46,175 notes
03:55 AM . 27 August 2014



Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure

But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.

Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.

Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.

Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured by their classmates for having been born.

Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)

Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.

Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?

Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.

Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.

Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.

Imagine the ghosts.

Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)

Imagine the students unable to trust each other everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.

Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.

Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.

Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.

Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.

Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.

Imagine the students who leave the wixen world hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.

Imagine the students who never use magic again.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)


1 note
03:50 AM . 27 August 2014

benjencoldhands , yes Jem is precious cargo and I love her dearly, yet she still did a bad thing and it makes me really sad. I know she’s not in the right state of mind atm but well, like I said, badly done.

And im sure I’ll get on the ship, pay off the reason I started the show was because all the stuff I saw with those two, and spent the whole time in series one wondering when Simon was showing up. Stl as of now I’m just kinda like ok, Simons being creepy about shit but ok, we may find out what’s going on soon.

460,079 notes
03:45 AM . 27 August 2014
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03:44 AM . 27 August 2014
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03:20 AM . 27 August 2014
fOR ReAL SIMON IS. oh m ty god simon is RIDICULOSU I LOVE HIM sry i’m rly tird

Oh i love him too, he’s a creepy mother fucker and i like it. I just don’t ship them. I know i’ve seen a lot of things on tumblr with them and so idk, maybe soon i’ll get on this ship and sail away with the others, untill then. Simons awesome and creepy but not for ren. 

1 note
03:16 AM . 27 August 2014
who said the thing

Simon to Kieren when they were talking about reasons for ren to stay instead of trying to go to paris. 

3,052 notes
03:13 AM . 27 August 2014
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03:12 AM . 27 August 2014
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03:01 AM . 27 August 2014

Pride & Prejudice (2005) + Photoshop

(Source: alpha-hydrae)

0 notes
03:00 AM . 27 August 2014

If i start another episode i’ll never sleep. 

So at least two episodes down. And hopefully i can watch some more come thursday. 

1 note
02:54 AM . 27 August 2014

are you fucking shitting me. 

are you shitting me. 

jem. i’m judging you so hard right now. 

i know you’re going through some tough shit but badly done jem. 

badly done. 

1 note
02:49 AM . 27 August 2014

"there’s me" 

and thats when all the shippers lose there shit right? 

for once im not behind this ship. 

at least just yet 

0 notes
02:47 AM . 27 August 2014

ok now, if jem dies i will do the same thing as if amy dies. 


0 notes
02:46 AM . 27 August 2014
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02:44 AM . 27 August 2014

if that ass hat kills Amy I will toss this brand new lap top my mothers work paid for ACROSS THIS FUCKING HOUSE.