First, I wanted to say that I love love love your Harry Potter fics and what-ifs! thank you so much for writing them :) And I also wondered if you ever written what if the Dursleys had refused to take Harry in?
When Petunia Dursley refused to take Harry in she forfeited his birthright protection, so Dumbledore took the baby to the safest place he knew: Hogwarts.
The applicable staff (mostly just… not Snape) took Harry in on a rotating schedule as he grew from baby to toddler to child. They traded extra credit for babysitting among the older students, and Harry grew up knowing a few dozen different laps that were safe and warm to nap in.
This was a Harry who grew up among books, among old transient walls and learned professors. They gave Binns night duty sometimes, and let him talk young Harry to sleep. This was a Harry whose world changed, on principle, daily. The stairs moved. The walls became doors. You had to keep your eyes open–you had to pay attention. So he did.
He grew up in a school. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was also joy. This was his sanctuary. There was magic in his world from birth.
“The castle will keep him safe,” said Dumbledore, when McGonagall came into his office to complain for the eighth time about Albus’s rather cavalier take on child-rearing. “That’s what it does.”
“Then why do we bother with chaperones ever,” McGonagall said, tempted to shriek it. “Should we let all the children run about willy-nilly at all hours, or just the orphan waifs?!”
“He’s not a student. He’s a ward of Hogwarts. It will take care of him, Minerva.”
McGonagall walked off fuming. A cat with spectacle markings followed Harry almost constantly from ages three through four. At some point McGonagall was far enough behind on her paperwork, and had seen enough suits of armor carry the kid back to his room, enough draperies lift off the wall and tug Harry away from edges, and enough stairs creakingly shift their slope for his tiny toddler legs. She gave a grumpy sigh, stole some of Albus’s lemon drops, and resigned herself to a magical world.
The Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower, didn’t really like boys but she liked children. She especially liked patience, and politeness, and Harry had been raised by McGonagall’s stern table manners, by Victorian portraiture and quite a few House Elves. He said please, thank you, and ma'am, and as a child he was very cunning in how he got bedtime stories and bedtime snacks out of most every adult he met.
The Grey Lady told the best stories, you see, the ones with riddles in them. You had to think and ask questions to get all the way through them. So he hunted her down with big patient eyes and plates of very smelly cheese, and she told him stories that made him think.
When Harry was stable enough on his feet to walk, and then to run, Sir Cadogan would race him through the castle, the knight scattering banquet tables and galloping across landscapes, twisting through the abstract gallery up on the seventh and a half floor. Harry stumbled and sprinted up stairways and didn’t notice for years the way Cadogan waited at the end of corridors for him to catch up.
Harry was a chubby-legged toddler, in this world–cute cheeks and stubby limbs. It’s a cute image, yes– but this is important. He was a chubby kid. He ate in a high chair on the teacher’s dais, getting peas and mashed potatoes on the adults beside him– Sprout laughed. Snape didn’t.
But this is important–Harry filled his plate. He wobbled up on little legs and grabbed biscuits from the table, slurped his soup, got marinara sauce on his chin and forehead and somehow behind his ear. When he was hungry, he ate. If he snuck down to the kitchens at night, it was for the adventure of it and nothing else. When he was hungry, he ate.
When he was four, they started letting him go sit down with the students. Bill Weasley, on route to be a prefect next year, took him under his wing and scrubbed his face down after meals. Harry was passed around the Hufflepuff table; theirs was the House Common Room he most liked sneaking into, with its barrels and cozy warmth. Nymphadora Tonks turned her nose a dozen different shapes to make Harry laugh, gurgling, as a toddler (and then a child) (and then for the rest of her life, honestly–it never stopped being funny).
The whole Ravenclaw table got distracted from meals, trying to solve riddles from a book one of their Muggleborns had smuggled in.Harry pushed his fork through his gravy, trying to draw out his thoughts but only making squiggles.
