking questions’. They see what they want and go for it, but still take the time to clean up the messes they make along the way, because they know it’s the right thing to do.


-Horned Serpent: These Ravenclaws, despite their many traits, are almost all mind. They choose the smart thing to do because of how it will result. They don’t think twice about complications, because they have too much pride to ever believe there would be any.

-Wampus: These Ravenclaws are very energetic and passionate. They’ll argue their opinion to the end of the earth, and even if they know that they’re wrong, they would never admit it.

-Pukwudgie: These Ravenclaws are kind of oddballs. They love creativity and always try their hardest to find the good in everything. If they believe in something, they do it wholeheartedly. They are always ready to hear someone else’s point of view as a way of trying to understand others.

-Thunderbird: These Ravenclaws are as curious as they come. They love learning about new things and are the ones that immediately want to try it themselves, even if they don’t know how yet.


-Horned Serpent: These Hufflepuffs do so much for others that they often forget about themselves. They have determination beyond comprehension and always figure out the best ways to succeed in whatever they do.

-Wampus: These Hufflepuffs have more love to give than humanly possible. They see the good in everyone, and accept the bad. They go out of their way to make people feel loved and included.

-Pukwudgie: These Hufflepuffs are as understanding as they come. They always notice when others need a shoulder to cry on and will give it no matter the person. They welcome everyone and refuse to discriminate.

-Thunderbird: These Hufflepuffs are the most excitable. If they hear about something interesting, it becomes their new obsession. Yet as soon as they’ve fulfilled the desire for it, they begin looking for the next interesting thing to get exited about. It’s a never ending cycle of wonder for these Hufflepuffs.


-Horned Serpent: These Slytherins are very successful. If they see their goal, they will work non-stop until they’ve reached it. When focusing on the ‘big picture’ these Slytherins often forget to take care of themselves, only giving them more to do later on.

-Wampus: These Slytherins are the most competitive. If they’re proposed a challenge, they tackle it with everything they have, and love doing so. It always gives them an unexplainable rush. As soon as they’ve succeeded, they’re out looking for the next challenge.

-Pukwudgie: When these Slytherins love something, all else is forgotten. They put their heart and soul into what/who they love and would fight to the death to keep it. Anything that is related to it, or that reminds them of it, makes these Slytherins very happy.

-Thunderbirds: These Slytherins love keeping busy, and have seemingly endless determination. Their emotions are always as intense as can be, and they hate backing down from a challenge. They don’t know how to give up, and will always do their utmost to come out on top, for they hate when things end badly.

(You can also find this post on my Wattpad account, StarCrossedThoughts. It’s in the story Life, Love, and Then Some)

catfruits  asked:

Okay, so, I'd love to read a little something by you set in a world where Lavender made it out of the Battle of Hogwarts. Maybe not okay, but alive?

Once upon a time, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her. She had been the kind of kid who put on dramatic plays for her stuffed animals, for any visitors to the house, and for any neighbor or passersby she could snag from the front yard.

Dating Ron in sixth year had been fun, most of all because everyone had kept sneaking glances at her. She had heard her name in curious whispers and she had grinned and giggled into Parvati’s shoulder.

Everyone was looking now, or pretending not to. She heard the whispers– oh it’s that poor Brown girl. Can you imagine, if it was your daughter, if it was you? Oh and she was so pretty before, too–what a pity–almost makes it worse, doesn’t it?

“You know Professor Lupin was a werewolf?” Hermione said, ten minutes into a very awkward lunch she had asked for in an equally awkward letter.

Lavender pushed a sauteed carrot through a little puddle of pasta sauce. “I think everyone heard about that one. Someone told the papers, or something, right?”

“Er, yes,” said Hermione. “Snape did. Which is what I– I mean, it’s related. Oh, I wish you’d gotten to talk to Remus about this. He was a lovely man.”

“Not as lovely as Lockhart,” Lavender said and she and Hermione spent a moment in wistful remembrance. “God, I feel old,” Lavender said.

“Anyway, Snape,” said Hermione. “Snape and Lupin. When Lupin was at school, Snape would make him a potion that would… tame him, on full moons. He could just curl up in his office and sleep by the fire. If you’re interested, I’m trying to learn how to brew it myself.”

Lavender shook her head. “We’re not friends,” she said. “Never have been. So why are you doing all this?”

Hermione looked like she was trying to say “we’re friends,” but she couldn’t get it out. “I was there, once, when Lupin turned without the potion. I was so scared. I thought we were going to die.”

“Afraid I’ll sniff you out on a dark night?” Lavender said, face twisting as she sank back into her wicker chair.

“No, I–” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, and all the hesitation was making Lavender more and more uncomfortable. Even at eleven, Hermione had bulldozed through things. She didn’t waver. “I was so scared, but I think it was even worse for him. It hurt, but he looked so scared, too, I–”

“I know how it feels,” said Lavender, very quietly, and Hermione snapped her mouth shut. Lavender took a big sip from her tea. It was still steaming– it had not taken long to exhaust small talk, between the two of them.

Hermione cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to make amends. I’m trying to– make things better. Do you want this?”

Lavender put her mug back down, shaking out scalded fingers, and said, “Yes.” Then, because her mother had raised her right, she said, “Thank you.”

“That sounds like a weird conversation,” said Parvati, whose door Lavender went and knocked on after she and Hermione had split the bill with the precise-to-the-Knut math of the vaguely acquainted and recently employed.

Lavender kicked through the fall of autumn leaves that had collected in front of the porch swing. “She was trying to be nice, I think.”

“She’s not very good at it,” said Parvati.


Her father wept. He tried not to but he was a crier, always had been.

“You were so brave,” said Lavender’s mother, cupping her cheeks in her warm hands and not even flinching at the scar tissue under her palms. “We are so proud.”

Lavender’s mother was a Muggleborn, daughter of a math teacher and a door-to-door salesman (“now there is a profession that requires some magic,” her grandfather used to tell her).

Her father was a wizard and he was trying hard not to cry, bending down to pet the dogs weaving between all their ankles. Lavender bent down, too, scratching behind Fiddlestick’s floppy ears while Mopsy cleaned her cheek forcefully. “Hey,” she said, and her father looked up, trying to firm his wobbly chin.

“You know I’m proud of you, too,” he said, trying not to tremble on it. “I just…” He reached out to squeeze her knee gently. “You did everything right. You did everything good. I’m so proud of you, chickadee.”

“I know,” she said, and she did. He was a Gryffindor, too.


It took Hermione more than a month to figure out the potion sufficiently well enough that she’d let Lavender try it. She was founding a non-profit for nonhuman rights, too, after all, as well as doing a fair few local speaking gigs, petitioning the Wizenagamot on a half dozen issues, getting an advanced degree, and supposedly, at some point, sleeping.

It took more than a month, so Lavender spent another night locked in her parents’ newly fortified cellar. She didn’t remember much, but she woke up with her throat sore and her nails ragged. The door was gouged from the inside. She wondered if she had been screaming. She wondered if that’s what the howls were. She felt like screaming, maybe, a little.

The door cracked open the moment the moon had dropped down below the horizon, outside. Her mother came in with a tray of her favorite breakfast foods– danishes and boiled eggs, steaming hot cocoa with the barest splash of bitter coffee in it.

Parvati came stomping down the stairs after her. “Graceful,” said Lavender. She winced at the roughness of her voice.

“Look who’s talking,” said Parvati. “Up, c'mon, eat your breakfast. We’re doing midnight manicures. Your dad says he’ll let us doll up his nails, too.”

The next full moon night, Lavender locked herself in the cellar again. “It should be safe,” Hermione had said. “It should. I mean, I’ve done all the tests. I followed all the instructions. It should work.”

Lavender didn’t remember, because she never remembered– she didn’t recall the cellar door unlocking and opening after ten minutes of post-moonrise silence. She didn’t recall Parvati Wingardium Leviosa-ing a comfy chair down the stairs, or her sitting down and pulling out a stack of Witch Weeklys, nor did she remember curling up on Parvati’s fuzzy button slippers and going to sleep.

But she did remember waking up in the morning, her cheek pressed into a soft pillow. She was tattered under a thick blanket, but she was human and looking upward at Parvati’s slack, sleeping face. Her dark plaits tumbled, curling, over the soft pink polka dots of her pajamas.

Lavender pulled herself up to sitting, stole the open Witch Weekly, and waited for Parvati to wake up.


“You’re going to be alright,” Professor Trelawney said and she wasn’t even looking at Lavender’s palm, just holding her hand tight in her cold fingers. “You’re going to be happy. You’re going to be fine. People are going to love you and stand by you and we will be there.”

The tower room was just the same as Lavender remembered it, down to the spicy-sweet tea and Trelawney’s big blinking eyes. Lavender squeezed her hands back. “I love you, too, professor.”

“You know, I think you can call me Sybil. It seems the time for it.”

Dean and Seamas’s housewarming for their ugly little first flat was a crowded mess, but the afterparty wasn’t. Lavender and Parvati came by with paint swatches, opinions, and hangover remedies. They ate greasy Chinese food on the floor, because it was about as comfortable as the couch.

They came back the next week, and the next. Parvati conjured a crackling fire in a big fruit bowl Dean’s mother had given him and they all sat around it like they were back at Gryffindor Tower’s hearths, procrastinating on homework.

On nights like that they sometimes talked about Hogwarts, but most of the time they didn’t. Dean had started drawing again and he walked them through his notebooks– his sisters, caricatures of the customers he dealt with in Ollivander’s wand shop, the snarky little comics he’d always scrawled in the edges of his notes. Parvati told them about the Auror trainees’ antics, going ut on their first field missions with their mentors. “All bravado and caffeine,” she said. “Bunch of show-offs.”

“So you fit in well, then?” Dean said.

“Nah, that’s Lav,” Parvati said. Dean and Seamas glanced warily at Lavender, but she just giggled and reached for another potsticker.

Seamas was considering going back to school. “Hermione’s been badgering me about it,” he said. “Says I have a talent for pyrotechnics, and there’s a whole major for fire magics at Brinxley.”

“What about you, Lav?” said Dean. “You still thinking about vet school?”


“Oh, uh, that’s the Muggle word. Veterinarian– a medimagizoologist?”

“The schools aren’t too interested in a werewolf as a student,” Lavender said, shrugging.

“Not that that stops Hermione from showing up on the doorstep with half-penned anti-discrimination lawsuits she wants Lav to star in,” Parvati said.

“When does she sleep?” said Dean.

Little children asked about it in the street sometimes. “Mum, why’s her face like that?” “How come she’s walking all funny?”

Sometimes their parents turned to Lavender with eager bright eyes in the grocery store line, expecting her to answer. (“I got hurt, but I’m okay now.”) Sometimes they shushed their kids and gave her little apologetic half-smiles, glancing away from the raised lines of scar tissue. Sometimes they pulled their children closer to them and crossed to the other side of the street.

Harry Potter had a godson. Teddy Lupin was four the first time Lavender met him, just outside Gringotts. Teddy clung to Harry’s pants leg, peeking past his godfather’s hanging robe. “Why’d her face do that?” he said and Harry dropped a hand down into Teddy’s hair, which was bright green.

“She’s just like your dad,” said Harry.

“Puppy,” Teddy whispered, eyes wide with joy, and his skin shifted until scars stood out stark on his smiling chubby cheeks.

Lavender bit her lip and sank down to her knees in the street, holding out a hand. “Why aren’t you handsome, chickadee. What’s your name?”

Once, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her.

She hated stories that told you to be careful what you wished for. Were you not supposed to want things? Was that the answer? She was nearly twenty two and she could make things fly with a few whispered words. She had lived through her seventh year at Hogwarts, had stepped out into that battle with her wand out and her eyes open. She had woken up–hurting, wounds tended, poison in her veins–to Parvati sleeping on Sybil’s shoulder at her bedside.

She had cried when they told her about the lycanthropy. She had cried over her bunny because a fox had gotten to it. Both times it had been with her face buried in Parvati’s shoulder and Parvati’s hands stroking her hair. She wished and she wanted– animals that never left you, bodies that never betrayed you.

