blue hooloovoo

the harry potter spamfest is now complete

hpfansblog:

thingsabouthufflepuffs:

Many thanks to marshmeloh for finding this! It’s fantastic!

Gryffindor’s house point hourglass is filled with rubies, 
Ravenclaw’s with sapphires 
Slytherin’s with emeralds

Now Queen J.K. has revealed what is in the Hufflepuff hourglass!

Diamonds

image

themaraudersaredead:

Refresh the Fancast For The Love of God: Suraj Sharma as James Potter

“It was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes. James’s eyes were hazel, his nose was longer than Harry’s, and there was no scar on his forehead, but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows. James’ hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry’s did, his hands could have been Harry’s and Harry could tell that when James stood up they would be within an inch of each other’s heights.”

themaraudersaredead:

Refresh the Fancast For The Love of God: Suraj Sharma as James Potter

“It was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes. James’s eyes were hazel, his nose was longer than Harry’s, and there was no scar on his forehead, but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows. James’ hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry’s did, his hands could have been Harry’s and Harry could tell that when James stood up they would be within an inch of each other’s heights.”

galifreyy:

galifreyy:

poc!potter makes so much sense though

think about it: petunia and vernon /hated/ james potter, made up stories about him “probably being unemployed” and they seemed to thoroughly dislike him for more than just the magic. how much d’you wanna bet me that their prejudice may have been on the racist side? they treated harry pretty awfully, even considering his magic. they hated that he looked like james as well. 

plus, harry has “great skin” but no specified skin colour or tone or anything! 

draw and write about east asian harry, south asian harry, black harry. draw harry potter in every single race there is.

poc!potter is not really a racebend bc it’s all within canon

Sorry there’s no particular reason for me reblogging this, except to say that I’m very glad that this is the most popular post I’ve made. Really glad. 

Awesome extra additions to this headcanon:

  • it would explain why his green eyes stood out so much
  • it might explain why petunia struggled with harry’s hair so much if he’d inherited his father’s hair- it could be natural hair
  • it could be partly the cause of the bullying in school
  • racial prejudice might explain why the neighbours never questioned that harry was put in a school for “delinquents”
  • he has jet black hair!!
  • c’mon you can see the vernon dursley being the type to complain about immigrants and freeloaders and poc can’t you??
  • MAY EXPLAIN WHY THE POTTERS APPEARED TO NOT HAVE ANY DEATH EATER CONNECTIONS!!
  • Even if he’s described as pale skinned, he may not be white! Mixed South East Asian maybe?
  • Adds a new dimension to Snape vs Potter?
  • aLSO THE HEADCANONS ABOUT LATIN@ JAMES POTTER HAVE KILLED ME (that’s not really a brilliant addition but jeez look them up because they’re beautiful headcanons)

blackbarmitzvahs:

inkhat:

image

Here’s my theory. The Harry Potter trio are actually representations of the other houses. Hermione is Ravenclaw. Ron is Hufflepuff. Harry is Slytheryn. They’re all in Gryffindor because they asked. In fact, everyone in that house could have been in another house if they hadn’t asked to be in Gryffindor. You have be ask to be in Gryffindor because their most defining feature is bravery and anyone can choose to be brave.

I fuck with your theory, marry me.

roachpatrol:

ok so what if Harry and Neville got into like this passive-aggressive lie-off regarding what a truly great man Severus Snape was like they got drunk and Harry was like ‘Snape though’ and Neville was like ‘I know right’ and Harry was like ‘what a… what a fantastic bastard. What a guy.’ and Neville was like ‘we should fuckin’ get him like, like… let’s have a funeral. A huge fucking fuck-off sized funeral with like, lilies, and, a marble coffin, and a big statue, an’ crying women, an’ all that shit’ and Harry got whiskey up his nose laughing so hard and he falls off his stool and just wheezes 'lillies'

