#imagine harry potter trying to discipline his children

[takeariskao3]

Hey Hannah, how would you describe Lily and Ruby’s relationship with James? We know the girls are close but are they close with James or is more of a lone wolf? If you want to write a one shot of this… I wouldn’t mind at all 😉

first of all, i love you for asking me this. second of all, i think like with most sibling relationships it evolves. Lily definitely considers herself james' protector for a time until he grows up enough and starts annoying her. i think once they reach late teens and adulthood though, all three of them are pretty tight knit. having harry potter and ginny weasley as your parents isn't a universal experience so it'd be hard to find other people who could relate to something like that and understand it.

so, more than being siblings, they have unique and shared history they bond over and support each other through <3

and since i am literally incapable of saying no to a next gen oneshot, here ya go:

----

"It's just so unfair!"

Ruby snorted at the whinge in Lily's voice and reached for another spoonful of batter.

"Look at this," Lily grabbed for where Dad sat on the sofa. Placing her hands on either side of his head, she wheeled him around to face the kitchen. "This is what I have to work with!"

Dad shrugged her off with a grimace.

"Hey!" Mum grinned as she pulled a tray of fully baked biscuits from the oven. "I like your dad's hair."

"Me too," Ruby chastised.

Lily's answering scowl was full of impatience. "Easy for you to say! Your hair lies flat!"

Unable to disagree, Ruby finished placing her dough on the sheet and handed it over to Mum.

"It grows in every direction," Lily turned her attention back to the top of Dad's head, pulling his locks side to side and back and forth. Dad staunchly ignored her, continuing to read the paper as if she wasn't even there. "And this bit here, what's the point of it growing upwards on the back?"

Brushing the dough from her hands, Ruby let out a resigned sigh. "Will you stop complaining and come here?"

Lily rolled her eyes, but crossed the room and collapsed into a dining chair anyway. Ruby set to work separating her sister's hair into two sections, and she had to admit it was rather chaotic, especially when left on its own for too long. She didn't dare say this aloud, however, for fear of increasing Lily's already jittery mood.

"Make it tight," Lily instructed as Ruby began to plait. "I don't want it falling out halfway through the night."

Ruby hid her smile behind Lily's back and started all over again.

The smell of fresh out of the oven dessert soon lured James into the kitchen and he took three biscuits off the tray before sitting down at the table. Mum ruffled his hair, so similar to Dad's and Lily's, as she began clearing away the mixing bowl and baking mess.

"Hey, Dad?" Lily asked once Ruby had finished tying off the first braid and began on the second. "Can you take down the wards before they arrive?"

Dad looked up from his paper incredulously.

"Please?" Lily begged in a sing-song voice.

"Absolutely not." Shaking his head, Dad turned back to his Evening Prophet.

"But you have to!" Lily implored. "Otherwise it'll look to them like I'm standing in front of an empty field!"

"Tell them the house is behind the trees," Ruby suggested.

"Or that we live in a commune that doesn't believe in houses," Mum added unhelpfully.

"Or," James chimed in, "Don't go on dates with Muggles in the first place."

The room went deathly quiet, Ruby's fingers stilling in Lily's hair while Mum froze with dish soap and a scrub brush in her hands.

Dad turned slowly in his seat, looking over the four of them in turn and focusing on James last.

"What did you just say?"

James, who seemed to know he'd just blundered horribly, stammered, "I- I- I mean... I was just... What do I know?"

He chuckled uncomfortably, but Ruby could tell Dad didn’t buy it.

Turning to Mum, Dad raised his eyebrows. “She’s going on a date? You said it was a group of kids from the village.”

"It is a group of kids from the village," Mum reassured quickly, but she didn't quite meet Dad's eye. She set the sponge to work with a tap of her wand and finished, "She just so happens to like one of those kids."

"MUM!" Lily roared, her face flushing pink in embarrassment.

James covered his mouth to hold in his laugh; Lily reached around to swat him.

"Hold still!" Ruby ordered, almost losing her grip on Lily's hair.

Dad continued to stare at Mum like he'd just been stupified.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Mum huffed impatiently. "What did you expect?"

"I didn't expect to find out our daughter was going on a date from a nine year old! You're supposed to tell me this kind of stuff."

"It's not a date!" Lily cried, clearly mortified.

"She's fifteen," Mum replied matter-of-factly. "She likes a boy, so what? Should we tell them what we got up to when we were fifteen?"

Ruby, her sister, and her brother all let loose sounds of utter disgust.

"Not like that." Mum waved them off. Dad didn't seem all that cowed by her threat to reveal their teenage years, but eventually he grumbled something that sounded like a swear word and turned to Lily with a serious look on his face.

"You're home by ten," he snapped. Lily breathed out a sigh of relief that was a bit premature, because then Dad added, "And no snogging!"

Ruby and James gagged out more revulsion, while Lily buried her face in her hands and groaned.

[anaargent]

Ok but like... Five in Harry Potter PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE i know it's very unlikely but like just imagine him and his siblings in Harry Potter, with reader please 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You caught my favorite hyperfocuses, I wrote something simple, but I would like to go into more depth in the future.

FIVE HARGREEVES X READER

You were sitting in the shade of a large willow tree, making the most of the small moment of respite with the Hargreeves siblings. You weren’t sure when or how you had gotten pulled into their mess, but you were more than grateful for it. You smiled, watching Klaus and Ben at the edge of the lake playing with a frog, levitating it back and forth.

“This is disgusting, you idiots.” Allison threw the frog away as she pulled Viktor, who was resting his feet in the icy water, away from the mischievous siblings. “Will we have to put up with this until we grow up?”

“Don’t be so optimistic, we’ll have to live with them until the grave,” Viktor said, smiling, as he hugged his sister, who was whimpering in frustration.

Not far away, Diego and Luther were in the act of interacting with what you charitably called Luego’s fan club, a medium-sized group of girls and a few boys, who seemed enchanted by the Gryffindor bigwigs. They posed and flexed their muscles while their fans sighed in amazement "this is all natural babe, you can squeeze it" Luther said showing his biceps.

It was a funny fact, as much as the grumpy old Reginald Hargreeves was a perfect example of a Slytherin, almost all of his children went to different houses. Viktor and Ben went to Hufflepuff, they were kind souls, usually the first to offer help to their brothers and friends. Diego and Luther went to Gryffindor, the hat barely touched their heads, it was quite obvious to you that the two hotheads went to the house of the impulsive and courageous. Klaus was a stranger, after about ten minutes the hat left him in Ravenclaw, along with you to your great pleasure, there was never a dull moment with someone like Klaus around. Allison had gone to Slytherin, always standing out in the class, the girl was a perfect example of talent and discipline mixed with a rebellious and independent spirit. Finally… "There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere" Five says, pulling you out of your contemplative moment, shoving a chocolate cupcake into your hand and plopping down on the grass next to you "What are you doing here alone? Don't tell me you finally realized I'm the best of them and now you just want to hang out with me" he smirks as he looks at you.

You just laugh, shaking your head "If you were any bigger your ego would fill the common room, you know that, right?" Then you stop for a moment and take in the view. Five was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, just like you, his moss green t-shirt was worn and wet from intense training, his hair was a messy wave of strands slightly damp with sweat, giving him a wild look, which perfectly matched the playful and challenging eyes of its owner.

You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to be caught dissecting every part of Five, he already had a lot of self-confidence.

"Just watching?" Five smiles, leaning closer, his breathing still labored from the tiring workout, the light puffs of air hitting your cheeks.

You contemplate for a moment, pouting as you bite into the cupcake, Five's eyes darting between your eyes and lips, he wasn't good at disguising his intentions, maybe he wasn't even trying to "wanna taste?"

Five looks at you hopefully, his mind racing with the question - what were you trying to insinuate? "I will."

You move closer to him, your shoulders touching under the cool grass, the light wind carrying Five's scent from him and intoxicating you with the mix of moss, parchment, sweat and something that was only his. Then you place the cupcake on your parted lips and quickly stand up laughing and heading over to where Klaus and Ben were still playing with floating things "Forget this loser, come here and levitate worms on Allison" Ben waves with a cute smile at you.

"We're not done here yet, sweetie, I'll see you at the Quidditch game this Saturday," you hear Five shout in the distance, and you fight the blush that rises to your cheeks.

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

a rock and a hard place

an AU one-shot by la-topolina rated for Mature audiences Warnings: Domestic Violence Summary: Raising four-year-old Harry Potter alongside her own son with little support has Petunia at her wit's end. One afternoon a pair of mysterious strangers approach her with an offer that would rid her of Harry forever. But will this devil's bargain truly free her--or will it bury her for good? Alternate Universe--Canon Divergence 

Lily’s Eyes+ >>

The water scalded Petunia’s hands as she washed up the breakfast dishes, but she didn’t mind the pain. The chemically floral scent of the detergent and the repetitive movement of scrub, rinse, dry, repeat, gave her a moment of respite from her rambunctious charges. Any minute now Dudley and Harry would be crashing into the kitchen, screaming and interrupting her peace. They’d been fighting all morning, but every time she separated them, they inevitably came together; polar opposites attracted by some perverse magnetic force.

