the bent winged snitches

Culture Shock

I’m back. And apparently I’m a masochist because I forced myself to write this one even though I was done for the week. This came from a very enthusiastic anon who asked for something about the 2014 World Cup article, and how Harry got his scar/how they deal with fame. So you get this, which is really none of that. Written for hpshipweeks. Hope you enjoy! 

Oh, and if you think I am going overboard with the Americana, you have never seen us around any national holiday/sports game/any event really. If you think I am judging American teenage girls, I am, and I can because not even two years ago, I was one. And the Bent-Winged Snitches of my mind are a boy band, I don’t care what anyone else says.


“Why are we doing this again?” Harry asked his three female companions as they attempted to weave through the crowds. He reached back and grabbed hold of Rosie’s hand so he didn’t lose her.

“Because, Daddy,” Lily piped up from next to Ginny, “we need to meet the Bent-Winged Snitches.” Harry and Ginny exchanged amused glances.

“I don’t see the appeal,” Harry continued, just to taunt his daughter.

Rose and Lily looked appalled, and Ginny laughed. “That’s because you aren’t a young girl,” she said.

“They just make a lot of noise,” Harry complained. “That isn’t even music.”

“And you think that because you are getting old,” Ginny said, reaching over to squeeze Harry’s arm. “Rita did notice that you are going grey.”

Harry suddenly looked afraid. “What if she is following us? The next thing you know an article will say I am corrupting the girls by exposing them to crazy, hormone-driven American males.”

“Not to mention that we must be kidnapping Rosie from Ron and Hermione,” Ginny added, gesturing to their young niece.

Keep reading

I am having major Neville/Albus feels right now. I can see him being such a loving godfather, that takes his role to heart because he knows what it means to Harry.

  • Neville taking Albus to Hogwarts over the summer to learn about various plants and showing him the secret passages he and the other DA members found.
  • Albus calling Neville ‘Uncle Nev’ because “It just sounds better. You are family already, might as well get an honorary title”
  • Neville and Albus going to Diagon Alley to check out the newest Quidditch equipment then stopping for ice cream as Albus rambles off facts about which teams are using what brooms.
  • Albus sneaking out after he and his parents have a row and staying the night at Neville’s. And the latter talking sense into the young boy.
  • Neville standing beside Albus for moral support as he slumps back home to a very aggravated Ginny and Harry attempting to hide a smirk, because he sees so much if himself in his son.
  • Neville buying him a Brazil Quidditch NT jersey for the game because he knows that’s Albus’ favorite team.
  • Neville wearing a Brazil jersey under his jumper and showing Albus during the game.
  • Neville letting Albus try some of his firewhiskey one evening and laughing til he cries as Albus sputters and coughs for five solid minutes.
  • Sneaking Honeydukes sweets to Albus during his first few weeks at Hogwarts and winking from the teachers table.
  • Neville telling Albus about a certain ticklish pear.
  • Neville getting Albus and the rest of the Potter-Weasley kids tickets to the Bent-Winged Snitches. (And taking them to the concerns himself so that he might spare their parents)
  • NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM AND ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER.
Dumbledore’s Army Reunites at Quidditch World Cup Final

By the Daily Prophet’s Gossip Correspondent, Rita Skeeter

There are celebrities – and then there are celebrities. We’ve seen many a famous face from the wizarding world grace the stands here in the Patagonian Desert – Ministers and Presidents, Celestina Warbeck, controversial American wizarding band The Bent-Winged Snitches – all have caused flurries of excitement, with crowd members scrambling for autographs and even casting Bridging Charms to reach the VIP boxes over the heads of the crowd.

But when word swept the campsite and stadium that a certain gang of infamous wizards (no longer the fresh-faced teenagers they were in their heyday, but nevertheless recognisable) had arrived for the final, excitement was beyond anything yet seen. As the crowd stampeded, tents were flattened and small children mown down. Fans from all corners of the globe stormed towards the area where members of Dumbledore’s Army were rumoured to have been sighted, desperate above all else for a glimpse of the man they still call the Chosen One.

The Potter family and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army have been given accommodation in the VIP section of the campsite, which is protected by heavy charms and patrolled by Security Warlocks. Their presence has ensured large crowds along the cordoned area, all hoping for a glimpse of their heroes. At 3pm today they got their wish when, to the accompaniment of loud screams, Potter took his young sons James and Albus to visit the players’ compound, where he introduced them to Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum.

About to turn 34, there are a couple of threads of silver in the famous Auror’s black hair, but he continues to wear the distinctive round glasses that some might say are better suited to a style-deficient twelve-year-old. The famous lightning scar has company: Potter is sporting a nasty cut over his right cheekbone. Requests for information as to its provenance merely produced the usual response from the Ministry of Magic: ‘We do not comment on the top secret work of the Auror department, as we have told you no less than 514 times, Ms. Skeeter.’ So what are they hiding? Is the Chosen One embroiled in fresh mysteries that will one day explode upon us all, plunging us into a new age of terror and mayhem?

Or does his injury have a more humble origin, one that Potter is desperate to hide? Has his wife perhaps cursed him? Are cracks beginning to show in a union that the Potters are determined to promote as happy? Should we read anything into the fact that his wife Ginevra has been perfectly happy to leave her husband and children behind in London whilst reporting on this tournament? The jury is out on whether she really had the talent or experience to be sent to the Quidditch World Cup (jury’s back in – no!!!) but let’s face it, when your last name is Potter, doors open, international sporting bodies bow and scrape, and Daily Prophet editors hand you plum assignments.

As their devoted fans and followers will remember, Potter and Krum competed against each other in the controversial Triwizard Tournament, but apparently there are no hard feelings, as they embraced upon meeting (what really happened in that maze? Speculation is unlikely to be quelled by the warmth of their greeting). After half an hour’s chat, Potter and his sons returned to the campsite where they socialised with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army until the small hours.

