Kids who have never finished a book on their own before can pick up a graphic novel and be done in an hour and feel empowered. … They’ve never had that experience before. They finished something.
Author Raina Telgemeier
Any self-respecting comics fan cringes at the phrase
“comics aren’t just for kids anymore.” But any self-respecting comics
fan also has to admit there are some great kids’ comics out there — especially
In fact, comics for early readers are booming; even big
publishers like DC are getting in on the action.
I read because imagination was the only thing that elevated me beyond my own reality. To look at the world as my only plane of existence was so limiting, and a little depressing. I needed the boundless worlds found in good fiction.
“I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl, From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl, I’d love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl, But I’m never warm enough for my lovely summer girl”
Request by Anonymous: Hey, so I know you mainly focus on Newt Scamander imagines but I was wondering if you would consider doing a Sirius Black x hufflepuff reader imagine? Like where he stereotypes hufflepuffs as lazy and boring and stuff? K LOVE YOU THANKS
Word Count: 2, 004
A/N: Don’t judge, I’ve never written Sirius before. This is a shorter imagine. I FINALLY UPDATED THANK GOD.
Sirius had to admit, Hogwarts was creepy when it was silent. He glanced at his watch; 5:57am. Four minutes since he had decided to sneak out from the Gryffindor dorms. He had lain in his bed since 5am, unable to fall asleep again. He didn’t know why he had woken up, perhaps by the joint force of James’ and Peter’s snores. He was so bored, he had to go do something and he knew he’d feel bad if he woke up any of his friends, so he decided to go break some rules and sneak out, still in his pyjamas. The sun hadn’t risen yet and the school was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the tip of his wand. He made sure to be quiet as he walked down the many hallways, and to keep the wand away from the paintings that lined the walls, so as to not wake them up.
He was walking down a hallway to go prank a particularly nasty teacher in his classroom, when he heard a cheeky giggle he knew all too well. He mumbled a curse under his breath and turned into the courtyard, dashing behind a tree. That damn poltergeist. Apparently he didn’t take any break from causing trouble, even in the small hours of the morning. Sirius knew that if Peeves saw or heard him he’d run to tell the Bloody Baron and Sirius would be in a world of trouble for sneaking out, so he held his breath and kept perfectly still. As much as he liked to make people believe that detentions didn’t bother him, he’d prefer not to get one. He stayed in his spot until the silence reassured him that the poltergeist had gone and he breathed a sigh of relief, his breath fogging up in the chilly morning air.
“Peeves rarely comes down to this part of the castle.” A voice said, making him jump. He looked around for the source of the voice and his eyes landed on you, already in your Hufflepuff robes, sitting under a tree with a book in one hand and your lit wand in your other, your eyes still on the book. “Something or someone must have lured him here.” You said, looking at him now and raising an accusatory eyebrow. He was confused as to why you were sitting on the cold ground when there was a perfectly good bench a few feet away from you, but he shook it off and gave you one of his signature smirks.
“Couldn’t have been me. Though Hufflepuffs aren’t exactly known to be stealthy, must have been you he followed.” He said, enjoying how he made you grit your teeth in annoyance. He already knew he’d enjoy bugging you.
“It couldn’t have been me because I’ve been here since 5 and I come here often and he’s never found me.” You said, trying to keep your calm. You were usually a nice, calm person but the second someone insults your house, your temper shortens by a half. Sirius was surprised anyone woke up that early to sneak out and consequently break many rules, especially a Hufflepuff.
“What’s a Hufflepuff doing out of the den before noon?” He asked, now leaning on the tree, arms crossed. You pursed your lips angrily.
“Wow, in the space of 10 seconds you’ve managed to insult both me and my house twice.” You said.
“It’s truly a gift.” He said, grinning at your annoyed expression.
“Truly.” You grumbled sarcastically, turning back to your book. He took this time to properly look at you. You didn’t seem too bothered by the cold air (and the cold ground you were sitting on) nor did you look tired, even though you had woken up pretty early. The light from your wand was making your H/C hair shine and E/C eyes sparkle, though that may have just been your irritation. Sirius had to admit, you were pretty and he wondered why he’d never seen you before. He had quite an eye for pretty girls, and that you hadn’t caught his or vice versa bewildered him. You looked around his age, which stumped him even more. “Stop staring at me.” You said, not looking at him. His heavy gaze making you feel uncomfortable.
“How old are you?” He asked out of nowhere. Your gaze turned to him at his random question. You decided not to comment on it.
“Sixteen.” You answered, deciding to just answer his questions without much conversation. You really didn’t feel like talking to him, for multiple reasons. The great Sirius Black was known for his trouble and he really didn’t seem like a nice person. So, he thought, you were the same age as him, same year, so how has he never noticed you?
“What’s your name?” He asked. You sighed at his continuation of this strange conversation you were having.
“Y/F/N.” You said.