She let the water out of the sink and stood there staring at it spiraling down the drain with a ominous slurping sound. Vernon wouldn’t be happy if the pipes backed up again. She dried her hands on a threadbare kitchen towel, grimacing at the sight of her red, wrinkled skin. Her long-fingered hands were the only part of her that were truly lovely. She’d have to be more careful about fitting in the nightly routine of lotion and gloves. It would be a shame to let that one, perfect part of herself go.

“Mummy!” shrieked Dudley, running into the kitchen.

“What is it, dear?” she asked wearily.

He grabbed hold of her skirt with his plump fists. “Harry! He’s a dragon and he’s going to eat me!”

“He’s not a dragon and he’s not going to eat you.”

Harry came roaring into the room, his spindly arms over his head and his fingers bent into claws. Dudley screamed again and ran behind his mother, twisting her skirt around her legs and burying his face in it. She slapped at him reflexively. It seemed to her that the children were always pawing at her and hanging on her, and she couldn’t stand it.

“That’s enough Dudley!” she shouted over the din. “Harry, stop it or no lunch!”

Harry ignored her and continued to chase his cousin. Dudley released her skirt, and the two of them started running circles around her, roaring and screaming. Her heart started pounding, and her blouse was sticking to her from the heat of the day and the dishwashing. She put her hands over her ears and fought the urge to scream until she was dizzy with the effort.

“Harry, go to your cupboard!” she cried, desperate to stop the infernal noise.

The words came out in an angry snarl, and the boys stopped dead in their tracks. Dudley’s lower lip started to tremble, and Harry gave her a long, solemn look before retreating to the tiny room under the stairs. Petunia hated Harry’s stoic stares more than she hated his exuberance. It was as though Lily were accusing her of some crime from beyond the grave.

Shaking off the imagined judgement, she scooped up Dudley and swung him around until he was no longer in danger of starting to wail. Then she set him down in the living room with a stack of plastic duplos and built animals for him until he was engrossed enough that she could slip back into the kitchen to make the boys’ luncheon. The early August afternoon was far too hot for her to even think about eating, but she knew the boys would be whining for food within the hour.

Once she had them both set up at the table with cheese, hard boiled eggs, and sliced peaches, she took a large bowl and her glass of lemon water out to the garden for a few moments of peace. The tomato plants were heavy with fruit, the basil was running riot between them, and she knelt down on the earth to fill her basket with the bounty. Cold tomato basil soup would be just the thing for dinner, and for a quarter of an hour she could breathe easy, her hands in the soil, and only bird songs filling her ears.

She dawdled on her way back to the house, the shouting from within making her drearily slow her steps. Why was it that the boys did nothing but shout? She didn’t so much mind the messes they made (as long as she could get them cleared away before Vernon—who did mind—got home) but the constant noise set her teeth on edge.

“You can do this, Petunia. Just get them through lunch and then they can watch the telly for an hour and you can read your book,” she muttered to herself as she went back into the kitchen.

“Mummy, somebody’s been ringing the boordell,” shouted Dudley excitedly.

“What was that dear?” she asked, setting the basket on the counter and washing her hands.

Dudley didn’t answer, preferring to dash into the other room. When she followed him, she found both Dudley and Harry standing on the sofa, peering through the lace curtains to see who had come to visit.

“Boys, go back and finish your lunch,” she said sharply. “Now.”

The boys paid her no attention, and as the doorbell started to ring again, she decided it would be faster simply to deal with the unwanted guests than to argue. She yanked the door open, but instead of a solicitor or the mailman, two women stood facing her. One she vaguely recognized, a white-haired matron wearing a faded, but neat, dress. The other wore an old-fashioned tartan, and peered at her haughtily through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

“May I help you?” Petunia asked.

“Good afternoon Mrs Dursley,” said the tartan-clad woman in a stern voice kissed with a Scottish burr. “We’ve come to speak to you about young Master Potter.”

There was only one way that these odd women could know about her nephew, and Petunia felt her hands go cold.

“I don’t think now is a good time,” Petunia said. “Perhaps another day.”

She moved to close the door, but it stuck fast.

“Now, if you please, Mrs Dursley,” the Scotswoman said. “I assure you we won’t take much of your time.”

Petunia wanted to tell them to go to hell, but she knew what came of arguing with those kinds of people.

“In that case, won’t you come in?” she said waspishly.

“Thank you, we will.”

Petunia stepped back as the women entered the house. There was something about the Scotswoman’s manner that made her feel like a child caught doing something naughty. But she drew herself up to her full height, and ushered them into the kitchen. The boys watched with wide eyes, but she was careful not to give the intruders the chance to speak to them.

“Won’t you please sit down?” she said, quickly clearing the boys’ plates and putting the kettle on for tea. “I’ll just settle the boys down with their afternoon program, and be right with you.”

The Scotswoman started to say something, but Petunia didn’t wait to hear it. As she quickly turned on the telly and found the afternoon children’s hour, her mind was spinning, trying to guess what the women wanted. If they really were the freaks she feared, it could be nothing good.

“Stay here and watch your program while Mummy has a chat with her guests,” Petunia said, trying to sound as though nothing was wrong.

“But I didn’t finish my food,” Dudley said.

“Mummy will make you another lunch after her company leaves. Now sit here and be quiet.” She glared at Harry, who stared passively back at her. Did he know what was going to happen? “Both of you. Or else.”

Thankfully, the boys didn’t follow her back into the kitchen; and she had a few moments of bustle preparing the tea and pouring it. When she was finally seated at the table between the frosty women (there was no mistaking the contempt with which they looked at her) Petunia felt her nerves come rushing back, and she gripped her tea cup to keep her hands from shaking.

Breathe, Petunia. Just breathe. “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” Petunia said, amazed at how steady her voice was. “You know me, but I don’t know who either of you are.”

“One might think you’d recognize your own neighbor,” the Scotswoman said. “But never mind that. This is Mrs Arabella Figg, and I am Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Petunia shivered at the heathen name. “A pleasure to meet you both, I’m sure. Mrs Figg, you do seem familiar. I’m sorry not to have made your acquaintance before today. I’m afraid the boys keep me running day and night.”

“So I’ve seen,” Mrs Figg said in a tone that bespoke her disapproval.

“What do you mean by that?” Petunia demanded. “What cause have you to go spying on your neighbors?”

“Mrs Dursely,” Professor McGonagall said, “being as you are so busy, let us be frank. You know as well as we that Harry Potter is no common boy.”

Petunia shivered. “That may be so, but he’s being raised to be a good boy. A proper boy. He needs have nothing to do with the likes of you.”

Mrs Figg scoffed loudly. “Because he’s so much better off being screamed at and beaten by your oafish husband?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. How we discipline the boy is our business,” Petunia blustered.

Professor McGonagall set down her tea cup with a sharp rattle and pulled her wand out of her sleeve. Before Petunia could object, the witch flicked it at the door to the cupboard under the stairs. Harry’s bed was in full view beneath the cobwebs. His bed sheets were all awry, and his tattered teddy bear’s head was squashed from being caught between the edge of the mattress and the door.

“We are making it our business, Mrs Dursley,” Professor McGonagall said.

“He’s my nephew!” Petunia’s eyes stung with tears of shame and frustration. “I’ll raise him as I see fit.”

“Mrs Figg and I have watched you raise the boy as you saw fit for nearly three years now. It could not be more obvious that you desire to be relieved of your burden.”

“Where is he to go? I was told by that mad Professor Dumbledore that he had to stay here for his own protection,” Petunia countered, even as she wondered why she was bothering to object. Hadn’t she spent the last two and a half bloody years wishing every day that Harry would cease to be her problem?

“There is someone who can serve as guardian to the boy. If you agree to our terms, then you need not worry any longer about the fate of Harry Potter. You need never hear of him again,” Professor McGonagall said.

“What terms?” Petunia asked.

“There is a spell you must perform with Harry’s new guardian. It will extend the magical protection that Harry enjoys under your roof to his new home by making you and his new guardian blood siblings,” the professor explained.

A wave of panic rolled through Petunia. “Absolutely not. Besides, I can’t do magic anyway. I thought you knew that.”

“You need do nothing but participate. It will take less than ten minutes, and will leave you and your family free to live as you see fit.”

Professor McGonagall’s words were perfectly polite, but Petunia could hear the disdain echoing in them.

“It would be in everyone’s best interest if you at least thought about it, Mrs Dursley,” said Mrs Figg. “Give it a few days, talk it over with your husband.”

“Yes, you needn’t decide this instant,” Professor McGonagall said. “Simply send word to Mrs Figg in the coming week, and she will know how to contact me with your decision.”

The women gazed at Petunia with such stern authority that she felt it impossible to defy them.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Very good, Mrs Dursley,” Professor McGonagall replied. “We won’t take anymore of your time. Thank you for the tea.”

She murmured an automatic pleasantry and accompanied the women to the door. The boys hopped up from their place by the telly to climb on the sofa for a better view. She had nearly gotten rid of her unwanted guests, when the question she probably should have asked earlier popped out of her mouth.

“Who is this guardian you mentioned?” Petunia said, for some strange reason dreading the answer.

Mrs Figg and Professor McGonagall exchanged a closed look before the latter replied.

“He is a former classmate of your sister and a colleague of mine. His name is Professor Severus Snape.”

