Some say that the trees whisper their names. That you can hear their fading laughter on the wind.
Footprints sometimes appear in the moist grass or mud and their steps echo through the halls.
The paintings on the wall tip their hats to the shadows dancing through the corridors and a cooling breeze gently caresses the curtains.
On photos you think you see a third person but they quickly disappear after a second look.
Sometimes the couch is still warm from someone else sitting on it , even though it’s three in the morning. And the house elves sometimes talk and wave at thin air.
The professors might call you by the wrong name and suddenly they have to blink tears away but can’t fight the small but sad smile that flickers over their face.
Countless cats and owls without an owner wander the school and sleep on the abandoned desks in empty class rooms. And sometimes, they freeze, lift their head and cry out. Whining until someone picks them up and reassures them.
Still opened books are gathering dust in the library. Nobody could ever bring themselves to store them away.
But sometimes a light winds picks up a page and will turn it ever so gently.
And every year on may 2nd , when the sunlight hits the surface of the lake, you can see the backs of fifty six people standing side by side. Facing the sun. They shimmer in the air and their feet don’t touch the ground.
One of them has red hair and the pupils could have sworn that they have seen someone who looked just like him when they were shopping in Diagon Alley.
Next to him, a married couple. You can tell by the way they are holding each others hands. The woman has bright pink hair and her husband seems to radiate warmth and kindness.
Then there is this younger kid. A vintage camera in his small hand. He always tries to take a picture of the sun, but he has never managed to catch the right moment yet.
Next to him stands a blonde, pale girl with a rose ribbon in her hair. She always lays a hand onto the boys bony shoulder and squeezes it gently.
They are surrounded by fifty other people.
The pupils can never actually see their faces. Only their backs. Like a wall of light and warmth they stand united at the lake. Enjoying the sun. Protecting what is left.
And there at the end of the line. There is a man, standing on his own. He is wearing all black. It suits him in a bizarre way. He is yellowish and pale and has black hair. He never looks at the sun. Instead, he stands in the shadow of a tree. Watching the others.
It took years. But after nineteen winters the married couple flowed towards him, took his hand and pulled him to join the others.
To stand together by the water. Between the wild and the school.
As a promise.
Not another child would die on this ground. Not here. History might be written with blood, but not at a place of ink. Not at this school.
That whilst Harry lost his parents, that day, Minerva MC Gonagall lost four of her students. One of them used to be a head girl the other the head boy and all of them were her dear friends. Who btw. where also part of the order. She hears that Sirius Black. **Sirius Black** , Potter’s best friend , killed him, his wife and Peter Pettigrew, also one of his closest mates. She learned that , without reason but only the order of a dark lord, he killed his friends and laughed at their corpses.
She learns that their lovely son will grow up without knowing his parents.
She hears that he will have to stay with the muggles who hate him and his kin. And don’t tell me she didn’t know that.
Then, 11 years later she meets the boy and he looks just like James. Except for his eyes. Of course. Don’t tell me she didn’t , just for a second, felt that thug in her stomach. The grief. Don’t tell me she didn’t want the very best for that boy so many people loved and lived and died for.
(Because I honestly don’t think Remus wanted to keep on going after he heard what happened)
Then, again, two years later it turns out that Black is actually innocent. Don’t you think she felt absolutely horrible and guilty for letting him being shipped off to azkaban when he was in fact innocent. FOR 12 BLOODY YEARS!!!
And then, in Harry ’s fifth year Black fucking dies?? I mean, bugger off arsehole! Sirius Black, finally free. And then? He falls into the bloody veil and leaves as well. He wasn’t even hit by the bloody avada kadavra! By that time she lost four of her former students!
And last but not least. Two years later. Remus Lupin dies. As the last of the mauraders, he dies with his wife’s hand clasped in his own.
DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT HOW AWFUL IT HAD TO BE FOR MINERVA BLOODY MC GONAGALL? A TEACHER THAT OUTLIVED HER OWN STUDENTS. THE STUDENTS THAT WERE THE VERY HEART AND SOUL TO HER HOUSE? WHO WERE ALWAYS JUMPING AROUND, PRANKING PEOPLE AND ALWAYS, I MEAN ABSOLUTELY ALWAYS FOUND A WAY TO CHEER OTHER PEOPLE UP?
and it didn’t even stop there. I mean, she had to watch her own pupils die once again during the battle of hogwarts. Just so she could then, later on, be the headmaster for their sons and daughters and brothers and sisters.
ALL I WANT TO SAY IS:
SHE NEVER GAVE UP. SHE NEVER LOST HOPE. SO, THANKS MINERVA MC GONAGALL FOR BEING SUCH A BADASS.
Red and gold , the banner of the brave house is lazily singing in the wind.
The sun is setting.
The hustling world breathes out a relieved sigh and fireflies light up the darkening land.