“Y/F/N Y/L/N.” He stayed quiet for a moment, making you gaze at him suspiciously. “Ok, what?” You finally asked.
“I don’t remember you.” He said, looking genuinely distressed. He prided himself in his knowledge of everyone, something he frequently used to his advantage when he wanted something. You snorted, typical Sirius Black, sitting on his little throne, completely oblivious to others. You didn’t really know what you expected though, from a person who finds amusement in teasing others and flirting with girls without it actually leading anywhere.
“I’m not surprised.” You said, giving him a disapproving look. The corners of his lips quirked upwards, completely unaffected by your words.
“And why is that?” He asked, walking over to you and plopping down on the ground across from you, a little too close for comfort. You narrowed your eyes at him and placed your book down.
“Well why should I not be? I really can’t imagine you paying any attention to someone who wasn’t fawning over you or who wasn’t your current victim.”
“A little teasing doesn’t do anyone any harm, Huffles.” You clenched your jaw at the nickname.
“Tell that to the first years crying in their beds because all the older kids just find it so funny that their textbooks keep running away.”
“You’re such a Hufflepuff.” He said, rolling his eyes.
“And you’re just an arrogant Gryffindor. Always the centre of attention, hm?”
“It’s not my fault I’m popular.” You gave a frustrated sigh.
“It’s pointless arguing with you.” You replied. He grinned widely at you. Despite your obvious attempts to drive him away, Sirius was thoroughly enjoying his time with you. You were especially feisty for a Hufflepuff and different from anyone he’s spoken to before. Most girls were flirty and giggly around him and the few that weren’t interested in him, he’d never felt drawn to. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” He asking, smirking.
“Stop doing that with your face.”
“What? Smiling? I thought Hufflepuffs were all about the smiles.”
“Not when they’re creepy.”
“You offend me, Huffles.” He said, pouting. “I’ve been told I have quite a nice smile.”
“The people who told you that didn’t know how to let you down easily.” You quipped, flashing him a smirk of your own.
“You’re mean for a Hufflepuff.” He remarked, making you groan.
“Stop with the Hufflepuff shaming.” You exclaimed. “Hufflepuff is a great house.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it is. Wasn’t it Helga Hufflepuff who literally said ‘and I’ll take the rest’ when the founders where creating the houses?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at you. You glowered at him. You were actually starting to have an okay time until he said that.
“Helga Hufflepuff wanted a house where everyone fit in without having to prove that they’re the smartest or the bravest or the most cunning.” You said angrily. “Hufflepuffs are supposed to be kind and brave and loyal, nowhere does it say that they’re boring or lazy or push overs. We are smart and brave and kind and the only area we’re lacking in is producing dark wizards. And the second someone insults us, we protect fiercely.”
“Well, the last part is definitely true in your case.” He said. You gave him a small smile, embarrassed by your outburst. “Nice speech by the way.”
“Thanks, I’m actually considering being a motivational speaker.” You said sarcastically, pretending to be thoughtful. He smirked smugly at you, noticing that you were becoming more comfortable with him.
“You know, you haven’t actually told me what you’re doing out here so early.” He asked. The playful look on your face was suddenly replaced by a bashful one.
“I like to watch the sunrise.” You said quietly. The smirk fell from his face at your genuine response. He lowered his head, his hair falling to hide his face. You bit your lip nervously. “I know it’s stupid, I just-“
“No, no-” Sirius cut you off, reaching for your hand. Your mouth shut, surprised by the sudden sincere emotion. “I mean, it’s not stupid. I-“ He hesitated and paused for a minute. You gave his hand a light squeeze. His gaze flickered away and his hand slipped out of yours, making you miss it’s warmth. You scolded yourself. No, you don’t want Sirius to hold your hand. You don’t, you don’t, you don’t. Sirius cleared his throat, his signature smirk coming back. You frowned, you knew what that smirk meant and you didn’t want it. You liked the genuine Sirius, the one that you didn’t think many people saw. “So do you come here often?”
“Just on Wednesdays. I find that sunrises are prettiest on Wednesdays.” You said. He looked at you amusedly, raising a questioning eyebrow. You just shrugged in response. Suddenly you saw the first rays of light appear over the walls of the courtyard. You shushed Sirius, despite him not actually saying anything, making him chuckle, and pointed behind him. He turned around, scooting next to you and leaned his back on the tree,
You both watched the sun rise, watched the vibrant colours of orange and pink softly spread across the sky. You both saw how the light chased the darkness of the night away and welcome the new day with brilliant hues of red. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. Watching the sunrise always filled you with a certain hope. You turned slightly to look at Sirius, his eyes on the sky. You were surprised to find a look of awe on his face, mouth slightly ajar. He looked open and vulnerable, you had to bite your lip to stop your smile from growing even more at the sight of this Sirius. Expression not hidden by a smirk or a witty remark.