*****

Petunia spent the first few days after this baleful visit on pins and needles. She jumped at every unexpected noise, and found the boys’ rough-housing even more unbearable than usual. But when a week had gone by and the witches had not returned to transform her into a toad (or whatever they were actually planning to do with their spell) she began to cautiously let down her guard. Give Harry to that Awful Boy? Send him into that world—the world that she’d been shut out of? She’d be more likely to send her nephew to the moon than to Hogwarts.

As one week became two, and still no witches’ coven descended on her doorstep, Petunia put the whole bloody business out of her mind. The boys and the relentless heat continued to oppress her spirits, and one morning she dragged the lot of them down to the play park. Dudley whined the entire way there, pulling on her hand and complaining that his feet hurt. Harry seemed keen enough about the unusual adventure that he walked obediently next to her, but this show of good behavior only irritated her spirits, as it put her own son’s tantrum into sharper focus by comparison.

When they reached the park, the children made for the swings and the slides without a backwards look. Petunia sat primly on a bench, and pulled the latest Ellis Peters novel out of her bag. It was considerably cooler within the pale of the shaded park than it had been on the walk there. She dearly hoped that the boys would both leave her to read in peace and wear themselves out enough to actually nap after lunch.

She’d been engrossed in Brother Cadfael’s deductions for more than a chapter when she gradually became aware of someone watching her. She looked up to check on the boys, who were currently occupied with the swings (Harry was propelling his swing unnaturally high for a boy his age, and Dudley was red-faced with effort as he tried fruitlessly to keep up). The park was otherwise empty, but as she turned to glance over her shoulder, she saw the intruder.

He was dressed all in black from polished shoes, to trousers, to buttoned shirt with a strange Chinese-style collar, to sunglasses. His stringy hair was pulled back from his sallow face, but his hooked nose and long-fingered hands marked him as the person she least wanted to talk to. She hoped for a moment that this was some ugly coincidence, and he would pass by the park. This was a vain hope, for he entered the grounds and stalked towards her bench like a lazy cat prowling towards its prey. She stuck her nose back in her book and did her best to ignore him, remaining silent even when he sat down on the other end of the bench. Several minutes ticked by while she waited for him to say something, that she might have the pleasure of ignoring him. But he simply sat, watching her in irreverent silence.

At last she could stand the suspense no longer. She snapped the book shut, and turned to glare at the Awful Boy.

“What do you want, Mr Snape?” she demanded crisply.

His thin lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Why so formal, Tuney?” he asked. “And without so much as a good morning after all these years? You cut me to the quick.”

Her heart started to pound as her temper rose. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs Dursley,” he replied with false gallantry. “But if you wish to continue in this vein, it’s Professor Snape. Mr Snape is my father.”

“And how are your parents?” she asked pointedly.

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Your son is the spitting image of his father.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

She wanted to box his ears and wipe the smug look off his face, but her instincts warned her that he would not take kindly to being used in that fashion. Much as she tried to dismiss him as beneath her on every level, she’d always been a little afraid of Severus Snape, even when they'd been children together. The rail-thin man who sat before her now radiated a confidence in his powers that disturbed her deeply.

“I know why you’re here,” she said accusingly.

“Do you?”

“Yes, and I won’t do it. Harry is just fine where he is. I shudder to think what kind of a freak he’d turn out to be if you raised him.”

“Mrs Dursley, let’s not waste time pretending you give a rat’s tail for Harry Potter.”

“Of course I care for him! He’s my sister’s child.”

Snape took off his sunglasses, and his black eyes showed such contempt that she could not help shrinking from him.

“And did you care for him last night when you let that Muggle husband of yours beat the boy black and blue? I wonder at your audacity, bringing him out in public today. What will the neighbors think?”

“How dare you!”

“If one didn’t know better,” he continued mercilessly, “one would think you have every intention of killing the boy via neglect.”

“Stop it.”

“One blow too many to the head—and on such a small boy—might relieve you of your burdens very neatly. Although hiding the crime would be quite another matter.”

“And you think you can do better?” She was gasping for air and twisting her paperback in her hands, nearly breaking the spine. “I think you know a thing or two about beatings. The first time Harry tries your patience you’d be after him with a switch too. Or with some voodoo trick that will do the job even more easily.”

Somehow she knew she’d crossed a dangerous line. The temperature between them plummeted despite the midday heat, and when he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

“I would never beat a child.”

“So you say,” she said petulantly.

“Mrs Dursley,” he continued in that awful, quiet voice, “perhaps you intend to get your revenge on all of us by taking it out of your nephew's hide.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she did know—he was giving voice to the darkest part of her heart, and she trembled to hear it spoken aloud.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“And I might not know the laws in the land of the freaks, but England it’s illegal to spy private citizens.”

He ignored her jab. “Admit it. Every time you or that fat pig of a husband lash out at the boy, you’re getting some of your own back. I haven’t forgotten the letter you wrote to Dumbledore, begging to join us at school.”

“You shouldn’t have read that letter.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Revenge I mean.”

“You’re an evil man.”

He let out a laugh rusty with malice. “Your sister died to save her son. You remember her by locking the boy in a closet at night—and you call me evil?”

“Be quiet!”

“No. Not until you agree to give me the boy. Until then I will haunt you day and night.”

She believed him, and she turned away from his stoney gaze, her mind furiously searching for some means of escape. Her eyes fell on Harry, still swinging higher than he ought. As the swing reached its apex, the child let go, flinging himself out of its seat. He hung in the air for an instant longer than anyone could naturally do, and he landed lightly, glowing with pride. In that moment, all his resemblance to his stupid father fled, and Petunia could only see Lily in her nephew’s green eyes. Something inside her broke; she could feel it snapping in her heart.

“I’ll do it,” she said dully.

“What was that?” Snape demanded.

“I said I’ll do it. You can have him. He belongs in your world anyway.”

Snape’s left eyebrow twitched, but otherwise his face was dreadfully impassive. “I’m glad that you’ve decided to see reason. Come, we will do it now.”

“Here?” she squeaked.

“Afraid of being caught with your hand in the cauldron? No, your kitchen will suffice.”

She was too tired to argue. “Fine. Let’s…let’s just get it over with.”

*****

Professor McGonagall and Mrs Figg were waiting for them on the door step when Petunia, Snape, and the boys reached home. Dudley was clinging to his mother’s skirt, terrified of the strange man, but Harry watched Snape curiously from behind his taped glasses. The other women made way for Petunia to unlock the front door, and then they filed into the living room, solemn as mourners at a funeral.

“You knew I would agree?” asked Petunia sourly.

“Severus can be very persuasive,” Professor McGonagall replied.

Petunia bristled at this, but decided not to comment. “I’ll go pack Harry’s things.”

She went upstairs before anyone could object, in search of Lily’s old suitcase. As she bustled from the closet in the unused bedroom to the cupboard under the stairs, she heard Snape and Professor McGonagall talking to Harry, but she didn’t bother to listen to anything they were saying to him. She neatly tucked her nephew’s clothes and a few books that Dudley hated into the case, along with Harry’s tattered teddy bear, and the one photograph of his parents that had been rescued from the rubble of their house. Lily's smiling face appeared to be speaking to her, but she turned it over so she wouldn't have to look at it. When all was ready, she snapped the suitcase shut, and brought it into the living room. She felt numb from head to toe, and while she thought vaguely that this lack of response was somehow shameful, she could not bring herself to feel any emotion at all.

“Here are his things. Dudley, say good-bye to your cousin,” she said.

“Not quite yet, Mrs Dursley,” Professor McGonagall said. “We’ve still the matter of the blood bond to attend to.”

Petunia had been hoping to skip that part. “What about the children? I can’t very well mind them and do magic.”

“Fortunately, you will be required neither to mind them, nor to do magic,” Snape replied.

“Come here boys, and we’ll read a little story,” said Mrs Figg.

Petunia didn’t like the way that Harry and Dudley both joined the old woman on the sofa without question, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She left them to Mrs Figg and joined the witch and the wizard, trying not to think of what Vernon would say if he knew they were about to do that in his very own kitchen. Snape was already at the counter, stirring a beaker of a bubbling green liquid and muttering strange words under his breath. A drinking horn that looked like something out of Beowulf sat next to the beaker. If Petunia hadn’t been so numb, she might have been afraid, but if any emotion was attempting to break through her mental fog, it was curiosity.

Snape finished his stirring and nodded to Professor McGonagall. The witch picked up the drinking horn, and he poured the liquid into it. When it was full, he took it into his hands, raised it to Petunia, and arched a sardonic eyebrow.

“To you, dear sister,” he sneered, and drank.

She accepted the horn from him when he finished, though she ought to have recoiled in horror.

“No, brother,” she shot back, “to you.”

Before she could think better of it, she drank deeply of the blood-warm brew. It tasted of ginger and basil, and stung her throat. It coiled in her stomach, swirling like a whirlpool, but she thought she could keep it down. The idea of vomiting in front of Severus Snape was too humiliating to bear.

“Hold your hands out,” Professor McGonagall ordered as she took the horn from Petunia.

Snape did so, looking grave, and Petunia hesitantly extended hers as well. Professor McGonagall cut a shallow gash on their palms almost before Petunia registered the silver blade in the witch’s hand. Before she could protest with more than a startled yelp, Snape had clasped their hands together. A burning sensation radiated between them, as though someone was holding their hands to a fire. Petunia blinked furiously, determined not to cry in front of these freaks, until her eyes locked with Snape, and something even more strange began to happen.

