I will always be grateful for how this was depicted in the film.
Disguise your liquor as potions. Perhaps drinking makes you lucky. Or truthful. Or an entirely different-looking person. Sold on Etsy.
No but seriously I just had this cool idea about a person in a bar using these flasks when they were in certain moods.
Like, Veritaserum when they were being themselves and just having a fun night out
Felix Felicis for when they were out to get lucky and pick up someone
and Polyjuice for when they were pretending to be someone else for the night.
I HAVE THREE WORDS THAT WILL BRING JOY TO YOUR HEART:
little league quidditch
#all brooms fly like 3 feet off the ground#the bludgers are stuffed animals#keepers often get distracted by clouds#the seekers are better at playing tag than catching the snitch#games are over when it’s naptime
Imagine Teddy getting a howler from Tonks and he starts to freak out but when he opens it, it’s like
TEDDY GUESS WHAT, THE WEIRD SISTERS ARE COMING TO TOWN. PACK YOUR THINGS, SON, I ALREADY TALKED TO MCGONAGALL AND SHE SAID IT’S COOL. MERLIN’S PANTS I’M SO EXCITED. DON’T TELL ANYONE OKAY, MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T TELL DAD EITHER. OH FUCK, IS THIS A HOWLER? I FUCKED UP, I FUCKED UP.
And Remus at the teachers table covering his face to hide his laughter.
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.)
Dumbledore judges the people he works with based first and foremost on how loyal they are to him. Not because he thinks he’s all that, but because, as I said, he views people as game pieces, and you can’t have your game pieces acting up, can you? He values his pieces. He wants to advance and protect them. But he doesn’t want them running off beyond his sphere of influence and doing their own thing. I think there’s something very ambiguous about Dumbledore’s habit of seeking out desperate, socially outcast people and doing them one or two huge favors that leave them bound to him for life. Remus, Hagrid and Snape all fit that pattern, and Trelawney and Firenze appear to join the ranks in OOP. It kind of makes me wonder what Dumbledore has done for Fletcher, Moody and Shacklebolt.
The members of the Order appear to have pretty much internalized Dumbledore’s view of things. They view him not only as their leader, but as their conscience. Hagrid believes everything Dumbledore believes, and would never question or disobey him. Snape doesn’t seem to believe what Dumbledore believes, but still toes the line until the Occlumency lessons in OOP push him beyond his breaking point. In GoF, Snape’s most emotionally vulnerable moments are the ones where Fake!Moody suggests that Dumbledore may not trust him. Remus, confessing his sins in the Shrieking Shack in PoA, feels guilty not so much because he endangered lots of innocent people, but because he betrayed Dumbledore’s confidence. “Dumbledore says…” is the running refrain on pretty much everyone’s lips throughout OOP — except for Harry and Sirius, whom Dumbledore has effectively abandoned.
Speaking of Sirius, Dumbledore’s attitude towards him now begins to make more sense. (For an excellent discussion of Dumbledore’s treatment of Sirius, see this post by darkkitten1. No reason for me to rehash her arguments here.) The problem with Sirius is, he’s not loyal to Dumbledore at all; he’s loyal to Harry. From Dumbledore’s point of view, it’s as if he’s playing wizard chess, and one of the knights suddenly decides that he doesn’t care what happens to the king, he’s just going to take care of that little pawn on the left. So Dumbledore does the only thing he thinks he can do — he sticks his recalcitrant knight into a safe, isolated corner of the board and keeps him from making any moves. Perfectly sensible and strategically sound, as long as you don’t expect your game pieces to have any pesky emotions or psychological issue that need to be taken into account.
The Greater Good movie posters, the most AWESOME prequel of Harry Potter!
This is SO AWESOME I CAN’T PUT IT IN WORDS SERIOUSLY
Now I understand much better Aberforth/Albus Dumbledore relationship…Yeah, I can see it.
(Plus, here is the AO3 Dumbledore/Grindelwald tag)
that was awesome!
harry potter meme [3/4 locations]: Ministry of Magic