He turned to look at you, catching you looking at him. You didn’t mind though when you saw him reciprocate your large grin. No smug look, no teasing words, just wonderment. You admired how the sun made his dark eyes and hair shine, a stark contrast to his usual ‘dark, bad boy’ look. What you didn’t know was that he was marvelling at you too, how your beautiful smile lit up your kind and passionate face and how your hair swayed slightly in the cool morning breeze. He snapped out of his trance and looked away, deciding to rest his gaze on the sunrise, the other beautiful sight before him.
“You know, Huffles,” he said, “you’re not so bad for a Hufflepuff.” You laughed and nudged his shoulder slightly. This time, he was grinning in triumph for making you laugh. He also didn’t try to push down the way his heart squeezed at the gentle sound.
“Prick.” You retorted, making him laugh at your weak insult. You sat in silence for a while longer. “You’re not so bad for a Gryffindor yourself.” You said, keeping your gaze on the sky despite you feeling his eyes on you.
“I’ll accept that.” Sirius said, giving a deep sigh.
“Nice PJ’s by the way.” You said, glancing at his dark blue pyjamas and making him burst into laughter.
Aaaah, I don’t know. How was that? Was it good? I’ve never tried writing Sirius before. Did I do ok? I don’t know, please tell me. Part 2 maybe? If you want? I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading.
Readers may remember Emma Donoghue for her blockbuster novel
Room, about a happy little boy
growing up in horrifying conditions. Where Room
was darkness pierced with light, Donoghue’s latest is pretty much all light. The Lotterys Plus One, for young readers,
is about a big, boisterous, diverse family that starts with two sets of same
sex couples deciding to have children. The family grows to include seven kids,
and that “plus one” of the title turns out to be the addition that
tips the family over the edge.
Donoghue says she got the idea for the book at a dinner
party. “My hostess said to me, ‘How come there aren’t good books for
middle grade that feature kids with two mothers?’ You know, ‘Write me one,
Emma,’ she said. And then I thought, while I’m at it, let’s make it really big
— you know, go big or go home.”
this article is absolutely wonderful and delightful to read
some his dark materials/the book of dust plot-relevant details:
the room lyra had in jordan is the same room pullman had as a student in exeter college (on which jordan is based)
ok not plot-related but something impressive i had no idea about - “In 2002, [his dark materials] achieved the presumed impossible and outsold Harry Potter in Britain.”
“One of his favorite books is “The Secret Commonwealth,” by a 17th-century Scottish minister, Robert Kirk, that explores life beyond empirical reach. Fairies, witches, ghosts.“ - that’s the source of the title of tbod volume 2, them
“Like Odysseus, his new hero, Malcolm, is on a self-appointed quest, fighting off enemies from his boat. (He’s also very unlike Odysseus, being 11 years old, ginger-haired and partial, like Pullman, to woodworking and meat pies.)“
“[la belle sauvage] is more readable, and earthier, locked into reality by character and geography, Malcolm and Oxford. In it, Lyra is 6 months old and being hunted by henchmen of the Magisterium. The action unfolds in Oxford, but an Oxford unrecognizable from its spire-crowded postcard form — the city is a damp and threatening place of inns and drunks and amiable nuns. For half the book they are all submerged in a catastrophic flood. Malcolm navigates the waters in his canoe and becomes Lyra’s chief protector. After a gentle start, the novel accelerates into an action thriller, with cameos from fairies and river gods. There are boat chases, hints at romance. It will be devoured.“
““La Belle Sauvage” is dedicated to Judith [pullman’s wife] and is, surely, the beginning of the end of Lyra’s world. When we met during the worst of Pullman’s illness [which is talked about in the article], I wondered, guiltily, if he would ever finish it. He was midway through the second volume — Lyra was in the Levant, and she still had to get to Central Asia. “A long way to go,” said Pullman wearily at the time.“
“Now he is rejuvenated, though there remains more work to do. Before it can be published, the second volume of “The Book of Dust” requires what he calls “carpentry.” The structure needs to be sawed up and reassembled, the sentences sanded smooth. The third book then needs to find its way out of his head and onto his two-holed paper. He warned there would be a delay, just as there was before the last volume of “His Dark Materials.” (At the time, Pullman received a letter from a young reader: “Mr. Pullman, I’ve attached a picture of a cute little squirrel. Please admire it. Now I want you to think of your book, ‘The Amber Spyglass,’ for which the whole world has been waiting aeons. Hurry up and finish your book or the squirrel will die.”)“
“I asked him if, when he finally reaches the end, he’ll bid farewell to Lyra, a character who has colonized his imagination for decades, whom he’ll have nurtured from diapers to adulthood. “Who can tell?” he said. “I’ve got plenty of other things I want to write.”“
“I could just disappear- lose myself in Florence. The thought gave her a delicious little shiver. She could go anywhere, pick a new name for herself, become a whole new person. She could learn Italian, apply for a job in a café, and never go home again. I could be whoever I wanted to be. An actress, even.”