It was years before Harry sat at the Slytherin table for the first time–no one had ever set him down there, like they had with the others. But he liked green–it was the color of Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, where he went and napped sometimes in winter. It was the color of his mother’s eyes, from the little book of moving pictures Hagrid had given him when he was three.
All the Slytherin kids seemed big, but everyone Harry ever met seemed big–except for Flitwick, who was seeming smaller with every growth spurt. He leaned forward, teetering on the bench, and grabbed a chicken drumstick. “Hi,” he said, because he’d had a childhood full of tea parties with high portrait society– the French nobility and the tired housewife from the third floor and an old witch with her sleeve on fire but very particular table manners. “I’m Harry. What’s your name?”
By the end of the meal, they were flicking peas across the table with their spoons, like catapult projectiles. Harry had been unwelcome in so few places in his life, after he’d left 4 Privet Drive, that he simply didn’t expect it. He asked Warrington, a Slytherin with shoulders like a bulldog’s, to help him with the juice, which was too unwieldy for his kid-sized wrists. Harry sat there blinking, smiling, until Warrington took the jug and poured him a brimming glass.
a lot of minimalism blogs/youtube channels are directed at older people with houses and jobs, rather than students living with their parents going to and from school; but that doesn’t mean minimalism can’t be for students/teenagers too!
I thought I would write some tips and tricks for being a student minimalist and why it’s worth a shot:
1. cook with friends rather than buying takeaways or go for walks instead of sitting inside watching films. make the most of the time you spend with friends (and spend less money while you’re at it)
2. stop scrolling and turn off notifications. I’ve switch off all notifications on my lock screen (except for essentials like text) and have muted all non-essential chats so I only have to know about them if I have chosen to go on my phone for that purpose. this is a really easy way to get rid of distractions
3. practicality > aesthetic. I agree that colourful beautiful notes are lovely but they aren’t necessarily worth your time. use your time effectively and don’t rewrite pages of notes just because you had to cross something out and now it’s ‘ruined’.
3. trade your busy life for a full one by doing one thing at once. learn to focus on one task at a time and give it your full attention. this isn’t just about studying, but also about social events. if you’re meeting a friend, spend the time with your friend, not on your phone. devote yourself to each thing you’re doing and plan your time
4. remember: just because its on sale doesn’t mean you need to buy it. just because you have money doesn’t mean you need to spend it.
5. say no. its easier to take back a no than it is to take back a yes. don’t feel obliged to sign up for everything and do everything for everyone. put yourself first and don’t feel guilty
6. try the hanger trick. hang all your clothes on hangers facing the same direction. twist the hanger around after you wear something. after a month, donate everything that hasn’t been twisted round to charity
7. cleanse your social media: unfriend people you don’t know anymore. unfriend people who are negative. delete the apps you don’t use. unsubscribe from channels/newsletters that no longer interest you. declutter your online life
8. cleanse your real life relationships: stop spending time with people who put you down. end your unhealthy relationships. be honest with people you care about. put yourself first
9. record your favourite show or watch netflix. avoiding adverts frees you from the endless cycle of always wanting to have the next big thing
why it’s worth a try:
1. teaching yourself to switch off from social media and learning to spend more quality time with people face-to-face is liberating
2. everything is easier when you have a clear(er) head. having less means you have less to worry about
3. you’ll save money surprisingly easily. the money you spent on takeaways or shoes you thought you needed because everyone else had them can be put towards bigger things that will make you happier e.g. travelling or can be saved for the future
4. you can focus on your mental and physical health more when you aren’t distracted by your phone buzzing all the time and aren’t basing your happiness on keeping up with the latest trends
N.B. don’t expect to ‘get’ minimalism overnight. I definitely still haven’t cracked it. start small and slowly implement minimalism into different areas of your life. figure out what works and what doesn’t. minimalism is personal so there is no ‘right’ way of doing things.
just because minimalism can be about having less, doesn’t mean you have to throw away your beloved book collection. if it makes you happy, keep it; if it doesn’t, let it go.
