how did jk manage to write ootp and not come to the conclusion that the only career w any true meaning for harry james potter was as a goddamn professor at hogwarts like how do u write the da scenes and say “nah he’d want to be a wizard cop”
#but it would be so perfect??? #bc it would help normalize his life so much #like there would just be this generation of kids who are like #‘ugh who cares that he killed the dark lord he gAVE US HOMEWORK OVER BREAK’ #like the beginning of every year there would be the new first years who would freak out a little #but then it would calm down #and most of the students would literally forget #until like clockwork the fifth years would have their history of magic class on the second war #and they’d all show up to DADA looking a little awestruck and everyone would be extra quiet #and harry would give this kind of annoyed sigh—except it’s fake bc he TOTALLY knew this was coming #bc binns is a bro and he totally gives him a heads up every year #and harry wouldn’t have any lesson plans for the day and instead he would just sit at the front of the room and answer everyone’s questions #but otherwise everyone would just be like ‘professor potter!! i can’t get my patronus to work! help me!’ #and like they’d go home at the end of the year or for break and their parents—who ARE still starstruck by harry james potter #would pester their kids with questions#and the kids would just be like ‘merlin i don’t know?? potter’s such a huge dork you should hear him talk about proper wand movements’ #but they would all love him #and he would feel safe and normal and utterly accepted #AND I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE (via @cinematicnomad)
Not to mention it would be an ultimate Fuck You to Voldemort, who put a curse on the teaching position in the first place.
Like, Jo, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but COME ON
I already queued this but also, you do this, but still have Ginny become a famous Quidditch player. Imagine the first time Harry gets called “Ginny’s husband” before “the boy who lived” or “the chosen one.” Imagine how fucking pleased he’d be.
Imagine the first time a student comes up to him looking starry-eyed and Harry’s thinking “Oh no” because he doesn’t want to talk about Voldemort or the war but instead this little eleven year old is like “ARE YOU REALLY MARRIED TO WEASLEY FROM THE HOLLYHEAD HARPIES???!?? WHAT’S SHE LIKE?” and he’s like “oh thank god” because he could talk about Ginny all day.
Yes. Good.
Actually, all three of them should have become professors. Hermione would have become Headmistress, of course–youngest Headmistress of Hogwarts ever, and the only one willing to turn the portraits of her predecessors to the wall if they gave her too much lip about her efforts to modernize the curriculum. (She probably started as Transfiguration professor after McGonagall became Headmistress, but it wouldn’t surprise me if McGonagall was grooming her for the Headmistress job all along.)
And Ron took over as flying instructor for Professor Hooch; everyone thinks he’s an easy A because he’s so mellow and silly and hands out candy for good performances and his brother and sister sometimes visit the class to show off some of their old Quidditch moves and give away Wizard Wheezes to the best fliers, and it’s not until they talk to someone else from a different school or era that they realize that flying is actually really difficult to learn and Ron just found ways to slip all the teaching in under the fun so that they didn’t even notice. Things that seemed like silly tricks or goofy jokes turned out to be mnemonics for complex maneuvers, and of course nobody ever wanted to skip a class under his tutelage.
thisTHIS
Okay all other canon epilogues can go home, this is the best.
what happened to the tiny little dragon pals that the triwizard champions drew from that bag????? harry mentions it being in the boys dorm later but never mentions it again like ??? if I had a tiny dragon companion i could carry around on my shoulder like a weird, spiky little bird i would literally never let it out of my sight
Number 12 Grimmauld Place is no longer hidden. It sits neatly between Number 11 and Number 13, its wrought iron polished and shiny, its windows clean of dust and grime. Muggles can see it, though they rarely give it more than a moment’s glance; wizards and witches will occasionally approach cautiously to lay down a wreath of flowers, or a handwritten note addressed to The Boy Who Lives Still. Their wary respect is well-intentioned but unnecessary- Number 12 is second only to Hogwarts in the number of protective spells and wards place around it.
It is empty most of the year.
Fall winds blow and disturb no one’s slumber inside. In winter, snow gathers on the steps and railings; the windows remain dark and the curtains drawn. No flowers peek out from the windowsills to celebrate the arrival of spring.
In the summer, they arrive.
From the outside, there is nothing to unite them. There are loud, boisterous teenagers and shy, quiet children no older than twelve; there are some dressed in the latest Muggle fashions and some whose jeans are patched and worn. They are of all races and ethnicities, all shapes and sizes, from all parts of the British Isles; they can be heard chattering in accents that clash and meld and somehow become harmonious. From the outside, they have nothing in common. But since when has someone’s outside reflected who they really are?