As she looked into those inky depths, she no longer saw her neat little kitchen. Instead she seemed to be huddled in the corner of a shabby, dirty one. A man and a woman were arguing fiercely in the other room, and she was terrified that they would come and find her. This scene melted into another place and time, where she was running through the hallways of a great castle, a pack of laughing boys on her heels. Then she was lying on a threadbare bed, pointing a wand up at the ceiling and shooting down the flies that buzzed overhead.

By the time she realized she was somehow reading Snape’s mind, it was over. He let go of her hands so quickly that she stumbled, and Professor McGonagall had to catch her arm to steady her.

“It’s done,” the witch said. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs Dursley.”

Petunia nodded her head, too bewildered to think of anything sharp to say. Snape was avoiding her eyes, and she wondered wildly if he’d been able to read her thoughts as well. And if he had—what had he seen? Still pondering this final humiliation, she allowed Professor McGonagall to usher her back into the living room. Dudley was snoring on the sofa, exhausted from the events of the morning. Harry looked up at them, and Petunia noticed that his glasses were no longer taped together.  She reflected bitterly how easy it must be to fix a small child’s glasses with magic when he broke them every other week.

“Harry, it’s time to go,” Snape said in a voice that was stern, but not unkind. “Say good-bye to your aunt.”

Harry slid off the sofa, but went to his suitcase instead of his aunt. He tugged at the latch unsuccessfully, until Snape gave an impatient snort and flicked his wand at the thing to open it. Harry plucked out the teddy bear, and brought it to Petunia, holding it up to her until she took it from his little hands.

“Good-bye Auntie Tuney,” Harry said.

“Good-bye Harry,” she replied. “Behave yourself.”

Harry nodded and put his hand in Snape’s, and the two of them began to follow Mrs Figg and Professor McGonagall out of the Dursleys’ lives, presumably forever. On the threshold Snape paused, set down the suitcase, and turned back to Petunia.

“Petunia,” he said in the same tone he’d used with Harry, “if you should ever decide you wish to leave this life, you have only to write to me and I will do what I can to help you.”

“Why on earth would you bother yourself with that?” she said indignantly, even as a mad urge to beg him to take her and Dudley with him choked her.

“Because, now you are my sister.”

She wanted to laugh at him, but that mad part of her wouldn’t allow it, as though it were afraid of shutting this door completely. Instead she simply pursed her lips and nodded once her understanding. There was nothing more to be said between them, so he picked up the suitcase and led Harry out of the house. As she closed the door after them, a rush of panic went through her, and she paced nervously from room to room, waiting for it to pass. At last she found herself back in the kitchen. The gashes on her hands had mysteriously disappeared, so she filled the sink to wash up the breakfast dishes. Anything to pretend that life was as it should be.

When the sink was full, she realized she was still gripping Harry’s teddy bear. She set it on the counter, and started the mundane ritual of wash, rinse, dry, repeat. The bear's button eyes stared up at her until her own eyes blurred with tears she could no longer contain. She snatched up the toy in her red, wrinkled hands, and sank to the floor, clutching it to her breast with far more care than she’d ever been able to show its former owner.

She’d been left behind—again.

*****

Lily’s Eyes+ >>

[fandomsandfeminism]

We had a lock down drill at school today.

We had a lock down drill at school today.

Imagine, if you want to, 25 thirteen year olds, sitting on the floor of their classroom, in the dark, backs against the wall, blinds closed, lights off, their 27 year old teacher sitting in the chair between them and the door.

Lock down drills are hard. They are always hard, but they are especially hard when it’s right after a shooting. Most of the kids are scared. You can tell the ones who are the most anxious, the way they hug their knees against their chests, their straight-lipped expressions, their eyes staring at the tiled floor. A few others are less scared and more annoyed, more frustrated, more bored. They try to whisper to their friends, to crack small jokes, to break the weird, uncomfortable tension that settles over a group of children practicing acting like they don’t exist. They think this is stupid, a waste of time. It wouldn’t really help them anyway, would it? Would THIS, sitting quiet and still in the dark, REALLY be enough to save them if THAT happened? If a man with a gun was coming for them? Would this REALLY be the best we can do?

And then there’s me. A lot of teachers have posted a lot of things over the last few days, about how this feels, about what this means. And it’s true- without even being asked, I would take a bullet for these kids.

For the sweet little girl who brought me a Dr. Pepper when I had a headache last week. For the quiet boy who always turns in his homework on time. For the girl who never turns in her homework at all. For the kid who called me a fat bitch last Tuesday. I would take a bullet for each and every one of them. I know it unconditionally. If I didn’t, I don’t think I could do this job anymore. That’s why I’m here- in the chair closest to the door, the last thing between them and whatever might come for them.

It’s hard to explain how it feels to get that email in the morning, from the Assistant Principal, about the lockdown drill scheduled for 9am. Turn off the lights. Doors locked. Window covered. Silence. Wait for 2 administrators to end the drill. If we shake the door handles or pound on the doors, don’t make a sound. Push a few desks against the door to practice making a barricade. Tell the kids to hold their library books against their chests- they could help act as a shield.

Imagine- telling kids to grab their copy of Harry Potter, of Dork Diaries, of Warrior Cats and hold it against their chest. As if the newest Diary of a Wimpy Kid is going to save them. As if Hunger Games will stop a bullet.

I was 8 when Columbine happened. I don’t remember it, at least, not very well.  I remember having lockdown drills after that in school. I remember hating them.

I was 16 when Virginia Tech happened. I was in my chemistry class. My teacher turned on the news, white as a sheet. We watched in silence.

I was 21 when Sandy Hook happened. In college. Learning to be a teacher. I remember sitting in my Adolescent Development class as the news started pouring into our phones. I remember the grief. I remember the anger. I remember the fear that filled that room full of young adults on their way to be teachers.

I’m 27 now, and there’s Parkland. A teacher, with my own classroom, with 25 7th graders sitting in the dark, listening for our principal’s footsteps in the hallways, pretending to be a shooter.

I don’t know what the solution is. I’m not even sure what the problem is. People will tell you it’s so many things- guns (partly I think), kids these days (kids have always been kids), a lack of discipline, a lack of respect, toxic masculinity (likely), white male entitlement (very likely), mental illness (probably not), violent video games, everything is on the table. Maybe all teachers just need guns in their classrooms (an idea that makes me physically ill, and I fear would do far more harm than good overall.) Maybe we need to ban those damn AR-15s (The guns used in Orlando, Las Vegas, Newtown, Sutherland Springs, and now Parkland.) Maybe we need to have a real conversation about how we raise our boys, how we stop radicalization and violence before it boils over into this. Maybe we need more gun training and more school counselors and more honest conversations about who we are as a people. I can’t say exactly what we need.

But we need something. Something big and fundamental, and it'll probably be a messy, complicated ordeal to do. But we need it now.

[dragvn]

❧ that girl’s got whiskey kisses in her bloodstream and she wields them like a knife ❧

❝ She was a wild, wicked slip of a girl. She burned too brightly for this world. ❞ MARÍA GABRIELA DE FARÍA? No, that’s actually AURORA BLACK. Only NINETEEN years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as a MAGIZOOLOGIST (XXXXX FOCUS) and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as A CIS-WOMAN and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be TEMPESTUOUS, BRAZEN, and RECKLESS but also PASSIONATE, EMPATHETIC, and UNFLINCHING. { JANE, TWENTY-TWO, NZT, SHE/HER }

hello this is rory and she is,,, a gryffindor™

her pinterest is HERE

first things first, she’s a twin. that’s the absolute first thing rory wants you to know about her. she’s an individual too, sure, but she came to this earth with leo and she cannot fathom the idea of ever having to be without. he’s her best friend, her brother, her other half, and she wants nothing but the best for him

incest tw (to do with the blacks, not rory) // sirius is not, biologically, a black. walburga and orion, likely due to their family’s inbreeding and their being related, struggled to conceive but were under immense pressure to provide an heir. they ended up passing off the baby of another pureblood family (a good one, of course —- not that they would ever deign to sully their name with the spawn of some blood traitor filth, merlin forbid) as their own: sirius orion black. it was a two-fold sort of situation for sirius —- when he began rebelling and finally ran away, walburga privately blamed his lack of biological connection on why he went astray, and possibly even in the last few years before it, shouting the truth at him at some point because she can’t imagine a worse insult than not being a black / is so furious that she wants him to know he is Not a Black, Not Good Enough to be like them anymore. if he did know, in some ways, it was a blessing, because he was able to say “i’m Nothing like them, literally” but also a space for Insecurity (given that he has a very complicated relationship in ootp with black family stuff, like he Hates it but he gets self-deprecating at points --- and ootp isn’t canon here, but his attitude and emotions still exist).  ------ anyway, that’s just spitballing, saz and i haven’t settled yet on whether he knows (honestly, as much as i can imagine walburga shouting that at him as an insult, it’s also something that i’m not sure how much sirius would believe / if she’d ever actually shout it, bc it’s her private shame that would reveal --- but the point is, he’s not biologically related and she privately would have blamed that for his estrangement & it’s a complicated situation) // end tw