Once, Lavender had wished that everyone would look at her, and now they were. Everyone was looking– so Lavender held Parvati’s hand in the grocery store at midnight, because they had both been craving green apples. Everyone was looking– so Lavender curled her hair and pinned it up, wore tank tops and little skirts on any day hot enough that she could get away with it, laughed aloud in public spaces. Everyone was looking– so Lavender knocked on Hermione Granger’s door one evening and asked, “What would it take to get me into magical vet school?”

Hermione had her bushy hair all tied back and a quill behind each ear. “A lot. There’s some statutes we’ve got to fight, and even if we can handle that you’ll still be under intense scrutiny for years.”

“I can work with that,” said Lavender, and Hermione grinned.

When Teddy marched down the aisle with the rings, his hair was a shimmering swirl of pink and purple to match the flowers woven into Parvati’s braids and Lavender’s curls.

The honeymoon would be short–a week in magical Paris in the townhouse of a Beauxbaton girl they’d befriended fourth year. Lavender had more medical textbooks packed into her luggage than anything else. Parvati’s bags were lined with half-finished reports that she’d owl to Auror headquarters from a rumpled Parisian morning, getting croissant crumbs in the bedsheets.

But for now the hall was filled with pink and purple blooms, white candles, familiar faces. Hermione stood in a violet bridesmaid’s dress, and Dean and Seamus in matching ties at Parvati and Lavender’s respective backs. Padma was luminescent with joy over Parvati’s shoulder. She had taken Lavender aside that morning for a short quiet walk in the mist and told her, “I know tonight’s what makes it official, but I’ve thought of you as my sister for years.”

When Lavender leaned forward and kissed her wife, her father burst into proud tears in the front row. He was a crier, always had been. Lavender buried her face in Parvati’s shoulder, smiling so hard she thought she might come apart. Her scars creased and puckered in her dimples, and she was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

(Note: This is the part 2 of the interview. To read part 1, click here.)

Stephen Anderson began his career at Disney as a storyboard artist on Tarzan. He then served as Head of Story on The Emperor’s New Groove and Brother Bear, before making the leap to director on Meet the Robinsons.

So how did Stephen first hook up with Disney, and how many Meet the Robinsons-related anecdotes can I squeeze from his brain? Let’s find out in the second part of our EXCLUSIVE three-part interview…

Part 2: Working at Disney

The Disney Elite: You started your career at Disney as a storyboard artist on Tarzan. How did that come about?

Stephen Anderson: I got to Disney through a colleague at Hyperion. I became friends with Kevin Lima, who came to Hyperion to direct a feature adaptation of Thumbalina. His co-director was Chris Buck, who had been my animation teacher at CalArts. I helped out on that film as much I could because I loved the idea and I loved working with those two. Eventually the project got shelved and those guys left. Kevin went to Disney and directed A Goofy Movie and after that, Disney wanted him to direct Tarzan. He chose Chris Buck as his co-director and so, because of those connections, I was able to become a part of their story team on Tarzan. We’ve all heard that cliche about how so much of success is who you know? This was a perfect example of that.

The Disney Elite: After working in Story on Tarzan, The Emperor’s New Groove and Brother Bear, you made the leap to director on Meet the Robinsons. Would you explain how you made that huge transition?

Stephen Anderson: First off, the only thing I wanted to do more than be an animator was to be a director. In fact, directing (and screenwriting/filmmaking in general) really took over the older I got. As a teenager, I started seeing more diverse kinds of movies, learning about filmmakers, reading about how movies are made, about screenplay structure, about what a director is, and I grew to love the idea of moviemaking. It was really the films of Steven Spielberg that changed my path and made me want to be a director. First off, the level of emotion and audience reaction that I saw and felt when I watched his films was something I wanted to be able to give to an audience someday. Loving his films then made me want to learn more about him so through reading articles and interviews and watching ‘making of’ specials, I decided that that’s what I wanted to do. So this was always the goal beyond the goal.

After Tarzan, I became interested in pursuing the Head of Story role and was fortunate to be asked to fill that role on Groove and on Brother Bear. I had asked, before Brother Bear, if I could be considered for a directing position in the future so we were already having that conversation. Since I’d been performing leadership roles, they were open to the idea. I helped develop a project for the studio on the side, during the last year of Brother Bear, with the thought that if it continued, I’d be the director. It did NOT continue. I finished Brother Bear, moved back to California (because we had to relocate to Orlando for that project), and was then handed a script for A Day with Wilbur Robinson

The Disney Elite:Meet the Robinsons was one of Disney’s early entries into CG animated features. While Pixar had already released such brilliant films as Toy Story, Toy Story 2 and The Incredibles, over at Disney there was just Dinosaur and Chicken Little. Was Meet the Robinsons always intended as a CG film, and were you at all nervous and/or hesitant about making it one?

Stephen Anderson: Boy, the memory is getting hazy but, as far as I can remember, MtR was always intended to be a CG feature. Yes, in fact I remember that while I was still on Brother Bear, the announcement was made that the studio was transitioning out of hand drawn. I was slightly anxious about doing CG just because it was something new I had to learn on top of already trying to learn how to be a good director. But to me, the creative stuff is always the biggest challenge and the thing that occupies my mind most of the time. Disney has the best people in the world so I’m always confident that the movie will look good, sound good, etc. And I was lucky to have such great artistic and technical leadership surrounding me. I trusted them to help me out if I was confused or uncertain about the technology. They all gave me a boot camp in computer animation at the beginning so I felt like I had a pretty good foundation starting out and I felt safe asking about anything I didn’t know.

The Disney Elite: Meet the Robinsons was the first of Disney’s CG films that made me think, “Now THIS is the perfect pairing of film and format!” The slick, shiny surfaces of the CG at that time really served to complement the futuristic, retro/moderne look of your film. Not only that, but while Pixar was aiming more and more for a photorealistic approach to their animation, your cartoon was, well, CARTOONY! And not just the backgrounds and characters, but also the animation itself. For a relatively early CG film, you got some gorgeously goofy character animation in there! If you wouldn’t mind, would you make a list of the films – animated or otherwise – that you used as inspiration for Meet the Robinsons?

Stephen Anderson: Well story-wise, we looked at the movie You Can’t Take It With You. It’s also about an eccentric family with quirky personalities and passions. Bill Joyce, the author/illustrator of the book that MtR is based on, told me that You Can’t Take It With You was a huge influence on him when he was creating the Robinson family. With our art director, Robh Ruppel, we talked a lot about The Wizard of Oz and how that movie goes from a sepia palette to a Technicolor palette and that influenced the look of the distant past (when we see Lewis’ mother giving him up it’s sepia) and the future (bright, bold and Technicolor). With the animators, we looked at scenes of Jim Carrey as inspiration for both Wilbur and Bowler Hat Guy. Also a lot of Looney Tunes. We used to say that Lewis is a Disney character and Wilbur and the Robinsons are Warner Looney Tunes characters. Lewis moves in more of a solid, natural, Disney-type of animation and the Robinsons are zippier and invade your personal space more like Looney Tunes characters. Those are some of the main influences I can think of.

The Disney Elite: Another wonderfully cartoony element of the film is your choice of voice-actors. The voice-work often reminds me more of 1960s Hanna-Barbera cartoons than anything Disney was doing at the time. I mean, there are some really unexpected picks in there (Batman’s Adam West, Roseanne’s Laurie Metcalf, There’s Something About Mary’s Harland Williams), all of whom do an AMAZING job. Oh, and then there’s YOU – voicing not one, not two, but THREE characters, including the mustache-twirling Bowler Hat Guy! Care to share the story behind that bit of kismet casting?

Stephen Anderson: Thank you for saying that about our voice actor choices. I’ve always been such a fan of those classic voice actors and I liked approaching our casting that way. We thought it best to not go with big names, but just solid character performers. To me, actors who have experience in theater, sketch comedy and improv are really best for animation because they know how to create strong and clear characters.

As far as my involvement goes, it’s pretty simple. I’m sure you know about the work-in-progress reels that we create, where we take our story boards and cut them to temp vocals, music and sound fx. Well, I did the temp voices for those characters and, after several screenings with my voice in there, folks just got used to it and eventually I became the voice of those characters. It was the same with other members of the team. Frankie the Frog, Uncle Gaston and Lewis’ coach, Lefty the butler, the t-rex that BHG unleashes - those were all voiced by members of the story crew.

The Disney Elite: Meet the Robinsons is one of those rare movies that makes me tear up every time I watch it. This is all the more rare seeing as how for most of the film, it’s funny, funny, FUNNY. It seems to me like this kind of emotional punch can only be created when a writer/director is willing to put their own emotions and experiences into their work. Was this true for you? And if so, would you mind sharing a bit of your personal story that effected the story being told in Meet the Robinsons?

Stephen Anderson: The adoption part of the story was not in Bill Joyce’s original book. That was something that two development executives and a writer had built in to the first draft of the script, long before I’d come on to the project. When the studio handed me that script, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. While my story differs from Lewis’, I still totally identified with his quest to know who his mother is and to find out why she gave him up. And the studio had no idea that I was adopted so it was a complete coincidence. Because I understood Lewis so well, I was able to bring out that emotional side much more. It was there in the original draft, but I felt we could strengthen it.

The theme of 'Keep Moving Forward’ evolved out of early discussions about adoption and my personal feelings about it. My parents were very open with me about it and told me I was adopted at a very early age. They used to tell me that when I became 18, I could access my records and find out who my birth parents were and that they would support me in that. So for many years, I looked towards that age as a big milestone and I was determined to find out where I came from. Then one day, I realized my 18th birthday had come and gone and I’d totally forgotten about starting this search. I’d gotten distracted by life, CalArts, starting a career, getting married, etc. And I was so lucky to have been adopted by such a loving family. What would finding my birth parents change? Nothing really. In fact, I’ve heard stories about people having very negative experiences reconnecting with birth parents and that sometimes it makes things worse for them. So the important thing was to not focus on the past but on the positive present and the promising future. And that helped us all realize that that’s exactly what Lewis is going through too.

The Disney Elite. Wow. I’m damned near speechless. That right there made my day, my week, my YEAR. That was incredibly moving and inspiring, Stephen. Thanks so much for sharing that.

Thursday: In Part 3 of our interview, Stephen Anderson tells us about his life at Disney post-Meet the Robinsons. There’s his work as director on Winnie the Pooh, his place in Disney’s famed ‘Story Trust’…oh, and his upcoming, TOP SECRET animated feature film project! He’ll also offer some GREAT advice for folks hoping to make art their life. If this sounds like YOU, make sure to come back and check it out. I hope you’ll join us!

All art via Stephen Anderson’s Instagram

NOTE: This interview would not have been possible without the kindness and assistance of tumblr user Morgan – a.k.a. that-guy-in-the-bowler-hat. Morgan runs the internet’s PREMIER Meet the Robinsons archive and fansite. If you are a fan of MtR, you MUST check out his tumblr a.s.a.p.!

Kiss Me Not -Part 4-

Find Part One Here!

Story time!

Harry woke with a start as Hermione dropped herself and a pile of books on the end of his bed, “Wha-! Hermione?” He rubbed his eyes and then scrubbed his hair, blinding reaching up next to his pillow where he put his glasses and then sleepily sliding them on.

“It’s nearly time for lunch so I thought I’d better wake you so you don’t miss it and also to tell you what I’ve found,” Hermione said all in a rush, already flipping open one of her books.

“Lunch?” Ron groaned from the next bed, shoving his blankets down and stretching.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Yes, lunch. You slept through breakfast.”

Ron slowly sat up and looked around the empty dorm, “Harry slept through too,” he pointed out.

Hermione shook her head, “Yes but Harry didn’t sleep much last night so it doesn’t count.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of a lie in, it is sunday after all,” Ron muttered as he stood, stumbling over to Harry’s bed and sitting down next to him, “Nightmares?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, feeling his cheeks start to get hot. With a few hours sleep and the morning light to separate him from what had happened the night before, the whole, not kissing anyone thing, seemed a bit silly and a lot more embarrassing.

“Harry says he’s never kissed anyone, that he’s been repelled from every person he’s tried,” Hermione said in her no-nonsense, academic tone.