Molly Weasley was the first person Harry told about his idea. She and Arthur help him expand Number 12′s interior, adding bathrooms and reading nooks and bedrooms. Ginny chooses the squashiest armchairs and sturdiest furniture, tracking down bargains with a fierce glint in her eyes. When he realizes he needs an outdoor space, Hermione helps him to link his back door to an empty field. Ron helps Bill put up Quidditch hoops while Neville transplants trees and Hannah stations benches beneath their shady branches. Parvati paints the rooms in swirls of bright colors- green and red and blue and yellow mingle on the walls.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a refuge for lost children. They are the ones with no home to go to when the term ends, the ones who don’t have someone waiting to pick them up when the Hogwarts Express pulls into Platform 9 ¾. They are the ones whose homes are not safe, who grow anxious as June approaches and spring turns to summer. They are the ones who are no longer welcomed by those who share their blood, who have had to make family out of friends.
Harry Potter greets these students at Kings Cross and he takes them in.
In the summer, former DA members stream in and out of Number 12′s brightly polished door. Luna brings suitcases packed with odd creatures she’s discovered on her travels; the students sit in the sunny field as she pulls them out one by one and tells of hiking up mountains and wading through marshes. Ginny gives flying lessons and organizes Quidditch matches; the Harpies donate their old brooms when they switch sponsors (something that happens far more often than any other team in the league). There is a greenhouse where students with a green thumb can tend their own plots and assist Neville with his herbology experiments. Justin and Hermione drill them on Muggle subjects; Justin teaches algebra, geometry, and basic sciences while Hermione covers history and literature. George always spends a memorable week showing off his newest inventions while Ron drops by almost every evening to play chess. Students entering their fifth year can spend the summer shadowing people in careers that pique their interest; the Trio rarely use their fame for their own gain, but they wield it with fierce determination in the service of others.
In the summer, these children are fed by Molly Weasley, hugged by Hannah Abbott, told bedtime stories by Luna Lovegood. They can spend all day reading under a tree or playing Exploding Snap in the kitchen or arguing about how best to make a phone work at Hogwarts. They can wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and make their way down to the kitchen, where Harry will meet them with a mug of hot tea and a listening ear. They can stay in bed on days when the world is too cruel and lonely, when the emptiness in their body is too heavy to bear. They can see others who struggle with it too and realize that family is not limited by blood, that being lonely doesn’t always mean being alone.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place opens its doors wide and vibrates with life. It becomes a place where Sirius Black would be welcomed along with Severus Snape, where Harry Potter and Tom Riddle could spend their summers side by side.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a home.
After many months of being squashed by the stresses of my last year of graduate school, my muse has come roaring back with a vengeance. No promises on when the next update will be, but I hope you enjoy this piece
This is my favourite HP headcanon in the history of ever.
I’m crying. Thank you for this. It’s so beautiful.
personally I like to think steve’s birthday isn’t actually July 4th but someone asked him when his birthday was when he was doing his little show tour thingy and he just said it as an accident and/or a panic response in a bid to seem even more patriotic and everyone believed him and now it’s like 100 years later and he’s too deep in the lie to back out now bc he knows all the avenger’s would fucking publicly roast him if he admitted july 4th wasn’t actually his birthday- like he would literally never live that down- so he lives his life in fear that some bitch ass historian is gonna find his birth certificate and expose him
avengers: happy birthday, steve!
bucky, eyes narrowing: what the fuck your birthday isn’t until-
steve, holding back tears: shut up
Bucky tries to hand him a birthday card one cold December day, and Steve tackles him out a window before anyone else can see what he’s holding
another dumb headcanon: superman is nice to birds because of course he is, and helps out birds who are in distress. also he can fly around with them. birds see a lot more of superman than they do of most people, basically. the unexpected consequence of this is that the crows of metropolis recognize superman as a friend. sometimes crows just follow him around like a weird flock, or try to give him shiny things. but mostly please just imagine luthor trying to gloat while threatening superman with kryptonite only to have a crow steal it. or just, generally, lex luthor getting attacked by crows. if that does not improve your day i don’t know what to tell you.
“What is that?”
Superman followed the direction of Batman’s gaze. A crow had landed on the rooftop beside them, and dropped a bottlecap near Superman’s feet. “Oh! Hey Francis. Is that for me?”
“Caw,” said Francis.
“Do you have a pet crow?” Batman asked.
“No, I don’t have pets,” Superman said as he bent down to retrieve the bottlecap.
“You named it.”
“Not this specific one,” Superman explained. “I just call all the crows Francis.”
“… why.”
“Caw, caw,” said Francis with a flap of its wings.
“I don’t know. Just calling them ‘crow’ felt rude after a while. I’d name them individually but I can’t actually tell them apart. Except for Old Francis and One-Eyed Francis.” Superman tucked the bottlecap into a small pocket on the back of his pants.
“Why Francis?”
Superman shrugged. “It’s gender neutral. I don’t want to misgender them just because they’re birds.”
“Of course you don’t,” Batman sighed, looking back out at Metropolis.
“Caw,” Francis added.
“Do you keep dog treats in your utility belt?” Superman asked.
“Why would I do that.”
