#cried again when i read the scene where harry sits by the mirror of erised

[mischiefandi]

can someone please explain to me why i briefly started crying 7 times today? for no reason?

[sk1fanfiction]

Hello! I saw that you reblogged the "I wish you would write a fic where..." post, and I have two ideas for the Running From My Destiny verse that might make neat scenes. The first I can't really make a summary for since it's such a general idea, but I'd really like to see a Quirrellmort POV. For the second one:

Malfada Prewett meets the Weasleys. This... does not go as well as her parents thought it would, even if they didn't have particularly high hopes.

OR

Malfada absolutely does not get along with her cousins; she loves them anyways, though.

I hope the prompt(s) is(are?) fun! It's cool that you're doing this; it seems like it'd be an interesting experience. Have a nice night! :)

Thanks so much for the prompts! They were both very cool ideas! Hope you have a nice morning/afternoon/night as well!

ᑫᑌIᖇᖇEᒪᒪᗰOᖇT/TᑌᖇᑎIᑎG TO ᗩᔕᕼEᔕ

(spark)

Quirinus Quirrell surveyed his classroom, then glanced down at his attendance sheet, running a shaking finger down his list of names.

“P-Parkinson, P-Pansy?”

“Here, Professor.”

“P-Patil, P-P-Parvati?”

He’d always been ashamed of his stutter. There wasn’t a time he remembered not feeling afraid of his own voice. He expected peers, now students, to laugh at him and make him feel smaller and smaller, until he was annhilated.

“Here, sir.”

He pushed his reading glasses up his nose and focused on the next name.

His heartbeat stuttered in his ears. Something seemed to click. To focus. And when he spoke, his voice was as composed and steady as he’d always dreamed.

“Potter, Harry.”

“Present, sir.”

He could not help but look up at the speaker. But it wasn’t as if he was one looking. Rather, someone or something else had nudged their way to the front of his brain, gazing at the small first-year in the second row, scrawny, bespectacled and overall unremarkable, except for the round-rimmed glasses and bright green eyes that seemed to stir some distant memory, as if he had seen them both on another person.

Dead. And yet he felt more alive than ever.

He shuddered, and moved on, taking note of the remaining few Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

(ember)

It had been mere days since Quirinus had returned to the school; mere weeks since Voldemort’s disembodied spirit promised him everything he’d ever dreamed of.

No longer would he be the bullied, cowed Professor of Muggle Studies.

No longer would he be an afterthought.

There is no good and evil, only power, he reminded himself. Whether he vanquished Voldemort or brought him back to life, he would be great. And that was all that mattered.

And so, he had found himself standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, performing spells that he did not understand (but the other, strange new part of him did) and renewing the runes drawn around an ancient bloodstain.

But now, he was sitting in his office. And that green-eyed, unremarkable boy was sitting across from him (though the part of him that was Voldemort whispered, Quirinus, he is the one).

“Do you think I should be worried at all about the shadows?"

Harry Potter’s voice seemed to be coming through several miles of water. For his part, Quirinus felt frozen, and yet, more clever and powerful and strong than he ever had. His limbs had new life, every square centimetre of his being thrummed with magic, and he felt a strange, vast understanding of everything around him; even the boy’s mind.

"You were right to come to me, Harry Potter.” And there came the new, clear voice again, but it faded quickly. “If you are at all interested in learning to... control... to develop... your power, I may just be able to point you in the right d-d-direction."

(flame)

Halfway through the Quidditch match, something strange had come over Quirinus. That same terrible focus and perhaps not-so-mysterious power.

And every nerve in his body sang with the same fierce joy: Kill him, kill him, kill him! They’ll never trace it to you! Dumbledore is not here to see! KILL HIM!

Quirinus had not taken even a single year of Ancient Runes while he was at Hogwarts, and his affinity for the Dark Arts had always been weak. But now, he sat quite calmly in the professors’ box, muttering an Ogham chant and tainting the air with foul magic.

He saw what the others could not; Harry Potter was being consumed by his own shadows. The boy reached for his broom, hanging on with the last of his material form. His eyes were glassy and empty, and everything in Quirinus sung with the triumphant knowledge that his strange enemy was close to death. The Reaper was coming.

The two Weasley boys circled around him, trying to save him (foolish children, none can save him from Lord Death himself!).

It was the girl that snapped him out of his focus; she threw herself into the box like a wildcat let loose and despite the protests of the professors around him.