okay so i was having thoughts this morning about how i believe that obi-wan was probably t h e best master for anakin under the circumstances (and a few others) and how as much as i hate predestination, if you accept anakin as (one of?) the chosen one(s), then he is fated to bring about the fall of the Jedi - cos you can’t have balance when the lightside outnumbers the darkside by as much as it does. and i started thinking about how what if the universes where obi-wan is his master greatly delays him fucking off to the darkside and bringing about the end of the Order? well, he was all of 23 when that happened, which means in other universes, where obi-wan is not his master, he probably abandons the order much younger than that.
okay, so - an au where.
an au where qui-gon lives. despite reasons why it probably wouldn’t happen, he becomes anakin’s master, obi-wan fucks off to do Knight Things and Grow As His Own Person. anakin has his canonical crisis of faith and great realization that being a jedi is difficult and not actually all that he thought it was going to be. he fucks off from the order - say around the age of fifteen?
qui-gon, despite everything, goes off to hunt him. despite this “betrayal”. after all, anakin is the chosen one, right? so he even goes so far as to call in obi-wan to help him find anakin. meanwhile, anakin is employing every last trick in the book to remain out of reach. he won’t go back - he won’t. he can do more good out there in the galaxy, instead of tied down by the (hostile, tbh) jedi order.
it just so happens that obi-wan finds him. rather than try to arrest him or anything (leaving the order is not a ‘take into custody’ offense, as obi-wan well knows) and actually talks to anakin about the reasons why he’s fucked off. he finds the reasons understandable. besides, becoming a jedi is not being conscripted. anakin has the right to leave if he feels like it. obi-wan tells him that it’s fucking dangerous for a half-trained force sensitive out there in the wild galaxy, but when anakin doesn’t change his mind (because he’s hella stubborn tbh) obi-wan is just like “welp” and lets him go. he tells qui-gon he never found anakin, but that it’s really unreasonable to hunt the kid down for fucking off. it’s another thing that qui-gon and obi-wan don’t see eye-to-eye with.
so that’s that, right? they’ll never see the chosen one again.
but wait, there’s more. So of course the Sith find anakin. he must bring balance to the force. Dooku and Sidious play bad cop/good cop until anakin is firmly under Sidious’ thumb. (presumably, Qui-gon would have found nine hundred different ways to keep anakin away from palpatine, who might even have been the one to plant the idea of running off into anakin’s head on the few times when he was allowed to speak with the kid). anakin goes corrupt, as you do when siths are fucking with your head, and the story proceeds.
here it is, the fall of the jedi order, and order 66.
ymmv what happens to qui-gon. does he live through even this? or is he shot down protecting obi-wan? in either case, obi-wan survives as he tends to, trying to regroup with the rest of the surviving Jedi. of course, you have this wretched sith lord, Darth Vader, hunting them all down. his skill with a blade is unparalleled. no jedi who has faced him has survived.
when he finds them, obi-wan stays back, sacrificing himself to save the others. and yet, to his surprise, darth vader does not kill him. darth vader himself does not understand entirely why, only that once when he was very young, a jedi heard him out and let him go.
he does not let obi-wan go, but neither does his blade fall.
>Stand on their feet for a minimum of five hours a day, excluding lunch and a professional hour.
>Know each of their students by name.
>Accommodate every Special Needs child in their class, no exceptions.
>Special needs may include: extra time for exams and homework, extra attention in class, stopping them from getting up and leaving their desks all the time, etc.
>Keep their cool when classes get rowdy. This is NOT as easy as it sounds.
>Control the classroom. Again, much easier than it sounds.
>Have an MA in their field just to get hired. Note that it’s their field (Science, History, etc) NOT in Education per se.
>Stop bullying, regardless if they were there to see it or not.
>Pay out of their own pocket if they need more classroom supplies.
>Always be willing to attend a parent or legal guardian. Regardless of the time of day or what you were doing.
>Be ready to confront angry parents over their children’s grades.
>Be ready to handle any emergency, no exceptions.
