buffyfan_5
brutereason:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.
She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 
(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)
But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.
Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”
She didn’t really know who Harry was. 
But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.
He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.
Val wanted to go.
Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.
Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.
"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"
Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.
"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"
Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.
But they moved.
Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.
She knew what she was now.
(Image Source)
(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I just…want to read the entire seven-book series.

I’m crying…

brutereason:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.

She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 

(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)

But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.

Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”

She didn’t really know who Harry was. 

But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.

He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.

Val wanted to go.

Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.

Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.

"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"

Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.

"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"

Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.

But they moved.

Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.

She knew what she was now.

(Image Source)

(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I just…want to read the entire seven-book series.

I’m crying…

aspennielle:

This picture right here is probably the main reason I don’t like Snape. There are a lot.  Bulling Neville and other students, being creepy about his “love” for Lily even when she expressed not wanting to be friends, becoming a part of the Death Eaters, etc…
But this really took the cake for me.  Lily LOVED Harry beyond belief.  She died to protect her son. Her love protected Harry.  And here we have Snape completely ignoring a crying baby who just saw his mother die.  If Snape had really loved Lily he would have mourned her, but known that he should help Harry.  That’s what Lily would’ve wanted, someone to help and comfort the son she loved.  He wouldn’t ignore the traumatized and crying child of the woman he loved.  If you love someone you respect their choices (i.e. Lily having married James) and you keep what they love safe.  Snape doesn’t do any of that.   He hates and resents Harry because he’s James’ son, when he should have been kind to Harry because he’s Lily’s son and he claims to love Lily.
I don’t think Snape actually loved Lily.  If coveted her and maybe loved the idea of her.  But he did not love Lily herself.  Lily was strong, loving, smart, kind, and a good person.  I can’t see her sobbing over someone’s body, even if it had been someone she loved and cared for, instead of caring for a baby.  
Bottom line.  If you claim to love someone, don’t ignore their orphaned and traumatized child just because the other parent wasn’t you.  

“‘You disgust me,’ said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. ‘You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?’
Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.”
 - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, “The Prince’s Tale,” pg 677

aspennielle:

This picture right here is probably the main reason I don’t like Snape. There are a lot.  Bulling Neville and other students, being creepy about his “love” for Lily even when she expressed not wanting to be friends, becoming a part of the Death Eaters, etc…

But this really took the cake for me.  Lily LOVED Harry beyond belief.  She died to protect her son. Her love protected Harry.  And here we have Snape completely ignoring a crying baby who just saw his mother die.  If Snape had really loved Lily he would have mourned her, but known that he should help Harry.  That’s what Lily would’ve wanted, someone to help and comfort the son she loved.  He wouldn’t ignore the traumatized and crying child of the woman he loved.  If you love someone you respect their choices (i.e. Lily having married James) and you keep what they love safe.  Snape doesn’t do any of that.   He hates and resents Harry because he’s James’ son, when he should have been kind to Harry because he’s Lily’s son and he claims to love Lily.

I don’t think Snape actually loved Lily.  If coveted her and maybe loved the idea of her.  But he did not love Lily herself.  Lily was strong, loving, smart, kind, and a good person.  I can’t see her sobbing over someone’s body, even if it had been someone she loved and cared for, instead of caring for a baby.  

Bottom line.  If you claim to love someone, don’t ignore their orphaned and traumatized child just because the other parent wasn’t you.  

“‘You disgust me,’ said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. ‘You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?’

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.”

 - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, “The Prince’s Tale,” pg 677

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you’ve a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind.” [x]

livesandliesofwizards:

At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.
Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.
They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.
“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.
“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”
If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.
Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.
~
The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.
This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.
Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 
The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.
~
The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.
They were worried they would have to be kind.
They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.
Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.
Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.
(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

livesandliesofwizards:

At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.

Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.

They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.

“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.

“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”

If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.

Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.

~

The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.

This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.

Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 

The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.

~

The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.

They were worried they would have to be kind.

They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.

Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.

Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.

(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

Well, typical Tayler. 12 hours later and nothing I had planned accomplished for the day. At least for most of it I didn’t feel too bad though. Lots of tv and facebook.

I did check my mail and go through all the junk and cut out some coupons, and rather unsuccessfully looked into campus bus, local bus, parking lots, and walking to go to that orientation tomorrow.

And Timaria nominated me for the ice bucket challenge but I’m all alone so I did that semi-successfully in the shower.  Have to remember to do the donations. And then I took a real shower.

I feel like I should do some office stuff and/or unpacking but I don’t wanna.

Oh, and I ordered a textbook (the only one I’ve heard anything about so far…). And used the microwave and toaster oven for the first time. Twice, now.

So. I dunno when I’m going to bed, I guess whenever the facebook message dies down. And I guess I should set my alarm clock for like 8 or 8:30 so I have time to figure out if I’m catching a bus or walking.

Hopefully tomorrow evening I will get stuff done. Honestly what I wanna do first is finish Harry Potter, but I also never wanna finish it because it makes me less lonely reading in bed since I can’t go to sleep with the tv on. But anyway. HP and unpacking (mostly decorating, really) and office stuff.

raxenne:

Happy birthday, Harry Potter!