But it mattered not. Her precious brother was fast losing his grip, and soon the great Boy-Who-Lived would be nothing but a stain on the grass below; a tragic accident—

“INCENDIO!I”

The box crackled with flame, and the thing inside Quirinus howled in anger; yes, she should not know that, but fire would save the boy, sap the shadows.

Even as Snape shouted at her, it was her victory, not his, because Harry Potter had pulled himself back on the broom to safety.

How hard is it to kill an eleven-year-old child already cursed by a parasitic monster? You are just as much of a failure as they say you are!

And yet, thought Quirinus, he did not know if it was the thing, or himself howling in fury at his inability to kill the boy.

(ashes)

He did not like her. He did not like either of the Potter children at all.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter sometimes, when he delved into his mind and forced the Obscurus to manifest, savoured his terror and the fear-filled memories of his Muggle relatives. When he entertained the idea of using him as a weapon against Dumbledore, now that he had shielded the boy from Legilimency from anyone but him and instilled within him a fear of his Headmaster.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter when the Dark magic had burned out, and he lay helpless on the floor of Quirrell’s office.

Quirinus found that he liked to toy with the child; make him feel as helpless and utterly annihilated as he once had felt.

After all, he would one day kill Harry Potter. He would make the life bleed out of those green eyes and watch them go still and glassy (like his mother’s, he remembered now), someday soon.

Even as he Obliviated the second child who dared to intercept his search for the Stone, Quirinus knew the end was dawning.

With shaking hands, he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled death. The weak, prim Quirinus who would have balked at the very idea of polluting his body with such a thing was no longer important to him. After all, what was nicotine and tar and his disgust at the idea of a smoking habit when the spirit of the Dark Lord lived within him?

No. He had been chosen for greater things.

Tonight was the night the end begun.

Quirinus signed the bottom of his letter of resignation, put out the cigarette, and placed in it his brand-new ashtray.

And yet, he cried.

“I have given you my all, My Lord,” he said, and his voice, his own voice was steady. “And now I am nothing.”

𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚊 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚝/𝚃𝚘 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲��𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝚄𝚙 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚕

August, 1986

“Just give it a chance, will you?” asked her dad, taking her luggage out the boot. “You won’t know you hate it until you try it.”

Everyone seemed to be giving her the same stupid advice today. When they stopped to get petrol during the drive from London, some weirdo in the petrol station had told her “Cheer up love, it might not happen!” She had responded by sticking her tongue out at them.

Mafalda frowned, crossed her arms, and leaned against the car.

“I don’t see why I can’t go to Roedean.”

“Well, you’re a witch, Mafalda.” He wiped his forehead and frowned. “Bloody hot, isn’t it?”

Witch. She hated the word already. Yeah, some of the girls at school were into Ouija boards and palm-reading and whatnot, but Mafalda didn’t go in for all of that nonsense.

The kind of nonsense that got Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon killed.

“And what do they call you and Mum again?”

Her dad sighed. “Squibs.”

“Yes, Dad! It’s not very nice, is it?”

She glared at the house as if it had personally offended her. It was tall, maybe four or five stories and so crooked that there was no way it hadn’t fallen down by now. A couple of brown chickens hobbled around the yard.

And in here lived the people who had sent her father off to Muggle boarding school, as far away from them as they could possibly manage, as soon as they could.

As her dad strode towards the door, Mafalda followed, kicking a rusty cauldron as she went by.

Before Mafalda could make her great escape, her dad knocked on the door and a plump, short, red-headed someone opened it almost immediately.

“Alfred?” she asked in a squeaky, shocked voice. Then, she glanced furtively behind her as if to check that no one was listening. “Alfred, what are you doing here?”

Her dad frowned, fanned himself with the collar of his shirt, and beckoned her closer so that the rude woman could look her up and down.

“Come on, Mals,” he whispered. “In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?”

Yeah, her hair probably looked a mess and the dress Mum had forced her to wear was all creased, but Mafalda didn’t think she would look particularly nice if she’d just spent three and a half hours in a stinky, sweaty car.

“Well,” said her dad, “this is your niece, Molly, and she’s a witch just like you. Got her Hogwarts letter last week and everything; Professor McGonagall said we should come over and see you. Of course, her mum and I know next to nothing about the wizarding world and Mals just barely remembers your brothers—“

Mafalda couldn’t help herself.

“You’re my aunt? Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon’s sister? Why’d you never come to see me?”

