#backgroundhufflepuffcreates

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Sirius Black                Why... why...                “It's dangerous, so dangerous                I wanna do it again”

For @thatmarauderer; all the best with studying!

tumblr quality... blame the app.   my creation   support me

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The edit that no one asked for: Credence Barebone

Why is it that, when I get close, I get hurt?

I’m not like them, not like them, not like them

[Suggest HP character edits]

Images found on weheartit Model: http://bonesonmyface.tumblr.com/post/163242340135

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He will do one of two things He will admit to everything Or he'll say he's just not the same And you'll begin to wonder why you came

What did I do wrong?

Character edit for @woebutwonder : Draco Malfoy?

Suggest a HP character edit!

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The edit no one asked for: Tom Marvolo Riddle

who do you think you are, running ‘round leaving scars

[Suggest HP edits]

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The edit no one asked for: Rubeus Hagrid

they’re not monsters, if you treat them nicely

[Suggest a HP edit]

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With hair as red as fire and souls as bright as the sun

numerous; home

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The edit that @bedofrosethorns asked for: Fleur Delacour 

And I’ll do it with a halo around my head

[Suggest HP character edits]

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“I’m not like him, I’m not like them”

because being different is being yourself

Character edit requested by @theminiv: Albus Potter?

Suggest HP character edits

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Ginny's Education

Hogwarts - Ginny was smart, bright and tallented. Fearless in her tackling of complex tasks and the ability to master Charms incredibly well had her reputation of being a superb hex caster all the more impressive, because it was backed by facts. Once she wanted something, she would strive for it endlessly, sometimes leaving others behind in her wake. Quidditch was one of her fierce loves and she practiced until it was impossible to tell which way was up or down. Proving herself in duels and dares became the norm, especially against stuck-up boys who only wanted her for her looks. They soon learned not to. She had a practical, hands-on approach to learning and fully enjoyed the practical lessons with tallented teachers where she could actually do and see the results of the theory. The war took a toll on Ginny. She had to grow out of constantly looking behind her back, as her 6th year had been full of curses aimed at her spitefully. Someone quipped that she was as 'jumpy as Mad-eye Moody', and they came away from the encounter worse because of it. Further education - Ginny wasn't very interested in seriously pursuing further education after Hogwarts because she had already been getting attention by quidditch teams. When the Hollyhead Harpies came along, she was sold and so her career as a phenomenal chaser began. It was a welcome break from the pressure of school during 6th year. If she had an option later, however, she wouldn't turn down the opportunity to keep learning. After all, you can never know too many spells, jinxs and handy hints. Books of that sort were always welcome, as long as she was able to practice too. Goals and aims - since young, Ginny had a crush on harry, but it had grown into respect, admiration and eventually a mature love for him (and vise versa). They shared similar experiences and she was able to comfort and encourage Harry, who felt the effects of PTSD and his last few years at Hogwarts deeply. Getting married to him was one of the most beautiful days in her life and she kept a billion photos to one day show her kids. She loved and cared for Teddy as if he was her own and nobody could tell her that he wasnt. @bonechandelier you asked for something similar... @thatmarauderer ; @bigbrother05

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Standing in the hall of fame, and the world’s gonna know your name

stronger than you;

for anon: Ginny Weasley?

Suggest character HP edits

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But how will we get there? “We fly, of course”

‘She’s insane’ is just synonymous for ‘I’m jealous’

Character edit for @yes-you-are-just-as-sane-as-i-am: Luna Lovegood?

Suggest a HP edit!

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Firewhisky

@the-prisoner-of-the-marauders  @patita-ssuaves

James sat alone at the dinner table, cradling a glass of firewhisky in his hands. It had been a long time since he had indulged in one, but today was an exception. The war was building up, becoming intensive from both sides. Family and friends were under constant threat if they protected or defended Muggles. Muggle-born wizards and witches were fleeing, going into hiding, protecting each other and themselves. The Order was busy all the time, recruiting and working undercover, protecting buildings and people, undermining You-Know-Who’s work as best as they could. And yet, when would it end?