and then during the funeral Neville and Harry like spend the whole time trying to give a better eulogy like they keep getting back up after each other are done to try and have another go at it but then they get schooled by Hermione being like ‘for fuck’s sake boys this is how it’s done’ and she goes up to the podium and just bursts into wild banshee hysterics and throws herself across the glistening marble casket, sobbing ‘oh, it should have been me, would to god that it were me, you stallion of a professor’ and all the reporters tear up a little and then go home to pen really fervid biopics on this bleakly noble and tragically overlooked hero of the revolution

anyway like eighteen years later Harry names his kid after Severus and sends an owl off to Neville like ‘your move, mate’ and Nevill pauses in the middle of polishing the giant marble statue of Snape tenderly cuddling an armfull of adoring woodland creatures that dominates like 2/3 of his office to cuss a lot and pour himself another drink

dongofachilles:

Sirius totally knowing Remus’ middle name is John but whenever he breaks out the full name he’ll throw in ridiculous middle names like

"Of COURSE he got a perfect score on the Charms exam, HE’S REMUS THADDEUS LUPIN"

"REMUS MICHELANGELO LUPIN, I AM SURPRISED AT YOU"

Fuck, Remus Elizabeth Lupin—”

amazonpoodle:

what if the reason nobody can tell fred and george apart is because they really are interchangeable

not in a ~it doesn’t matter~ way but like. molly and arthur used to worry that fred and george might turn out to be squibs because they weren’t doing any accidental magic as children, but they were, THEY TOTALLY WERE, it just wasn’t anything flashy, instead they were just like idly switching bodies all the time

and like sometimes it doesn’t make much of a difference, whatever, wake up in the opposite bed you went to sleep in, but it gets like dangerous and weird if you’re on a broom or in the pond or letting your mum teach you to cook or trying to be mad stealth, so for a long long time everybody presumes they’re clumsy maybe-squibs and that they’re doing their twin lying thing when they try to explain what’s going on, so they learn to handle the issue their ownselves

they just. don’t go anywhere without the other. they start each day deciding which body is going to be which (because at this point they really don’t know which body is technically fred and which is technically george), and they learn to reorient FAST when they switch, and what things set them off, and eventually they learn how to act like nothing’s up even when one of them’s in the air and one’s on the ground or whatever, and then they burn past that til they can finish each other’s sentences — til they can switch midsentence — til they can play beater together — til they can switch in a split second in the middle of a game — til there’s room for other kinds of accidental magic to start showing up

at hogwarts they keep each other awake in history of magic by switching back and forth. in potions they take turns brewing and keeping lookout for the slytherins. in transfiguration and charms they keep their grades up because one of them will always get a spell right on the first try so they switch and make it look like both of them do and then they practice on their own later in private. it keeps the mystery alive.

at first they thought lee was just a lucky guesser but no, lee can always tell one twin from another twin — it’s not exactly telling fred from george, because while they are definitely two distinct personalities neither one of them feels like fred all the time or george all the time — but lee knows who he argued with yesterday or who he lent his notes to or who’s best to ask for help in astronomy and who’s best at runes. 

the weasleys are pretty bad at it for the longest time, but then bill comes home from his first year cursebreaking and he can tell, and over a holiday he teaches his trick to charlie so charlie can tell. alicia and katie and angelina can tell. the twins honestly don’t know if oliver can tell or not; so long as they’re doing what they’re supposed to on the quidditch pitch he doesn’t really care about much else. harry can tell. luna can tell. tonks can tell.

the problem is there’s no way for this to end happily

steamchef:

maedhrys:

Harry disappears from the wizarding world for a little while after the fall of Voldemort and only like Ron Hermione and Ginny know where he’s gone

but he’s traveling. he considered backpacking Europe, but then he realized he’d had enough of camping for at least twenty years, so he teaches himself to drive and pulls enough strings to get himself an American drivers’ license and and then he’s off on a roadtrip in a beat-up car that’s still fast as anything. he doesn’t use magic if he can help it because it feels tainted, feels like it belongs to the war, feels like it marks him out again as someone with power and responsibility and the weight of a world on his shoulders. and for now he wants to find out what it is not to be a world-saving wizard, but just to be Harry.

