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Here are the Weasley twins I posted on patreon about a month ago!

a higher res watermark free version is available for my patrons! ➡ patreon.com/myrkky

Okay but imagine house friendships between Muslim kids in Ramadan.

A Slytherin muslim student who low-key have a crush on this Hufflepuff Muslim student, but they haven't talked to each other, until they bump into each other at suhoor and since there aren't a lot of students there and it's Ramadan, everyone ends up sitting together regardless of houses. And they slowly get to know each other and read Qur'an together and talk about how they used to spend Ramadan at home and both are secretly pining. And on Shab-i-qadr, they spend the breaks between praying and reading Qur'an walking outside and stargazing.

Nah, she didn’t. :: 7.18.1979

if you ever feel down remember that 18 year old pureblood Regulus Black went against the most powerful dark wizard and did a switcharoo with his horcrux leaving a note with it that pretty much said “bitch U THOUGHT”

How dare you hide this gold in the tag @casualmaraudering

sorry for acknowledging harry potter on main but one thing about the books that haunts me to this day is what happened to harry’s dragon miniature that he got in the triwizard tournament. the last time it’s mentioned he puts it down on his bedside and it curls up to sleep and then we never hear about it again. what happened to the dragon. nobody let jkr see this because i don’t want her to pull something out of her rancid ass but i need to know what happened to that dragon.

I like to think it woke up and scurried away before Harry woke up, so the next morning he was like ‘huh must’ve been an illusion or some shit that just faded out’ and of course there was so much shit going on that nobody asked about it, and he forgot entirely.

After that, the dragon becomes a permanent installment of Gryffindor tower, stealing loose coins and trinkets and shiny candy wrappers inside the bottom of a sofa or hole in the masonry. Nobody thinks anything of it, kids being kids and losing things all the time, but some kids waking up in the night from nightmares or homesickness or insomnia will sit by the ever-burning fireplace and see a little silhouette shifting comfortably in the flames. If there are significantly less mice around, nobody takes note of it.

I like to think the other triwizard competitors got to keep theirs, too.

Fleur took hers to the Madame to return it, but was told that it was an enchantment of no real consequence and could keep it if she liked, so long as it didn’t cause trouble or distract from her classes. It sits at present in a lavishly-furnished terrarium with a miniaturized forest, complete with a castle to guard, a village to plunder, and a constant supply of crickets. Someday her grandchildren will inherit the responsibility of seeing to it’s care, and the tank will take a prominent place of honor for generations.

Krum in a similar position found himself growing fond of his, and often (against house rules, one of the few he can be tempted to break) smuggles it around in his big furry coat. It likes to snuggle in the fluff of his inner breast pocket, and only if you are very careful will you see him sneak a little scrap of meat or jerky into it. For many years after, there is a rumor that he has a familiar on him at all times, even if it isn’t seen, and there is some speculation on what it could be. It will only be in his old age that the truth comes out: when his grandchildren let it slip that Grandpa has a dragon, and the old folks down at the bar laugh because of course he does, it all makes sense, they’d forgotten all about the little thing he’d got from that competition all those years ago. Krum sits in a comfortable chair by the fire, wrinkled hands stroking delicate scales draped over his lap, and when his time comes to pass there is no trace of the little thing to be found: only his body laying in bed, peaceful as can be, and a puff of silver dust on the blanket above his heart.

After Cedric’s funeral, life is grey. Mr. Diggory, still quaking in his heart and teetering on grief and denial and pain but knowing he must collect his son’s things, gathers up all his strength and makes the trip up the castle. The Hufflepuff dorm is exactly the same as he remembers from his youth, right down to the smell of dandelion tea and warm sunlight, messy beds and half-scribbled homework left scattered about, but it’s different, now. Smaller. Less wondrous, less hopeful.

He sets about packing Cedric’s belongings (Cedric, his son, his baby boy, his wonderful, beautiful baby boy, gone) with a strange detachment. He won’t remember a second of it, later- the mechanical folding of shirts and binning of trash (not much, he’d always been such a tidy boy)- but he seems to wake from the fog when he grabs the small box hidden under the bed and feels the faintest wiggle.