>Attend pointless meetings and workshops that leave you with nothing but the sour feeling that your time was wasted.
>Protect the students from all danger.
>Be wary that one parent complaining about them is more than enough to put their career in jeopardy.
>Learn that their work follows them everywhere, even home. ESPECIALLY home.
>Learn to correct homework and grade tests in a way that is fast enough to leave them some time to breathe at home.
>Learn to live with the fact that everything from their salary to their sick days is always one politician’s whim away from getting sliced.
>Accept the fact that society won’t give a shit about them because a teacher is little more to them than an over-glorified babysitter.
>Let go of the students they have invested so much time and effort on as they grow up. I still think of mine every day.
>Accept that children don’t come and go; they’re in your heart forever.
Teaching is not easy, guys. You invest so much time and energy into these people, be they young children or adults, it doesn’t matter. A REAL teacher can’t help but form an attachment to their students; some of us even come to consider our students as our own children. So, why does society overlook us so much? Do any of you know how little we are paid, in spite of how much we do? Sure there are some bad apples, but what about those of us who spend so much of our lives for the sake of our students?
You wish you could see his eyes. You can’t help but feel as though they would tell you something; is he disappointed, excited, nervous? You pray that he isn’t disappointed. You can’t help but feel as though you’re plain looking, you’re not ugly, but not exactly pretty. Then there’s the anxiety. As your mind begins to go through all the possibilities, you can feel yourself getting worked up, as your breathing begins to quicken, until suddenly you’re in his arms.
He’s sat down on the pavement, and pulled you into his lap. He’s cradling you gently, so that you don’t feel closed in; and from the way his arms wrap around you, the way they stay lax and still give you room, you can tell he’s been where you are. As the adrenaline fades, you allow the first few sniffles to come, as your breathing begins to slow down and return to normal.
His hand rubs your back, and that’s the first telltale sign for you. You don’t like people touching your back. It creeps you out, makes you squeal, and it’s just genuinely unpleasant. But with him, it feels good, relaxing almost. As you pull back, you wipe at your eyes and then wince.
He notices, “You scraped your hands when you fell.” His voice sounds tired, but it’s smooth. Determined.
“Yeah, not my most graceful moment.”
He gives you a small smile, “Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of falls a lot worse than that.”
You smile at each other in awkward silence, until he sticks out his hand and says, “Hi, I’m Red Robin, your soulmate, apparently.”
You take his hand a bit nervously and shake it once, before saying, “I’m Y/N, college student.”
He smiles, before letting go of your hand and pulling up the sleeve of his suit, you stare at your words there, before reaching out and allowing your fingers to skim over them. Then you realize what you’re doing and quickly pull back your hand, as the heat rises to your cheeks.
His fingers grip your chin and turn your gaze towards him, “I wanted you to see them. That way when we meet in real life, you know it’s me.” You stare at him, and you fear the faint sound of police sirens. “Someone must have called the cops. It’s not safe for me to reveal everything here in the open.” You nod, a bit dumbly, He smiles again, “I’ll find you in a few days, and then we can meet for real. I’ll explain everything then.”
Then with one last look, he’s gone, and the cops rush over. It’s a long night of filling out police reports before being escorted back to your dorm. The mortification you feel as everyone stares at you is enough to have you buried under your covers for the next twenty-four hours.
You sleep, skip class, and do your absolute best to not think about the fact that Red Robin is your soulmate, or wonder how exactly he’s going to find you. You fail miserably at the last two. In fact, by the time the twenty-four hours are over, you’ve convinced yourself that he wants nothing to do with you, and that you’re going to die old and alone with three cats.
At some point, you decide you need to move on. So you drag yourself out of bed, and to the dining hall. You load up on stuff that you KNOW isn’t good for you before making the trek to class.You do your best to focus on your professors, while trying not to dwell on the amount of work you’ll have to get done this weekend. By the time the day is over, you’re feeling more exhausted than you should.