In the next tent are Potter’s two closest associates, the ones who know everything about him and yet have always refused to talk to the press. Are they afraid of him, or is it their own secrets they are afraid will leak out, tarnishing the myth of He Who Could Not Be Named’s defeat? Now married, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were with Potter almost every step of the way. Like the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, they fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and no doubt deserve the plaudits and awards for bravery heaped upon them by a grateful wizarding world.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle Weasley, whose famous ginger hair appears to be thinning slightly, entered into employment with the Ministry of Magic alongside Potter, but left only two years later to co-manage the highly successful wizarding joke emporium Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Was he, as he stated at the time, ‘delighted to assist my brother George with a business I’ve always loved’? Or had he had his fill of standing in Potter’s shadow? Was the work of the Auror Department too much for a man who has admitted that the destruction of He Who Could Not Be Named’s Horcruxes ‘took its toll’ on him? He shows no obvious signs of mental illness from a distance, but the public is not allowed close enough to make a proper assessment. Is this suspicious?

Hermione Granger, of course, was always the femme fatale of the group. Press reports of the time revealed that as a teenager she toyed with the young Potter’s affections before being seduced away by the muscular Viktor Krum, finally settling for Potter’s faithful sidekick. After a meteoric rise to Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she is now tipped to go even higher within the Ministry, and is also mother to son, Hugo, and daughter, Rose. Does Hermione Granger prove that a witch really can have it all? (No – look at her hair.)

Then there are those members of Dumbledore’s Army who receive slightly less publicity than Potter, Weasley and Granger (are they resentful? Almost certainly). Neville Longbottom, now a popular Herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is here in Patagonia with his wife Hannah. Until recently the pair lived above the Leaky Cauldron in London, but rumour has it that Hannah has not only retrained as a Healer, but is applying for the job of Matron at Hogwarts. Idle gossip suggests that she and her husband both enjoy a little more Ogden’s Old Firewhisky than most of us would expect from custodians of our children, but no doubt we all wish her the best of luck with her application.

Last of the ringleaders of Dumbledore’s Army is, of course, Luna Lovegood (now married to Rolf Scamander, swarthy grandson of celebrated Magizoologist Newt). Still delightfully eccentric, Luna has been sweeping around the VIP section in robes composed of the flags of all sixteen qualifying countries. Her twin sons are ‘at home with grandpa’. Is this a euphemism for ‘too disturbed to be seen in public’? Surely only the unkindest would suggest so.

Sundry other members of the Army are here, but it is on these six that most interest is focused. Wherever there is a red head one may make an educated guess that it belongs to a Weasley, but it is difficult to tell whether it is George (wealthy co-manager of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes), Charlie (dragon wrangler, still unmarried – why?) or Percy (Head of the Department of Magical Transportation – it’s his fault if the Floo Network’s too busy!). The only one who is easy to recognise is Bill who, poor man, is grievously scarred from an encounter with a werewolf and yet somehow (enchantment? Love potion? Blackmail? Kidnap?) married the undeniably beautiful (though doubtless empty-headed) Fleur Delacour.

Word is that we shall see these and other members of Dumbledore’s Army in the VIP boxes at the final, adding to the glitz and razzmatazz of a gala occasion. Let us hope that the behaviour of two of their younger hangers-on does not embarrass them, heaping shame on those who have previously brought honour to the name of wizard.

One always hesitates to invade the privacy of young people, but the fact is that anyone closely connected with Harry Potter reaps the benefits and must pay the penalty of public interest. No doubt Potter will be distressed to know that his sixteen-year-old godson Teddy Lupin – a lanky half-werewolf with bright blue hair – has been behaving in a way unbefitting of wizarding royalty since arriving on the VIP campsite. It might be asking too much that the always-busy Potter keep a tighter rein on this wild boy, who was entrusted to his care by his dying parents, but one shudders to think what will become of Master Lupin without urgent intervention. Meanwhile, Mr and Mrs Bill Weasley might like to know that their beautiful, blonde daughter Victoire seems to be attracted to any dark corner where Master Lupin happens to be lurking. The good news is both of them seem to have invented a method of breathing through their ears. I can think of no other reason how they have survived such prolonged periods of what, in my young day, was called ‘snogging.’

But let us not be severe. Harry Potter and his cohorts never claimed to be perfect! And for those who want to know exactly how imperfect they are, my new biography: Dumbledore’s Army: The Dark Side of the Demob will be available from Flourish and Blotts on July 31st.

nah I wanna talk about this some more. Let’s imagine for a second the top 40 billboard chart for the wizarding wireless network in the summer of 1998:

  • #38: One House by Celestina Warbeck ft. Lil’ Galleon… a spacious, emotional hit about the unification of the Hogwarts houses.
  • #25: You Stole My Cauldron (I Stole Your Hippogriff) by the Bent-Winged Snitches… a cover of the classic Warbeck hit with a twist.
  • #21: Apothecary Man by Kid Sickle and the Banshees… a gritty hit about a twisted, drug-fueled relationship, misappropriated by Diagon Alley PR-wizards and used as a jingle to sell discount potions.
  • #17: Don’t Call Me Squib by The Weird Sisters… a controversial single hailed by some as revolutionary, while simultaneously prompting some to criticize the band for failing to associate with, promote, or feature any actual Squib artists on their recording.
  • #11: My Nimbus by the Thestral Collective… three and a half minutes of unapologetic double-entendres.
  • #4: Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by David Bowie.
  • #1: The Boy Who Lived by the Hobgoblins ft. Diagon Sally… “His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad…”

Teddy Remus Lupin: The Main Reason I wanted a sequal of Harry Potter

Imagine the pranks.

Hufflepuff for sure!

 rebal like his mom and bookwork like his dad?

I picture him a sassy and respectful teenager.

Blue hair, band shirts, very punk rock!

Becomes perfect but not head boy

Secretly feels closest to Lilly Luna

light freckles

when Victorie kisses his cheek he turns pink(including his hair) even if he tries to act tough

aims to be an auror like Harry

Has a passion for dragons, potions, herbology, The Bent Winged Snitches, WATChing Quiditch(not playing because we all know he’s clumsy like his mom)

has a chocolate frog card by his bed of his mother and farther

Became Quidditch commentator

One might be surprised to learn that the most popular form of travel in the wixen world is not Apparition, which is too difficult and dangerous over long distances, nor is it by broomstick, which many find uncomfortable and takes too long, not to mention being terrifying for acrophobes. Portkeys are extremely difficult to create, and neither Porkeys nor Floo powder is terribly popular either, as both are uncomfortable for all wix and even dangerous for children, the elderly, the sick, and pregnant wix.