Of course, he thinks when he opens it, when he sees what’s inside, snuggled up in a nest of thick socks torn to puffs of wool. Of course, he thinks, remembering his boy (much smaller, so much smaller) begging for a puppy, a cat, his first owl. (So lonely, being an only child). Of course, of course, how could he possibly be surprised? (His boy, his good boy, with such a heart in him).

Perhaps he smiles, then. Perhaps, because he can’t quite tell through the tears. Perhaps something fluttery and dead and broken feels the tiniest bit lighter on the journey home, too- which is strange, with the extra weight cradled gently in his arms.

I feel like this is a great summary of the three of them

can we take a moment to remember that remus lupin’s suitcase was monogrammed professor R.J. Lupin in “peeling letters”??? meaning that he’d had that suitcase for a long time, meaning that someone (probably his best friends in the whole world), gave him that suitcase knowing that his dream was to teach, knowing he’d be a fantastic teacher and supporting that dream, and then when his friends are all gone and he is alone in the world he holds onto that suitcase until he is finally given an opportunity to teach. and he takes that suitcase with him so his friends can share in his joy the only way they still can. 

i’ve decided that hogwarts has a waterfall and also the whomping willow turns pink in the spring.

Jily ~

i still think tonks’ skills remained criminally underused in canon

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.

Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.

Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.

Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).

Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.

Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.

Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.

Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”

Imagine Harry returning with Warrington’s body, and the crowd realizes what’s happened, but Warrington’s parents don’t show up. There’s no one to mourn him, to cradle him in their arms and cry for their son. The Slytherins know why. His parents were Death Eaters, too.

Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.

Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter. 

Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.

Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.

Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.

Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.

Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.

Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.

Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.

Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.

Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.

Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.

Imagine a Cassius Warrington statue made in his honor, the first Slytherin to fight and die nobly with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in the face of ultimate evil. He was a true Slytherin, and it’s in his name that Slytherin children and their families have cut all ties with the Death Eaters, denounced Voldemort, and are finally living in peace.

#i do enjoy cedric #but this would have been immensely wonderful in many ways (via batty4u)

Imagine a story in which Harry wasn’t in love with his fellow champion’s girlfriend, but after her boyfriend’s death just hugs her so long, so hard, and says “he wanted to win for you. You should know–you should know he won, he did it for you” and gives her the best hug and shoulder he knows how to be because her parents aren’t there either and she must know why.

Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing. 

Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.

Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.

The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.”  Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted. 

The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of  Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway.

The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.

Imagine it.

When we stand, we stand united as one

And then there would be no hope for any uprising of evil, no users of the dark arts would dare to attack. There would be no neglected Slytherins turning to a darker cause. The unity Cassius Warrington’s death caused would come to save the world, time and time again, as would-be-Voldemorts find no followers. No children will ever have to fight their parents, or family. There would always be peace. 

oh christ somebody added to it and now i’m a soggy emotional wreck

I’m crying because this is what slytherins should have been and truly are

​AND THIS IS WHY MY PET PEEVE IS WHEN PEOPLE SAY SLYTHERINS ARE “THE BAD GUYS”

Y’all outdo JKR every day. You take her scaffolding and fill it in with SO MUCH LOVE.

“If you had a shred of self-respect, you’d hand that book in.”

👑

Legend

the sixth year gryffindor boys dorms must have been so awkward like imagine being in a situation where you’re bunking with a girl’s ex boyfriend, current boyfriend, and older brother at the same time

slkdjflkdf like IMAGINE!!!! oh my god…like harry comes in with seconds to spare before curfew or whatever and ron like wants to know where he was and gets halfway through asking and then just trails off awkwardly and harry tries to laugh out of answering and dean’s just like unabashedly sulking/glaring and whoever else is in there just watching the whole thing wanting to crawl out the window

I would like to point out that the other person in their room was seamus who had a massive crush on dean so it was worse 

Poor Neville

Neville went with her to the Yule Ball………… nobody is safe

Ginny comes by the dorm room and calls it her harem and Ron is now the one trying to crawl out the window