“… in case you meet a dog that needs to know he’s a good boy?” Superman suggested. Batman shook his head, but opened a small pouch on his belt and held out a small treat. “See, it was a yes or no question, I don’t know why everything has to be such a production with you,” Superman said as he took it. He tossed it over by the bird’s feet. “Here you are, Francis. Keep up the good work.”
“Caw, caw,” Francis said. When it realized no more treats were forthcoming, it flew away in a flutter of black wings.
“You’re unbelievable,” Batman said, shaking his head again.
Superman took his eyes off the departing crow to look back at Batman, and frowned. “You know,” he said, “it’s really weird seeing you in costume during the day.”
“Don’t start.”
“It’s like seeing your teacher at the mall.”
“Don’t think I won’t take care of Poison Ivy without your help, if I have to.”
Superman shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
But…what if the crows also recognized him as Clark Kent? This mild-mannered reporter who doesn’t seem to do anything in particular to the crows that would make them like him, but they’re not afraid of him at all, and they keep trying to give HIM things, and Clark being a nice guy, he just. Accepts the bottlecap. Says thank you. Keeps walking. Lois adds another factoid to her “Weird Stuff About Clark Kent” file.
Maybe he tries to convince his coworkers that everyone is friendly with crows in Smallville. That the farmers discovered how smart crows are and decided to make friends with them instead of chasing them off.
Maybe he tries to talk the crows into palling around with him as Superman but going their separate ways as Clark Kent.
Please imagine Superman on top of a building holding Clark Kent’s glasses and trying to explain the concept of a secret identity to a flock of attentive birds.
a muggleborn student coming to hogwarts with a thermos flask and filling it with tea in the morning so it stays hot all day and their pureblood friends are like “whoa what spell did you use for that” and they’re like “?????? it’s just a thermos???” and all the pureblood students start pointing their wands at cups and saying “THERMOS”
THERMOS
plot twist: it works, mugs suddenly start keeping tea at the perfect temperature for the caster all day. students in muggle studies start experimenting with other muggle jargon and a new generation of magic spells are born, propelling the stagnated wizard community into the technological age
*points wand at book* KINDLE!!!! *book propels itself into fireplace and bursts into flames* I FUCKED UP I FUCKED UP
I’ve just come to the realisation that Hermione Granger probably memory charmed her parents and packed them off to Australia long before she told Harry and Ron she’d done it at the beginning of Deathly Hallows.
She literally never goes home from Goblet of Fire onwards, spending her summers with the boys instead. In GoF she’s remarkably blase about her teeth, something her dentist parents would have noticed and felt hurt about.
If I were to guess, I’d say she probably did it after the wizarding world cup when she’d seen exactly how the wizarding world treats muggles and decided not to let that happen to her folks. Hermione knows which way the wind is blowing and gets in early. She’d be more than capable of doing it.
…Oh my God.
hermione is fucking ruthless and i will fight anyone who tells me otherwise
that was her “negative” gryffindor trait
was she incredibly brave and courageous and loyal? yes
but she was also vicious and violent and trapped a woman as a beetle in a jar for over a year because she pissed her off
hermione granger looked at the world, and looked at her magic, and looked at everyone else’s magic, and seemed to come to the conclusion that reality had better shut the fuck up and behave itself or she’d make it.
of all the kids, i think she’s dumbledore’s successor, not harry.
See this is why I don’t like it when people try and pass her off as this flawless pure sweet angel. Like no, she’s emotional, loud, angry, brash, and vindictive, and she’s absolutely awesome just like that. Don’t woobify her.
wednesday is at the local library with her father, searching the shelves for a book uncle fester told her about dangerous animals in south america. Gomez strikes up a conversation with the elderly librarian mrs. phelps to help wednesday find what they are looking for.
“That one? Or, Mr. Addams – I’m afraid it’s been checked out.”
a squeaky wheel catches wednesday’s attention, and right past her walks a girl with an ENTIRE red-rocket wagon topped full of books. the girl carefully looks over each book and drops them carefully into the book-return
that’s when wednesday sees it – the book she’s been looking for.
wednesday walked slowly up to the girl’s wagon, and touched the cover.
“I just finished that one,” the girl says. wednesday straightens up. “It has a fascinating chapter on the red-bellied piranhas of South America.”
“We’re looking at getting one for Pugsley’s tank,” wednesday says.
“A piranha? It will eat your fish,” she said.
“I’m counting on it.”
“Is Pugsley your fish?”
“My brother.” Wednesday replied.
The girl thought a moment. “You’ll need at least a dozen – they hunt best in schools.”
wednesday just barely smiled, a single corner of her lips turning up. “I’m wednesday addams.” she said, extending a hand.
“Matilda,” the girl replied, shaking her hand. “Matilda Wormwood.”
I think the best part about this is that the Addams would adore her and just shower her with love.
“Wormwood,” says Gomez, enchanted. “What a lovely name.“
wupacing 