#and seeing how the death of an owl had a bigger negative impact than some character deaths

[emmiareads]

There’s this one lecturer who continues to say the funniest things, here are some samples from the last semester:

“Slightly undercooked research.”

“That’s very white male stale.”

 “You're all millennials aren't you? No, okay, tell me this, how do you feel about avocado?” [student remarks that they’re not good for the environment] “Oh my god, that's such a millennial thing to worry about.”

“One of my best friends is dating a man that dresses like a musician but like... has a steady job? Such a millennial.” 

“Harry Potter's not a wizard. Gandalf’s a wizard.” “My toxic masculinity is showing: To be a wizard, you need to fight an orc.” “HARRY POTTER IS NOT A WIZARD!” 

“I can't draw... I probably should have figured that out by now”

“This was like a mic drop moment... That's how you say it, yea? Yea, I'm cool.”

“When Trump's giving a speech, people don't sit there going “Ahhh, there's a ‘the’.” No! They're going “What an idiot.””

“IT CAN’T BE DONE... Well, no wait, I'm wrong, hang on.”

“JK Rowling wanted to tell her story, Joyce wanted to piss off academics for 100's of years.”

“Because I’m a white male that has hair.”

“Rolling delta… if you thought that was confusing… ‘hold my beer’ as they say.”

“I am a Star Wars nerd. Like proper, used to be in a Star Wars costuming group nerd.”

“You’ll get funky errors.”

“I’ll bet it was Conrad, because he wasn’t mental. Ford was a lunatic.”

“Look at these very controversial results! GOOD LUCK!!”

“I’m not sure how to do that. Nobody’s really sure how to do it.”

“I’m gonna use the presidential speeches again because they were on the desktop…… and I’m lazy.”

“All synonyms are not born equal.”

"I don't consider myself- Well, no, actually, more and more recently, I DO consider myself an old man..."

"My Twitter is just... honestly, it's just me ranting about things." "Last night I ran out of milk so I... well... I ranted about how annoyed I was"

"John Borstein is a German researcher that... actually, I don't even know if he’s German. Huh."

"Twitter is where I post work stuff, political stuff, ideas... how to take down the government."

"You don't send an angry email with comic sans."

"IF you were to all describe this pen..."  [stares intensely at the pen for a full 30 seconds]

"If you were to do mapping- I mean, mapping is just, mapping is great, I love mapping, you all know my feelings on mapping- ANYWAY, the point I'm trying to make-”

"Time really goes fast when you... man, time is really subjective, isn't it. Just think about this for a minute. Time. Like. So subjective. It's just based on that physical stuff like the earth circling around something and- anyway, think about it."

"I've seen some of your stuff and some things are pretty good! ... some"

"I think there was a plugin for this a few years ago but I think it died... cause everything does"

"If you get hit by a bus tomorrow, how will your project survive without you?"

“Don’t be stressed… I mean, do be stressed”

“Is Bing a search engine? Oh, it is.”

“They’re not boxers, they’re just gobshites from YouTube.”

“It’s an aesthetic class.”

"Before we clap, when are we having lunch?" 

Guest speaker: I am not sure this is the right time to go into Maths Lecturer: No, not on the first date.

[ahlectos]

                                        “ i am clawing myself into negative                                         space, a creature of only absences. ”

cis female / she/her. ┊ if you’re looking for ALECTO CARROW, you’ll probably find HER in the RAVENCLAW dorm with the rest of the SEVENTH years. they’re the TWENTY ONE year old PUREBLOOD who looks kind of like HANDE ERÇEL. they seem POISED, SHARP, & RESOURCEFUL to me, but apparently they’re also OVER-CAUTIOUS, DESIROUS, & PROUD. maybe that’s why they remind me of jeweled daggers tucked into frothy skirts like a secret; gilt edged pages on well worn books; a cold shiver on the cusp of winter, hidden with a smile ( no one can know you feel anything ); a collection of delicate, sharp edged things; beautiful jewelry draped across your throat, as if anything could protect your weak spots. 