rory and leo were born out of a one-night stand between sirius & mary macdonald, someone he used to know --- reconnection and shared grief and alcohol led to a one-night thing. neither of them were prepared to be parents --- neither of them wanted to be parents. as it was, mary didn’t even want to be in the wizarding world at all. all it had ever done was take from her, and she needed space to grieve and to find out who she was outside of all that loss. and so after the twins were born, they stayed with sirius, and mary left. sirius wasn’t equipped to be a parent either, but at least he had a support system in place --- harry, the weasleys, andromeda, the order --- everyone invested in him & trying to help raise the twins

they grew up with the potters. with all the order & cohorts who used to know harry and co., really, but the potters are the main crowd. sirius black is her father, always, even if he is not necessarily the best one ( maybe in another life, but this man spent twelve years in azkaban and lost so many people he loved —- he loves his children, that is never in doubt, but sometimes he is more friend than father ), and she would never think of anyone else as her father --- but it cannot be denied that harry and ginny are parental figures, are better at discipline and responsibility and instilling values into them than sirius. she is sirius black’s daughter to her bones, but the hands of all those who helped raise her can be seen too

parental death tw // sirius passes in their fifth year. rory Does Not Take It Well // end tw

alcohol, violence tw // there’s more fights than usual. she’s always been impulsive, running on soul and spirit and sheer emotion, but now there’s a sharper edge to it, a more desperate streak in the seeking of a distraction. she drinks. she fucks. she’s always been tactile, always been flirty, never afraid of promiscuity —- and that doesn’t change in light of this, it just has a new motivation. she’s not looking for a distraction, exactly. she’s just desperately looking for any way to hold onto the feelings she had before, of fun and frivolity and being young, being free. she makes some choices she wouldn’t have under other circumstances, but they are her choices. she holds onto that. even if some days she cannot believe that’s what she did, she doesn’t regret them, exactly —- she wouldn’t repeat them again, she thinks, a year on and handling it a bit better, but they’re hers. // end tw

hogwarts... she loves her friends, but she’s not always great at classes. absolutely abysmal at potions and herbology, dropped them as quickly as she could. care of magical creatures is her only true passion, though she’s excellent at charms and pretty decent at dada & transfiguration, though she has to work harder at the last one. the rest of her subjects go less well, with some fairly atrocious grades in all her OWLs except those subjects and astronomy, which she has a complicated relationship with in her head, given her father’s family’s situation with stars. that’s always how she thinks of them. as her father’s family. it’s separate to what she knows of the blacks now —- herself & leo & teddy, her father & andromeda, even the malfoys. the blacks of old are a cold, unforgiving bunch, and they would hate her. that’s fine, rory thinks. she would hate them too —- and the blacks she knows, her family, built as it is of the last remnants of the estranged blacks, featuring friends and war-time comrades? they love her. and that is something to hold onto always.

she becomes a magizoologist when she leaves hogwarts. begins training, anyway. luna lovegood-scamander is her mentor, and rory loves her. they have different focuses, different fascinations—-rory’s got a dangerous streak a mile wide, courtesy of her father, and she loves the things that feel like freedom. xxxxx creatures —- dragons, manticores, any of them, all of them, they are what she fights for especially, but she loves all creatures. there’s a special space in her heart for them. and she’s happy. she misses her father desperately, and it’s bizarre not seeing her twin every day anymore, but he’s at the flat with so many of their friends, and when she’s around, she’s pretty much always there, and it feels like coming home.

death tw // then harry dies. kingsley dies, minerva dies, harry dies, and rory’s world is quaking again. she’s in this weird space of hope and bitterness right now. she’s had a tendency to... not exactly believe the best in people, she’s still sirius’ daughter, but she believes everyone is worth saving, and everyone has good in them. and now with everything that’s happened, she’s got anger in her too because it kind of feels like a slap in the face. like she believes this world is worth saving but it has the audacity to throw blows like that? she lost her father, and now she’s lost harry too. and she’s not even entirely sure to what extent she’s allowed to feel that grief somedays —- it’s not like they’re his kids, after all —- but that’s when her thoughts are getting too much for her. usually, all she knows are her feelings, and she knows that’s enough. she loves her father but... lbr sirius has some issues with his emotional maturity/how to process emotions (which like... his family and then Azkaban, it’s no wonder) and then the potters are so good at it and she’s ended up with this immense capacity like her father but it’s a lot of empathy, much more like harry, and she feels and acts on her emotions primarily (like potters in general) but she’s, uh, not great at understanding them/processing. she needs to talk things through to really get things straight in her head when it comes to her own emotions. but she’s good at instinctive and instinctual handling of emotions, she just gets caught out a bit when she tries to think about them. so it’s a lot, it always it is, but when she doesn’t get too in her own head, she can sit in it. and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. but there’s resolve there too. she’s always been built of fire and laughter and empathy streaming from her in droves, even sharp as she can be from her father, and now it’s building itself into a dagger, a weapon, a danger. // end tw

tidbits bc this just got fuckin long and also kinda weird

aurora’s always been someone who prefers... not the background exactly bc that makes her sound like a wallflower but she’s happy not to be the brightest star. i think she’s warm and confident in a different way to her brother —- like if leo and james were doing something shenanigan-y in the centre of the common room during a party or something, she’s always ready to get involved and play her part but she doesn’t feel like she’s missing out if she’s sitting on the arm of the couch and drinking and watching and keeping a running commentary going

h8s all the lads. god. has totally pushed cas into a fountain before

would absolutely risk her life to save someone, even someone she hates and would totally not thank her for it and might even take advantage of it (like... those pesky lads!), and it’s a Terrible Thing in some ways (self-preservation ways) (also just... tactically speaking in war time) (leo is right to be like ?!?! at her for it)

maybe positive development for her looks like killing someone, we don’t know

her middle name marlena is after marlene, who was friends with both her parents, and leo’s is harry —- sirius wanted to save harry’s parents’ names for his use for his kids and, honestly, wanted to remember others who were in the fight too

quips when duelling smh

technically lives in a shitty bedsit but honestly spends most of her time when she’s in london at fulham flat

u know harry and ron to draco during the end of dh? when harry saves draco and then ron punches him in the face for being a lil asshole? rory is Both. she’ll save u but also break ur nose. duality of (wo)man

character tropes: undying loyalty ; action girl ; the heart ; the determinator ; chaotic good ; ethical slut // character parallels: brienne of tarth (asoiaf) ; daisy johnson (aos) ; sandrilene fa toren (the circle of magic) ; according to charactour, korra (tlok), leia (sw) & rey (sw), though honestly she’s a lot messier than any of them. verging on hawkguy!hawkeye levels of being a mess of a person, except unlike him, she’d never cheat on somebody lmao

[writingfulfillment]

Five Headcanons That Will Change How You View Harry Potter

1. Black Hermione

When reading the books for the first time, some fans imagined Hermione as a black girl while others pictured her as white. The movies came out before I was old enough to read the books, so I imagined her as she was cast: a white girl. However, I think that the idea fits very well as do many other fans. Some prefer the other version, it just depends on how you pictured her. On twitter, Rowling said that she loved the idea of a black Hermione. I’ve read the whole series twice since hearing about this and there is no mention of her skin tone. Only that she had prominent teeth, curly/frizzy hair and was extremely intelligent. There is a lot more meaning behind her persecution as a Muggle-born when you imagine her as black. Her main bully in this area is Draco Malfoy; a rich, white boy from an ancient family. He frequently makes snide comments about her appearance and calls her “Mudblood”. This then implies that the Malfoy’s were racist. Knowing all of the other terrible things that they’ve done and believe in, it’s not much of a stretch.

In the fourth book at the Yule Ball, Hermione is literally unrecognizable, even to her two best friends. She straightens her hair and has shrunk down her front teeth noticeably. And for the first time, Harry realizes that she’s beautiful. In this world we’ve been brought up to believe that European standards of beauty are the only ones. They treasure light skin and straight hair; opposite to what people of African descent possess. It is sad but true to say that many Black women strive to adhere to these standards that exclude them entirely. It makes a lot of sense that a young black Hermione striving to look beautiful would spend hours painstakingly straightening her hair. And why almost no one recognized her when she had finished. She later states that it was fun for a special occasion, but way too much work for an everyday practice. I love her even more for embracing her wild but beautiful hair and her suggested ethnicity.  

2. House Elves Are A Metaphor For Oppressed Women

Some fans hypothesize that the House Elves in Harry Potter are a metaphor for the social limitations of Women. The House Elves are considered to be lesser beings, even though they posses a similar kind of magic to wizards. They are enslaved and receive no pay, let alone benefits or health care. They are meant to stay in the Wizard’s home and perform their domestic duty. This sounds too close for comfort to the job description of women in our society. Fortunately, we’ve gotten past the point of considering women as property of their husbands and fathers, so it’s not subtle slavery any more. But it’s still semi-acceptable for a man to discipline his wife when she displeases him. House Elves are severely punished when they make mistakes. But the issue of equal pay is still very pertinent today. The Equal Rights Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was introduced by Suffragette Alice Paul in 1923, but it was not passed by congress or ratified until 1972. This granted Women all of the same civil rights as men. And yet, in 2013 women earned only 78 cents for every dollar that a man working the same job earned.