Bonfires are cracking in the dull light and embers sparkle in the soft evening air.
Someone is humming the tune of the latest song and low guitar cords mingle into it.
Sitting down you stare into the fire.
Warmth engulfs you and for a moment in time you are immortal.
A penny for a thought?
A thought of adventure.
Aren’t there mountains to climb and seas to cross?
Aren’t there fights to fight and minds to blow?
Right now you could jump off a plane with a parachute strapped onto your back.
Can you feel it?
The feeling of your heart plunging into your stomach?
The sound of the wind that whips against your body?
Right now you could be walking through a thousand year old forest.
Can you hear it?
The cries of a monkey, calling out for his mate?
The ever existing rush of life in the jungle?
Does it not make you feel drowsy?
Knowing that all that is out there?
Knowing that you have the possibility to grasp immortality just by LIVING!
Does it not make you feel afraid?
Knowing that all that is out there?
Knowing that you are going against the world just by living?
Blue and bronze, the colours of the wise house are clothing the sky at dawn.
The world awakes.
The darkness is leaving and makes space for the buzzing day.
The first birds are leaving their nests whilst chirping a greeting to the rising sun.
The sweet east-wind accompanies them and fills the air with promising fragrance.
Walking through the dew you look up into the clear sky. Your skin is still covered in goosebumps from the nightly cold but it wakes you up and clears your mind and
for a moment in time you are immortal.
A penny for a thought?
A thought of philosophy.
Aren’t there minds to fill with knowledge? Aren’t there books to read and worlds to discover?
Aren’t there paintings to finish and poems to recite?
Right now you could use your voice to bring ideas to life!
Can you see it?
A pirate, a knight, a fairy a friend.
You are raising your voice and life streams through the world. In a wirlwind you paint fight and reunions and first kisses and adventures.
You convey emotions and manipulate reality.
Can you feel it?
The power those words hold?
A sentence is enough to end a life. But a word can also let it begin.
Does it not make you feel excited?
Knowing that behind every cover is a new universe to discover?
Knowing that you are creator and destroyer of worlds?
Does it not make you feel scared?
Knowing that you are losing contact to your here and now?
From valley broad
Black and yellow, the banner of the steady house flutters on the wind.
The sun is standing high in the sky, leaving warmth and light in its wake.
The world is here and now. The day came swooping in and grasped your hand to run along. Life is pulsating through the arteries of the earth. The trees are groaning and the weeds are dancing. Bees and bears alike are heading out to follow nature’s call into the wild.
Laying in the grass you look up and shield your eyes from the sun, and for a moment you are immortal.
A penny for a thought?
A thought of perspective.
Aren’t we already sad enough?
Aren’t there little things to enjoy?
The perfect meal, prepared by a friend for a friend?
Watching animals work and realising that they are just as hardworking and down to earth as we are?
Tuning out the world to take care of yourself because you are worth to be looked after, and firstly by yourself?
Can you hear it?
The laughter or you and your friends because you understand the meaning and worth of your friendship?
Can you see it?
How that smile you gave to a stranger made their day because they thought they were hated by or for their own blood?
Does it not make you feel happy?
Knowing that your hardships will be honoured? Knowing that there is more to life than your success?
Does it not make you feel helpless?
Knowing that some people won’t understand the true feeling of joy?
Silver and green, the colours of the proud house adorn the nightly northern sky.
The moon and the stars are carefully watching over the sleeping world.
Silence has drowned out the never ending fuss of the day and finally thoughts are able to wander and sprout and bloom.
Only the wolfs howl in the night, their ancient song of hardship and pride. A tune that is as loud as thunder and trice as beautiful.
Walking through the darkness with only the moon as light you listen to the silent noise of secret life. And for a moment you feel immortal.
A penny for a thought.
A thought of freedom.
Aren’t there already enough heroes in this world?
Aren’t there other people that can be chess figures on a board?
Right now you could be running with wolves and dancing with snakes. You could be swimming against the current and tame the sharks in the water.
Right now you could be proving them wrong and yourself worthy.
Right now you could be reaching for the stars and leave your head in the clouds.
Can you feel it?
When the shackles of oppression fall apart?
When you can finally choose your own way?
The rain on your face, the wind in your hair as you run through the world and pursue your dreams?
Can you see it?
The future that you always wanted?
Painted in the colours of the milkyway, sparkling and bright and never fading.
Does it not make you feel giddy?
Knowing that you can go wherever you want to?
Knowing that you are your own person?
Does it not break your heart?
Knowing that the loneliness can be crushing?
A PENNY FOR A THOUGHT.
THERE ARE ALWAYS PRO AND CONS.
BUT BETTER REGRET DOING SOMETHING THAN REGRET NOT DOING SOMETHING.
THERE IS ALWAYS SOMEONE WHO WON’T APPROVE.