and he meets a lot of strangers (he figures it’s safe enough picking up hitchhikers when they’re more than likely muggles and he’s got his wand if anything bad happens) and he learns what it’s like to be just another face, another car on the road and he learns all sorts of stuff on the radio, tries every genre out there. and it’s nice to listen to stuff that isn’t specifically designed to remind him of the wizarding world, but he finds so much of it surprisingly relatable and sometimes he just breaks down sobbing at the wheel and has to pull over.

and one of the hitchhikers he picks up is a veteran, and Harry doesn’t tell him much but he does say that he’s been a soldier, too, and it’s hard adjusting to a life that you never thought would exist because things were so hard that you could not imagine yourself after. hard to think about settling down and marrying the girl you thought you’d die loving. hard to think that not everyone around you is an enemy. were you a prisoner of war? the veteran asks. or undercover? both, says Harry. and lost, not knowing whether I was on the run or on a mission that was taking a year. I got back alive in the end but something—something’s definitely dead, you know?

how old are you, says the veteran. I’m eighteen, says Harry. the veteran raises his eyebrows. but they both know that some armies, some wars, don’t care about your age.

I think the dead thing is me, Harry says one day, when he’s going seventy in a fifty-five mile zone and the sun is setting in their eyes. when I killed the enemy, I killed myself.

and the veteran looks at him for a very long moment and Harry slows down and looks back at him and at last the man says, no. no, you lived. and you’re going to keep living, son, and one day you’ll be ready to marry that girl, if you love her, and now that you’ve got out of the war, it’s time to get the war out of you.

(they almost have a wreck when Harry pulls over to the side of the road, gets out, sits in the grass and laughs through his tears. flowers start to spring up around him and he feels the magic in his core, but this time it’s peaceful and pure and fun. unspoiled. and he knows it won’t always feel this way but for now things are leaking out of him, joyful things, because he is the boy who lived again, the boy who lived after the war.)

#Harry Potter #leave me to die in a pool of my wizarding tears

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.)

AU: James and Lily live (part 2)

fullofstoryshapes:

Neville as eventual headmaster is very important to me though.

Neville, who thanks to his enduring friendship with Luna sees the vital importance of fostering interhouse relationships, downplays the rivalries between the houses without lessening the importance of

i know, i know. We must battle on.

sockmonkeyrenegade:

misterkevo:

theadventuresofpam:

Harry was the favorite kid and he wasn’t even an official part of the family

Because Molly knows exactly how the Dursleys treat him. There’s no way Ron wouldn’t tell her. And Molly Weasley is a Mother. She gets a capital M because she is goddamn phenomenal at what she does. When she hears Harry Potter is on the train to Hogwarts in Book 1, her reaction isn’t to be starstruck. It’s to say “that poor dear had to come here all on his own.” Molly Weasley loves harder than anyone. She loves like it’s her sole reason for being. And when she hears there’s a poor boy who has never known love his whole life… how could she not?

We see evidence of it throughout the series too. She knits him a sweater like she knits for all of her biological children because Ron mentions to her offhand that he’s not sure if Harry is expecting any Christmas presents, and this is before she’s even really gotten to know him. She just knows that he’s an orphan, and that he’s had a hard life. Whenever Harry stays with the Weasleys, either at the Burrow or Grimmauld place, she always feeds him extra helpings of food, because she knows that the Dursleys would starve him. She opens her home to him during school breaks, her and Mr. Weasley come to be his “family” before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, she throws him a large coming of age birthday party, even in the midst of being stressed out by preparing for a wedding, and the world going to Hell in a handbasket. Molly also has the distinction of being one of the few adults in the series who is intent on shielding Harry from having to grow up too quickly. It just breaks her heart that he doesn’t get to be a teenager, and we see her over and over again absolutely deadset of preserving what scraps of his youth that she can. And the thing that above all proves to me the most just how deeply Molly cares for Harry? She tells Sirius that Harry is as good as her son, and she is absolutely passionate and furious when she says so. I just have so many feels. JK might have been squiffy about giving Harry a definite father figure, but she for certain gave him a solid surrogate mother, it makes me cry sometimes if I think about it too much.