By the fourth book there is however, there is one payed House Elf; Dumbledore employs Dobby at Hogwarts. This leads to the discovery that all of the food, fires and laundry are taken care of by the House Elves. This horrifies Hermione and she refuses to eat for a while before deciding to organize the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Their goals are to secure wages and sick leave for the House Elves for a start, but she has larger plans for the future which involve changing the laws about the magic that House Elves are allowed to use. I don’t think that it was mistake that J.K. made the proprietor of this organization a woman, even though, it was Harry who freed Dobby. J.K. was a single mother and she struggled to get welfare and a job for many years. She is very familiar with the struggles of modern women and she advocates their rights.

One unexpected struggle that Hermione faced was that she not only needed to convert her fellow wizards and witches to S.P.E.W., but most of the House Elves did not want to be freed. Some women vehemently argued against the Suffrage movement and still today, some women are still against their own rights. For example the women who are against Feminism. (Not the extreme version, just the belief that women are entirely equal to men and are entitled to all of the same things.) The Elves were content with the way that they were living and they did not want to change. Largely for fear of being ostracized. The way that you appear socially is often very important to women, as well as tradition. The House Elves felt very loyal to their masters and had no desire to desert them. Some women feel that they have a duty to their husbands and they are afraid to disappoint or leave them. Rowling also has personal experience with this as her first husband was abusive.

3. The Room of Requirement Was Made By Hufflepuff

The origin of the Room of Requirement is very debatable. Some speculate that it is the collective magical conscious of Hogwarts itself manifested in a room. My favorite theory is that it was created by Helga Hufflepuff. If Slytherin created a secret chamber, who’s to say that the other founders didn’t? It provides the seeker with all that they might be seeking, except for perishable items, and even then it created a passage to Hogsmeade for Neville. It has housed several secret gatherings that we know about and many that we don’t. One thing is for sure, it has been used by teachers and students alike for generations both when they knew what it was, and when they didn’t. This doesn’t fit Ravenclaw’s or Gryffindor’s MO. If Rowena had made a secret room, it would have been full of books. If Godric had made one, it would have probably been full of dangerous things and likely would’ve had a dragon.

All of the founders had criteria for what sort of students they would accept into their house. But Helga just said that she would take all the rest. I have feeling that she was a very maternal character and that she just wanted a wholesome environment for the children to learn in. The fluid nature of the Room of Requirement fits in with this. It  adapts to the needs of the user and can accommodate for almost anything. I also feel that Hufflepuff is a very undervalued house and that Helga was much cleverer than most people give her credit for. She was the peacemaker, the glue of the original four, she was both powerful and peaceful. It make a lot of sense that she would have created the Room of Requirement because it embodies her fluid and caregiving nature.

4. No One Has Only One House.

In the series, everyone is placed in a house and they remain there forever. In the Deathly Hallows, Dumbledore says to Snape, “You know, I sometimes think that we sort too soon.” And I am fervently with him. All you can amount to as a person is not determined by 11 years old. I also think that only having four houses is too limited. There are very few people who can qualify as a true Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin. I theorize that most people have a primary and a secondary house and that there is a way to easily get into Gryffindor. The original trio is a prime example of this. In my opinion, Harry’s secondary house is Slytherin. He is cunning, determined and ambitious. (Gryfferin) All things that Slytherin prizes and are not inherently evil. Hermione’s is clearly Ravenclaw. She loves books and holds the pursuit of knowledge to be the most worthy act. (Gryffinclaw) Ron’s is Hufflepuff. He doesn't really fit into the other two, and he’s a sweetheart.(Gryffinpuff) (House Names*)

The reason that they are all in Gryffindor is because they asked. And that’s a very brave thing for an 11 year old to do. Harry asked because he was afraid that he would be in Slytherin. Hermione asked because she had already decided that it was the best for her. (She says so in the Great Hall.) And Ron, although he didn’t always get along with them, wanted to be with his family.Because of these choices, they made the path that they wanted to take. And they all would’ve had very different stories if they hadn’t been in Gryffindor together. They had some innate qualities already embedded in them as children, but they could have changed given the circumstances. I think that Neville is a great example of this. He chose Gryffindor not because he was brave, but because he wanted to be. In choosing this, he set his path and eventually he was brave. He became a true Gryffindor. He fought alongside Harry in the Department of Mysteries, he lead on Dumbledore’s Army and he pulled out Godric Gryffindor’s sword out of the sorting hat and destroyed the final Horcrux. All because of a choice. A desire, some potential that a little boy had.

But this sorting does not stop these children from changing their decision or their characteristics later. There are two excellent examples of this in the Slytherin House. Regulus Black became a Death Eater and made many poor choices in his youth. But he later decided that he had been wrong and he died trying to correct his mistake. Tell me, does that not sound like something a Gryffindor would do? Another is of course Severus Snape, the bravest man that Harry Potter ever knew. And he was a proud Slytherin. His choices in his youth also could have derailed his life, but he had a good heart that even he didn’t realize was there. He fought and died for the son of the woman that he loved unrequitedly. Again, this level of bravery and loyalty is that of a Gryffindor. The sorting can capture much of these young wizards’ and witches’ essential characteristics, but it cannot, however, account for the nature of their hearts and the change that can be wrought in them.

5. Peter Pettigrew v.s. Neville Longbottom

There are two characters that are completely vital to the story that are incredibly undervalued. These two mirror each other in a curious way, as do their choices. Peter Pettigrew and Neville Longbottom had very similar beginnings. A small, round boy with no particular talents with friends much greater than himself. Who chose Gryffindor House because it was what he aspired to be. This description perfectly fits both of them. Like Harry and Voldemort, what made the difference was not what they were given, but what they did with it. Their choices showed who the truly were. Peter’s case is much sadder than Neville’s. He made many wrong choices. He more fear in his heart and lust for power than Neville did. The reason that Neville didn’t given in was because of his parents. Even though they couldn’t raise him anymore after their torture, they still had a great impact on his life. Voldemort himself offered for Neville to join him, but he vehemently denied him, because of his parents.

Peter always like to be next to the greats (such as James, Sirius and Remus) because he knew that he wasn’t one. When Voldemort’s rise began, he saw it the same way. He was beyond selfish and he gave up the lives of his friends to the favor of his new great. Neville always knew that he wasn’t great, but he aspired to be. He worked incredibly hard to try and make his parents proud. He knew that he had to be good and try to save as many lives as possible because of the lives that were as good as lost. Both of these boys were put in Gryffindor because they asked, although neither embodied the qualities that Godric prized. And one of them grew into a true Gryffindor and other waned into nothing.

Peter Pettigrew was important because he brought Voldemort back and allowed Harry to escape the Malfoy’s Manor. Neville could have been the prophecy child and he raised an army and slew Nagini. Both of these boys choices made them into what they were; although they could have turned out very differently. The one that lusted after fame died in ambiguity, the one who just wanted to be brave lived on as a hero.

*Primary + Secondary = Name

Gryffindor+Ravenclaw= Gryffinclaw

Gryffindor+Hufflepuff= Gryffinpuff

Gryffindor+Slytherin= Gryfferin

Ravenclaw+Gryffindor= Ravendor

Ravenclaw+Hufflepuff= Ravenpuff

Ravenclaw+Slytherin= Raverin

Hufflepuff+Gryffindor= Huffledor

Hufflepuff+Ravenclaw= Huffleclaw

Hufflepuff+Slytherin= Hufflerin

Slytherin+Gryffindor= Slytherdor

Slytherin+Ravenclaw= Slytherclaw

Slytherin+Hufflepuff= Slytherpuff

(If you were wondering, I’m a Gryffinclaw. Comment down below which of these houses you identify with.)

[vestigialux]

A HUMBLE NEW BEGINNING

Chapter 1 : Well Deserved Baths & Lesser Deserved Actions

( Original Story by @vestigialux - @ AquaLux on Quotev (Quiet Girl) )

SUMMARY : 

Vampires are real, they're just smarter at concealing their true identities, or so, at least that's how it is for the Brook family. Human Benjamin Brook took the murder of his vampire wife as a warning for the threat his three sons were up against and thus came up with several methods to keep all three of them safe while letting them lead normal lives. However, thirteen years later, Aaron, Ezra and Dez discover their mother had left a few secrets behind, and they are curious to investigate. What kind of trouble could they get into after so many years of hiding behind masks? 

Christmas Eve, 24th December 2004 7 p.m. Birchwood, Droylsden, Manchester M43

       Melanie Brook had a lot on her mind. Yet again, when you have three sons to take care of, you always have a lot on your mind, especially when they're toddlers.

Scratch that, especially when they're vampire toddlers.

You thought raising land-dwelling, outdoors-longing children with normal teeth and sleeping habits was bad? Try balancing fun and discipline with keeping their true natures a secret. Their fangs grew and eyes glowed a bright yellow every time they threw a tantrum, they could never get a decent night's sleep since nighttime was when the kids were most active and the eldest was even learning how to levitate on demand! Not like the chaos they already created wasn't bad enough, oh no, they wouldn't eat any food that wasn't red-coloured, they would intentionally scare their father half to death at night and, there being three of them, made the job of containing them three times harder.

