I’m sad that JK Rowling seems to dislike Draco Malfoy. He’s one of my favourite characters, and I think he had a lot of potential for character growth; yet Rowling seems to have wanted to halt that with “No no, he was a bully, his family raised him bad, he doesn’t grow much. The best he does is not make anything worse, that’s it, move along”. He absolutely made big mistakes, but I wish he’d gotten even a halfway-proper redemption. It just feels like, as a character, he deserved better.
Authors Note: Thanks for your request! Hope you like it! Not edited.
Remus Lupin was a mystery.
He seemed to vanish once a month and was withdrawn for a long while after he got back. He would show up to classes with more light pink scars than he had the week before. The amount only seemed to grow along with your suspicion. It took you a while to connect the dots but eventually you did.
Remus Lupin was a mystery to everyone but you.
It was a particularly cold night, the sun had gone down hours ago and the now black starless sky, held a glowing full moon. The winter breeze swept through the air and picked up leaves as it did so sending a haunting chill down your spine.
It was late and you were freezing but you stayed glued to your spot on the rolling green grass hills. You promised you would wait for him even if at the time he didn’t understand what you meant, he will soon.
Hours passed and soon the moon was gone and the bright sun was rising again bringing in the new day with it.
That’s when you saw him in the shadow of the yellow sun.
His light brown hair was pushed up in all different directions, his shirt was torn and barley holding together, and once again he had new scars. He looked exhausted and broken.
Pushing up from your spot on the green grass you took strides towards him, pulling him into a tight hug. You arms wrapped around him and you buried you head in his chest, careful of his new found cuts and scars.
He responded hesitantly, his tired arms raised and wrapped around your waist while he rested his chin on your head.
“(y/n)? Have you been out here all night?”
“I told you I would wait for you.”
You pulled back from him and searched his eyes for emotion. You saw hurt, fear, and hidden behind the horror you saw love. You ran your hand up his arm to provide comfort but you came in contact with a warm, wet spot. Pulling your hand away you saw the shade of crimson drip off your hand.
“Why are you bleeding?”
You knew why. You knew how he got his scars and why he dissapered but you wanted him to tell you, but instead he just shook his head and looked down.
“Remus. Tell me please.”
“It’s nothing (y/n).”
He started to walk away and back towards the school.
The two words seemed to stop his tracks and he turned to look at you.
“I know about you Remus.”
“You disappear once every month on nights that just happen to be full moons, you come back with knew scars and a haunting, tired look in your eyes. Plus your friends call you Moony.”
He sat on the grass hill and put his hands over his face. Approaching him you sat next to him and took his hand in yours.
“I’m a monster (y/n).”
You let out a sigh and gripped his hand tighter.
“No you are not Remus.”
“I am! You need to stay away from me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Not you again.”
You mumbled out the words and caused him to lift his head looking directly into your eyes.
“I don’t like this Remus. He’s always so worried of hurting people he’d rather push them out. Where is the Remus I love? The intelligent, semi sarcastic, lovable dork who folds his socks?”
That caused the corners of his lips to turn up, a small smile breaking out on his face.
“This Remus has Pistanthrophobia.”
Remus raised his brow at you with a smile.
“You know the fear of trusting someone.”
Remus chuckled lightly and pulled you into his side placing a small kiss on your hair line. You sighed contently and closed your eyes.
“Are you mad at me?”
You pulled away from him once again to look in his eyes. Pacing both hands on his face, you smiled softly.
“Of course not. Remus I could never be mad at you for this. I understand why you didn’t tell me. But you need to know I would never judge you for this and I would never leave you.”
He pet your hair softly with one of his hands.
“You could walk away now, I wouldn’t judge you.”
“Remus Lupin. I’m never going to walk away from you.”
Remus smiled at you and placed a soft kiss on your lips.
“I love you (y/n).”
“And I love you Remus.”
With a smile Remus stood taking your hand and pulling you up with him.
“Let’s go get some sleep.”
With a nod and another small smile you two walked hand in hand to his dorm before falling asleep in each others arms.
You will never truly know yourself…until [you] have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.
