You have been generous answering many prompts, including mine. If you have more headcannon about Remus teaching Harry, and having more moments where he’s struck by memories of James/ Lily, I’d love to read it :)
The classroom was in such chaos when he entered (a few minutes late, as usual), that none of his students noticed him come in. Above the noise and chatter, one drawling voice in particular caught Remus’s attention thanks to its sheer unpleasantness.
‘For me to consider a woman she must have certain attributes,’ Malfoy was saying loudly, leaning back on his chair and smirking. ‘I won’t consider anything less. Slim, attractive, athletic, good at cooking-’
‘If she’s got all that going for her, why would she go out with you?’ Harry interrupted savagely.
Remus had to pretend he hadn’t heard so he could turn away and busy himself in the stationery cupboard so no one could see him biting back laughter.
It was so Lily. Not just the quick-wittedness of the put down, but the grimacing, exasperated, withering expression that had crossed his face as he said it. For a second he didn’t look like James at all - everything about the way he held his face was Lily, everything about his tone, everything about the bluntness. ‘God, she’s brutal,’ he remembered James saying admiringly one day.
‘Oh, come back when you get some parents, Potter-’
‘Well I’ve been talking to your mum a lot lately-’
Deciding that the argument was getting a little too serious for him to continue to ignore, Remus grabbed an old textbook from the stationary cupboard and dumped it on his desk loudly, so that they would realise he was in the room.
This seemed to do the trick; the deep ‘oohs’ and sniggers of the rest of the class died away in an instant - Harry immediately adopted the sheepish expression James used to get sometimes, and Malfoy scowled and reluctantly planted all four legs of his chair on the floor.
‘Thank you all for settling down so quickly,’ Remus told them pleasantly, ‘though I would appreciate coming into a quieter classroom in the first place. Now, if you would all gather around this tank…’
It was tempting to have a quiet word with Malfoy about respecting women, Remus thought, as the chairs scraped and the children eagerly gathered around the Grindylow. But then, he’d probably have to have a word with Harry, too, about the inappropriateness of ‘your mum’ jokes.
Well, he thought, as the girls squealed in exhilarated disgust at the grindylow’s slime, he certainly wasn’t going to admonish Harry. Not when his parents would have been so proud.
It’s time to strike for the climate. From September 20-27th, there will be strikes around the world for climate action.
To support them, we’ve launched a Digital Climate Strike to get some of the biggest websites on the Internet to raise visibility.
Add the strike to your Tumblr to spread the word! See the instructions here.
Ready to strike? Click here to find a strike near you.
jem and tessa constantly thinking about and showing kit how much they love him added 20 years to my lifespan, cleared my skin, raised my grades, cured my anxiety, and gave me 20/20 vision
look
how
much
they
fucking
love
him
Day 15 of @hinnymicrofic, posted a few days late. Busy weekends, and all that.
“Aha!” Ginny exclaims suddenly, triumphant. “I found it!”
Harry attempts to mask his amusement. She’s clasping his palm in one of her small, freckled hands, while diligently referencing Unfogging the Future, trailing her finger along the text with the other.
“This is your head line,” Ginny says, pointing to the faint line running horizontally somewhere in the vicinity of the center of his palm. “Awfully short, don’t you think?”
Harry squints at the line, and then back up to the twisted line of her smirk. “What’s short supposed to mean, then?”
Ginny looks down at the textbook and reads, “Those with below-average head lines tend to be incredibly thick. They befriend lanky red-headed gits, play Seeker, and they often don’t notice when girls give them hundreds of opportunities to–”
“That’s what the book says, does it?”
“It’s all here, Harry. Who am I to question fate?”
“You shit.”
Ginny snickers and releases his hand, which Harry regrets immediately. “Divination is such rubbish, I can’t believe an examiner is going to actually evaluate me on this.”
“Ron and I just made things up,” Harry remembers. “Seemed to go fine.”
“Didn’t you get a P?”
“Yep,” Harry says unconcernedly, lifting her hand and examining her palm as though reading it. “But then we got to drop it altogether.”
“Hm,” Ginny considers. “Maybe your head line is longer than I thought.”
Her hands are small, almost delicate looking. He glances at the textbook, sees a diagram with lines like “heart” and “marriage” and “life” that can allegedly be foretold. He has a brief, cynical moment where he wonders how short those lines are on his palm, and then feels grateful Ginny hadn’t mentioned it. Hadn’t mentioned any of the sticky ones, really.
“If you squint really hard you can see my money line,” Ginny jokes. “It says I have nine sickles.”
He looks up at her, strangely overcome with the sensation of being understood; that she’d know without needing to explain how difficult it would be for him to talk about an uncertain future, that she’d gravitate toward taking the piss and joking about sickles to spare him.
“I’ve got a prediction,” Harry says.
“Oh yes?”
I’ll never get over you. “You’re going to get a D in Divination.”
She laughs in that unrestrained way she has, and Harry wonders if what he’s found with her has etched itself into his palm, something permanent, irrefutable. He can’t bear to check.
a black woman named zoe amira posted a video on youtube. this video is an hour long and filled with art and music from black creators. it has a ton of ads, and in result will rack up a ton of revenue. 100% of the ad revenue from the video will be dispersed between various blm organizations, including bail-out funds for protesters. it will be split between the following, dependent on necessity
brooklyn bail fund
minnesota freedom fund
atlanta action network
columbus freedom fund
louisville community bail fund
chicago bond
black visions collective
richmond community bail fund
the bail project inc
nw com bail fund
philadelphia bail fund
the korchhinski-parquet family gofundme
george floyd’s family gofundme
blacklivesmatter.com
reclaim the block
aclu
turn off your adblocker and put the video on repeat. do not skip ads. let it play on loop whether you’re listening or not. mute the tab if you need to focus elsewhere. but let. it. play.
youtube will donate to blm for you.