WARNINGS:  death of a family member, discussions of war, parental neglect, manipulation, alcohol mention ADDITIONAL MATERIALS:   alecto’s playlist, stats page, & pinterest board  

i.

the carrow family had amycus, so it wasn’t a total let down when alecto ilse carrow was born and was born a girl. but if everyone was being honest, there wasn’t any real thrill there for her either. if they loved her, it was in a rote way and if they cared for her, it was in a rote way. their distance and cool removal from her life spoke more than anything they ever did for her. 

later, there would be attempts to pit brother and sister against each other; and there was at least a passion of feelings in that bloodthirsty desire. alecto imagined that was the closest thing to love she ever got from them. 

the carrows, historically, were not the most refined when it came to the most sacred. sure, they were one of the best families  —  but their machinations never seemed to be the sort that won the hearts of a people; their plans, never the ones put to action. they had wealth and connections enough, bloodlines going as far back as any of the other twenty-eight’s; but they were not half so perfect.

alecto didn’t like people not expecting perfection from her. her parents saw so little when they looked at her, and it grated to see the same lack from the people they were surrounded by. so she made changing that expectation her mission at, in all honesty, too young an age.

they thought carrows weren’t the ones to beat. fine. wasn’t she one to beat all on her own? wasn’t she enough to change the tides of her family’s reputation?

she’d decided this at a precocious eight years old after a particularly disastrous dinner party. her parents, they were darkly amused; let her try, for soon she’d realize that she was a girl, and would always, always fall short of expectations. at the time, this mission of hers started with presenting a flawless front to anyone looking at her expecting another carrow wildcard. she’d always been precocious; she knew what game they were all playing and just how to play it.

( didn’t they all know how easy it was? to become like them? )

ii.

around the same time she reached this decision for the path she’d tackle the rest of her life, her aunt dulcinea died and crushed alecto’s heart.

aunt dulcinea and uncle anatole were distant carrow relatives and in alecto’s weaker, punishable, childish moments   —   she’d wished they’d been her parents. she wished it stupidly, in place of wishing for her own parents to love her.

at the reading of her aunt’s will, alecto received dulcinea’s wand  ( 12 ¼", griffin feather and aspen, quite flexible and carved with a loving hand ).  and though she wasn’t of an age yet to use magic, her uncle practiced dueling with her using sticks found in the gardens on the carrow estate. even before she could legally utter a single spell, alecto was a skilled duelist. she tucked this into her back pocket like a secret; would let out shining peals of false, childish laughter if ever anyone asked about those dueling lessons. her, dueling? no, no, no. she was itty, bitty, and ladylike, faint at the very idea of fighting. her uncle anatole had simply been indulging her silly games of make - believe.

maybe all he thought was that a husband in their circles would like a wife with some use in the war effort. but alecto liked to imagine he thought she was worth teaching as just alecto, not someone’s future betrothed. 

iii.

she made friends greedily as a child; ostensibly so she could have the connections, the network, that was so vital to the lives of adults in pureblood society. but the small truth was that alecto just fed on human connection. she loathed how much liked people to like her and resented that she needed people at all. but it was true, and it could be useful.  

she tried, at times, unthinkingly, to imitate the distance her parents had with her. she loved talking and hated talking all at once, but she did pride herself on being able to fill hours of conversation with no substance at all. and it better cemented the idea that she didn’t actually desire the friends or acquaintances she had   ---   if every interaction was hollow, what could prove she thrived on them? how would anyone know much she relished the meandering words?

she could be very cruel to those around her   —   not necessarily on purpose, but also not not on purpose. there was a threshold, where acquaintances shifted into someone alecto would trust with her life. at that threshold she tended to turn mean, to turn people away, and it was a horrible habit and one she wouldn’t break.

but all the feigned distance in the world couldn’t keep her from finding actual friends, and she would kill for those she cared for. reckless all or nothing thinking like that was just the carrow way. true,

fierce friendship was an earned thing, but a warm-looking smile from dear alecto cost her nothing at all.

iv.

she was sorted into ravenclaw; perhaps it would have disappointed her family, if they’d had expectations high enough to disappoint in the first place. when alecto was fourteen, and wrote home with news of the sorting, she knew she’d lost any chance of being the favorite   ---   slim as the chance had ever been. oh, her parents had indulged her goal of making a name for herself. she was their daughter; clever enough, pretty enough, to indulge. but they’d never seen that indulgence yielding anything, and her sorting only confirmed it for them.