JK Rowling isn’t perfect - she’s human, she does problematic things, she makes mistakes. Maybe certain ideas in her work aren’t original, maybe she borrows themes and ideas.
But I’m still so grateful to her for creating the wizarding world, and I always will be. If it weren’t for “Harry Potter”, I don’t know how I would have gotten through five years at Hinchley Wood (my secondary school) if it weren’t for Potter, and I’m so thankful to Rowling for creating this world and sharing it with us. I’m eternally grateful for “Fantastic Beasts” too, because Beasts has already done so much for me in terms of giving me a coping mechanism/distraction - and I know the others will too. If JKR hadn’t created Beasts, I wouldn’t have ever listened to Alison’s music, or seen Katherine’s other films… I am so thankful to her it’s unreal.
Hinny isn’t my first or favorite ship, but I don’t mind the fact that they ended up together. They understood eachother, and both went through having Voldemort in their mind. I definitely respect what JK Rowling was trying to do with putting them together. I think it was a sweet way to end the series!
So Rowling had no way of knowing the political climate during the 19 Years Later epilogue, but we do now. So consider this: what kind of world does the Golden Trio live in right now?
Their country is in the middle of Brexit talks, with racism and protectionism at their worst and the magic community isn’t far behind.
Young Pure Bloods march the streets with torches and capes, shouting “They will not replace us!” They wear Deatheater masks and temporary tattoos (oh it’s not the real thing, they’ll wash it off and be back at the office on Monday).
In the news, the authorities call for a cease of violence and ask people not to fight the young pure bloods. In the streets, people talk about talking to them calmly to fix things. Ron is livid. “You don’t reason with bloody Deatheaters! You throw curses at them!”
Hermione’s work for equality in the magical world gets harder every day. She starts getting death threats in her mail, many howlers that leave her in tears. She keeps going. When people insist that every werewolf is dangerous to society and they should all be banned from country, she tearfully remembers Lupin giving his life to protect them all, she remembers Dobby with a knife in his heart and Hagrid with his half giant blood and his giant heart. She keeps fighting.
As much as he hates it —and he hates it a lot— Harry becomes a vocal public figure again, constantly condemning blood purists and calling for action against them. His office calls horrified after the first interview, telling him he can’t be calling for violence against this people who are only protesting. “They are Deatheaters and this is how we deal with them,” he snarls back. “Have you forgotten Voldemort?” On the other side of the line, he can feel them flinch.
No one who fought the war has forgotten it, but so many others seem to, it pains Harry. It’s been barely twenty years since he saw children die in the grounds of Hogwarts, killed by grown angry men who believed themselves superior. It’s been barely twenty years since Tom Riddle’s death body laid on the ground and he thought they could finally have peace.
The trio sends their kids on the Hogwarts Express and they can’t help but remember their experiences there in a time much like this. They never thought their own children would have to suffer as they did, they pray they won’t have to.
Harry touches his lighting scar and reminds himself it hasn’t hurt again for years. All is well. A quiet voice inside his head wonders bitterly: “Is it, really?”
After dropping the kids off at King’s Cross, Harry and Ginny head back to the taxi with Lily.
“I hope he remembered to pack that new underwear I got him,” Ginny says, fidgeting with the seatbelt. It’s one of the few Muggle contraptions that are still a complete mystery for her; no wizarding form of transportation uses seatbelts. Her daughter helps her, rolling her eyes. “It was lying out on his bed this morning.”
“If he does, we can just owl it to him with a howler screaming, ‘YOU FORGOT YOUR UNDERWEAR!’ A great way to make new friends.” Harry glances at the teeming parking behind him as the cab inches away. “Wonder why King’s Cross was so packed with Muggles today. It’s not usually this crowded.”
Ginny stares at him. “Harry, it’s because of you.”
“Those books about you. The Muggles love them. They came here because they knew we’d be here today.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry says. “The Muggles think those books are fiction. Why would they come all the way out here if they don’t believe I’m real?”
Ginny lays her hand on his arm, and the twinkle in her eyes reminds him of someone he knew long ago. “Well, as someone wise once said, just because it’s happening inside their heads doesn’t mean it’s not real.”