He took another drink of firewhisky, longing to feel the burn in his throat. He deserved a bit of a reprieve in a time such as this.

A knock on the door startled him. Cautious, he rose and padded to the eye-glass. Outside, shivering slightly in the cold, stood the one person who could make his heart warm faster than the biggest glass of firewhisky.

He opened the door.

“What do you want, Evans?” he growled, “make it quick.”

Lily Evans looked coolly up at him. “Your spade,” she said.

“What, has yours broken again?” James said grumpily.

“Well considering you used it the other week and decided that it would work better once the metal had been melted down, Potter, then yes it is broken and I demand a replacement.”

“Fine, come in then and don’t get dirt in the carpet.” James trooped away as Lily stood inside the house and closed the door to the wind.

“Thank you!” she called out testily.

James came back with the spade from the spare room, his firewhisky still in his hand. Except Lily wasn’t where he had left her. She had ventured into the living room, looking at the pictures.

“Who’s this?” she asked, pointing to a picture of an older gentleman smiling serenely out of a photograph.

“That’s Henry Potter,” James answered, “known to his friends as Harry.”

“I know his name!” Lily said, “he spoke against the Minister of Magic and defended muggle-borns.”

“Yeah well,” James bit out, “here’s your spade.”

Lily looked at him, and then at the half-finished drink in his hand.

“Oh, give me that!” She said, reaching forward and taking the glass from him.

“Hey– ” James protest tuned to shock as she tipped up the glass and downed the drink in one go.

“What??” he frowned, “that was mine!”

“At least you’re not grumpy alone, Potter,” Lily said. “Where’s your cupboard? I want some more.”

As James seemed rooted to the floor, Lily moved into the kitchen to search by herself. Fortunately, she didn’t have to look too hard, as James had left the bottle on the table.

“Get in here, Potter!” She said.

James moved into the kitchen and was met with a full glass of firewhisky, a matching one in Lily’s hand.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Potter,” she said.

James grunted and took a big swig from his glass.

They sat in silence, drinking slowly and quietly, stopping every now and again to fill the glasses. Lily was brooding, her mind on the war and her future as a part of it. James’ attention was fixed solely on the beauty sitting next to him who was slightly flushed as the alcohol kicked in.

“I’d better get you home,” he said finally.

Lily started out of her reverie and then rose to her feet, wobbling slightly before finding her footing.

“Thanks for the company, hon,” she said.

James did a double-take as that address hit his ears.

“Lily…?” he asked

“Oh so you know my name now?” lily giggled. “That’s a �� *hick* – good step.”

“Come on, I’ll take you home” James laughed, the sound strange to his ears.

Out the front door and down the road, James walked while slightly supporting Lily, who was increasingly distracted by the scenery. Arriving at Lily’s house, which was fortunately only a couple minutes’ walk away, James opened the door and ushered Lily into her living room. She sat down with a bump.

“So where’s that spade?” she asked, grinning absentmindedly.

“Oh shoot, I forgot it,” James murmured.

“Oh well,” smirked Lily, “another excuse to come back later then.” 

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‘I’m coming’

Starter and pairing by @the-prisoner-of-the-marauders​

An owl glided in through the open window...

Ron x Hermione

An owl glided in through the open window of Ron’s kitchen, silently ghosting through the air to land quietly on the benchtop. It was midnight, the full moon peeking out behind the clouds as it sent silvery light to brush above Ron’s tousled hair resting on the table.

The owl hooted softly, seemingly to understand the need for quiet. Ron stirred and then opened his eyes, looking blearily at the owl. Understanding crossed his face as he reached for the message tied to the leg of the Tawny.

He opened the seal and read the quick message: ‘I’m coming’.

Smiling, Ron stood up and shuffled to the cupboard, pulling out two mugs and preparing a butterbeer. The draft from the open windows was chilly, so after letting the Tawny go he closed most of them and poked his wand at the fireplace. The atmosphere turned warmer and more cheerful, rather than the cold dreary darkness of before.

A small ‘crack’ sounded from the kitchen and Ron turned around. Filling the doorway was Hermione, a smile in her mouth and a twinkle in her eyes.