“Wot? Like every-everyone?” Ron asked, his brow furrowed, “Even Ginny?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, even her. But last night-”

“It’s surprisingly hard to find much research on magical signatures and how they interact,” Hermione cut him off, “What I have found written about it makes it sound like a fun little side project the author just tinkered around with. The general impression I got is that your situation is very, very rare. So rare it’s not mentioned at all. I’ve been thinking of looking into the medical books. Maybe’s it’s a magical medical condition of some sort…”

Ron yawned, “So it’s like The Princess and Priestess then?”

“The what?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked up from her book in confusion, “What are you talking about, Ron?”

Ron looked from Hermione to Harry, “It’s a fairy-story. Do muggles not have that one?”

“Guess not,” Harry said, whose knowledge of children’s stories was fairly limited thanks to the Dursleys.

Hermione shook her head, “I’ve never heard of it. What in the world does it have to do with Harry’s predicament?”

“It’s kind of the same thing, really,” Ron said, his brow scrunching up in thought, “It’s been ages but it goes kinda like: A long time ago there was a Princess of this kingdom and she was supposed to marry this other Prince bloke but on the day of their wedding, they couldn’t kiss,” He raised his hands, showing a gap between the two of a few inches, “and in their culture, the marriage couldn’t happen if the kiss didn’t happen. So the King arranges for more princes, and none of them can kiss her. So he calls in all the nobles, and none of them can kiss her either.

“And the King’s so worried about his daughter not getting married and being alone for the rest of her life, he says anyone who can kiss her can have the Princess’ hand in marriage. The whole kingdom gets flooded with people hoping to get lucky, lines going around the city, people camping for weeks to get a chance and over and over again, no one can kiss the Princess. She’s really upset about all of this-”

“As she should be!” Hermione said, “Being treated like cattle. Doesn’t she get any say in this?!”

Ron smiled lopsidedly, “Mione, let me finish. It was a long, long time ago and a fairy story. Anyway; she’s upset and starts going to the temple every night to pray to their gods. At night only a single Priestess watches the temple and they start talking to one another, becoming friends. Until soon the Princess is coming to the temple to see the Priestess rather than pray and they’re talking all night, every night.

“One day Princess realizes she’s in love with the Priestess but since she can’t kiss anyone they’ll never be able to be together. She tells the Priestess she’s going to kill herself because she’s so unhappy and can’t live without her. The Priestess begs her not to and tells her that she loves the Princess more than anyone in the world.”

“She was going to kill herself?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Fairy-stories,” Ron said with a shrug as if that explained it all, “They decide to get married. Even if they can’t kiss, they want to spend the rest of their lives together. The King agrees because he’s never seen his daughter so happy before. They say their vows and then they kiss, as easy as anything because it’s true love and they’re perfect for each other, happily ever after, the end and all that guff.”

Hermione looked sceptical, “And you think this story is about magical signatures and that the Princess’ was so… different, it repelled everyone but the Priestess.”

“Right and the Princess and Priestess were absolutely perfect for one another, that’s why they could kiss. Every kid from a magic household knows the story. It’s in pretty much every book collection of the old stories.” Ron said, “Ginny really liked it when she was little. Bill too, always a bit of a romantic our Bill.”

Hermione sighed, “It’s not terrible for a fairy tale but it doesn’t really help Harry.”

“He just has to find his Priestess,” Ron said and grinned in a mischievous way, “Shouldn’t be too hard, the whole wizarding world would gladly kiss you now. Once they find out you’re like the Princess, you’ll be beating them off with sticks.”

Harry couldn’t look them in the eye. His whole face felt hot.

Was Draco Malfoy-?

“Only one person?” Harry asked faintly.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 (you are here!)~ Part 5 ~  Part 6 ~

It’s nearing the end of his second year when suddenly rumors pop up about how Headmaster Dumbledore had convinced someone famous to visit for Career Day. Charlie didn’t pay much mind to the excited whispers and loud debates about who the famous wizard - because wizard not witch is the only thing that everyone seemed to agree on - visiting was and what job they’d be talking about.

“Maybe it’s Mad-Eye Moody,” Charlie had said when his roommates had asked him, starting an argument about whether the Auror was considered ‘famous’ or not.

They found out he was wrong on a Monday - because even though it was called Career Day, it usually spanned over the time of a week due to the guests’ hectic schedules - when a woman called Amelia Bones, Senior Auror she introduced herself, came to represent the DMLE. The talk of potential job prospects - and the electives and grades they’d have to get to be accepted - at the DMLE was followed by a very stern lecture on the consequences of disobeying the law that morphed into the presentations of other Ministry workers.

Ministry Monday, his roommates had called it.

(Really, Charlie was just pleased to see his dad for a bit - sure some of the jobs seemed interesting, certainly they were important, but-…)

Tuesday consisted of the residents of Hogsmede making the trip up to Hogwarts to talk about the jobs there, from things like working at the Three Broomsticks to crafts like carpentry. Wednesday consisted of several people from Diagon Alley showing up such as Madam Malkin who spoke of creating clothing and running a self-own shop to a Gringotts employee who spoke of the kind of work that goblins would have you do - something Bill was so interested in that he skipped classes just to visit (and drag Charlie along) the room the employee had set up shop in.

The most interesting thing about Wednesday, though, had to be when he wandered into the Daily Prophet’s designated room by accident and, within minutes, watched as the wizard talking about the wonders of journalism was hounded by a seventh year witch named Rita Skeeter about a job post-graduation.

Thursday, really, was tame given it was the Hogwarts staff whom took time to speak about their jobs in their free time - Charlie quite liked following Hagrid about as the man showed the tasks he did for the school. Feeding the Giant Squid and help grooming the Hippogriffs who decided to make their home on the grounds was very interesting and, while everyone else made fun of the time he’d 'wasted’ following Hagrid around for the day, Grounds Keeper seemed to be the most interesting job he’d heard about so far.

Friday came and with it the farther flung people, such as a Potioneer who came from Brazil to speak and a professional Broom Racer who’d gotten fifth place in the European Relay, along with Whispers about the 'famous’ person.

Wrote one of the textbooks - Care of Magical Creatures, Charlie heard during breakfast by a group of passing Ravenclaws.

Slytherins, when he was trailing them to listen to the Potioneer, muttered, Works with animals - oh, the shame his family must have felt!

Don’t see how it’s famous, a roommate complained to him at lunch, Sure he wrote a book but it’s a textbook and it’s about animals - it’s nothing interesting like an Auror or the racer!

“He was a Hufflepuff too!” a Hufflepuff said to her friend as they exited a room, “Really, he’s quite nice and his work seems interesting but…I don’t think it’s for me.”

Charlie paused to look at the room the pair had exited, it was empty save for an older wizard who smiled when he saw him, “Oh, hello. Are you lost?”

I was just passing by, was on the tip of his tongue but something - maybe it was the various dismissals of the man’s work he’d heard throughout the day, maybe it was how easily the man assumed that his coming was a mistake - had Charlie shaking his head and going further into the room. “No,” he said instead, “I wanted to learn more.”

“Oh, well, Magizoology isn’t a very popular - or, uh, lucrative - field, not like being an Auror or Quidditch Player.” the man started hesitantly, almost like he expected Charlie to turn around and leave at once. Charlie took a seat. “But, in my years, I’ve never once found it boring.”

Never be unkind, his mother had told them and it was the reason why he entered the room. It wasn’t the reason he stayed, though.

No, that was all genuine interest in what the man - Charlie really wished he’d asked the wizard his name but it seemed kind of awkward to ask now, besides the wizard was talking about a Thunderbird named Frank of all things - was saying. It was like the time spent with Hagrid, except more because the moment with the Giant Squid and the Hippogriffs were fleeting because there were so many other things to being a Grounds Keeper the animal care but this - Magizoology - was all about the animals.

A mention of his time yesterday with the Hippogriffs had the man launching into an excited tangent about the Hippogriff herd - “Though sometimes you’ll hear a group referred to as a 'flock’ but seeing as the horse half of them are the more social bit, it’s commonly agreed that a group is a herd.” the man said - and how it had originated from the wizard’s family’s own herd. Apparently, a group of younger Hippogriffs decided they wanted to try making their own herd and, in an effort to keep the groups from fighting in territorial disputes and from the new herd from being endangered, were relocated to Hogwarts.

Then, the wizard started talking about dragons.

This, Charlie knew deep in his bones as surely as he had known he was a wizard, this is what I want to do when I grow up.

It was startling when Professor McGonagall interrupted them just when they were about to debate if the Horned Serpent might be related to the Hungarian Horntail by way of a common ancestor, “Mr. Weasley, your brother has been looking for you since you missed dinner - it’s past curfew.”

“Oh,” Charlie hunched slightly because he just knew Bill was going to lecture him about not taking proper care of himself. If he was lucky, he’d manage to convince his brother not to owl their mother about him 'starving’ himself - again.

“He’s not in trouble, I hope," the man said hurriedly, "It was really my fault, I lost track of time-”

Professor McGonagall glanced at the papers strewn about - at some point they’d both wound up sitting on the floor as the wizard spread out notes and sketches of creatures to emphasize a point - and said, in a very even voice that made him flush, “So I see.”

It was somewhat relieving to see that the wizard wasn’t immune to Professor McGonagall’s tone, looking rather abashed as he returned the papers with a wave of his wand.

“And no, Mr. Weasley’s not in trouble since, I suppose, he didn’t technically break a rule seeing as he had adult supervision the entire time,” she said, then looked at him sternly, “That being said, it is time for him to go to bed - I will escort you back to Gryffindor tower.”

“It was nice meeting you, I really enjoyed talking to you.” Charlie said, then blurted, “But I never got your name.”

The wizard blinked then laughed, smiling and answering once he calmed, “Newt - my name is Newt Scamander and the pleasure was all mine.”

Parks & Rec but Homestuck

• that one Andy/April/Ben Wyatt scene where Ben comes to live with them and sends them to the store for Basic Necessities, only Andy is Jake, April is Dirk, and Ben is Roxy. Jake and Dirk’s place is a mess. The only food they have is orange soda and leftovers, and they’re eating off frisbees. Roxy comes for a visit, sees the condition of the place, and strongly resists the urge to pound some common sense into these two idiots. She gives them a simple list of things to get, “I have complete faith in both of you!!” It pans away to her confessional. Yeah, she says, there’s a 30% chance they’ll both die.

• Dave and Karkat have not told anyone they’re dating yet and somehow think that means no one knows. One day, Dave goes to visit Rose only to get to her house and find that all the lights are off? Rose? Are you here? Suddenly, Rose is pulling down the string to a lamp dramatically lighting the room. Hello Dave. How long have you been sleeping with Karkat? Dave turns bright red. I don’t even get…why would I…And how- how do I know, frankly, that you aren’t sleeping with Karkat? Maybe you are. Maybe you’re trying to throw me off. Rose stares at him like she’s Ron Swanson. Dave storms off Leslie Knope style.

•Jane walks into a restaurant with her father. It is a breakfast diner. She narrows her eyes at him, a challenge. He sighs in resignation. He knows what is coming. She flags down the nearest waiter. Give me all the bacon and eggs you have, she says. The waiter nods. She waves him back over. Wait, wait, she says. I’m worried that you just heard, ‘give me a lot of bacon and eggs’. What I said was, give me all the bacon and eggs you have. Do you understand. The waiter nods. His eyes are wide as he walks away. Jane’s table is full of bacon and eggs. This is her dream, this is what she’s been waiting for. She does not finish the bacon and eggs. She does not even come close. It was worth it.

•John has been helping Jade and Jane grow a garden. Jade is growing pumpkins, Jane is growing herbs and spices for cooking, and John helps with the manual labor because he loves spending time with them. Karkat comes by to see what’s going on and keeps asking questions because he’s never seen a garden before. It switches to John’s confessional. “Every time Karkat asks me for the names of the plants, I just give him the names of famous old Earth comedians.” The camera switches back to Karkat inspecting some plants with John floating nearby. Those Bill Murrays are coming in great, aren’t they Karkat? I’m so excited for the Betty Whites too!!