BUT BETTER ASKING FOR FORGIVENESS THAN ASKING FOR PERMISSION.
THE WORLD DOESN’T STOP FOR YOU.
IT WON’T CHANGE FOR YOU.
UNLESS YOU MAKE SURE OF IT WITH YOUR OWN DAMN HANDS.
We are Slytherin.
We are green and silver.
We are the crushing of the waves.
We are shadows and currents.
We are the calm before a storm and suggestive smirks in class.
We are the legends that linger forever.
Sometimes our tounges are sharper than our knives.
Sometimes our smiles are more cruel than our revenge.
We are the heroes that lived too long.
We are the Kings and Queens of Kings and Queens. And heavy weighs the crown.
We are the moon in the sky and the snow on the ground.
We are the ballet dancers that rock.
We are the northern lights in the polar night.
We are beautiful and sharp and crystal clear.
We embrace our shadows and keep our chin high.
And sometimes the dark comes seeping in.
Sometimes our own weapons turn against us.
Sometimes it’s hard to keep the head clear.
Sometimes our control crumbles.
And is taken away.
Sometimes it’s impossible to hold on.
Sometimes I realise my mistake.
And sometimes I ponder if I am one.
And then they are there.
Yes, you are…
Someone who can’t even do this simple task.
Sometimes I hide from them.
In my room.
I can hear them scream and yell downstairs.
On the other side of the door.
And sometimes I am happy that I am so lonely.
Because at least I don’t have to listen to them.
And sometimes I think:
But then there you are:
The calm after the storm.
The boulder in the stream.
And your voice is soft:
“Want to feel alive?”
And I chuckle.
Because you have come to know me so well.
And you take my hand and lead me away from them.
And we conquer the world.
We hoist our colours and take a gulp of freedom.
We are the snake with its cunning and wisdom.
We are the sea.
A roaring and a calm.
And we will write history and prophecies.
anyways not to be dramatic but i remember being twelve when the sorcerer’s stone came out on dvd and i remember hating harry potter because i was a terrible reader and the kid that had a hard time pronouncing stuff in class and i couldn’t understand why so many kids were reading these books, anyways i watched the movie and i remember being in awe, i felt like i had left my grandparent’s bedroom for a moment and lived a different life entirely. when the dvd was over i hit play again and watched it immediately after just to feel that way again. after that i ended up getting the books and from those books i read other books and long story short i was no longer the kid embarrassed to read in class but instead became the kid no one could keep up with. what im saying is that sometimes things shape you and even though it’s fifteen years later i will always remember that moment
Hogwarts is pranks and dreams.
Hogwarts is having fun whilst learning,
It’s friends around you 24/7 and joining your beds to have a gigantic sleepover.
Hogwarts is taking a swim in the cool lake during summer and poking the giant squid.
Hogwarts is sneaking out and roasting marshmallows over the fire. Hogwarts is running from your rival after smearing toothpaste onto his head and laughing all the while. It’s trying to see which of the professors is the most patient and grinning when they blow up. Hogwarts is the smell of the awaiting summer and the cooling breeze on your face. Hogwarts is making up after a fight.
Hogwarts means family.
Hogwarts is caring and celebrating.
Hogwarts is the dream you had last night.
It’s the feast in the great Hall and the pillow fight that escalates. Hogwarts is running through the corridors and playing hide and seek even (especially) when you attend your last year. Hogwarts is singing at the top of your lungs and not caring about what other are thinking. Hogwarts is painting your future the way you always wanted it.
It’s studying and knowing you will actually need it. It’s waking up late but still seizing the day.
Hogwarts is patching each other up after y'all got beat up because you couldn’t manage to keep your mouth shut. (It was totally worth it, tho.)
Hogwarts means friends.
Hogwarts is the sense in nonsense.
Hogwarts is the dawn of a new day, the flight on the back of a hippogrif.
Hogwarts is not having to study because you know without the pressure you’ll do it anyway. Hogwarts is the silence in the library and the groaning of the wooden shelves. It’s waking up in the middle of the night and eating a pizza. It’s experimenting with everything and anything even though nobody knows whether or not it is actually legal. Hogwarts is flipping off your haters because you learned your own worth. Hogwarts is cheeky comments in class and driving your professor crazy. Hogwarts is making friends after you lost the fake ones.
Hogwarts means hope.
Hogwarts is solitude and chaos.
Hogwarts is the stars in the night sky and the thrill of playing quidditch.
It’s coming up with impossible ideas and actually bringing them to life.
It’s the dance off after an intense debate in the common room.
It’s ice skating on thin ice and the feeling you get when the ice doesn’t crack.
Hogwarts is the cozy warmth that’s warming you during a storm.
It’s plotting the best and worst revenge plan there is and seeing your enemy despair. Hogwarts is letting go and being free.
Hogwarts is finding yourself after you lost your mind.