No, by far the most favored form of transportation is the train. The Hogwarts Express is far from being the only train used by wix–hundreds of trains servicing wix, goblins, and other Beings run across the Eurasian continent, connecting magical towns, cities with magical districts, and even concealed mountains and islands. The trains themselves are often quite comfortable, boasting wooden paneling, plush sofas and bunks, and impressive Undetectable Expansion Charms on every compartment. Students come by train on exchange programs from magical universities, traveling in sleeper cars from Oxford all the way to Scholomance, Romania’s famous school of higher magical learning.

Meanwhile, the 398-2 Line carries magical sightseers and adventurers to dozens of locations like the Black Forest in Germany to the Floating Mountains of Zhangjiajie to the eerily beautiful amber beaches of the island of Basilia. All large magical communities are connected by trains, including Kyöpelinvuori in Flinand and the famous witches-only city of Themiscyra in Greece.

Most government officials who are required to travel abroad do so by train, and most governments have their own train cars, as do quite a few affluent wixen families and popular musical groups like The Weird Sisters, The Bent-Winged Snitches, and the singer-songwriter Cinnabar. Trains are also required for the mass transport of materials across the continent, including magical beasts like Sphinxes and the Basmu dragons of Iran.

(Lyoka Tyagnereva by Grant Thomas for Tatler Russia)

Harry Potter story as an adult, from J.K. Rowling

Dumbledore’s Army Reunites at Quidditch World Cup Final

By the Daily Prophet’s Gossip Correspondent, Rita Skeeter

There are celebrities – and then there are celebrities. We’ve seen many a famous face from the wizarding world grace the stands here in the Patagonian Desert – Ministers and Presidents, Celestina Warbeck, controversial American wizarding band The Bent-Winged Snitches – all have caused flurries of excitement, with crowd members scrambling for autographs and even casting Bridging Charms to reach the VIP boxes over the heads of the crowd.

But when word swept the campsite and stadium that a certain gang of infamous wizards (no longer the fresh-faced teenagers they were in their heyday, but nevertheless recognisable) had arrived for the final, excitement was beyond anything yet seen. As the crowd stampeded, tents were flattened and small children mown down. Fans from all corners of the globe stormed towards the area where members of Dumbledore’s Army were rumoured to have been sighted, desperate above all else for a glimpse of the man they still call the Chosen One.

The Potter family and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army have been given accommodation in the VIP section of the campsite, which is protected by heavy charms and patrolled by Security Warlocks. Their presence has ensured large crowds along the cordoned area, all hoping for a glimpse of their heroes. At 3pm today they got their wish when, to the accompaniment of loud screams, Potter took his young sons James and Albus to visit the players’ compound, where he introduced them to Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum.

About to turn 34, there are a couple of threads of silver in the famous Auror’s black hair, but he continues to wear the distinctive round glasses that some might say are better suited to a style-deficient twelve-year-old. The famous lightning scar has company: Potter is sporting a nasty cut over his right cheekbone. Requests for information as to its provenance merely produced the usual response from the Ministry of Magic: ‘We do not comment on the top secret work of the Auror department, as we have told you no less than 514 times, Ms. Skeeter.’ So what are they hiding? Is the Chosen One embroiled in fresh mysteries that will one day explode upon us all, plunging us into a new age of terror and mayhem?

Or does his injury have a more humble origin, one that Potter is desperate to hide? Has his wife perhaps cursed him? Are cracks beginning to show in a union that the Potters are determined to promote as happy? Should we read anything into the fact that his wife Ginevra has been perfectly happy to leave her husband and children behind in London whilst reporting on this tournament? The jury is out on whether she really had the talent or experience to be sent to the Quidditch World Cup (jury’s back in – no!!!) but let’s face it, when your last name is Potter, doors open, international sporting bodies bow and scrape, and Daily Prophet editors hand you plum assignments.

As their devoted fans and followers will remember, Potter and Krum competed against each other in the controversial Triwizard Tournament, but apparently there are no hard feelings, as they embraced upon meeting (what really happened in that maze? Speculation is unlikely to be quelled by the warmth of their greeting). After half an hour’s chat, Potter and his sons returned to the campsite where they socialised with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army until the small hours.

In the next tent are Potter’s two closest associates, the ones who know everything about him and yet have always refused to talk to the press. Are they afraid of him, or is it their own secrets they are afraid will leak out, tarnishing the myth of He Who Could Not Be Named’s defeat? Now married, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were with Potter almost every step of the way. Like the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, they fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and no doubt deserve the plaudits and awards for bravery heaped upon them by a grateful wizarding world.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle Weasley, whose famous ginger hair appears to be thinning slightly, entered into employment with the Ministry of Magic alongside Potter, but left only two years later to co-manage the highly successful wizarding joke emporium Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Was he, as he stated at the time, ‘delighted to assist my brother George with a business I’ve always loved’? Or had he had his fill of standing in Potter’s shadow? Was the work of the Auror Department too much for a man who has admitted that the destruction of He Who Could Not Be Named’s Horcruxes ‘took its toll’ on him? He shows no obvious signs of mental illness from a distance, but the public is not allowed close enough to make a proper assessment. Is this suspicious?

Hermione Granger, of course, was always the femme fatale of the group. Press reports of the time revealed that as a teenager she toyed with the young Potter’s affections before being seduced away by the muscular Viktor Krum, finally settling for Potter’s faithful sidekick. After a meteoric rise to Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she is now tipped to go even higher within the Ministry, and is also mother to son, Hugo, and daughter, Rose. Does Hermione Granger prove that a witch really can have it all? (No – look at her hair.)