• Rose is the literal embodiment of April Ludgate and you cannot convince me otherwise. There is a field near her and Kanaya’s house some of the Earth C citizens would like to use for an event and they ask her and Kanaya if they would mind. Of Course Not, Feel Free To- Rose interrupts. We have a policy in which we unfortunately only reserve large fields for witch covens and slip ‘n’ slide competitions. Which are you? Um, they look at each other extremely bewildered. Neither? We’re hosting a wine tasting competition. Would you like to be the judge of honor? Rose opens her mouth to say yes but Kanaya politely declines on her behalf for Obvious Reasons. Rose is extremely put out. I wanted to get drunk and make fun of stupid people, she sighs dramatically. My two true passions. Those Are Not Your Passions, Rose, I’ve Seen The Inordinately Large Amount Of Wizard Fan Fiction That You Write And Actually Some Of It Is Quite Good- Kanaya please don’t mention that in front of our subjects, goodness gracious. I have a reputation.

•The kids and trolls are having a meeting about some issue in the Carapace kingdom. Terezi keeps making sounds of discomfort. Is everything all right, Jane asks. Yes, Terezi responds, I’ve just been having some pain in my mouth nubs, it’s fine. Do you need to go to a dentist, Roxy wants to know. Terezi shakes her head, I don’t like denterrorists. She reaches into her own mouth, sorry, let me just- NO. NOO. NO. EVERYONE IS SCREAMING. FUCK. STOP THAT NO. Karkat has fainted. Jake ran out of the room. Dirk looks like he’s going to be sick. Terezi grins and holds her tooth in her hand. Right, what were we talking about? It switches to confessional. “Vriska pulled the tooth out for me yesterday, but it’s always a good idea to demonstrate to your peers that you can withstand tremendous amounts of pain.”


Dumbledore never thought the fall from the Astronomy Tower would have taken so long and he thought he knew everything about the castle he lived in for the most part of his life. This was his choice, rarely anything happened to Albus that wasn’t his choice, he somehow always had an upper hand on life, calculating every move meticulously and making sure no one knew how prepared for anything the life may throw his way. 

When his body hit the floor he opened his eyes slowly, checking his surroundings to figure out where he might have ended up at. This wasn’t some illusion, he was dead, this wasn’t Hogwarts but somewhere completely different where he could hear people mumbling. He straightened himself up and got up with the agility of a man his age normally wouldn’t have.

YOU,” shouted a woman in the distance, her hair was still glowing like fire and she was walking to him fast with two man behind him trying to hold her back. “I TRUSTED YOU”

“Lily, please,” pleaded Albus. “Can we talk about this calmly?”

“Calmly??” yelled Lily, her green eyes were drowning in the tears trying to leave. “Are you even aware of the burden you have loaded on Severus? Let alone my son who is just a child.”

“Severus accepted–”

Accepted?” she interrupted throwing her hands up in disbelief. “He said he didn’t want to do this and you made him kill you, in front of Harry.”

She was shaking so much, a beautiful disaster almost, her eyes creating new wounds on Albus’ already fragile skin and making him wish he had ended up in hell instead of here.

“It had to be done for–”

The greater good.” completed Sirius, a disappointed look on his face rather than anger. Albus had kept him locked of for so long but he had to but he had forgotten how handsome the disowned heir of Black house was before he went to Azkaban. “What difference do you have from Grindelwald if you are doing the same things he had done?”

“It’s not the same thing Mr. Black and you know it.”

“I know nothing anymore Professor,” objected Sirius as he ran his hand through his hair. “I thought I knew everything up until two years ago, I thought I knew you too but things change I guess and don’t call me Mr. Black again… please.”

No one talked for a while as Sirius took Lily away to calm her down a little bit, tears streaming down her face as she watched Harry fight everyone who tried to take him away from where Dumbledore’s lifeless body was. James opened his mouth every few minutes to break the silence but he couldn’t do it.

“Do you know how devastated he was?” he asked finally, his voice breaking a little. “Do you know Bill got attacked by Greyback? Do you know Harry tried to do something so bad to Snape because you made a monster of him?”

“James, I never thought I would see the day you worry about Severus.”

“No, no, no,” mumbled James his eyes gleaming with the fury he was trying so hard to keep at bay. “Don’t confuse my worry about my son with my worry about Snape. The way you are straying away from the subject, I think you don’t know shit, Professor.”

“I have made sure to leave a plan behind for Tom’s defeat,” explained Dumbledore, his fingers intertwined and his gaze on the ring he still was wearing. “These weren’t some momentary decisions, I had known I had to die for a good while, sometimes you have to sacrifice–”

“Don’t you dare talk about sacrifice in front of Lily,” shouted James, Dumbledore had finally pushed him off of the edge he was trying to hold onto. “All three of us sacrificed ourselves, too, you are not the only one who tried to do something for–”

“The greater good,” whispered Sirius as he walked back and forth. “You raised him like a pig for slaughter for the greater good?”

“I tried my best to be there for him, there are things you can’t possibly understand,” began Dumbledore his fingers rubbing the burnt skin. 

“If you had been there for him, I would still be alive you know,” said Sirius his voice breaking down in the middle of his sentence. “If you had been there for me as you promised when we joined the Order, I would still be whole.”

“I’m sorry Sirius that you–” he took a deep breath before staring to talk again. “I’m sorry that this happened to you but that was on all of us.”

“If you had been there for him Snape wouldn’t have made his life a living hell,” countered James. “He took his revenge out of my son, not me, my son and you just couldn’t say no to him because he was your Queen in your chess game where you were the King and Harry was nothing more than a stupid pawn.”

“Harry isn’t in the middle of the war because I put him there, Sybill made a prophecy about–”

“You know damn well prophecies don’t have to be carried out!” shouted Sirius, his grey eyes not so pale anymore but burning with anger. “You could have prevented so many things Albus, this could have gone so differently.”

Lily came back slowly from where she was, walked past James and stood right in front of Albus, her tears dried on her face and her eyes determined to hurt the shell of a man standing in front of her.

“You just love to make sure you are not the only one feeling guilty don’t you? Because how else could you have borne leaving Harry at that house?” said Lily, she was visibly calmed down but her disappointment was visible on every inch of her pale skin. “You left him to rot saying that it was the only way he could live, that’s not a reason good enough for me to leave my son in an abusive household Professor. You may have sacrificed yourself as you have sacrificed all of the pawns in your game but I will never forgive you for what you have done to me, my family. My Harry.”

“Harry was never yours to sacrifice,” continued James as he threw his arm over Lily’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “I didn’t die for my son to become a soldier in someone else’s war, Sirius didn’t die so you can continue taking advantage of him and Lily didn’t sacrifice herself even though she could have ran away just so he can die at the hands of Voldemort again. Your plan, Professor, is flawed beyond belief and you are the only one who thinks it will work perfectly.”

“You are a coward, Professor and I always thought you were one of the bravest man I have ever met.”

Albus Dumbledore had been called many names before but it had been years since he had been called a coward, it was safe to say he was scared of the word even since Aberforth looked him in the eye at Ariana’s funeral and said it.


Albus would be the first to admit when he did something wrong, he wasn’t perfect and he knew it. Wizarding World however, ever since he had defeated Gellert, thought that he couldn’t make any mistakes. Tom Riddle had pushed him to make mistakes, sometimes to get to the better days you had to go through the darkest of times and he didn’t expect Sirius, James or Lily to understand that.

When he was left to his own thoughts, Albus had thought about all the mistakes he had made in his life, it was a long list for someone who was thought to be a hero of some sort, he was Harry’s hero although for one he hadn’t seen something coming. The more he thought about it the more he felt the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. The boy he had raised to be a soldier say him as his hero, not knowing half the things he had done. Would Harry have seen him the same if he had known about Ariana? Would he still think Albus was brave if he had known his fate? Harry was a selfless boy, what would have happened if Albus never kept secrets from him?

Albus looked at the trio standing far away from him and decided it was best if he had stayed away for the time being because the more he thought about it, he understood why they were so angry. Harry trusted him and he had broken his trust by not trusting him enough to tell him everything but he had to. Albus had to keep this a secret for everything to work out how he planned them to.

It had to be Severus who killed him, this way he would get the complete trust of Tom and feed him false information. When the time came Snape had to make sure Order didn’t understand he was a spy for them and Harry, well Harry had to die. The moment he had survived the first killing curse, it was certain that Harry was meant for great things but now Albus didn’t know if dying was a great thing to do for a 17 year old child as Lily kept reminding but someone had to make the decisions that were hard to make for others, someone had to do the harder thing but he was a coward after all. 

A coward who had to be the villain in the end to make sure the real villain was defeated. Albus Dumbledore never referred to him as a hero or a brave men, he never was, he hadn’t been brave with Gellert so he was determined not to make the same mistake he did because he was too blind to see back then, this time whatever it took, it wasn’t going to take more lives than it should. He hadn’t been brave with Ariana, he couldn’t save her from herself or the people around her. He wasn’t brave when it came to Sirius, he wasn’t brave when it came to Remus either, he wasn’t brave when it came to the people who he cared about because he was scared.

However Harry, he was brave, he was one of the bravest people Dumbledore had met and that was saying something. He had taken the risk of assuming that Harry would willingly sacrifice himself to save the people he loved and he knew that he was right. Albus was nothing compared to what Harry was, at least that was how he felt as the tall boy insisted he would be the one to do the blood sacrifice in the cave or when he insisted on defeating Voldemort when this wasn’t his war to fight.  

Albus was hell-bent on not having another mistake in his life and if it meant being a coward he was fine with it because he knew deep inside that everything would work out, just fine and it was alright that Sirius, James and Lily didn’t understand just yet, he had to live with the hatred he now know he deserved for a while, at least until the war was over.

You cannot be a hero without being a coward. - George Bernard Shaw


A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE!  FINALLY!  I really hope this is fulfilling for everyone (I’m pretty happy with how it turned out) and enjoyable too.  Also if anyone cares I was listening to Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur a bunch while I wrote this because it’s fluffy and makes me think of Hinny (thanks @ anon who suggested that as a Hinny song!)

So here it is!  All 6,694 words of it :)

Also available on FF and Ao3!

The air in muggle London is still crisp enough that Ginny pulls her jacket tighter around her middle, despite the proclaimed official start of spring.  Since the New Year, her Quidditch schedule has been fairly demanding, the season rapidly moving toward its close, so her contributions to the wedding planning process were minimal.  So when she gets her first two days off in a row, Ginny strikes out for the muggle shops in the hope of beginning and finishing her honeymoon wardrobe.

Despite her seeming disinterest – which is hardly the case – Ginny’s relatively prepared, carefully organized list in hand as she strides down Brompton Road.  Her eyes downcast, she doesn’t see the frowning woman leaving the department store until they’re both nearly sent sprawling.  Ginny grasps the woman’s bony arms and manages to hold them both upright.  “I’m so sorry I was – “

Her voice dies in her throat as she reluctantly takes in the pinched face of Petunia Dursley, looking equally happy to see Ginny.  “Petunia.”



Petunia sniffs, tucking her pocketbook strap firmly into the crook of her arm.  “Are you still – ”

She trails off, looking rather like she’s sucked a lemon, and Ginny can’t quite decide where that sentence was going – ‘still with my nephew?’ ‘still living like a country bumpkin?’ ‘still a freak?’ – so she quirks a brow, her friendliest option for a reply at the moment.

“You and my,” she swallows awkwardly and changes tack slightly, “Harry.”

“Yes,” Ginny answers simply, the ring on her finger glinting in the late morning light.

Petunia’s icy blue eyes zero in on Ginny’s hand and her lips purse further – which Ginny previously would have said was impossible.  She glances around, blonde hair stationary despite the blustery day, and murmurs, “I didn’t expect to see you – here.”

Tamping down her rising anger at Petunia’s tone, Ginny crumples the list in her hand, her voice saccharine.  “Harry and I like to do both, since we tend to get lots of attention when we’re not here, as you termed it.”

Petunia blinks, eyes shuttering a bit but she nods, crisp.  “That sounds true enough,” she eyes Ginny’s ring again, “Can I assume you and Harry are engaged?”

Ignoring the less than congratulatory tone, Ginny nods, “Yes.  We’ll be married later this year.”

Passersby jostle them as the early lunch crowd descends on the nearby restaurants and Ginny futilely hopes Petunia will be swept away with the stream.  But sadly, she’s not, and for some unknowable reason she’s pressing on with the conversation, strained though it is.  “That’s lovely.  I’m.  I’m glad he’s found someone to take him.”

Ginny frowns, unable to repress the growl-like tone of her voice, “It’s no hardship for me, I assure you.”