They constantly fed each other excitement and, worst of all, they had to contain all their energy within the house in order not to expose their secret. Melanie knew, that once that happened, her family would suddenly be in grave danger, a target for the ones who hated their kind. She wasn't sure whether they still existed from when she was born about a century ago, however she wasn't willing to take the risk. The only time she took them out was to the market, the mall, and if they behaved, the park every once in a while. Even then she would force them to wear sunglasses, long sleeves and double layers like she did, in order to prevent them from burning up, despite the typical cloudy UK-weather in Manchester. They looked odd, like a bunch of blind baby ducks following their mother but it was comical so she didn't mind. She and her husband even agreed that homeschooling them would be their best option, at least until they grew up a little. God, that was going to be a nightmare.

This stuck her with three hyper-energetic toddlers clinging around her day-in, day-out in an endless cycle of nags, cries, tantrums, screams... Pranks... Complaints... She had to hold onto something to steady herself just thinking about it.

At least the diaper stage was over, all that came next were the wet nights and later on, ugh, the wet dreams.

​​​​Oh no, have a plenty amount of kids, her naive one-hundred and three year old self had said, it would be simply lovely, you just met the perfect guy, you can finally be like the human mothers you've been envying these past fifty years her arse.

She was not having another kid.

Her husband seemed to be on the verge of suicide, so she was sure he would agree.

The first child, was quiet and obedient, the second one was also quiet but less obedient and the third one wasn't even quiet.

She drew the line there but had no regrets, she loved all her offspring equally and the past six years had been the best years of her whole, long, lifetime.

However tonight was Christmas eve, which added onto the usual stress. Her husband, Benjamin, was kind enough to have taken them out for the day while she cooked Christmas dinner and wrapped their presents in peace. She loved her children, honest she did, but sometimes she wanted them to just shut up and drove her up the wall more than a few times, which was why she had enjoyed this short amount of time to herself.

After finishing all her chores and duties, she decided to have a leisurely bath while reading her favourite book as piano music played in the background. She tied her long, wavy brown hair back into a bun with a large hairpin and popped into the tub, adding bubble bath soap, she was sure the kids wouldn't mind. She elegantly picked up her book and continued from where she had stopped the night before.

It wasn't long before her mind shifted back onto her children.

She had to share this track with Aaron, her eldest, she pondered, even though he was only six years old she could tell he loved instruments and classical music. The Harry Potter book she was reading, she had to show it to her middle child, Ezra, he was five but could already read whole paragraphs by himself. If she were to share her obsession with J.K. Rowling, it would be her future bookworm son, she figured. Lastly, she looked up at the painting hanging on the door her three year old had done, Dez. It was a square with what looked like trees on either side of it, which she assumed was their home however they didn't have trees on their street. She had hidden her confusion when he had presented it to her, however skepticism had shown all over her husband's face which had caused Dez to throw a tantrum. A child's imagination, she smiled to herself, that boy's going places. It was kind of creepy how Dez wanted it hanged here, and said that since Ben spent so much time in here on his phone, he'd learn to appreciate it which had made her roar with laughter, even now.

Her family was her life now, and even though she had been alive for a much longer time, she couldn't remember living without them. She had a loving, caring husband, three gorgeous children and an extravagant home in a quiet place in Manchester. She was even about to start teaching Aaron and Ezra how to read and write, and basic mathematics since she had recently done a course online which gave her permission and all the requirements she needed to teach primary schoolers.

She used to be a lawyer before she married, which had lasted about thirty years, and a nurse in the second world war before that, previously also a cleaner and, when she had still been growing at a fast (normal) rate, a daughter of a farmer, yet she could see her self as a teacher one day, once her sons had married.

She smiled to herself.

Yes, she could definitely see herself working as a school teacher, according to her renewed birth certificate, she was off the appropriate age- 35. She just needed more experience.

Little did she know all these dreams were futile.

As she bathed and relaxed, a small group of armed men surrounded the house.

She was too absorbed in her own self-made little world to notice them until she heard footsteps going up the stairs, the bathroom being on the second floor. She sat up instantly.

Those weren't her husband's footsteps, he always took his shoes off indoors and they were far too heavy to be any of her sons'.

She put down her book but left the music playing, then put on her gown and crouched by the door to hear more clearly.

Maybe she was overthinking things, she contemplated, it was a normal thing for her to do. She peered through the keyhole.

A lump caught in her throat.

The man climbing the stairs was not her husband.

Her hands began to tremble.

He was carrying a gun.

She fell back, pathetically.

There were multiple of them.

She quickly scrambled to her feet and dragged a cupboard in front of the door then proceeded to open the window. She was not going to die today, she was not going to abandon her family like that.

She had to escape.

A gunshot fired through the door and cupboard, shattering the window she was trying to pry open, causing her to jump back, beginning to hyperventilate. They must have heard the furniture moving.

She looked at the remains of the bullet, it was silver.

Hunters.

How did they find her? Why were they even after her? She had kept her secrets so well hidden...

Another gunshot and she whimpered. The was the lock gone.

She risked going for the window again, broken glass cutting her bare skin but to no avail as another gunshot came firing from below. She staggered back, a sharp piece of glass scraping a deep cut into her arm, however she was too high on adrenaline to care.

She was trapped.

She was trapped like a wild animal.

She considered calling the emergency line but her phone wasn't on her person, she had left it charging on the kitchen counter.

Only seconds now and they'll enter, the cupboard was shaking vigorously.

3...

She had to try something else.

2...

She inspected her surroundings hastily.

1...

She grabbed the shower and pulled the pipe out from its place then whacked the first guy that entered with it, knocking him down onto his allies.

"What are you doing, idiot? Let's go get that abomination!" one of them exclaimed. There were at least five of them and they were all wearing masks, probably because of all the CCTV cameras in the streets.

How unprofessional, she thought, you don't crowd around the entrance of the room you're breaking into, it permitted one to be able to do things like this easily.

She didn't know where the others were outside, and she didn't want to risk a bullet to the head so she devised a plan, one which she executed immediately. She gently floated over their heads while they were distracted, wrapping the flexible pipe of the shower head around their necks and pulled strongly in the direction of the stairs as she managed to squeeze into the opening the cupboard allowed.

Three of them fell down the stairs, while one fell to his knees, having been choked and the fifth remained standing. He must have reacted sooner.

She whipped at him with the shower head but he dodged, grabbed it and pulled her, stabbing her in the stomach with his machete, which didn't do much, obviously, however it did slow her down.

She fell to the ground then stepped back, panting and made a run for it, however three angry-looking men had their guns pointed at her from the foot of the stairs.

She heard one of the guys standing up behind her.

She was surrounded again.

The music from the bathroom started playing lower, daunting notes, which would have been her favourite part if she hadn't felt like she were in a horror movie.

The guy who had stabbed her pulled her into a choke-hold and pressed his machete to her neck.

He seemed to be speaking into a radio. "Monstrosity contained." he stated, then pressed the machete closer.

"W-wait! Please... I... My children... My babies... Please spare them from losing their mother.... They don't have much as it is, please" she pleaded.

Benjamin,

"Please," she began begging.

Aaron,

"Please." again.

Ezra,

"Please..." and again.

Dez...

"Please!"

I'm sorry.

Tears had started flooding her vision.

I love you all.

"You're still a disgrace to Our World." the man uttered.

The last thing she did was exasperate a staggered gasp.

Christmas Eve, 24th December 2004 8:30 p.m. Birchwood, Droylsden, Manchester M43

Aaron ran into the house the second his father unlocked the front door, and looked around for his mother, excited to show her his Christmas list which the Santa in the shopping centre had signed. When she wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, he sprinted upstairs, his little feet making soft thumping sounds as he ascended, which only became faster when he heard the piano music playing.

"Slow down, Aaron! You'll hurt yourself!" Ben called out, picking up a sleepy Ezra and Dez from the car. They had stayed a little longer than expected, viewing shops and special Christmas exhibits though they had had fun, and he was sure Melanie had appreciated the extra 'me-time'.

Aaron slowed down, but only a little, until he stopped completely when he reached the landing and stepped in something sticky. It was dark, but that did nothing to hinder his vision as his eyes glowed a bright yellow. He looked down at the puddle of red fluid which had also stained the walls and part of the ceiling, which Aaron was fortunate enough to have not noticed.

“Mum…?” he mumbled then peered inside the bathroom. All he could see was a trail of blood leading to a bathtub. He dropped the list and it slowly rolled in the scarlet liquid, drenched.

“What the-” his father uttered from behind him as he turned on the lights, after laying Dez and Ezra on the couch. He looked at the blood on the walls and could feel his stomach churning.

No, not his Melanie….

“Dad?” Aaron queried, curiously looking up at his father with wide-eyes.

“Go downstairs with your brothers.” He ordered.

“Where’s mum?” he questioned further. He must have felt the tension, Aaron usually never talked back.

“I said go!” he demanded more ferociously.

Aaron obeyed this time, sensing the gravity in his father's tone, but had only stopped midway down the stairs as his father walked into the room. Then he caught a glimpse of it.

Of the image that would haunt him for years.

The severed head of his mother lying by the sink, her hair was covering her face but there was no question about what it was.

First he heard his father gagging, most probably throwing up in the toilet. Then the man had started crying, descending into sobbing, then fierce wailing loud enough to wake up the other two.

All the while, Aaron stood still, silent, a mixture of shock and trauma keeping him paralyzed. Keeping his mind blank, keeping him empty.

Keeping him from processing everything horrendous that had occurred.