The woman — Aunt Molly — went red in the face.

“Come in, Mafalda,” she said tiredly. And at her father’s hard look, she added: “Come on then. Both of you. In.”

Once they were inside the cramped, cluttered kitchen, she was introduced to her cousins. Mafalda kind of tuned out for most of it because most of them were younger than her, bloody annoyingly loud, and she wasn’t the World’s Biggest Fan of small children, but she did pay attention to Charlie (thirteen and Gryffindor Seeker) and Bill (fifteen and a Prefect of Gryffindor House). The youngest boy was crying his eyes out because someone turned his teddy bear into a giant spider, but Aunt Molly didn’t seem to care. A ugly-looking sweater was knitting itself on the sofa.

While she obviously knew what a Prefect was, Mafalda had no idea what a Seeker was or why everyone was making such a big deal over Gryffindor or more to the point what Gryffindor even was!

“Who’s that, Mummy?” asked the youngest, a little girl with hair the same violent red as Mafalda’s.

“Your cousin, dear,” said Aunt Molly tiredly. “She’s just come to meet us, her father’s a Squib you see—“

The little girl screwed her face up.

“I don’t wanna Squib cousin!” she yelled.

Despite herself, Mafalda flinched, and her dad did, too.

“Don’t worry, dear. She’s a witch, just like you.”

As if that made it any better.

“I don’t wanna,” the girl repeated, glowering at Mafalda.

“Look,” said Mafalda harshly. “We’ll just leave, get our Squib selves out of your way and on the three-and-a-half-hour drive back to London. Thanks for nothing.”

“You didn’t call, Alfred,” said Aunt Molly.

Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated.

“There’s no way to contact you, Molly. No phone, and you don’t get our kind of mail. Where am I going to get my hands on a trained owl?”

“She can sleep with Ginny,” said Aunt Molly, nodding towards the little girl.

Mafalda gave Bill, who seemed like the most sensible one of the bunch, a look that clearly said, I am not going to bloody sleep with that demon and that’s final.

“I can sleep with Charlie, Mum, and Mafalda can have my bed.”

Aunt Molly beamed. “What an angel,” she said. And to Mafalda. “Come, dear, let me take your trunk. We’ll all go shopping in Diagon Alley tomorrow, doesn’t that sound nice? Alfred, you wouldn’t mind—”

“—Not letting the world know you have a secret Squib cousin, you have nothing to fear, I’m well practiced, Molly.”

Charlie stood up. “Can I show her around the house, Mum?”

The youngest boy looked up, too.

“And can I have a piggy-back ride from her?”

“You’re too old, Ron!” said the snootiest-looking boy, who was sitting in the middle and had the least amount of dirt in his face.

“I’m not too old!” shrieked Ginny, waving her freckled arms. “I’m only five years old, Mum! I want a piggyback-ride!”

“When your dad gets home from work,” said Aunt Molly.

“You’ll get used to us,” Bill whispered.

I don’t have to like you, thought Mafalda.

“So are you coming?” asked Charlie. “We’ve got to de-gnome the garden. You should come too, Uncle Alfred.”

Dad said he’d come with them, but would rather watch. De-gnoming apparently seemed to involve spinning the tiny, screaming, spiteful little (animals? creatures?) until they shrieked with giddiness, then tossing them as far as you possibly could, which Mafalda was very good at, and Bill and Charlie were all too happy to cheer her on, even convincing her dad to join in, too.

"Don't mind Ginny," said Bill as he flung a particularly angry gnome over the hedge. "She doesn't know anything about anything. And it was wrong of Mum to push you away, but I hope we can be friends still, and that you'll come to Hogwarts with us."

Mafalda, despite herself, thought that was an entirely reasonable proposal.

Maybe she wasn’t going to hate the wizarding world.

It turned out that unfortunately for the sake of her sanity, Charlie loved to talk while he was working.

“Have you heard about Quidditch, Mafalda — oh, good one, Uncle Alfred! That must have gone like twenty yards! Did you know the Antipodean Opaleye has no pupils? What House are you going to be in?”

And yet, she found herself (ew) getting a bit fond of them already.