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Just A Bunch Of Movies That People Should See One Day

Alright so I went way overboard but when I set out to make a list of films people should check out I’m gonna take it a little to seriously.  That being said here’s a shit ton of films that I think everyone should check out if they can. I’m definitely missing a lot but every single one of these is in order by year of release. So here it goes.

Tagging: @daveeddiggsit @skyeethefallenangel @myminddoesmindactually @aryn-the-wolfheart @princessmeegz @ohbelieveyoume @seekret-fanfic @wosushi @thatgirlwhosalwayssinging @miamorbarba

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Nothing Can Beat Home

Originally posted by black-horse-soul

Bilbo Baggins x Siren!Reader

Length: 1680 words

Warnings: not really, just cute!bilbo and domestic!reader, fem reader?


Hobbits were a simple race, who led very simple lives.

Their needs were little; they like to live close to the earth and nature, taking pride in their grass-covered homes and their gardens. Generally, staying away from the troubles of the ‘big people’ of Middle Earth, as well as large bodies of water (due to hobbits often not being able to swim), was how they kept such happy, simple lives. Hobbits found happiness in the simple pleasures of life. Enjoying good food, drinking good ale, smoking good pipe weed, and joining joyous gatherings were all the luxuries they needed in life.

Fitting into the Shire had been a long and arduous process for you – mostly due to you having to understand the significant physical and cultural differences between the siren people, your people, and the hobbits.

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gracelesschoice  asked:

What if Voldemort didn't offer Frank or Alice Longbottom a chance to sacrifice themselves for their child, his offering to spare Lily was only a whim based on a prior request to do so. What if he killed Alice and Frank without hesitation, and was able to kill defenseless little Neville. Then just to be safe, he tracked the Potter's down too. What if Snape didn't find out in time, and Lily was murdered without thought, and Harry shortly after.

What if Voldemort went after Harry and Neville, and gave no one a chance to die for them? What if both Chosen Ones died as children?

Gosh, we didn’t want to pull our punches today, did we. Okay, well, I guess here we go–

Because Voldemort wasn’t gone, because there was not a sudden flood of peace–they didn’t send enough Aurors to take down Sirius Black.

Instead of standing laughing in the street when they came to arrest him, Sirius ran. He Apparated away and went to find Remus, because they still had work to do.

That first meeting, after Remus got the news of Peter’s “death,” of everyone’s, was a difficult one. It was outside the wreck and ruin of the little cottage in Godric’s Hollow and that only made it worse. It had been the only place Sirius had been sure Remus would go that night.

“What a Halloween, eh, Moony?” he said from the bushes and Remus almost cursed him right there, until Sirius managed to shout and dodge and wave his hands enough to explain that they’d switched the Secret Keeper. Sirius started laughing when he saw Remus start to believe him, and it wasn’t the mad laughter of a man who had lost everything, because Sirius hadn’t, not quite.

When Remus buried his head into Sirius’s shoulder, outside the slightly smoking shell of Lily and James’s home, they both cried like the children they were.

In a different world, they would have had this reunion in the scarred confines of the Shrieking Shack, thirteen years too late. In a different world, Sirius would have been gaunt, grimy, gasping with demented fury. Remus would have been washed out, threadbare. They would both have looked far too old for their ages, but there would have been a boy with messy hair and his mother’s green eyes staring accusingly out at them. In a different world, Harry would have hated Sirius until he understood, and then he would have loved his godfather for the rest of his life.

If you asked them, the boys crying on Lily and James’s doorstep, or the skeleton of a wanted man and the wan ghost with the beast living under his skin– if you asked them which world they preferred, they’d have an easy answer for you.

But what did happen, in this story where they buried the Chosen Ones too early and there was no love to bring them back? They kept fighting. The war did not end. Voldemort had seven Horcruxes and he thought he was immortal. For now, he was.

In this world, there was no prophesied boy. Love was not magic; it was only soft touches and quiet words, promises they could not promise to keep. An extra piece of chocolate tucked into a packed lunch. A mother’s favorite earrings passed down and down, hand to hand. Love was not magic. It did not resurrect.

Halloween Night 1981 was one more night in a long fight, to almost everyone. This was not the first time whole families had been lost. This was not the last time they would bury children.

But that night, Augusta Longbottom withered. Peter Pettigrew shivered, somewhere, welcomed into plush halls with open arms. Petunia Dursley found only the milk on her doorstep in the morning.

When Remus took Sirius back to one of his safe houses, Remus drank the same way he had in that other reality–in mourning and not any kind of celebration. But this time, he did not drink alone.

Only Dumbledore curled in on himself over lost opportunity, knowing exactly how much hope they’d lost in those two houses, now empty, now cold. He knew about the prophecies, Sybil Trelawney’s hoarse forgotten promises. He knew how powerful Tom had become and he knew how much weight they had been hoping to put on the shoulders of those two lost boys. He knew Harry had had his mother’s eyes.

(Albus did not know, however, about Neville’s first word or that Harry had refused new, magical toys to instead chew and slobber on Lily’s favorite, soft old doll, which she had carried from a Muggle world to a magical one.

Dumbledore thought about the war that night. It would save lives, this old man and his tired soul, that this was how he mourned. But there were more opportunities lost here than a war one day won; there was a grief here that had nothing to do with strategy.)

“We are lost, Minerva,” Dumbledore said.

Professor McGonagall was trembling, thin and severe with it. “You don’t think that,” she said and she was right. But it was a night to believe thoughts like that. In the morning, there would be new plans, new hopes, but not on this Halloween. Dumbledore took out a lemon drop and sucked on it. Minerva found the fire whiskey. The sun rose, eventually. They called a meeting of the Order the next day.

There was no prophesied boy, but there was still this–dozens of shadowed young faces looking up at Albus and not running, even at the very end of the world. Dumbledore looked out at his chess pieces, pawns and queens; his children and his friends; his collateral damage. He had the beginnings of a plan swelling in his chest.

It would take them decades to get their hands, quietly, on every Horcrux. Tom Riddle had to think they were secret. He had to think he was safe. It would take them almost decades, but one day he would be mortal again.

These dozens of faces–they were mortal now. Alastor Moody could feel mortality in the aches of old broken bones; Andromeda rewrote her own last name, refused to fear sea serpents, and refused to pretend that the serpents could not swallow any one of them whole. Remus and Sirius felt empty, gaping holes in the seats around them, and they made crude, expansive, joyous toasts to friends’ memories.

When Molly first reached over and held Arthur’s hand, they knew this was something that could not last. That was why they held hands, held on, held tight.

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Boggarts and Brothers

Originally posted by spunkyfunkyteen

Words: 3,505

Remus Lupin x Weasley!Reader

Reader is the second oldest Weasley child, between Bill and Charlie, and takes a break from her usual Auror role to help with security at Hogwarts the year that Sirius Black escapes Azkaban. But with her sister still reeling from being possessed by Tom Riddle the previous year, her adopted brother being targeted by a serial killer and falling for the Werewolf professor, this year is going to be anything but quiet.

I’ve added an additional trip to Hogsmeade
As usual not my GIFS.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Mid October may have been the worst time for an afternoon picnic by the treeline of the Forbidden Forest but the permanent blush on your cheeks from Remus’ unwavering attentions kept you warm. He sipped at his drink and offered you a plate of biscuits. You took one and gave him a wry smile, “So Professor, how did you know that these were my favourite biscuits?”
He gave you an embarrassed smile and scratched one of his face scars, “You know when you call me that you age me horribly.”
“Oh but trying to teach my brothers is keeping you young, is it?” You teased, “C’mon Remus spill.”
He rolled his eyes at you, “Your brothers are all entirely capable young wizards and I may have heard them discussing buying you some of these biscuits on their next trip to Hogsmeade.”
“How very sneaky of you Professor.” You laughed.
His eyes twinkled, “Well I know that I have to keep the child happy.”
You sucked in a breath at the insult and narrowed your eyes at him, “Touché Remus.”

He laughed and leaned back onto the picnic mat and picked his book back up, you leaned back on the mat next to him and leafed through your own book, but you couldn’t stop yourself from stealing glances at him over the top of your book. His expression was filled with concentration as he read, occasionally his hand would come up to brush his hair back or absentmindedly touch one of the scars on his cheeks. Remus looked up at you and you quickly looked down at your own book, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. After a moment when you dared to glance up again you noticed him smiling at his book. He’d caught you checking him out, that bastard.
“That book telling you jokes?” You asked.
“No.” He tried to stop himself grinning.
“You’re a dork.” You laughed and pushed at his shoulder so that he fell onto the picnic mat, you laughed and shivered as a breeze took you both.
“And you’re cold.” He scooped his scarf up from where he’d left to folded by the picnic basket, you inclined your head own so that he could wrap the scarf around your neck and helped push your hair away from the scarf.
“That’s better.” He mumbled but didn’t draw back from your closeness. Your face flushed again and with a rush of confidence befitting an Auror you leaned over and kissed his scarred cheek, “Thank you Remus.”

It was his turn to blush but before you could tease him you heard Ron, Harry and Hermione coming down the hill towards your clandestine meeting. Remus sat up straight away from you, “I do think that means you’ll be whisked away.”
“Will you miss me?” You teased and tried to look the picture of innocence.
He gave you a glance over the rest of the picnic that he was packing away, “I’m sure that I’ll find a way to enjoy the peace and quiet for a change.”
You gave him a look of mock offence as you stood, “How dare you? We both know that you’d be bored without me and I’m keeping your scarf by the way.”
You gave him a wave and walked off in the direction of the Golden Trio’s voices. Remus laughed and shook his head to himself and knew that you were right, he would be bored without you. He glanced up at Hogwarts, a place that he’d been dreading returning too for fear of having to confront ghosts of old memories dancing in the hallways but instead it had been like returning home, especially now that he’d met you. Hogwarts was the one place where he’d found himself accepted.


“I knew that logically there would be parts of the castle that I’d never seen but I always thought that me and Tonks had caused trouble in every room in Hogwarts.” You said.
“I could believe that.” Remus grinned and you nudged his arm with your shoulder. Together you walked down one of the forgotten corridors of Hogwarts with your wands in hand the only source of light against the dark night. Remus noted, with a great deal of satisfaction, that you were wearing his scarf as protection against the cold night air. It looked good on you, though he scarcely imagine anything that wouldn’t look good on you.

Dumbledore had come to you an hour ago to ask for your assistance against a rogue Boggart that had found its way into one of the unused wings of the school. Remus, who always struggled to sleep the week before a full moon, was still awake and had coincidentally been in a meeting with Dumbledore when the headmaster had sent for you, had offered his help. If you hadn’t known known better, you would have accused Dumbledore of matchmaking. Thankfully you didn’t feel too bad because the next day was the weekend, so you didn’t need to worry about Remus being tired for his classes.

“Thanks for offering to help.” You told him breaking the silence, you could practically see your breath against the cold air and resisted the urge to breath like a dragon like you knew all your siblings would.
“I wouldn’t have slept much anyway.” He shrugged and watched his feet as you walked down the hall.
Noting his change in mood you stepped closed to him and hooked your arm through his, “Have you tried counting trolls?”
He laughed and inclined his arm out further so that you could walk properly arm in arm, “Surprisingly thinking of trolls doesn’t inspire sweet dreams.”

“Okay I can take that constructive criticism, we’ll think of something between us.” You assured him, “We need to make sure that you’re well rested before the end of this week.”

He didn’t reply but he knew what you meant – the next full moon, his next transformation. Though together you’d never had a full conversation about his lycanism you didn’t shy away from the knowledge that there was more to Remus than there seemed.

After a moment of walking arm in arm and chatting idly about the lesson that he had planned for when the boggart was caught you nudged his torso with your elbow so that he looked down at you. You gave him a cheeky smile, “So is this our second date, Professor?”
He snorted, “And the last, if you continue with that nickname.”
You stuck your tongue out at him, “It’s a title not a nickname, if I was going to give you a nickname it would be wolfly.”
“Wolfy?” Remus scoffed, “How discreet. That’s almost as nice as your nickname.”
“You’ve given me a nickname? Aw Remus, I didn’t know that you cared!” You laughed.
He shook his head, “Not me, some of the students.”