To celebrate Harry’s birthday (and my undying love for the series), I made my own covers! I created patterns (Thanks for the inspiration Scandinavia!) using a significant object from each book. I used those in the movies as reference and digitally painted them. You can view the whole project here! :)

(It’s already July 31 here in the Philippines. Haha.)

Yesssssss, someone put these out!


Happee 34th, Harry! ϟ

Happee 34th, Harry! ϟ

lbardugo:

hewtab:

onthesideoftheotters:

tohdaryl:

chocotaur:

iquitelikeitthatway:

numnummunchies:

apathetic-enthusiasm:

satamoru:

zoann:

colormecalm:

nonimaginaryfriend:

disgruntledsquids:


Old hag by *veprikov
Being a witch is not the highest paid job in the world.

I JUST FOUND THIS PICTURE AND I’M GOING TO CRY WHY THIS

I JUST WANT HER TO GET HER PRETTY PURPLE HAT AND BE HAPPY

I would kill for a companion piece to this, where she gets her hat..

Im sobbing.

no seriously why hasn’t any replied to this image with a picture of her in the pretty hat c’mon tumblr please

she bought the toad a pretty hat but not herself

;-; i’ll buy you the hat. don’t be sad *sobs*

#YOU JUST /BROKE/ MY FUCKING HEART WHAT THE FUCK #I WANT FIC I WANT MORE ART I WANT HER TO BE HAPPY I MIGHT ACTUALLY CRY #WHAT THE FUCK #I SUDDENLY AM IN PAIN BC OF HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL WITCH FUCK YOU #ART
CRYING.

Someone give her the hat, please. D:


Here you go. She got her hat as a gift from a lovely gentleman. :) Hope you all are happy now. 

^AT FIRST IT WAS CUTE BUT THEN I SAW HIS SCA R AND NOW IM S OBBIN G

ALSKJDFKJS

sonofa… I hate it when tumblr makes me cry.

Reblogged a different thread of this before but asldfjsfjasl Harry you kind soul

lbardugo:

hewtab:

onthesideoftheotters:

tohdaryl:

chocotaur:

iquitelikeitthatway:

numnummunchies:

apathetic-enthusiasm:

satamoru:

zoann:

colormecalm:

nonimaginaryfriend:

disgruntledsquids:

Old hag by *veprikov

Being a witch is not the highest paid job in the world.

I JUST FOUND THIS PICTURE AND I’M GOING TO CRY WHY THIS

I JUST WANT HER TO GET HER PRETTY PURPLE HAT AND BE HAPPY

I would kill for a companion piece to this, where she gets her hat..

Im sobbing.

no seriously why hasn’t any replied to this image with a picture of her in the pretty hat c’mon tumblr please

she bought the toad a pretty hat but not herself

;-; i’ll buy you the hat. don’t be sad *sobs*

    

CRYING.

Someone give her the hat, please. D:

Here you go. She got her hat as a gift from a lovely gentleman. :) Hope you all are happy now. 

^AT FIRST IT WAS CUTE BUT THEN I SAW HIS SCA R AND NOW IM S OBBIN G

ALSKJDFKJS

sonofa… I hate it when tumblr makes me cry.

Reblogged a different thread of this before but asldfjsfjasl Harry you kind soul

buzzfeed:

Here’s a sneak peak at the Harry Potter stamps that are coming next week. They’re great to send with your owls.

It is time.

I was reading the Maze Runner series, but I was waiting on The Kill Order to come in the mail and expecting it in just a few days, so I didn’t want to start another actual book. Instead I got 11 children’s books from the library (all about cats or Hello Kitty except for one about a penguin and a cupcake). Well I’ve ordered The Kill Order twice now and gotten different covers than the one I need (even when specifically asking one person before they sent it if it matched the picture). So I can’t read it even though it did come and I’ve finished all the children’s books.

So. I finally shall re-read Harry Potter. And it shall join the ranks of The Chronicles of Narnia and the Truth series by Dawn Cook as “the only things I have ever read twice purely because I wanted to”

siriuslikesboys:

shoutout to all the hufflepuffs and ravenclaws who only get a quarter of the merch opportunities as everyone else

THE MAGIC BEGINS ϟ your house

ϟ r a v e n c l a w

Ravenclaw is one of the four Houses of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founded by Rowena Ravenclaw. Members of this house are characterised by their wit, learning, and wisdom. Its house colours are blue and bronze, and its symbol is the eagle. The house ghost, who in life was the daughter of the house’s founder Rowena Ravenclaw, is the Grey Lady.

priorisincantatem:

The Potter Generation:
2. The Silver Trio: Luna, Neville, or Ginny?

book one: professor mcgonnagal and the you put a WHAT in our WHERE albus
book two: professor mcgonnagal and the we have a WHAT IN OUR WHERE ALBUS
book three: professor mcgonnagal and the ministry is sending us WHAT because of WHO
book four: professor mcgonnagal and the ARE YOU SHITTING ME ALBUS
book five: professor mcgonnagal and the we have WHO telling us to do WHAT
book six: professor mcgonnagal and the albus do something NO NOT THAT
book seven: professor mcgonnagal and the I FINALLY GET TO BLOW SHIT UP THANK YOU WIZARD GOD