“Well hello there stranger, care for a drink?” Ron gestured to the mugs of butterbeer waiting on the counter.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hermione replied, taking a sip and sighing as the warmth filled her chilled body.

Walking with Ron into the lounge, they both sat on the couch in front of the fire and drank their fill in contemplative quiet.

The fire crackled and popped, casting warm light over the couch.

With a sigh, Hermione snuggled up to Ron, leaning against his shoulder and resting her head back.

“Welcome home, Hermione” whispered Ron quietly.

The house was still, the garden quiet, the world at peace for the moment.

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Beauty

Tags: @the-prisoner-of-the-marauders

Ed Sheeran ~ Shape of You And last night you were in my room And now my bedsheets smell like you Every day discovering something brand new I'm in love with your body

Her smell penetrated into every corner of the house, filling his senses with her. The kitchen smelt like her chocolate chip cookies, half that never lasted to the cooling stage before they were eaten. The bathroom smelt like her shampoo, her hair lingering with the smell for days. The garage smelt like paint from her creations, the resulting masterpieces displayed throughout the building. The garden outside smelt like the dozen rose bushes blooming, the herb plants growing. The bedroom smelt like a mixture of lightly sprayed perfume and sleepy kisses, the air stirring slowly around her sleeping form.

He rested for a minute outside the bedroom, a cup of cocoa in his hand, gazing at her form curled amongst the bunched sheets.

She couldn’t sleep without at least one covering and it drove him crazy how hot she could get, tossing and turning but never giving up on that blanket. “It’s a comfort weight, James!” she always said. And even though sometimes he couldn’t sleep as she tossed, he would just turn over and curl his body around her back, soothing and quieting her.

Her red hair was splashed out on the pillow, slight tangles from where his hands had rested during the night. The freckles dotting her nose danced as she breathed in and out, twinkling in the morning light. Her hands fisted around the sheets, lightly gripping the cloth. She lay on her side, curled into comfort.

She stirred and rolled over, giving a little sigh and sinking into sleep again. The back of her shirt rode up, displaying her smooth back. He always felt the difference, when running his hands over it, how his callouses matched her delicate smoothness. It was possessively beautiful, especially because he knew she liked the feel of his slightly rough hands. They balanced each other, sharing the light and darkness of their souls and helping each other be their best person.

He didn’t want to wake her; didn’t want to disturb whatever she was dreaming on. He would happily stand here, watching her and drinking in her beauty.

It was okay, though. He could wait, the world could wait for a while.

She could rest for now.

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Hufflepuff is:

- staying up past midnight to talk to your friend about anything and everything - liking all candy - the weather being ‘just perfect’ for any activity - food fights and giggle fits all hours of the day - actually being chummy with your teachers - getting the courage to talk to new people and include them in your friend group - always there to help - remembering tiny details, and forgetting big things - loyal to a fault - hot drinks even in summer - quickly jumping from one project or favorite thing to another - being resourceful - long-armed jumpers for whippy-whappy games - unorganised days turning into awesome dates with friends - memories of small events - hard work - big, sinking chairs to snuggle in - identifying with all struggles - sleeping in - smelling good food in the morning - nice, but not boring

- staying, even if it is detrimental to your health - being emotionally bribed, even of you don’t realise it - feeling everything deeply, even the so-called unimportant things - sticking to yourself, even if others don’t - having nothing left in your emotional bank for yourself - crying quietly at night so that nobody else sees you - self-harm and long sleeves - working too hard for too long - emotional exhaustion - not sleeping because you’re too busy thinking

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The day Remus turned 11

tagged: @the-prisoner-of-the-marauders ; @totally-ravenclaw​; @una-palabra-mas

Remus ran his hands over the new wounds and sighed, his heart weighed down with too much care for an almost-11-year-old. Glancing into the mirror, he turned away before he took in too much of the red and pulled skin. 

His eyes are tired, almost wise in their knowledge of suffering and yet they still held the look of young innocence just lost. He didn’t have time to be young, the cares of life in this world had been thrust upon him at an earlier age than most.