‘You ran away from home?’ ‘When I was about sixteen,’ said Sirius. ‘I’d had enough.’ ‘Where did you go?’ said Harry, staring at him. ‘Your dad’s place,’ said Sirius. ‘Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son.’
(and I know this set will probably be confusing to some people since a lot of people like Kristin Scott Thomas as Walburga but she’s always been Mrs. Potter to me)
I would love to lose focus and have a consensual workplace relationship with hugh grant
Why do people write Lily treating James like shit?
I lost count of how many fanfiction I’ve read where Lily slapped James, said that he was bad or was completely mean to him, even when they started dating.
I feel like people forget that yes, we can write Lily as a strong woman but being strong and feminist doesn’t mean slapping your boyfriend everytime he doesn’t agree with you or you think he’s being stupid.
Just because he’s a boy, doesn’t mean he deserves it or doesn’t feel it. Boys are people too, they should be treated with respected. It’s not funny or cool or character development to have her treating him like she’s better and he is lucky that she even accepted going out with him.
I’m not going to tag or quote the most recent examples I’ve seen of this because I feel like these people don’t deserve this type of thing but please stop. Lily can be loving and a feminist, she can spend every day with James or want to be a housewife.
Write strong women. Write real women.
written for @hpwritersnet prompt of the week ‘minerva mcgonagall’
She enters Hogwarts young and naïve with cascades of magic flooding under her fingertips, churning in every crevice. She is rugged copper ready to be shaped, ready to grow. She engulfs herself in knowledge, filling every gap in her brain with words and symbols and spells until she cannot speak without inked letters spilling from her mouth. Her innocence is burnt away under the light of petty arguments and childish fun and she emerges slightly older and slightly less naïve.
She lives and learns and grows older still and finds herself back at her old school with old friends and she thinks this is where she is meant to be. She has tried the cool chambers of the ministry and although she knows she is strong enough to shout down the voices of those stuck in the past, she misses the Scottish rain and the hope of young minds. She changes the world by nurturing the roots instead of cutting the leaves, watching generations grow up in front of her.
She watches James Potter and Sirius Black charging through her corridors, overflowing with a love of life. Watches them pull Lupin from his shell and give Pettigrew a chance, sees her boys grow into men. She does not bring them up but drags them, barking orders to straighten up and tuck in shirts, because there is no space for the youth in the world, no time for them to mess around. Don’t they know the war is coming? She keeps an eye on the newspapers that bring her names of past students in lists of the dead, in lists of those wanted for the dead. She starts to hold onto all her students a little more, not enough that they notice but enough that the dread in her heart lessens a little.
Keep reading
They called her a know-it-all. They told her that she was annoying and would never have any friends. They told her she was a mudblood, not worthy to flourish a wand or brew a potion or stand beside the ones they called purebloods. They told her she couldn’t. They forgot that she was persistence, she was strength, that the most important things were friendship and bravery. They forgot that she was Hermione Granger.
They called her crazy. They told her that she would never be anything more than the loony girl who read the quibbler, that crumple-horned snorcacks and nargles were fairytales her father told her to help her get to sleep. They told her that she would never fit in. They forgot that she didn’t want to fit in, that she was secret wisdom and serenity, that they were just as sane as she was. They forgot that she was Luna Lovegood.
They called her small. They told her that she was overshadowed by her brothers, that she was a slut who dated too many boys and who loved the Boy Who Lived because he brought her recognition. They forgot that she didn’t need a boy to bring her recognition, that quidditch and power and rebellion and the bat-bogey hex flowed in her veins. They forgot that anything was possible if you’ve got enough nerve. They forgot that she was Ginny Weasley.
They called her needy. They told her she was clingy and useless and that she needed a boy to define her. They forgot that she truly loved him, she just didn’t know how to show it. They forgot that even though she was afraid, she fought and died for her friends. They forgot that she was Lavender Brown.
They called her self-absorbed. They tpld her she had no right to be in Gryffindor, that she was a sucker for attention from professors like Trelawney, that Harry Potter had only taken her to the Yule Ball because he had no one else to take. They forgot that she was intelligence and small doses of courage and a true friend. They forgot that she was the prettiest girl in her year. They forgot that she was Parvati Patil.
They called her shallow. They told her that she was gorgeous only on the outside, that she was stuck-up and patronizing. They forgot that she would die for the ones she loved, that looks meant nothing to her, that she was as much a fairy princess as they were. They forgot that she was Fleur Delacour.
They called her weak. They told her to get over her tears, that she would be happy again if she only tried, that she wouldn’t survive a storm. They forgot that she was the storm, that she was hidden strength, that her fury was as strong as her sorrow. They forgot that even if they had the emotional range of a teaspoon, she didn’t. They forgot that she was Cho Chang.
They called us many names
but they forgot that we are W O M E N
Jake + Zooey Quotes From This Weeks Episode of Welcome To Our Show With Special Guest Jake Johnson