In fact, you’re so exhausted that you nearly miss the gaggle of girls whispering. You peer around them to see what they’re staring at. It’s a good looking boy. He’s dressed in jeans and a long sleeve tee-shirt. He’s working on a laptop, and has a large cup of coffee with him.
Then, as though he feels you staring, he looks up and makes eye contact. When he smiles you look away, and do your best to shuffle further into the dorm past the front desk, when all of a sudden you hear him say your name, “Y/N wait a minute.”
You don’t want to, but you do, without meeting his eyes, you turn to face him. He stops in front of you, and you can feel the gaggle of girls looking at the two of you, “I’m Tim Drake, we met the other night.”
You stare at him puzzled, until his scrunches both sleeves of his tee-shirt up, in the most nonchalant way you’ve ever seen, to reveal the same words, your words, from the other night. You stare at him for a minute and he only say grins and says, “Told you I’d find you.”
i had a potato in my bag that we cut in art class to make a stamp. well the kid in math class started yelling about how i had weed in my bag. i panicked which made me look guilty. got all the way to the office. the principal went through my bag with the police officer right there. then they found the potato. im. nearly crying at this point bc i cant get in trouble etc. The cop laughed so hard he had to sit down and the principal let me go. i became an art student legend.
So a bunch of swastikas have started appearing in the locker room at my school - any ideas on good ways to combat this and help foster the kind of culture that won't let this kind of thing happen again?
We’ve got some ideas for you!
1) Talk to your friends who are probably also noticing this/pissed off about it and get a crew together.
3) Alternatively, take your crew o’ concerned fellow students and go to the school administration and let them know this isn’t acceptable and you expect them to take action. Give them a reasonable deadline to do so. Think about what you’ll do if they don’t take action.
4) Keep track and when and where these are popping up. You’ll likely be able to figure out exactly when your school’s closet-nazi does their dirty work, which means you’ll be able to plan to confront them.
5) Figure out things you can do to foster an explicitly anti-racist culture in your school. We know people that have started anti-racist school clubs or put on shows or parties that were explicitly anti-racist or raise money for anti-racist causes. Tons of stuff you could do if you & your friends think creatively about this.
January passed so fast. It was full of anxiety but also full of happy moments (thanks to my friends 🖤). At school we started to study Freud and he’s one of my fav philosopher and I just can’t wait to study in deep this argument. And today everything was blue, yellow and blue are my favorites colors 🌻🌊
Okay but why do only like 2 people in the whole Wizarding World know that Voldemort’s real name is Tom Riddle and why didn’t someone (Dumbledore) think to casually let slip that a celebrated Hogwarts student is now a homicidal terrorist going by a different name
All I can think abt right now is the first graduating class, (there had to be a first), and some of the fair folk being more or less attached to a few students in their own special way- only to find out they're leaving now forever. How would THAT blow over?
Okay yeah that was a rough few years - The fairy hill appeared over a summer break (popular rumour says over the course of one Midsummer’s Eve) and when the classes resumed in the fall, suddenly the University was Strange. And that went both ways - students kept getting caught in the weird time and space distortions that the campus was suddenly rife with. And the Gentry were realising after over a century of absence in this part of the world that things had changed dramatically.
The first class to graduate - seniors when the Hill appeared - walked away with about three quarters of the student body and the vague sense they’d dodged a bullet. For their part, the Gentry see human lives as so terribly mayfly short anyway that graduation wasn’t terribly far from a human’s natural death, in their eyes. The exception is when the Gentry had, like you said, become attached - in that case they either mourned, if they knew how to let go, or stole away the respective students, if they didn’t. Charms of protection weren’t so wide-spread yet.
You slung your bag off your shoulder and threw it on the couch as you entered the kitchen to your home. You were tired, your brain was sluggish, and honestly you just needed to relax. You grabbed a bottle of red wine out of the fridge and threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. At least it was the weekend and you could finally relax. You poured a little of the wine into your glass and took a sip leaning back onto the kitchen island. At this time you wished your boyfriend was around to rub your shoulders.