Sometimes he wondered if there was anything still here for him. Everywhere, kids his age were getting ready for school, excited to make new friends. Most kids in his world were extra excited to be able to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Oh, how he longed to go! Be able to learn and be among kids his age, explore his talents and the magical world hidden from muggle eyes.

There would be no place for him there.

This was worse than being a muggle, worse than being a squib. Squibs got the short end of the stick in regards to the wizarding world. He had no stick at all. There was no chance of going anywhere. He was an outcast in an already secluded world.

Remus absentmindedly scratched old scars on his leg as he pulled out a much-used book. He always returned to the familiar when overwhelmed. It was a way to bury his worries underneath another universe.

This time the book didn’t distract him. He guessed that when such a big event comes up it becomes harder to ignore. It was like that two years ago when the full moon coincided with Christmas Eve. Tomorrow he would be 11. The time when this birthday should be celebrated with friends and food and loud bangs will be replaced by sad looks, whispered questions and wary glances. The day when he would otherwise be very excited to get a special message would be quiet, the silence declaring his incompetence through the letter’s absence.

The party was over, it was past 11 am and everyone was already gone. They didn’t stick around for too long. His meager presents were already in his room, from a few books to new socks and even a quill – someone forgot that he wouldn’t go to Hogwarts, let alone another non-magical school.

 A knock sounded on the front door, muffled through the floorboards. Did someone forget their purse or leave behind a jacket? Remus didn’t want to see anyone anymore. Murmuring voices sounded from the dining room below. Then his mother called out “Remus dear, could you come down here?”

Remus walked down the stairs, wondering who might be back and actually want to talk to him this time. Coming into the dining room, he stared.

His mom and dad, like normal, were wearing muggle clothes to help him fit in. Standing with them was a stranger, someone Remus hadn’t seen before. Wearing long, black robes with a pointed hat.

“Remus?” said his Mom, “this is Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts.”

Emotions flared in his heart but he maintained a polite facade. “How do you do, Professor,” he said politely. “I am very well, Remus,” she replied, “and many happy congratulations on turning 11!” “Oh, thanks,” he murmured.

“Well, I’m sure you are all aware that due to Remus’… condition… it would be hard for him to attend Hogwarts and be around children,” McGonagall stated, “however, Headmaster Dumbledore has decided that there are precautions that can be put in place and we are happy to say that Remus has been accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

There was silence for a full minute.

“What?” Remus finally said.

McGonagall finally smiled. “You can attend Hogwarts if you wish, Remus,” she said, handing him an envelope with the red seal bearing the Hogwarts crest. “Your letter includes all the things you will require as a first-year student and some additional instructions.”

“But… what about…” he stuttered, confused and hopeful and aching all at once, slowly taking the envelope and examining the old-fashioned paper.

Then he looked up. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t go.”

His mother started, looking worried from her place behind McGonagall. “What do you mean?” she asked, “you don’t want to go?”

“No,” replied Remus quietly, “I can’t afford to go. I can’t risk someone else suffering because of me, I can’t make friends, I can’t protect others. So thanks, but I won’t accept.” He handed the envelope back to McGonagall and turned to go.

“Remus,” McGonagall said quietly, “we understand that it is fully your choice in whether you attend or not, and we will respect your decision. I want you to know that your condition does not and should not affect your ability to attend Hogwarts. It is sorted, Remus. There are precautions and things we can do to protect you and the other students during the full moon, but I hope that you will be able to work through it, study hard and enjoy your time with us. The final decision is up to you, but I hope to see you at Hogwarts this year.” Turning to his parents, McGonagall added, “if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me directly and we can discuss the specifics of the course, school, and possibilities that Remus has.”

After McGonagall was gone, Remus’ parents left him alone to think things over. 

He was going to Hogwarts.

He was going to be able to learn transfiguration, spells, history.

He would be able to meet new people.

Maybe they wouldn’t know about his condition. Maybe he can be normal.

Maybe he can enjoy being 11 after all.

Remus chuckled slightly. “I guess I will need that quill after all,” he said to himself.