Then there are those members of Dumbledore’s Army who receive slightly less publicity than Potter, Weasley and Granger (are they resentful? Almost certainly). Neville Longbottom, now a popular Herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is here in Patagonia with his wife Hannah. Until recently the pair lived above the Leaky Cauldron in London, but rumour has it that Hannah has not only retrained as a Healer, but is applying for the job of Matron at Hogwarts. Idle gossip suggests that she and her husband both enjoy a little more Ogden’s Old Firewhisky than most of us would expect from custodians of our children, but no doubt we all wish her the best of luck with her application.

Last of the ringleaders of Dumbledore’s Army is, of course, Luna Lovegood (now married to Rolf Scamander, swarthy grandson of celebrated Magizoologist Newt). Still delightfully eccentric, Luna has been sweeping around the VIP section in robes composed of the flags of all sixteen qualifying countries. Her twin sons are ‘at home with grandpa’. Is this a euphemism for ‘too disturbed to be seen in public’? Surely only the unkindest would suggest so.

Sundry other members of the Army are here, but it is on these six that most interest is focused. Wherever there is a red head one may make an educated guess that it belongs to a Weasley, but it is difficult to tell whether it is George (wealthy co-manager of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes), Charlie (dragon wrangler, still unmarried – why?) or Percy (Head of the Department of Magical Transportation – it’s his fault if the Floo Network’s too busy!). The only one who is easy to recognise is Bill who, poor man, is grievously scarred from an encounter with a werewolf and yet somehow (enchantment? Love potion? Blackmail? Kidnap?) married the undeniably beautiful (though doubtless empty-headed) Fleur Delacour.

Word is that we shall see these and other members of Dumbledore’s Army in the VIP boxes at the final, adding to the glitz and razzmatazz of a gala occasion. Let us hope that the behaviour of two of their younger hangers-on does not embarrass them, heaping shame on those who have previously brought honour to the name of wizard.

One always hesitates to invade the privacy of young people, but the fact is that anyone closely connected with Harry Potter reaps the benefits and must pay the penalty of public interest. No doubt Potter will be distressed to know that his sixteen-year-old godson Teddy Lupin – a lanky half-werewolf with bright blue hair – has been behaving in a way unbefitting of wizarding royalty since arriving on the VIP campsite. It might be asking too much that the always-busy Potter keep a tighter rein on this wild boy, who was entrusted to his care by his dying parents, but one shudders to think what will become of Master Lupin without urgent intervention. Meanwhile, Mr and Mrs Bill Weasley might like to know that their beautiful, blonde daughter Victoire seems to be attracted to any dark corner where Master Lupin happens to be lurking. The good news is both of them seem to have invented a method of breathing through their ears. I can think of no other reason how they have survived such prolonged periods of what, in my young day, was called ‘snogging.’

But let us not be severe. Harry Potter and his cohorts never claimed to be perfect! And for those who want to know exactly how imperfect they are, my new biography: Dumbledore’s Army: The Dark Side of the Demob will be available from Flourish and Blotts on July 31st.

741. As they do have their own and separate culture, wizarding folk have musical instruments that don’t exist in the muggle world. However, there is a muggleborn artist, who, while unable to sell copies of their music in the wizarding world against artists like The Weird Sisters or The Bent-Winged Snitches, is quite popular in the muggle world due to their unique sound from their instruments.

By the Daily Prophet’s Gossip Correspondent, Rita Skeeter.

There are celebrities – and then there are celebrities. We’ve seen many a famous face from the wizarding world grace the stands here in the Patagonian Desert – Ministers and Presidents, Celestina Warbeck, controversial American wizarding band The Bent-Winged Snitches – all have caused flurries of excitement, with crowd members scrambling for autographs and even casting Bridging Charms to reach the VIP boxes over the heads of the crowd.

But when word swept the campsite and stadium that a certain gang of infamous wizards (no longer the fresh-faced teenagers they were in their heyday, but nevertheless recognisable) had arrived for the final, excitement was beyond anything yet seen. As the crowd stampeded, tents were flattened and small children mown down. Fans from all corners of the globe stormed towards the area where members of Dumbledore’s Army were rumoured to have been sighted, desperate above all else for a glimpse of the man they still call the Chosen One.

The Potter family and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army have been given accommodation in the VIP section of the campsite, which is protected by heavy charms and patrolled by Security Warlocks. Their presence has ensured large crowds along the cordoned area, all hoping for a glimpse of their heroes. At 3pm today they got their wish when, to the accompaniment of loud screams, Potter took his young sons James and Albus to visit the players’ compound, where he introduced them to Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum.

About to turn 34, there are a couple of threads of silver in the famous Auror’s black hair, but he continues to wear the distinctive round glasses that some might say are better suited to a style-deficient twelve-year-old. The famous lightning scar has company: Potter is sporting a nasty cut over his right cheekbone. Requests for information as to its provenance merely produced the usual response from the Ministry of Magic: ‘We do not comment on the top secret work of the Auror department, as we have told you no less than 514 times, Ms. Skeeter.’ So what are they hiding? Is the Chosen One embroiled in fresh mysteries that will one day explode upon us all, plunging us into a new age of terror and mayhem?

Or does his injury have a more humble origin, one that Potter is desperate to hide? Has his wife perhaps cursed him? Are cracks beginning to show in a union that the Potters are determined to promote as happy? Should we read anything into the fact that his wife Ginevra has been perfectly happy to leave her husband and children behind in London whilst reporting on this tournament? The jury is out on whether she really had the talent or experience to be sent to the Quidditch World Cup (jury’s back in – no!!!) but let’s face it, when your last name is Potter, doors open, international sporting bodies bow and scrape, and Daily Prophet editors hand you plum assignments.

As their devoted fans and followers will remember, Potter and Krum competed against each other in the controversial Triwizard Tournament, but apparently there are no hard feelings, as they embraced upon meeting (what really happened in that maze? Speculation is unlikely to be quelled by the warmth of their greeting). After half an hour’s chat, Potter and his sons returned to the campsite where they socialised with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army until the small hours.