[thelasttime]

I love reading your Harry Potter posts. It’s such a great series of books. I should read them all over again! The scene that struck me so much the first time and still stays with me is when Harry is looking in the Mirror of Erised and sees his parents then Dumbledore makes him stop spending all of his time wasting away. I guess maybe it’s because my mom died and if I had a mirror where I could see her again I probably would just sit there all day too. 😥 But he’s right. You have to move on.

oh my gosh i cried so hard during that scene in the movie, especially the music that really clicks something in my mind. it’s true though, i would have a similar vision as harry and i probably would sit there all day just to look at the mirror. but i think it’s beautiful how well they did that scene in the movie

[lizziebennet]

Hi Aurora okay first tysm for your blog It's so lovely to have another person so passionate about my fave things (i.e hp and period dramas) Anyway, i recently read the HP series (again) and found myself feeling SO MUCH. I genuinely teared up at so many different touching parts and I was just wondering what are your favorite most heart-wrenching/emotional parts from the books? I realize this is a lengthy quesition so feel free to never answer this or take a year.

ye S SS i love being passionate ab things and sharing that passion w my followers!!!!! i love yall esp when u ask me questions like this where i get to talk ab my fave things everrrrrrrrr (ps thank u so much for letting me take forever to answer this ur so cute to say that ilysm)

ok so literally i will cry my way thru the entire series when i reread bc harry potter has so much emotional weight for me and so many memories that go along with it. but i decided to limit myself to just 10 bc otherwise id be sitting here typing all day. so w/o further ado: 

AURORA’S TOP 10 MOST TEARFUL HARRY POTTER MOMENTS: 

((in no particular order)) 

HARRY READS LILY’S LETTER IN DH: listen harry doesnt actually spend a lot of the books angsting over the fact that he doesnt have parents but in moments like this u remember he IS AN ORPHAN AND IT GETS ME SO HARD. fuk like just picturing harry crouched on the floor of sirius’s bedroom reading that letter… rereading it… crying… wow.gif!!!!! the line that makes me cry eveRY TIME is “She had made her g’s the same way he did : he searched through the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil.“ LIKE RIP RIP RIP ABORT ABORT ABORT ITS TOO SAD!!!!!

THE LOST PROPHECY IN OOTP: JESSESCREAMING.JPEG!!!!!!!!!!!! listen ,,, i talk ab this chapter so much on my blog. it is my #1 favorite moment in my #1 favorite harry potter book which is my #1 favorite series of all time. SO ITS A PRETTY BIG DEAL. harry’s reaction to sirius’s death… his anger at dumbledore… his grief… his discovery of his fate… its beautiful writing and its so painful but so amazing to read. LIKE!!!!! MY BABY!!! HE’S LOST SO MANY PEOPLE!!!!!!!! MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD!!!!!!!!!! “I DON’T CARE!“ Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE!” “You do care,” said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. “You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”” LIKE LITERALLY WHEN I GET TO THIS POINT I HAVE TO TAKE A BREAK BC IM CRYING SO MUCH I CANT MAKE OUT THE WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!! also fun story: one time i was listening to ootp on audiobook while on vacation and we were in the car waiting to taxi on to a ferry boat and we were listening to this chapter when the ferry guy came by to take our tickets and i had like TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE and jim dale is yelling as harry in the background…. the guy was like ‘is this bitch ok??’ lmaOOOOo 

HARRY AND THE MIRROR OF ERISED IN SS:  this is another one of those moments where you remember that harry is an orphan and its /so/ painful. thinking about this teeny 11 year old baby harry sneaking out every night just to sit in front of this mirror so he can see his parents………my darling baby sweetheart i love him So Much. it just makes me so sad like hes /so young/ AND HE JUST WANTS TO SEE HIS PARENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHH!! it also gives way to one of my all time favorite hp quotes: “It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” 

HARRY STOPS SIRIUS AND LUPIN FROM KILLING PETER IN POA: me reading this part is literally ISAYTHATSMYBABYANDIMREALLYPROUD.GIF!!!!!! like!! my boy!! he finds out this man literally caused the death of his parents and he MAKES THE GROWN ASS ADULTS SPARE HIS LIFE… LIKE… he literally acts twice his age and is so mature and is just…….so amazing. it shows such strength and wisdom and it makes me SO PROUD. the way he references james also makes me cry because you see the relationship harry has with james even though he’s literally never met him and its so beautiful. i love harry so much. 