You stopped, and he stopped with you so that you could look at him, “Not a good one then?” You weren’t entirely sure why you even wanted to know, when you’d been at Hogwarts the nicknames often focused on your family’s poverty, Raggedy Weasley had been their favourite. But you’d always ignored it, the only insults that you and Bill ever reacted too were when other students decided to mock Charlie’s asexuality.
Remus’ expression was one of annoyance, “Let’s not get into it, nothing from the mind of teenage boys is exactly complimentary.”
You felt your cheeks flush slightly at the connotations of a sexualised nickname floating through Hogwarts before finding a teasing smile, “Is that why Fred and George’s detentions have doubled? And why I hear that you’re suddenly giving out a lot more detentions?”
He opened his mouth before closing it again, there was no point denying it so instead he gave you soft chuckled and you continued on your way.
“I do appreciate it.” You told him, he told you that it was nothing.

Finding the boggart was the easy part – coming up against your biggest fear was considerably harder. You knew in your heart of hearts that it was a Boggart stood before you, but all you saw was Ginny; her eyes red raw, hair dishevelled and clothed ripped. You raised your wand, but the spell died on your lips as ‘Ginny’ held Tom Riddle’s diary to chest and with her other hand she put her wand to her head and cast the killing curse.

You were screaming when Remus tackled you and pulled you out of the room that you’d trapped the Boggart in. He slammed the door shut and rushed to put his hands on your shoulders as you slid to floor against the wall.
“Y/N? Y/N, it’s not real, it’s not Ginny. She’s okay, she’s asleep. It’s just a Boggart.” He assured you and moved one hand from your shoulder to cup your cheek.
You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, and inhaled deeply; taking in the cold air and Remus’ sent of spices and chocolate. You stood up, Remus rose with you, and let out a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry, I just-” You started.
He interrupted you, his hand still on your cheek he rubbed his thumb across your cheek bone, “You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I shouldn’t get this way over a bogart of all things! I’m an Auror!” You argued.
“You’re human.” He told you, his eyes holding yours and you moved a hand up to put it over his hand on your cheek.
“I-I spent all summer being so scared that I’d lose my sister and just seeing it was too much.” You whispered to keep the intimacy of your closeness.
“Of course it was.” Remus agreed, “The boggart shows you the thing that you fear the most, don’t forget that. Now, let’s go catch it and get a hot chocolate before bed.”
“That’s a bit forward!” You laughed, and he fell away from you with a chuckle. You certainly kept him on his toes.

After your little pep talk, you both re-entered the room with a renewed sense of vigour and between you it took only a few minutes to throw the creature into an abandoned wardrobe. You both stood before the wardrobe as Remus locked it and waited to see if it would break free of its new prison. The wardrobe teetered and creaked, throwing up dust from its movements, until it thudded down onto all four legs and settled.

“Yes!” You threw your arms into the air and in mid celebration when Remus turned, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug, “We’re easily the best team in Hogwarts!” You cheered, his arms locked around your waist and held you too him. You came down from your hug but left your hands on his shoulders and stayed in his arms.
The moment of celebration gained levity. Stood together in the whirls of dust and stale air neither of you wished to move from the arms of the other. Careful to breath softly, in case you would shatter the delicate moment, you gently brushed dust from his moustache and left your hand on his cheek.
Fuelled by the adrenaline of catching the boggart Remus leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. For a moment it felt like your heart had stopped, you held your breath as you kissed him back until you both needed to pull away to give way to shaky breaths.

Remus’ hands on the small of your back rubbed up and down slightly and you played with the lapels of his jacket while you both fought for words to defend your actions and request more closeness. Standing in the abandoned room, wrapped up in uncertain futures you both held each other as your relationship teetered between friendship and more. You steeled yourself ready to take the plunge, you were a Weasley for Merlin’s sake!
You held the lapels of his jacket tighter and opened your mouth to ask him not to let you go when your silence was interrupted by footsteps in the hallway. Eyes wide you jumped away from each other and rushed out into the hallway with wands at the ready – no one should be in the abandoned wing other than the two of you and your newly possessed furniture. The hallway was dark save for the moonlight sneaking in through grubby windows.
“I didn’t make up that noise, did I?” You asked him, your precious moment shattered.
Remus’ eyes narrowed as he caught slight of a shoe before it disappeared, that was someone using James’ invisibility cloak – he’d bet his Werewolf potion on it!  
“No, you didn’t make it up, I doubt that it’s malevolent. Still, we should leave.” He told you after a moment. He quickly bewitched the wardrobe to follow you both and you left the abandoned wing in silence. You walked with him to his classroom in case the boggart broke free, or rather that was your excuse to spend more time with the werewolf who was stealing your affections.
Remus released the spell on the wardrobe leaving it there for his classes after the weekend before he turned to you, his gaze taking in your features before settling on your lips.

Neither of you said anything for a moment until Remus broke the silence, “Do you want to watch the sunrise?”
You spared the window a glance, the sky was getting lighter and you knew that it’d be beautiful to watch from one of the balconies. You gave him a soft smile, “Don’t you know I’m not a morning person?”
He softly picked some dust from your hair, “I’m not a night person but I spent it with you.”
That make your cheeks flush and even in the dim lighting you could see Remus’ cheeks glowing at the realisation of what he said.
“Well, in that case it would be rude not to accept, wouldn’t it?” You asked, and he agreed. For the second time that night you took his arm and walked with him.

Being accosted by the Weasley twins when all he wanted to do was mope was just the icing on Harry’s shitty day. Even their jovial smiles, that usually made him laugh, couldn’t stop his pout and the sun wasn’t even fully up yet! He’d even spent the night wondering the abandoned halls because he couldn’t sleep knowing he wasn’t going to be allowed on the trip.
“Harry-kins! You wouldn’t have that little frown after we give you this present.” George laughed.
“Why are you two even up this early? The Sun isn’t up yet! Aren’t you afraid that Y/N will have to give you detention again?” Harry asked.

Fred shrugged, “Nah, she’s caught us loads of times already and she only had to get us in trouble because Flitchy was there and we’re up because we’ve been testing new products, besides we saw that you were up.”
“Saw that I was up?” Harry asked.

The twins showed them their new gift for their adoptive brother, The Marauders Map and showed Harry how it worked and how to get out to Hogsmeade.
“There is one condition however!” George announced, and Harry narrowed his eyes, he should have known something as amazing as this would come with strings attached.
“We want you to keep an eye on this.” Fred said and leaned over the map to point out the two footsteps on one of the upstairs balconies. Harry squinted at the names Y/N Weasley and Remus Lupin, “What do you mean by keep an eye on it?”
“Well, every morning and evening they seem to be together and we’re curious.” Fred told him.
George added, “It could be a coincidence because he works on days and she works on night but take right now, it’s sunrise and they’re together. People might talk.”
“And if anyone is talking then it should be us.” Fred finished for them and both gave him a grin.

“Isn’t Professor Lupin a bit old for Y/N? Wouldn’t people notice?” Harry asked.
“No offence Harry-kins but you wouldn’t notice your hand in front of your face.” Fred laughed , and George nudged his arm playfully so Harry didn’t take it as an insult. They were right, he was quite unobservant.
“Why are you so bothered?” Harry asked curious.
Fred shrugged, “She’s our sister and she suddenly seems disgustingly happy.”
“And we could finally have blackmail material on her!” George laughed, and Harry rolled his eyes at them but still he found himself agreeing with the twins and watching the map as your footsteps moved away from Professor Lupin’s and heading towards the Gryffindor common room.


To say that you were disappointed that you and Remus had avoided the topic of your kiss was an understatement but when you’d been stood watching the sunrise it was a scene too beautiful disrupt. Still, the closeness of you both as you’d stood on the balcony in the morning air had left you waking on air on your way to the Gryffindor common room. After facing the boggart you needed to see that your sister was safe.
The Fat Lady let you in without fuss, Dumbledore had given you and the other Aurors the passwords to each of the common rooms, and made your way into the girl’s dorms. You quickly peaked your head in one of the rooms and scanned the bed until you saw Ginny sat up reading by candlelight. She looked up at the sound of the door moving and gave you a questioning look. She quickly put on some robes to keep her warm away from her bed and rushed over to the doorway and guided you out.
“Y/N, is everything okay?” She shut the door behind you both and gave you a hug before stepping back and eying up your dusty appearance.
“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright before I went to bed for the day.” You gently ran your fingers through her hair and playfully pinched her cheek.
She batted away your hand with a smile, “I’ve been a lot better Y/N, I promise. Being back at school isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“You’re not sleeping though?” You asked.
“Just tonight, it was a bad dream, but it wasn’t about the- the chamber.” Ginny whispered, and you pulled her to you for another hug and kissed the top of her head.

“Anyway, how have you found being back at Hogwarts?” She asked you and eyed the scarf you were wearing, “Where did you get that scarf?” Ginny was sure she’d seen Professor Lupin wearing one similar.
You smoothed a hand down the scarf and fought a blush, “I got it from a friend.”
The infamous Weasley mischievous grin met you as Ginny took the scarf in her hands, “Which friend would that be?”
As much as you would usually enjoy an indulgent girly chat with your sister you were aware that you’d be discussing her Professor, within the halls that he taught before you’d even actually decided if you were even a thing. So, you waved her away from your stolen scarf and turned her around to go back into her room, “Go back to bed Gin, it’s a Saturday enjoy your lie in.”
“I will get it out of you.” She laughed before adding, “I can’t sleep the day away anyway, today is the trip to Hogsmeade.”

Because you weren’t often awake during the day you’d nearly forgotten the trip to the small village even though Harry had come and asked you to sign his permission slip, which you had but Professor McGonagall would not allow it. You’d tried to ensure Harry that there was still time for the Dursley’s to sign his slip and return it before the next Hogsmeade trip in the winter. You dug into your pocket and pulled out all the coins that you had with you and put them into Ginny’s hand.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“Treat yourself to some sweets at Hogsmeade, share it with the boys.” You told her. She shook her hand and went to pass it back to you, but you covered her hand pushed it back to her, “I’m your big sister, I’m allowed to treat you all. Just do me a favour and get Harry something as well? I think he’ll be upset about having to stay here.”

You said your goodbyes and finally went back to bed as the school woke up, you’d need your rest to support Remus through the full moon.

@geeksareunique @serenity-schuyler @zohoffman @superoptimist1997 @maya6090 @sherlockourhero @miamorbarba @fangirlsupreme20 @sharkshee @jacoimagines @hellsynkideath @thefandomfairy567 @harryyyyypotterrrr @everyfandomcoexistshere @whatthehellisacastiel

I’ve tagged you if you replied to the last post but if you want taking off the tag list then let me know :)

anonymous asked:

so i've been reading alot of esama (and your stuff- it's really good :D *thumbs up) lately and compared to you guys, all the other fanfics seem to be ten times more angsty. so i wanted to ask (cause you're the only tumblr person i ask stuff to) if you can rec some fics (i'm fine with any fandom). i'm not exactly looking for fluff or crack, just kind of a -i move at my own pace and i don't really care about what you think character. hope that wasn't too confusing and i really appreciate it!!! :D

Sorry this is a bit late, I’ve been really busy lately so I couldn’t get to this until now. The criteria you set is a little… hard to get a bead on but here’s some fics that (imo) aren’t overly angsty and has pretty independent/my-pace kind of characters, and of course they’re all really good. I tried to pick fics from a variety of fandoms so I hope you’ll enjoy them:

such selfish prayers by andromeda3116 (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Katara’s ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.

if you try to break me, you will bleed by Dialux (Game of Thrones)

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

The life and times of Hatake Kakashi, the long-suffering jōnin-sensei by FeelingsDusk (Naruto)

Kakashi is being trolled. He doesn’t know how that can be, but he knows with utmost certainty that he’s being trolled somehow.


Kakashi gets saddled with the cheekiest little brats ever and wonders if it’s too late to become a missing nin.

The best helping hand is at the end of your own arm by FeelingsDusk (Teen Wolf)

Stiles draws the line at being kidnapped and tortured by a geriatric fascist and having to sacrifice his poor Roscoe to save people that didn’t appreciate it afterwards, thank you very much.

(Peter is smitten by his approach to self-sufficiency.)