In the next tent are Potter’s two closest associates, the ones who know everything about him and yet have always refused to talk to the press. Are they afraid of him, or is it their own secrets they are afraid will leak out, tarnishing the myth of He Who Could Not Be Named’s defeat? Now married, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were with Potter almost every step of the way. Like the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, they fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and no doubt deserve the plaudits and awards for bravery heaped upon them by a grateful wizarding world.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle Weasley, whose famous ginger hair appears to be thinning slightly, entered into employment with the Ministry of Magic alongside Potter, but left only two years later to co-manage the highly successful wizarding joke emporium Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Was he, as he stated at the time, ‘delighted to assist my brother George with a business I’ve always loved’? Or had he had his fill of standing in Potter’s shadow? Was the work of the Auror Department too much for a man who has admitted that the destruction of He Who Could Not Be Named’s Horcruxes ‘took its toll’ on him? He shows no obvious signs of mental illness from a distance, but the public is not allowed close enough to make a proper assessment. Is this suspicious?

Hermione Granger, of course, was always the femme fatale of the group. Press reports of the time revealed that as a teenager she toyed with the young Potter’s affections before being seduced away by the muscular Viktor Krum, finally settling for Potter’s faithful sidekick. After a meteoric rise to Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she is now tipped to go even higher within the Ministry, and is also mother to son, Hugo, and daughter, Rose. Does Hermione Granger prove that a witch really can have it all? (No – look at her hair.)

Then there are those members of Dumbledore’s Army who receive slightly less publicity than Potter, Weasley and Granger (are they resentful? Almost certainly). Neville Longbottom, now a popular Herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is here in Patagonia with his wife Hannah. Until recently the pair lived above the Leaky Cauldron in London, but rumour has it that Hannah has not only retrained as a Healer, but is applying for the job of Matron at Hogwarts. Idle gossip suggests that she and her husband both enjoy a little more Ogden’s Old Firewhisky than most of us would expect from custodians of our children, but no doubt we all wish her the best of luck with her application.

Last of the ringleaders of Dumbledore’s Army is, of course, Luna Lovegood (now married to Rolf Scamander, swarthy grandson of celebrated Magizoologist Newt). Still delightfully eccentric, Luna has been sweeping around the VIP section in robes composed of the flags of all sixteen qualifying countries. Her twin sons are ‘at home with grandpa’. Is this a euphemism for ‘too disturbed to be seen in public’? Surely only the unkindest would suggest so.

Sundry other members of the Army are here, but it is on these six that most interest is focused. Wherever there is a red head one may make an educated guess that it belongs to a Weasley, but it is difficult to tell whether it is George (wealthy co-manager of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes), Charlie (dragon wrangler, still unmarried – why?) or Percy (Head of the Department of Magical Transportation – it’s his fault if the Floo Network’s too busy!). The only one who is easy to recognise is Bill who, poor man, is grievously scarred from an encounter with a werewolf and yet somehow (enchantment? Love potion? Blackmail? Kidnap?) married the undeniably beautiful (though doubtless empty-headed) Fleur Delacour.

Word is that we shall see these and other members of Dumbledore’s Army in the VIP boxes at the final, adding to the glitz and razzmatazz of a gala occasion. Let us hope that the behaviour of two of their younger hangers-on does not embarrass them, heaping shame on those who have previously brought honour to the name of wizard.

One always hesitates to invade the privacy of young people, but the fact is that anyone closely connected with Harry Potter reaps the benefits and must pay the penalty of public interest. No doubt Potter will be distressed to know that his sixteen-year-old godson Teddy Lupin – a lanky half-werewolf with bright blue hair – has been behaving in a way unbefitting of wizarding royalty since arriving on the VIP campsite. It might be asking too much that the always-busy Potter keep a tighter rein on this wild boy, who was entrusted to his care by his dying parents, but one shudders to think what will become of Master Lupin without urgent intervention. Meanwhile, Mr and Mrs Bill Weasley might like to know that their beautiful, blonde daughter Victoire seems to be attracted to any dark corner where Master Lupin happens to be lurking. The good news is both of them seem to have invented a method of breathing through their ears. I can think of no other reason how they have survived such prolonged periods of what, in my young day, was called ‘snogging.’

But let us not be severe. Harry Potter and his cohorts never claimed to be perfect! And for those who want to know exactly how imperfect they are, my new biography: Dumbledore’s Army: The Dark Side of the Demob will be available from Flourish and Blotts on July 31st.

-the new short story by Jo Rowling, posted today on pottermore.com

Bent Winged Snitches Play Historic Muggle Venue

Above: Lead-Singer Lashaunta Williams has a smoke break before starting her set at the famous Po’ Monkey’s in Mississippi.

“We always wanted to shake things up,” Lashaunta Williams says, taking a drag off of her Wentworth’s Heart-Teller, and exhaling a cool, lavender smoke, traced with orange. The side of the box tells me the combination speaks of introspection and sparks of anticipation, which tells in rockstar’s stance and the way she purses her lips as she grinds the butt of her cigarette under the heel of her stiletto, “But I don’t think we ever expected all this,” she finished pulling another cigarette from her cleavage and lighting it with a slow inhalation.

“This” includes the sold-out American tour the Snitches are finishing up tonight, and the much anticipated European tour they’ll start in October, which kicks off with a Halloween Show in the Catacombs of Paris. Rumor has it their backup dancers will include the animated skeletons of some of France’s most notable dead, all of whose ghosts approved before their bodies were disinterred. It also includes an album that has gone double platinum, and a swarm of dedicated fans that call themselves, “Seekers.”

And some of them don’t even know why.

“Yeah, we’ve got a Muggle following,” Lorelei Peters says, back in the trailer pulled up behind Po’ Monkey’s. They’re busy tracing runes down the side of their neck, carefully transcribing an ancient Nordic enchantment for strength to bolster their vocal chords. Lorelei, or Lei, is the bassist and also something of the group banshee; a power-wailer whose shrieks punctuate their unique set and punctuate Lashaunta’s otherwise haunting melody. Lei also prefers the pronoun “They,” as the musician doesn’t believe in gender, at least it applies to them, “Bronte was chill with using ‘they’ as a singular pronoun,” Lorelei informed me while dabbing a bit of rouge on a single exposed nipple, “So f*ck all if that’s not good enough for me too, and modern grammar be f*cked.”