( she suspected they wrote to her brother more, while at school. no, of course she never asked him. she was a ravenclaw, smart enough to know that some doors need not be opened. )

imagine: a little carrow in ravenclaw tower, all alone amongst peers of all blood statuses and backgrounds. she thrived there, much though she hid that fact from her parents. they certainly never imagined her thriving. she had her aunt’s wand and her uncle’s scattered owls, friends she made cautiously and recklessly in equal measure, a feeling of total abandonment gifted to her by her parents’ abandonment. it was heady, and dangerous.

she kissed people her parents would have been scandalized to know she knew at all, linked arms with girls from families her father had long disparaged over breakfast. joined the quidditch team and shared sportsman-like handshakes with any opposing player she could hunt down after matches.

her grins were sharp and wicked and her laughter soft and surprised and she knew   ---   she knew!   ---   that the home she felt in the castle could never last once outside of it.

it was a home, and that word just didn’t mean anything for girls like her.

alecto was just a girl, darling little thing. the carrow daughter with a whip-sharp mind   —   that she made sure to only show in carefully curated fields, that was a problem all the same. she could picture her mother’s disapproving look as she caught alecto reading one evening, told her that the mind on her made it hard for the family to imagine setting up an enviable match. she would never find it easy, being a trophy hanging off someone’s arm. she tried. alecto always tried.

her parents may not have cared for her any more than they had to, but they knew her better than she ever thought they did. she did not bend or bow to anyone for all that she acted like she could, and that would make her life harder than her parents thought it had to be.

the lives of pureblood daughters could be easier than breathing, in the new world they had hopes of cultivating. if only alecto would let things be easy.

v.

her parents might have thought she had an allergy to the simple route. and maybe she did; maybe they were right, and she was wired all wrong. her mind was a tricky place   —   all those forbidden books snuck into her lap, they had an impact. perhaps on a stronger carrow they’d have been nothing when compared to the things her family had told her all her life. perhaps she was weaker than she’d ever cared to admit. but she acted like they were no stronger carrows, and pretended like the act didn’t cost a thing.

when her parents and their cohort went and joined a dark lord who whispered of war, alecto learned to pretend like lots of things cost her nothing at all. after a lifetime of such acts, she could even pretend to herself that pretending cost nothing.

at night, in ravenclaw tower, she dreamed of a world where she didn’t have to pretend.

little alecto, the sweet-talking carrow daughter, blossomed into a young woman who had high hopes of an easy life. she dreamed bigger than that; of a room of her own tucked with books and cauldrons and coin she earned of her own mind, family that consisted of no one but her brother. alecto always dreamed impossible things. 

but she lived in reality. and reality had studying her heart out for a million jobs she’d never apply for. it had her learning to enjoy the refined burn of shots worth more galleons than some would ever see. she learned to love glittering adornments, and tossing her hair, and beguiling with a single flash of her pearly-white fangs like it was all she was good for. she lived as if school would never end, as if the real world wasn’t just about to knock at her door. she was good. except when she was bad. and loathe though she was to admit it, she could still find enough ancient carrow in her to be very, very bad  …  when she so chose.

badness could very easily be written off as youth, except by those who shared alecto’s youth with her. to them, well, it was her typical carrow tendencies coming out to play. it was her growing tired of the never-ending act she’d started years and years ago. it was her doing very reckless things, perhaps unknowingly   —   or perhaps awaiting the mess she’d leave in her wake. she’d have to fix the mess, of course, and in that fixing would lie the cool reminder that while she looked like any of the rest of them, she would always be a carrow. and carrows are too sharp, too much, and so alecto is, too.