Cirrus Cloud by silencia20 (HP x KHR)

In which you are Acacia Potter and drift around in the world. The war’s over and now most of what you do is out of boredom, until you meet a certain hitman.

grow up mean by pprfaith, reena_jenkins (BtVS x Fast & Furious)

Carter has always had an eye for deadly things and the blonde on his dancefloor fits the bill.

Adventures in Magick by PseudonymousEntity (Harry Potter)

“What Would A Hero Do?” Newly crowned wizard and avid reader of fantasy fiction, eleven-year-old Harry Potter makes friends with the goblin standing outside Gringotts with unforeseen consequences. Armed with an unlikely posse -his insatiable curiosity- and a pocket full of questions, Curious!Harry embarks on his first year at Hogwarts. Merlin help us.

Say Boys Don’t You See Them Bones by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche) (KHR)

In which Tsuna’s the Corpse Whisperer.

(Or: In the months he spends at the Varia Compound at Timoteo’s behest, Tsuna manages to stumble across enough forgotten dead bodies to fill entire cemeteries. And everyone is terribly amused. Except, y’know, for him.)

Influence of Souls by Nia_River (Harry Potter)

He stared at his journal, a creation into which he had poured his memories and dreams, his heart and … soul. Now, to send it to where it needed to be.

Young and Built to Fall by fingers-falling-upwards (One Piece)

Ace will save his nakama. He will save his father. And he will save his little brother and ensure Luffy’s happiness even if it kills him. Again. Thankfully, he won’t be doing it alone. Together, he and Luffy will change the world.

once a queen or king of narnia, always a king or queen by dirgewithoutmusic (Chronicles of Narnia)

A lion told her to walk away, and she did. He forbade her magic, he forbade her her own kingdom, so she made her own.

Susan Pevensie did not lose faith. She found it.

The Little Guy by TokiMirage (Final Fantasy VII)

The last thing Cloud wants, when given the chance, is to do it all over again. Instead, he chooses the normal life. After all, a Janitor could never save the world. But… well, it all starts with the General’s coffee machine.

The Sum of Their Parts by holdmybeer (Harry Potter)

For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would become a Dark Lord. For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would take down the Ministry or die trying. He should have known that Hermione and Ron wouldn’t let him do it alone.

An Invincible Summer by ShanaStoryteller (Naruto)

When Naruto is five, he’s gutted by a drunken civilian and presumed dead.

Six months later a girl with ash pale hair and dark blue eyes enters the Academy.

Again and Again by Athy (Harry Potter)

The Do-Over Fic - a chance to do things again, but this time-To Get it Right. But is it really such a blessing as it appears? A jaded, darker, bitter, and tired wizard who just wants to die; but can’t. A chance to learn how to live, from the most unexpected source.

Why Keith and Lance belong in Gryffindor

a.k.a. “watch Kayser spend three hours on an AU theory post that will never be relevant to canon and then resume to regret their life.”

So, let’s do this.

While there’s been a fair amount of discussion regarding the House placement of all of the Paladins, Keith and Lance have certainly been the most debated. They are both very complex characters and I figured that without a huge fucking theory post, no one could ever come to a conclusion on this. And that’s why I’m here, because if there’s anything I do best it’s spending hours compiling evidence for something that won’t matter in the long run.

Without further ado, let’s start with the Sorting Hat and its process of determining the house that students belong to.

Keep reading

Alright, I want to talk about Ilvermorny houses today. 

I’ve been thinking about this for awhile, the differences between Hogwarts and Ilvermorny. For people who haven’t done much digging into it, Ilvermorny is like Hogwarts in the way that they have four houses, Horned Serpent, Wumpus, Thunderbird, and Pukwudgie. Their sorting ceremony, however, is a lot different. Students step onto the school crest in front of four statues representing the houses and the statues choose the students by reacting and moving. It’s apparently very rare for more than one statue to react but if it happens, the student gets to choose their house. 

Interesting concept but it takes a lot of the choice out of the matter that the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts gives, you know? People have argued with the Sorting Hat, convinced the Sorting Hat to put them in other houses, we don’t get any of that with Ilvermorny and that’s probably because it’s not as necessary. 

We all know the Hogwarts houses, but let’s look at Ilvermorny for a moment. They’re all more physical attributes, representing a physical “part” of the wizard. Horned Serpent is the mind, Wumpus is the body, Thunderbird is the soul, and Pukwudgie is the heart. So the houses tend to pick students with similar interests. Horned Serpent is more for scholars, Wumpus for warriors, Thunderbird for adventurers, and Pukwudgie for healers. 

So here’s the reason why I feel like arguing with the statues isn’t necessary. Ilvermorny houses are based on physical things, on actions. Hogwarts houses are based on values and concepts

Students argue with the Sorting Hat because the houses aren’t about how the student acts, it’s about what they value most. Harry can act very cunning to reach his end goal, a Slytherin trait, but he values bravery over everything else and wanted to be in Gryffindor. Herminone is incredibly smart and loves learning, but valued bravery over knowledge and was put into Gryffindor. Now both of them are obviously still very brave but then we have students like Neville, who started out meek and skittish. But he valued bravery and found it within himself throughout the books. And Peter Pettigrew, who you can’t deny is a complete coward that hid as a rat for fuck all ever because he was scared, he was in Gryffindor. Definitely not brave, but he valued it. 

Values are one of those hard things to judge because they’re constantly changing and even if you can see into someone’s head, what someone really values is still very complicated. Complicated enough that most people have to really think and defend their own values to themselves. 

But Ilvermorny is all about action. When confronted with a problem, what’s the first thing you do? Do you fight through it? Do you try to get to the root of the problem and fix it? Do you research about it so that you can help teach others how to deal with this problem? Or do you wing it and see where it takes you? 

That’s why it’s so rare for more than one statue to pick a person. Sure, every situation is unique and each are going to be approached slightly different, but for the most part everyone has an initial go-to response for a situation that doesn’t often change. 

So Horned Serpents, the mind of the wizard and a house for scholars would react to a situation by gathering more information about it first. An unknown situation comes up, how do they react? Maybe they go to the library and start researching about it. They go to friends and ask for advice to get different perspectives on it. This house would probably be known for the more manipulative students, not necessarily in the bad way. They’re just the students that mess with the variables of a situation to see what effects it has so that when they go to actually deal with it, they know the easiest or most effective method. They’re the ones you would want to go to for advice because if they’ve been through a similar situation, they know what to do and they’ll be more than happy to teach you because the spread of information is always important to scholars. It’s not all about research, it’s also about teaching. If someone comes to them with a problem, they’re the ones that instruct and tutor, they’re first suggestion would be to learn about the problem and find the root cause. They’re the ones that want details and facts and any little thing, even if it seems unimportant.

Seraphina Picquery is Horned Serpent. I’m going to assume she’s more a single-minded person in the way that if she’s being information about a situation that doesn’t pertain to the one she’s currently investigating, she doesn’t want to hear about it. That’s why she dismissed Tina in favor of talking to Percival about their current case and then suddenly what Tina had is related to that case and she’s upset the information wasn’t brought to her sooner despite it being her own fault. She doesn’t like not having all the variables and knowledge on a situation. 

Thunderbird, the soul of the wizard and a house for adventurers would react to a situation by shrugging, saying to hell with it, and doing whatever they wanted. These students would probably be more carefree and laid back. Everything going to hell around them? Cool, let’s see how this plays out, it might make an interesting story later. Situation is really stressful or is holding them back? Time to go out there and find something else to do. New things wouldn’t be as scary to a Thunderbird, it’s just a chance for a new adventure and they’ll find some way to make it work out. They probably get restless easily when they feel like something is holding them back. Probably brush off responsibility like it’s nothing because there’s something bigger and better out there for them to find. There’s always a new opportunity in their minds. They’re the ones that will suggest you break up with your boyfriend when you’re having a problem because there’s plenty of fish in the sea. Your job sucks? Quit and find a new one. Thunderbirds are probably more hands on so if they’re having trouble in class, they go out and do whatever it is they’re having problems with so they can learn it. Or that’s what they suggest when someone else is having a problem because Thunderbirds would probably be likely to just ignore the work and focus on what they’re passionate about instead. 

Tina is a Thunderbird and while she’s not laid back she definitely fits the bill. She acted in Credence’s defense without thinking of the consequences and when she wad demoted, she ignored her duties in the wand department and was instead roaming the streets, looking for trouble. She doesn’t think before she acts, she just does because one way or another, she’ll make it work out. She doesn’t come across as very bold but she has no problem arresting someone and marching them straight to the President when she knows she’s not supposed to be out around that area investigating, which is a pretty bold move on her part. It’s something she’s passionate about so she’ll damn well do it. 

Wumpus, the body of the wizard and a house for warriors would react to a situation by fighting it. They’re probably the more stubborn house. They’re the workaholics and also probably the ones that are the easiest to become victims or get taken advantage of just because they believe they can power through every terrible situation and see it through to the end. They’re the ones that think calling it quits means admitting defeat and defeat is not an option. Their fight or flight is permanently stuck on fight. So say they get into a terrible relationship with someone? They’re more likely to stay and work to make things better, even if in the end it’s worse on them. Shitty job? They’re going to work their hardest at it regardless because giving up isn’t an option and they’re stronger than this. They take challenges personally and they work to prove themselves in any situation. Like Thunderbirds, they probably don’t consider the consequences as much as they should and while they want to prove themselves, they’re too busy putting 200% of their energy into the things that challenge them that their priorities aren’t exactly in line and some things get ignored. Their study habits vary, it all depends on what’s going to get them the result that they want but if school is really important to them, you can bet they’ll have like three study groups lined up in a day, a shit ton of notes, and be surrounded by twelve different books on the subject with absolutely no free time and they’re dying inside because they’re exhausted but they’re gonna get that A, they will.

And finally Pukwudgie, the soul of the wizard and the house for healers. They would react to a problem by looking for a way to fix it or at least fix their part in it. What happened to cause the situation? Okay, now we repair that and everything is all good. I did something I wasn’t supposed to do and fucked things up? Okay, I’ll fix it. Relationship problems? They’re the ones looking at both sides and the motivations, then probably suggesting better communication to avoid misunderstandings in the future. Shitty job? Why is it shitty, what’s causing you so much stress? Maybe if you do things like this and maybe add a more competitive element on it, you can have more fun with it. They see someone that’s upset and they want to help, they want to make things better, they want to talk it out and find a solution for the problem. They’re study habits are probably more methodical. If they know they have a problem with something, they’ll study that harder to make up for it. If they’re bad at hands on magic but good with text, they’ll practice more with their hands on magic. If they’re bad with text, time to break out the highlighters to make this shit a bit easier to get through. They’re the problem solvers and the people always willing to listen and give you gentle advice on how to fix your problems. They’re the ones always trying to cheer people up. They’re the ones that probably sometimes make a situation worse because they’re completely consumed with fixing a problem they have no business getting involved in. They’re compassionate but sometimes in order to really fix a problem or repair a situation, you have to get a little rough with people and they’re not afraid to do that as long as they think it’s going to fix everything. 

Queenie is in Pukwudgie and you can see her do things like that all the time. She reads minds which probably makes it even harder for her because she’s constantly hearing other people’s problems and she has to comment on them, to at least try to make the person feel better even if it’s not her place. She’s very kind and caring but there is that one scene where she threatens that dude because there is a problem and in order to solve it, he has to go. She does what she has to in order to repair the situation.

Honestly, I kind of love this because I’ve seen so many people trying to relate Ilvermorny houses to Hogwarts houses and claiming that a character in Ravenclaw would be sorted into Horned Serpent because both of them deal with knowledge but you just can’t do that. Some of the themes may be the same but values are so much different than actions. You really can’t relate Ilvermorny to Hogwarts houses at all.

The concept of bravery and being a warrior go hand in hand but Herminone would have probably been picked by Horned Serpent at Ilvermorny, not Wumpus. When she’s confronted with a problem she automatically thinks of the knowledge she has on it, she’s educating Ron and Harry about why what she’s doing works and her first step with anything unknown is to research it as much as possible. Harry, as much as he would hate this, would probably be in Thunderbird. While he doesn’t go out and look for adventure and he probably craves peace, when a situation comes up he acts on it regardless of consequences. He sneaks out of bed all the time, jumps into these dangerous situations because he knows he needs to, because it’s the right thing to do. I don’t say Wumpus for him because Harry doesn’t do those things because they’re a challenge he has to fight through, he just kind of does them because they happen and he knows he has to act on it because no one else will. Neville would probably be in Wumpus, though. He’s constantly fighting through his fears, facing them every day and unwilling to back down from them. It’s that suck it up and power through it attitude that would get Neville in there.