I ask more about the band’s Muggle following, and it’s Thai, the group’s drummer, who speaks up. Normally soft-spoken, “Tiny” Thai Hernandez seems to always be the first to jump in when the band’s non-magical following gets called into question, ‘We’ve gotten a lot of flack from the government about it, but technically we never marketed it to the Muggles, and there’s nothing in our lyrics that actually exposes the magical world, so we haven’t violated any laws. As for the concerts…” the tiny woman shrugs, “They can’t tell us not to. We don’t work any magic into our act, and our magical fans know that there are sometimes Muggles in the crowd and to keep things on the down-low.”

It is this, more than anything else, that has given the group a reputation as rebels and have many older witches and wizards up in arms. It isn’t the Snitches’ overt sexuality, or their music itself, which advocates the next best thing to anarchy in the opinion of many Wizarding authorities…no, the Snitches are best known for their belief that the Statute of Secrecy, which many claim has protected the magical community for centuries, be disassembled so Muggles can be let in on the secret.

“Well thank on it, yeah?” says Collette West, the band pianist and organist as she carefully applies blue wode to the side of her face. Her golden eyes openly proclaim her lycanthropy to the world, even though she uses contacts to actually give them that amber hue, “Who came up with the statute? Those European bastards who let the Church get away from them. Terrified of being killed because their neighbors thought they were evil, right? But everywhere else in the world magical folks were living out and openly for centuries after. But Europeans made them stop, said it was too dangerous,  when they were the bastards bringing those dangerous beliefs. And then,” she spreads her hands and widens her eyes, “Oops! Well it’s too dangerous to use magic, even if you’re defending your Muggle neighbors from our imperial intentions! Better sign the Statute or we’ll have to come down hard on you! Or worse…we’ll get your Muggles to do it for us.”

Lashaunta, who has rejoined the group by now, snorts and makes sure her wand is hidden just beneath the hem of her skirt, “Convenient, right? Be afraid of the Muggles, even though they’re our Muggles, and we’re the ones telling you not to use magic near them. Also ignore the fact we’re profiting off it all when they bring your culture and treasures back to fill our bank vaults, and your kids back to work our fields.”

The conversation continues on this thread for a while. Its clearly a favorite of the band. When I ask about their choice of venue, it’s Lorelei who answers, “Our music comes from a lot of places. I mean, we’ve made jokes about old-timers like Celestina, but she was the witch who taught me how to shriek when I was just a little one playing in my grandmother’s firebird reserve…but most of our influences are strictly Americana. Hip-hop, folk-rock, and, of course, the Blues, grandaddy of them all. And you don’t get more Blusey than Po’Monkeys. Its, like, the last real juke-joint in this part of the south. Its places like this where the blues was born.”

“It took a lot of work,” Talbert Finnigan, the band’s manager confides as the band is getting ready to take the stage, “But we worked things out with the owner and with the local authorities. The DSO realized they couldn’t prevent us from playing, so they’ve got agents throughout the crowd in case the worst happens, and we’ve taken some…steps…to make sure we can identify the Muggles in the crowd. I’m expecting a great show.”

The show is, of course, incredible, and despite the fears of the locals, nothing happens that this reporter, or the attendant agents, believe broke the Statutes. The Snitches signed autographs for Muggles and magical folks alike after the show, then took off.

“I’m looking forward to a break,”  Thai tells me after I was invited to join them of their “bus,” which is really more of a mansion on wheels, “Its been a crazy couple of months…awesome, but crazy. Can’t wait for Paris though, and the rest of Europe. We’re going to take the message right to source…I’m sort of hoping for fireworks.”

~Daria Stones, Music Reporter for The Whippoorwill, the AWC’s premier musical journal. June, 23 2014. 

I want to talk about controversial American wizarding band the Bent-Winged Snitches

  • Why are they controversial? Could it be an all queer girls band? Are some of the members house-elves? Are some of the members mandrakes? All of the members?
  • Where does the name come from? Do they possibly release thousands of snitches into crowds at their concerts? Or get carried out, Gaga-at-the-Grammys style, in a giant snitch?
  • Why has a controversial American band traveled to Argentina for a sporting event? International wizarding espionage via musical ingenue sleeper agents? Are we ficcing this?
  • Bent-Winged Snitches
Dumbledore’s Army Reunites at Quidditch World Cup Final

By the Daily Prophet’s Gossip Correspondent, Rita Skeeter

There are celebrities – and then there are celebrities. We’ve seen many a famous face from the wizarding world grace the stands here in the Patagonian Desert – Ministers and Presidents, Celestina Warbeck, controversial American wizarding band The Bent-Winged Snitches – all have caused flurries of excitement, with crowd members scrambling for autographs and even casting Bridging Charms to reach the VIP boxes over the heads of the crowd.

But when word swept the campsite and stadium that a certain gang of infamous wizards (no longer the fresh-faced teenagers they were in their heyday, but nevertheless recognisable) had arrived for the final, excitement was beyond anything yet seen. As the crowd stampeded, tents were flattened and small children mown down. Fans from all corners of the globe stormed towards the area where members of Dumbledore’s Army were rumoured to have been sighted, desperate above all else for a glimpse of the man they still call the Chosen One.

The Potter family and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army have been given accommodation in the VIP section of the campsite, which is protected by heavy charms and patrolled by Security Warlocks. Their presence has ensured large crowds along the cordoned area, all hoping for a glimpse of their heroes. At 3pm today they got their wish when, to the accompaniment of loud screams, Potter took his young sons James and Albus to visit the players’ compound, where he introduced them to Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum.

