sh△n

Paris 1944 and now, Julien Knez

WHO DIDN’T PUT THEIR TRAY-TABLE UP?

i don’t even get angry anymore everything bad that happens just makes me sigh and feel tired

“So, that’s sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn’t it?”

what you said was very sweet and means a lot to me but i am incapable of properly responding in any way besides “thank you so much aaaah” because i do not know how to accurately express the exact level of my gratitude to where you completely understand how much what you said meant to me without me getting even more emotional and looking like a fucking nerd: an autobiography

there lived four wizards of renown, whose names are still well-known images: gryffindor // ravenclaw // hufflepuff // slytherin

Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and yellow shapes, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. He couldn’t hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas.

He turned, intending to head back toward the middle of the field, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely, the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.

The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It’s not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you.

Sirius!

It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live.

Does… does it hurt? Dying? Quicker than falling asleep.

In dreams, we enter a world that’s entirely our own.