( the secret was she was too much alecto to be anything, really )

vi.

she didn’t even like pureblood society that much; up close, it didn’t glitter like she’d imagined as a child, on the outside looking in.

she resented the idea that she’d have to marry some man eventually, who she likely wouldn’t care about and who likely wouldn’t appreciate her for all that she was. but if she wanted to be more than a wife or mother she knew she’d have to show her hand   ---   reveal that she had a mind for strategy, that she knew a thousand wicked things. sign herself away to the war for a side she didn’t believe in. it would surprise no one to learn that both action and inaction held steep consequences.

but alecto didn’t want to fight; and in the meantime, no one was asking her to, not really. she threw herself into her school work and talked about a boring future, gushed of jobs that required little wandwork and received little notice. uncle anatole gave her questioning looks when she continued to act as if battle terrified her, as if she didn’t have ambitions. but the rest of her family continued ignoring her, most of the time; neglecting to see any real usefulness. and there was safety in that   ---   she might yet make it to a disappointing marriage without any blood on her hands.

in a perfect world she could lay down in neutral ground and not move a muscle for either side. not have to enter some loveless future, either. but what would that make of her family loyalty? the last thing she wanted was more disappointment from her parents. more proof that she’d never been what they wanted. for all that she despised them, she couldn’t help but want her parents to love her; and deserting their side would not inspire love.

this was, of course, no perfect world. alecto was not the sort of girl who lived in happy endings. so while she didn’t want to join the war, had no desire to loan her mind to the dark lord’s cause   ---   she knew she would. she would have to. she was a carrow, and so of course she’d join the fight.

the plain and simple fact of the matter was that there was no possible path for her that didn’t beat her heart into bloody submission. so that life, that planned future, was better than nothing at all. right?

vii.

alecto couldn’t be paid to give two shits about blood status. she knew her family fought tooth and nail along with all their peers for the glory and triumph of blood purity   —   and regrettable as it was to dwell on, it was background noise she would ignore because she could afford to ignore it. just because she could care for, or befriend, a muggleborn with no internal struggle didn’t mean she’d ever actively do anything to help them. this was the life she’d chosen.

she didn’t have much exposure to people of other blood statuses as a child and that’s when she set her heart on winning at life in pureblood circles. sometimes goals like that were hard to let go of. so while her stomach curled at the lack of intelligence she saw as inherit in blood purist ideologies she could never actually  …  fight the fact that pureblood circles were run on purist ideologies. life was just easier if she didn’t fight it.

she’d rather break her heart and throw herself into a cause liable to kill her than become her own person separate from the life she’s wasted years building.

viii.

no one needed to know she hated this; softness was worse than wildness, in alecto’s eyes. her wildness couldn’t be helped, but she’d die before anyone saw her weak. let them see a ruthless game-player with a heart carved from crystalline ice. let them see a girl, damnably neutral while she still could be, cards always held close to the chest.

the almost-war for blood purity waged on as it always had, with new challengers rising every day; it was as unchanging and constant as the warmth of ravenclaw tower still was, in her last year in its embrace. as the consequences of adult life began to fall around her, alecto shut her eyes and plugged her ears and imagined a world where she could stay on the sidelines. she shut her eyes and plugged her ears to the whispers of how useless a dainty carrow daughter was, too.

for a little while longer she could pretend she wouldn’t prove them all wrong sooner or later; it was a kind thing to pretend.

but a kind mask was still a mask. and alecto knew masks, could pluck one from her shelves and put it on in her sleep. it was easier, after all, to not think; some part of alecto had always known this, long learned how to turn off her racing thoughts, her conscience, her heart, in order to do what needed to be done. she hated it. but she did it.

sooner or later alecto would give in  ---  in a way that could never be undone. or, perhaps, she’d come to hate feeling her family’s belated pride resting on her head like poisoned laurels. prove even herself wrong and desert them and their pitied crowns.

( she prays for the former and hopes for the latter, with her wicked, traitorous heart. )