About to turn 34, there are a couple of threads of silver in the famous Auror’s black hair, but he continues to wear the distinctive round glasses that some might say are better suited to a style-deficient twelve-year-old. The famous lightning scar has company: Potter is sporting a nasty cut over his right cheekbone. Requests for information as to its provenance merely produced the usual response from the Ministry of Magic: ‘We do not comment on the top secret work of the Auror department, as we have told you no less than 514 times, Ms. Skeeter.’ So what are they hiding? Is the Chosen One embroiled in fresh mysteries that will one day explode upon us all, plunging us into a new age of terror and mayhem?

Or does his injury have a more humble origin, one that Potter is desperate to hide? Has his wife perhaps cursed him? Are cracks beginning to show in a union that the Potters are determined to promote as happy? Should we read anything into the fact that his wife Ginevra has been perfectly happy to leave her husband and children behind in London whilst reporting on this tournament? The jury is out on whether she really had the talent or experience to be sent to the Quidditch World Cup (jury’s back in – no!!!) but let’s face it, when your last name is Potter, doors open, international sporting bodies bow and scrape, and Daily Prophet editors hand you plum assignments.

As their devoted fans and followers will remember, Potter and Krum competed against each other in the controversial Triwizard Tournament, but apparently there are no hard feelings, as they embraced upon meeting (what really happened in that maze? Speculation is unlikely to be quelled by the warmth of their greeting). After half an hour’s chat, Potter and his sons returned to the campsite where they socialised with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army until the small hours.

In the next tent are Potter’s two closest associates, the ones who know everything about him and yet have always refused to talk to the press. Are they afraid of him, or is it their own secrets they are afraid will leak out, tarnishing the myth of He Who Could Not Be Named’s defeat? Now married, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were with Potter almost every step of the way. Like the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, they fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and no doubt deserve the plaudits and awards for bravery heaped upon them by a grateful wizarding world.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle Weasley, whose famous ginger hair appears to be thinning slightly, entered into employment with the Ministry of Magic alongside Potter, but left only two years later to co-manage the highly successful wizarding joke emporium Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Was he, as he stated at the time, ‘delighted to assist my brother George with a business I’ve always loved’? Or had he had his fill of standing in Potter’s shadow? Was the work of the Auror Department too much for a man who has admitted that the destruction of He Who Could Not Be Named’s Horcruxes ‘took its toll’ on him? He shows no obvious signs of mental illness from a distance, but the public is not allowed close enough to make a proper assessment. Is this suspicious?

Hermione Granger, of course, was always the femme fatale of the group. Press reports of the time revealed that as a teenager she toyed with the young Potter’s affections before being seduced away by the muscular Viktor Krum, finally settling for Potter’s faithful sidekick. After a meteoric rise to Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she is now tipped to go even higher within the Ministry, and is also mother to son, Hugo, and daughter, Rose. Does Hermione Granger prove that a witch really can have it all? (No – look at her hair.)

Then there are those members of Dumbledore’s Army who receive slightly less publicity than Potter, Weasley and Granger (are they resentful? Almost certainly). Neville Longbottom, now a popular Herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is here in Patagonia with his wife Hannah. Until recently the pair lived above the Leaky Cauldron in London, but rumour has it that Hannah has not only retrained as a Healer, but is applying for the job of Matron at Hogwarts. Idle gossip suggests that she and her husband both enjoy a little more Ogden’s Old Firewhisky than most of us would expect from custodians of our children, but no doubt we all wish her the best of luck with her application.

Last of the ringleaders of Dumbledore’s Army is, of course, Luna Lovegood (now married to Rolf Scamander, swarthy grandson of celebrated Magizoologist Newt). Still delightfully eccentric, Luna has been sweeping around the VIP section in robes composed of the flags of all sixteen qualifying countries. Her twin sons are ‘at home with grandpa’. Is this a euphemism for ‘too disturbed to be seen in public’? Surely only the unkindest would suggest so.

Sundry other members of the Army are here, but it is on these six that most interest is focused. Wherever there is a red head one may make an educated guess that it belongs to a Weasley, but it is difficult to tell whether it is George (wealthy co-manager of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes), Charlie (dragon wrangler, still unmarried – why?) or Percy (Head of the Department of Magical Transportation – it’s his fault if the Floo Network’s too busy!). The only one who is easy to recognise is Bill who, poor man, is grievously scarred from an encounter with a werewolf and yet somehow (enchantment? Love potion? Blackmail? Kidnap?) married the undeniably beautiful (though doubtless empty-headed) Fleur Delacour.

Word is that we shall see these and other members of Dumbledore’s Army in the VIP boxes at the final, adding to the glitz and razzmatazz of a gala occasion. Let us hope that the behaviour of two of their younger hangers-on does not embarrass them, heaping shame on those who have previously brought honour to the name of wizard.

One always hesitates to invade the privacy of young people, but the fact is that anyone closely connected with Harry Potter reaps the benefits and must pay the penalty of public interest. No doubt Potter will be distressed to know that his sixteen-year-old godson Teddy Lupin – a lanky half-werewolf with bright blue hair – has been behaving in a way unbefitting of wizarding royalty since arriving on the VIP campsite. It might be asking too much that the always-busy Potter keep a tighter rein on this wild boy, who was entrusted to his care by his dying parents, but one shudders to think what will become of Master Lupin without urgent intervention. Meanwhile, Mr and Mrs Bill Weasley might like to know that their beautiful, blonde daughter Victoire seems to be attracted to any dark corner where Master Lupin happens to be lurking. The good news is both of them seem to have invented a method of breathing through their ears. I can think of no other reason how they have survived such prolonged periods of what, in my young day, was called ‘snogging.’

But let us not be severe. Harry Potter and his cohorts never claimed to be perfect! And for those who want to know exactly how imperfect they are, my new biography: Dumbledore’s Army: The Dark Side of the Demob will be available from Flourish and Blotts on July 31st. 

anonymous asked:

I really like your writing! Could you write me scorose fluff (in which they are already in relationship). Thank you C:

pretty sure this has been in my inbox for like half a year, but here you go!

Everyone always talks about the first date.

The first date is the most important, they say, because it’s you and them being together on an official first date, and you’ve probably never done this before, and sometimes it goes shit and sometimes it’s bloody amazing, but whatever the case it’s still the first date and nothing else matters.