In conclusion, I’ve been thinking about this a lot.

I just want to say the following headcanon thing LEGITIMATELY was inspired by this thing I saw on a random Google search I don’t even know how it was there, Google is watching me. I typed it all out in a caffeine-fueled frenzy. If you know who made this pic/headcanon thing, let me know so I can give credit. This is the offender:


We need to examine this more. Brace yourself for the headcanon feels train. Choo choo, bitches.

  • I don’t think Jason just adored and was respectful to her, no no, he fucking worshiped her. When every Robin has met the others of the Trinity it’s always said something about them. When Jason met Superman, he was appropriately awed and flustered, you know, as boys do. It’s Superman for shits sake, he’s like a myth. How do you talk to a mythical freakin’ god?
  • But Diana? Now she’s a bit different. Sure, she flies, she’s fast, she’s got super strength and sword skills no one can touch, but she doesn’t shoot lasers from her eyes or sneeze and make a tornado. She talks to kids, she treats them with respect, as equals. Jason likes that. He grew up fast. He hates being talked down to.
  • But this really didn’t start with Diana being his favorite just because she doesn’t ruffle his hair and ask if his studies are going well. No, this goes back to long before he was a Robin. When he was just a little kid with an abusive father and a mother that loved him but couldn’t fight back.
  • Jason has always been a tootin’ masculine character. Look at him, he’s got all the traits, up and down. Bad boy look, check. Guns, check. Fast cars, check. Street rat punk, check. He’s the tallest out of the Robins, and so much goddamn muscle he’s got fifteen pounds on Bruce. (Suck it, old man.) There’s memes about his thighs ffs. But on the same token he’s always related to and sympathizes more with women than any other Robin. Why would that be?
  • Because his mother loved him. Really, deeply, adoringly loved him, even if he was adopted. She probably always wanted kids and a family but she just chose the wrong man to do it with. Things probably weren’t always so bad, they never are when you start out but it got worse steadily, it snuck up on her and by the time Jason was five, she was a convenient punching bag whenever Willis Todd had a bad day at work.
  • It didn’t take long before every day was a bad day at work.
  • So Jason grew up in a place that started out as pretty nice, they were poor as hell but he never lacked for love from his mom. She made games for him so he wasn’t afraid. Charity clothes weren’t shameful, they were adventuring gear and he could be anything he wanted, even a wizard or a ninja. She didn’t eat her portion of dinner because a spell had been put on her and the only way to break it is if he ate everything instead, and then defeat the dragon guarding her and give her a kiss before bedtime. Then she would eat. When they couldn’t pay the utility bills, the candles were the only light they had and they were adventurers exploring ancient caves and had to be very careful to sneak around and find the magic stones she’d hidden everywhere.
  • Catherine Todd loved her little boy and always sacrificed whatever she could to make sure he wasn’t afraid at night. While he slept, she’d cry very quietly.
  • But no amount of pretend and stories could really hide the fear in her eyes when his father came home. Jason had to hide under the table his arm the around a street mutt, Sparky, and a phone clutched to his chest while his mom tried to hold back her screams as the leather belt, then the fists and the boots came down on her again and again.
  • His mother ALWAYS took the beatings from him. When Jason was getting a little older and taller and starting to outgrow his clothes faster than they could steal or trade from the charity banks, he started looking like a target. But she never allowed his father to beat him, she wouldn’t have it. She made a deal, she’d take the beatings and he wouldn’t touch Jason dammit, not him, not her little boy.
  • Afterwards, when his scumbag father sat down in front of the TV with a beer and some food while his wife cried on the floor, Jason would crawl out of his hiding place and put band-aids on the cuts and bruises. Then she’d hold him in her arms, sobbing, and tell him it’s okay, she loves him and she’d never let anything bad happen to him.
  • But things always got worse for Jason. He loathed his father, he felt furious he couldn’t fight back but he knew if he did, his mother’s sacrifice would be for nothing. He learned to control his rage early, he had to. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t burn.
  • The look of defeat and apathy in her eyes is what hurt him most. He wished she wouldn’t just lay down and take it all the time. He wanted her to get up. Fight back. He’d have these dreams where his mom beat down her husband and told him if he ever touched her or her son again, she’d kill him. But he always woke up.
  • Catherine Todd was Jason’s first real hero. Even when she started taking heroin to get through the day, to not feel hunger and not feel pain.
  • And then there’s Wonder Woman. Princess of Themyscira. Amazon Warrior. She was the best fighter in the world and she fought with a grace like poetry and a savagery like vengeance. She was amazing. A woman that was strong enough to throw monsters through walls. Monsters just like his father. He wanted his mom to be more like Wonder Woman.
  • He wanted Wonder Woman to be his mom.
  • Now lets fast forward a bit. When his father abandoned them, Jason became the man of the house and his mother was so deep into addiction she could barely function. She’d lost so much weight over the years, pushing her food onto his plate. She’d always cared for and protected him, now he could finally return the favor. He was an 11-year old with a baseball bat and zero tolerance for any assholes that wanted to hurt his mom. She couldn’t fight anymore but he could. Any drug dealer stopping by learned that the hard way.
  • But he couldn’t protect her forever. The will had been beaten out of her for over a decade. While he was out stealing food, she overdosed. The pain had been too much. He failed her.
  • Fast forward again. He’s Robin now, he’s learned to survive on his own before now, he’s not shy about sticking up for himself because dammit, he’s not going to sit on the sidelines ever again. That was a helpless feeling he never could get away from. He meets Wonder Woman for the first time and he’s just struck dumb. Alfred and Bruce are amused, because this Robin has never held back what’s on his mind or given any ground. But after he gets over the awe of meeting his childhood idol (nevermind the fact that he’s still technically a kid) he can’t stop talking to Diana. He chatters eagerly to her.
  • Soon it’s clear he’s something of a fanboy. He asks how she threw this punch from this battle and how she disarmed that villain in that fight. She’s more than happy to show him. Then he asks other things, like if she can be such a great fighter, other women can too, right? What if the best way to defeat crime is by preventing it? Like giving women and other common targets of criminals the ability to defend themselves. Couldn’t women and children’s shelters offer training and classes for free? She loves the idea and promises to see what she can do.
  • Jason probably writes letters to Diana whenever he can and she responds when she has time. It’s not often because they’re both so busy, but it’s a slow sort of pen-pal thing they have going on. She’s easier to talk to than Bruce and learns more about his family from before.
  • Even though he loved his mom, he also resented her. She let herself become a victim and he’ll never quite forgive her for that. He’s bitter about it, the idea of ‘What if she’d fought back?’ always in the back of his head. He’ll never know and it’s her fault and he misses her but he misses what they might have had. One day he accidentally lets this slip in one of his letters and Diana sends him two pages back, all of it laying out that a mother’s love thinks nothing of sacrifice and it’s okay for him to be angry but he shouldn’t let it taint the good memories he has. He was loved right up until the end. Instead of being angry, be inspired. It wasn’t fair, to her or to him, but he can still make his mother proud by making sure no one else has to go through what he did.
  • How would she know his mother is proud of him? Because Diana is proud of him. Very proud. And she knows what mothers want for their children.
  • Had she not been off-planet at the time, Diana would’ve noticed the lack of his letters when he started feeling displaced and needed family to connect to. When he found out he was adopted. When he left to go search for his real mother – maybe a mother more like Wonder Woman.
  • When Jason died and Diana found out several weeks later, she was furious with Bruce. Absolutely. Livid. She refused to work with him or speak to him for a month. It was a major cramp in their relationship, as friends and as colleagues. 
  • She did go home and cry in her mother’s arms because he was such a fine boy, dammit. Man’s World was cruel and savage and did the worst things to the most innocent people and it turned them into beasts. It broke their hearts and twisted their minds. But not Jason. He came out stronger and more determined than ever to be better. Yes, he was lost and hurt and didn’t know where to direct his righteous anger but he was learning so fast and she was so proud of him for it. Crime wasn’t a vague thing to him, he grew up in it, lived in it, and he knew exactly why it should be put down. Just like she knew the stakes of war and why it must be fought. He was a warrior. And he died because he was still a kid that wanted a mother who loved him.
  • She blames herself a little because if she’d been there more for him, given him the mom he really really wanted, he might still be alive. She neglected him, just like everyone else and she will never forgive herself for that.
  • When Jason came back as the Red Hood, she’d only heard vague rumors from Gotham. It was years before she found out who it was and that’s only because Dick was struggling with a guilty conscience for putting 'Jason’ into Arkham Asylum. When this 'Red Hood’ turned out to be the young Robin who had her action figure and always ran to say hello to her, she gave Dick a look that could kill a chimera. For the first time, he realized why Bruce could fear her so much.
  • She sat down and started to write a letter to Jason but didn’t know where to start.
  • It hasn’t happened yet. She’s often run ragged with all her duties, and she hasn’t figured out how to tell Bruce she wants to see Jason for reasons too many and complicated to put into words without seeming rude to the other fine boys he’s mentored.
  • But when she does finally meet her favorite Robin she’ll hug him and not let go for a long time. Then they’ll spend the whole night talking about everything, and for tonight, crime and missions and duty can wait. She’ll tell him about the countless women that have fended off their abusers because of the ideas he came up with so many years ago. And he’ll be confused at first because doesn’t she know he’s insane? A killer? A psychopath? Well, she’s killed too and she knows why he’s doing what he’s doing. There are as many battlefields as there are battles, in the mind, in the streets, in the long history of a life. She knows that this is his battle. She’s proud of him for fighting what he believes in because that’s what he’s always done. His methods may not be her own but that’s okay. Life has given him the tools and insight to do what he does and she must respect that. War is never pretty.
  • For a while, Jason is so damn unbalanced by all this, he can’t really speak because there’s a knot in his throat.
  • Then she drops another bomb on him by apologizing. For not being there for him, for not realizing that he needed more than a pen pal and for neglecting to tell him all these things before it was too late. There’s tears in her eyes and he starts to panic a little.
  • The next day, she gets a letter from Jason.

So there. There you have it you ugly heathens, feels headcanon train! I think this is why Diana has Jason as her favorite Robin and why he has always looked up to her. I think the fandom somehow recognizes the neat and fitting parallels here. Maybe not ever put down in words like this (or if it has been, I haven’t found it yet) but definitely there in the back of the brain. You don’t see fanart with Jason wearing a Wonder Woman shirt, or pajamas, or coffee mug for no reason. It’s not just because it’s funny that the bad boy punk of the BatFamily is a huge Wonder Woman fan. It’s because she means something to him that the other Robins never needed in their lives like he did. She was a role model early in his life and still is today. 

Jason likes Wonder Woman because she’s overcome and proven herself in a world stacked against her. Women can’t fight? Wrong. Women can’t be strong? So wrong. Women can’t hold important positions in government? She’s an ambassador. Women must be sexual, they must defer to their male compatriots, if they do fight they’re butch and can’t be feminine and beautiful, and if they don’t fight they have to stand back and sit in the kitchen…. You might wanna shut up now.

Wonder Woman has defied every single unwritten rule the world tried to put on her and she’s broken every single barrier that her 'superiors’ have put in front of her. She gives society’s expectations an amused little smirk before she breaks them in half. She doesn’t let anyone define her. She does what is needed and she doesn’t apologize for it. She’s a rebel like that. She’s powerful but feminine, she’s a warrior but also motherly, she fights for peace, but she will fucking kill to protect her loved ones.

Diana’s story and Jason’s story are so much alike and that is why these two have this unspoken, undefined bond. They know the gritty realities, they know that ideals won’t stop hunger and abuse and exploitation, they know fire sometimes can only be fought with fire. I think the fandom understands that, even vaguely. They recognize she would naturally be his #1 role model. And it would genuinely put me on cloud 9 if DC recognized that too and decided, 'Know what? Let’s go for it. Let’s make this happen.’

'Let’s make this impossible and bizarre idea seem wonderfully human.’

Isn’t that what comics are really about?