HARRY AFTER SECTUMSEMPER-ING MALFOY IN HBP: this is literally the opposite of that last one where im so proud of harry this is def… not one of his best moments lol. he rly rly fucks up and his guilt is so raw and it makes me so emotional because i feel SO bad for him. its def an important harry moment in the books because it shows his flaws and the consequences of his rage, but it also shows how GOOD he is because he feels so bad about what happens and like willingly takes his punishment even though it means that he cant play in the quidditch match. he really like… atones and even tho its rough to read i def love that its a part of the series bc its a really like watershed moment for harry and i think it really reminds him of the wizard he wants to be. this part also leads to i think a more satisfying harry/ginny first kiss bc ginny defends harry and then him not going to the game leads to “several sunlit days” AKA ONE OF MY FAVE HP MOMENTS EVER!!!!!!!!!!!

HARRY AND HERMIONE VISIT JAMES AND LILY’S GRAVE IN DH: “But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents’ moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing.And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.”  THIS IS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS THAT I HAVE TO STOP READING BC IM CRYING SO MUCH I CANT MAKE OUT THE WORDS ANYMORE. I CRIED TYPING THIS. IM SO SAD. 

THE FOREST AGAIN IN DH: hoo boy. hoooooo boy this is a Big One. this one is really…. wow. just. wow. [deep breath]. there is So Much in this chapter that makes me cry where do i even START. harry realizing that he has to die and ACCEPTING IT BRAVELY LIKE THE HERO HE IS. “Why had he never appreciate what a miracle he was,  brain and nerve and bounding heart?” im crying….. hes so good. HARRY NEARLY STOPPING WHEN HE SEES GINNY and ginny’s crying and comforting some girl and im crying too. JAMES. SIRIUS. LILY. REMUS. WHEN HARRY ASKS IF IT HURTS TO DIE LIKE LITEARLLY I HAVE TO PUT THE BOOK DOWN AND GET UP  AND WLAK AROUND THE ROOM BECAUSE I GET SO EMOTIONAL LIKE. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! when harry sees harry and screams at him ……………… rip in pieces me!!!!!!!! ALSO ONE OF HIS LAST THOUGHTS BEFORE THE AVADA KEDAVRA IS OF GINNY AND KISSING HER……….. [GUNSHOTS] [SCREAMING]

BELLATRIX TORTURES HERMIONE IN DH: fuk this scene is no joke scary like it took harry potter to another level of real darkness. hermione being tortured was so chilling like beautiufl amazing smart snarky hermione it was so painful to read like my heart rate goes up when i read it bc im worried for my girl :/ and ron is sHAKING and like screaming and literally throwing himself at the walls to try to get to her and its SO upsetting like. they are still CHILDREN like theyre all so young and they dont deserve this like. hearing her plead and stuff … its just…. too much. these are my CHILDREN i have to PROTECT them. 

HARRY DIGS DOBBYS GRAVE IN DH: this is another one of those harry moments where i just want to give him a huge hug. like he insists on digging dobby’s grave by hand which is just ..... [gets choked up] its fine. and his thoughts while he dig make me so sad. he so /tired/. hes so frustrated with dumbledore and he the hallows and the horcruxes and he feels responsible for what happened. and ron coming out and helping him dig silently makes me so happy and its one of those times u really see how much rons friendship means to harry. and harry comes out of this like ... older and more mature? his wisdom and knowledge is rly apparent when he talks with griphook and olivander right after this like. he knows what hes going to do. hes made his choice. hes not going to race voldemort for the wand. i love him so much for that choice. hes such a grown man in this part like accepting responsibility, taking care of hermione and everyone like getting things in order. i love him. 

MRS WEALSEY HUGS HARRY IN THE HOSPITAL WING IN GOF: “’It wasn’t your fault, Harry,’ Mrs. Weasley whispered. ‘I told him to take the cup with me,’ said Harry. Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He wished Ron would look away. Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mothers face, his father’s voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him.” HARRY POTTER DESERVES MORE HUGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he feels so guilty about cedric and god bless mrs weasley for telling him it wasnt his fault because it WASNT!!! he did so amazing in the graveyard like.. .he saw voldemort return and he fought him and he survived and he saw his paretns and hE TOOK CEDRICS BODY BACK SO IT COULD BE WITH HIS FAMILY!!!!!!!! HE TOOK IT BACK FOR THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  i would die a thousand deaths if it meant that harry didnt have to experience this pain!!!!

whew so there we go!!!!! the bottom line is obviously that i love the harry potter series more than anything and specifically i love the boy harry potter so so SO much and his suffering is agonizing to read and he didnt deserve any of it!!! i can litearlly think of SO many more heartbreaking moments in the series but here are just a handful. happy birthday to harry!!!