Or something.

Scorpius Malfoy would beg to differ. For him, it’s entirely different. The dating process for him and Rose Weasley was not exactly conventional – for starters, they’d been best friends first. They’d basically spent every waking hour of their six years so far at school together. Almost everyone had known they were bound to get together sometime, what with the constant touching and flirting, it was really just a matter of when.

So when it did, it wasn’t really very surprising that the first date had gone off without a hitch. Scorpius had successfully convinced everyone that, no, he was not a murderer, and he’d brushed his hair and put on a dark shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows because Rose had once told him that his arms were one of his best features. Their first date is spectacular; they eat and laugh and shop in Hogsmeade village, they kick piles of leaves at each other’s faces and giggle as they watch the sun set over the Black Lake. He kisses her on the cheek when they get back to the castle, and she turns her head just so, and their lips meet.

Yes, the first date was wonderful.

The second date –

“It’s fucking freezing,” Rose moans as they walk swiftly down the main road. Scorpius’ hands are clenched into tight fists in his pockets – he’d completely forgotten his gloves – and his nose feels like it’s about to fall off.

“I know,” he mutters, stomping hard against the ground, trying not to slip and fall on the ice, “You’ve only said about a thousand times.” He wraps his hands around his torso. As many wonders as his leather jacket does for his looks, it’s pretty crap at keeping him warm.

She looks at him, glaring, and her hair – at least the part that isn’t hindered by her cream coloured beanie – swooshes over her shoulder, long red curls that fly in all directions in the strong wind. “Well sorry,” she spits, with an aggravated tone, “Only I think my toes are actually frozen and I can’t feel my ears.”

“The least you could do would be to –“

“What? Shut up about it? Oh, like that’s going to help –“

“Oh, piss off and stop whining Rosie,” he shouts over the wind, hands flying up into the air in exasperation. Instantly, he loses feeling in his fingers.

Rosie? Don’t you ‘Rosie’ me! You’re the one who asked me on this goddamn date –“

“What, so now you don’t even want to date me?”

Somewhere along the way, they’ve stopped. Face to face, Scorpius seethes at Rose, yelling obscenities about how fucking annoying this was, and how all he really wanted to do was sit in the kitchens with her.

“To do what? Stuff your face with Christmas pudding and pretend that there isn’t a problem?”

“What problem, Rose? Huh? You’ve been acting all high and mighty the whole day, if you could just tell me what the bloody hell is wrong –“

By now, they’re starting to gather a crowd. It is a Hogsmeade weekend, after all, and practically the entire student population is out and about, a lot of whom are now tittering and whispering not so quietly about the couple.

“The problem, Scorpius,” she starts loudly. Then, her voice drops and she sighs. “I don’t want to lose you. You’ve been my best friend for so long and I can’t have a relationship with you if it means we’re going to break up badly and never be friends again.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Scorpius says, holding his hands up in a slow-down-please sort of way, “Who said anything about breaking up?”

“No, I just mean it could happen, right? We’re always bickering, anyway, and –“

“Rose. I know I don’t say it a lot, but you are my best friend.”

“Exactly,” Rose’s voice is almost a whisper now, and out of the corner of his eye, Scorpius spots the crowd moving closer, trying to hear them. He ignores them. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me.” He speaks determinedly, “You’re more than just my best friend. You’re my person, the one I go to for everything, the one who helps me and laughs with me and talks to me.”

“That’s my point!” Her voice rises again, not angry now, but desperate, “I need you, Scorpius.”

As if on cue, the crowd makes a funny ‘aww’ sound. In unison, Rose and Scorpius look around to glower at them, and they retreat slightly.

“I need you too, Rose. And it might be a bit early, because we’re only on the second date, but –“ He ruffles his hair, cheeks turning even pinker in the icy air, “I’m falling in love with you. So don’t push me away.”

“W-what?” Her mouth falls open.

He lets out an embarrassed smile. “You heard me. You don’t have to say it back, but I just want to you know that even if we do break up, I could never hate you.”

She starts to mirror his expression, lips twitching upwards. “Even if I said I hated Quidditch?”

“Even then.”

“What about if I said I hated the Bent-Winged Snitches?”

He thinks of their favourite band. Mockingly, “I guess I’d think you were crazy, but yeah. Even then.”

“What if I said that strawberry ice cream was better than chocolate?”

A pause. “We’d have to have a serious conversation about that, but I’m sure we could work around it – oof.”

He’s cut off by her body, flying at full force as if she is a comet, hurtling straight into his chest. Rose, being considerably shorter than Scorpius, seizes him around the waist and squeezes. He wraps his arms around her, poufy coat and scarf and all, burying his cold nose into the soft wool of her hat.

Slowly, she raises her head, standing on tiptoes so that her lips can touch his. “I’m falling in love with you too,” she murmurs, the words vibrating and tumbling into his mouth, so that his lips curve into a huge grin against hers.

As they kiss, he dimly becomes aware of the excitable crowd, who have once again drawn close. Some of them – Scorpius guesses the younger students – are even clapping. Many are wolf whistling, and with a bit of effort, he removes his left hand from Rose’s waist and raises it in a particularly rude hand gesture.

They quieten down quickly after that, most of them laughing and moving away, and Scorpius rests his forehead against Rose’s, letting out a puff of air that curls into the clear sky like smoke. It’s still freezing, of course, but somehow with his body touching hers, it doesn’t really feel like it.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice low. He catches a flying curl of hair and tucks it behind her ear with a smile.

“Of course. You?”

“Yeah.”

They stand in silence for a second, and Scorpius is just thinking that even his frozen fingers could thaw under the intensity of her gaze, when he hears her stomach rumble, loud and clear over the wind.

Immediately, she gives a sheepish grin that sets them both off, giggling and snorting. Through his laughter, he gets out, “Let’s get you some food, Rosie,” and tugs on her hand, pulling her down the road again.

As they stroll on, clasped hands swinging between them, Scorpius can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, second dates weren’t so bad after all. In fact, he reckons they’re just as good as first ones.