He hadn’t quite grasped the concept of death until that day, until that pain-striking day.

He was hapless enough to have learned it the hard way.

[two-friends-read-hp]

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Goblet of Fire

Ah, now we’re talking… Let’s get this plot moving!

Can you imagine your crush*coughcough* I mean “favourite quidditch player” just showing up at your school because apparently he hasn’t graduated yet? And now your school has to host his school for this deadly tournament? The fanfiction writes itself...

Lol, the girls looking around for quills, and that girl who’s wondering if he’ll sign her hat in lipstick, I have news for you: HE’S GOING TO BE HERE FOR THE REST OF THE SCHOOL YEAR. RELAX.

Ron!! Not you too!! 

Is there really a place for all the students at the regular house tables? I seriously overestimated the amount of students that go to this school… or even the other schools

Of course the Dumstrang students went to the Slytherin table

Lol remember how smug Malfoy was when he thought he was going to be best friends with Harry Potter? And now he’s trying the same thing with Krum?

Haha, saying the Dumstrang students look “a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot” really says a lot about Beauxbatons

Lol, the Hogwarts students laughing when the Beauxbatons students stood up when their headmistress entered the room says a lot about the discipline of Hogwarts students

Ugh, I take back what I said about the Beauxbatons’ discipline, a girl just derisively laughed in the middle of Dumbledore’s speech

Lol, Ron, it’s just French cuisine, it’s not even from the outside of Europe

There were barely twenty additional students there????? How many students go to these schools???? Ten each?????

OMG is derisive-laugh-girl Fleur Delacour?? 

Lol, Hermione’s just not having a good day today is she

Hahaha “‘They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!’ ‘They make them okay at Hogwarts,’ said Harry without thinking. Cho happened to be sitting only a few places away from the girl with the silvery hair.”

“‘When you’ve both put your eyes back in,’ said Hermione briskly, ‘you’ll be able to see who’s just arrived.’” LOL, love you, Hermione

Ooooh, it’s starting!

Haha Bartemius sounds dumb, Bartholomew sounds cooler

Oh was Bagman working on the Triwizard Tournament for the last few months? Is that why he wasn’t really doing anything at the Quidditch World Cup? Or is he just a slacker? I guess we’ll have to find out…

Oh so there’ll be five judges, and it’s good that two of them are somewhat impartial… 

Dennis Creevey stood on his chair and still couldn’t see?? How tiny is he?? Were other people standing on chairs too??

Do children really need to be tested on their ability to cope with danger? I understand the testing of their magical prowess, their powers of deduction and even their daring, but do we really need to willingly put them in danger?? Is it really that entertaining?

Ooooh finally, they’re talking about the Goblet of Fire!

Also if I didn’t already know what the Goblet of Fire was, I would absolutely be confused by those words. To start with, I didn’t even know what the word ‘goblet’ meant at the age I was when Goblet of Fire was released, and even if I did, I would have wondered if the goblet itself was made of fire, and what on earth made Rowling even come up with it?

Also I feel like Harry Potter and the Triwizard Tournament would’ve been a better title for this book… mainly because the Goblet of Fire is talked about only in a couple of chapters I think… it’s never really mentioned again after the champions have been chosen and the Tournament is under way. So if the reason for the title is only mentioned in a few chapters, then the book could’ve been called Harry Potter and the Maze of Death, or Harry Potter and the Golden Egg, or even Harry Potter and the Riddle House! It’s mentioned more than the Goblet of Fire I think! I guess the whole plot kind of depends on the Goblet, so maybe that’s why it was named after it? And maybe Triwizard Tournament is a bit on the nose… Goblet of Fire really does make you wonder what the book could possibly be about without really giving anything away. Ok, I guess that whole rant was for no reason lol

Oh it’s a wooden cup. And it’s large. One large goblet of fire please

Oh wow the cup was full of flames while it was in the bejeweled chest? 

Lol now that we know what the Goblet of Fire is, the question still remains, how is it going to choose champions? LET’S FIND OUT

Oh wow they only have twenty-four hours to decide if they want to be champions? Oh wait, Dumbledore already told them about it earlier, so I guess they had enough time to decide

Of course they’re going to pick the names on Halloween night, everything important in the Harry Potter universe happens on Halloween night

Please be very sure you want to enter the death tournament, as there is no backing out after you enter, so no pressure

Why are Fred and George still keen on entering this tournament? Why am I wasting my time asking?

Ah, I see, people only see the glory and can’t really see what it will take to get the glory

Lol, the other hopeful Dumstrang boy asking Karkaroff for wine when Krum just turned down his offer… the poor fool

Now that I know Karkaroff has white hair, I keep imagining him looking like Saruman the White, but with a haircut… y’know?

Ooh, Karkaroff found Harry

Hah, now they’re all staring at Harry like how Ron was staring at Krum, the Dumstrang students are probably used to being around a famous person though

Oooh, Halloween was on a Saturday!

Lol, I bet Dumbledore already knew that Fred and George were gonna try this

Oh ok, it’s because he knew in general that some of his students would absolutely try this

Aww, Dumbledore complimented their beards! That’s sweet of him

Oh wow, I just realised that this chapter is pretty long

Hey, how come Lee didn’t try it out? Unless they transformed before he could jump in so he was saved the trouble of even trying

You mean to say there aren’t already live bats around the enchanted ceiling? Or do they only come out at Halloween?

Hey! Don’t be calling Warrington a sloth! Sloths are cute! Don’t insult sloths

Tbh I think a Slytherin champion would be perfect, they’re shrewd, cunning, ambitious, and I feel like they would actually weigh the pro’s and con’s before taking the leap (I’m looking at you, Gryffindors)

Ooooh, go Angelina Johnson!

Why is everyone hating on Cedric? He seems like a nice person… when Harry fell off his broom last year he wanted to forfeit his win because he didn’t know that happened when he caught the snitch. He’s even in Hufflepuff for goodness sake! I guess people are just jealous that he’s nice and has good looks

“‘Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory,’ said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.” I love that the worst thing the Hufflepuffs do in this moment is ‘heavily scowl at him’

Come on Ron, you’re really asking what’s with Hermione constantly advocating for house-elf rights?? It’s Hermione! Have you ever known her to not do anything at a 110% capacity?

Ah, yes, it’s the veela-girl

“‘What d’you reckon’ll happen to the ones who aren’t chosen?’ Ron muttered to harry as the veela-girl dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. ‘Reckon they’ll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?’” Ohhh ok, so did they just invite the students that were eligible for the tournament to Hogwarts?? Because then that would explain the numbers

I think the skrewts are probably the worst thing about this book

I guess Fred and George can’t actually just shave their beards, they’re probably magical… Is Dumbledore’s beard magical I wonder?

Oooh, the school champions are going to be announced! Exciting!

Poor Hagrid… he’s just trying his best to look good!

There’s a lot of love in the air lol

They’ve finally finished eating! Here we go…

I didn’t expect to be this excited lol

How does Dumbledore know that the Goblet will be ready in one minute?

Oooh, the lights have been dimmed! Sort of!

It’s starting…!

The champion for Dumstrang!

Ah, who’d’ve guessed it would be Viktor Krum? Everyone apparently

Beauxbatons!!

Did Joanne mean for Fleur Delacour’s name to rhyme?

Oh, also, I just realised that Beauxbatons means ‘beautiful…. batons’ I guess, and Fleur Delacour means ‘flower of the court’...

Ah yes, we find out now that derisive-laugh, veela-girl is Fleur Delacour

Oh wow, the other Beauxbatons students didn’t take that well at all

Ooooh, now comes the moment of truth! Hogwarts championnnnn!

Cedriiccccc!!! Wooowoo!! Hufflepuuuufffff!!!!!

Boo Ron!! And yaay Hufflepuffs!! The whole house got on their feet!! They’re probably excited because for once it wasn’t Slytherin or Gryffindor stealing the limelight

Ohh the Goblet of Fire has turned red again?? Whatever for? All the champions have been picked haven’t they?? Hmm, strange indeed…

It seems the Goblet of Fire wants to stir up some drama here… is it sentient?

Harry Potter?? No that can’t be… How can his name be entered into a dangerous tournament that can almost definitely result in his untimely death? How could such a thing happen to this boy?? Strange times indeed… NEXT CHAPTER!

Chapter 17

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Give Us Your Children

“Older women …They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children.” Titus 2:3-4ESV

As a woman of three generational roles, I love my babies, from fifty-two years, to six weeks. From my years, please hear me younger moms.

God gave you precious breathing clay to mold into His image through love, patience, discipline, and tender care. You’re important!

Life lesson— Momma, you are no longer number one. You gave up the right to think about just what’s good for you and your body, the moment you conceived a baby. “Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward” Psm 127:3ESV. Prepare to give more love and receive more love than you ever dreamed possible —it’s awesome, wonderful and frightening all together.

Know from the beginning, satan wants to destroy your little people. He’s sly and will try everything possible. From the pedophiles chanting, “Give us your children,”corrupt politicians, trafficking, to every form of ‘child’ entertainment, traps have been set to destroy your darlings.

Dr. Spock taught ‘don’t spank children.’ ‘Spanking warps little Junior’s personality.’ Correctly administered spanking and other disciplines lovingly trains Junior, how to be a good citizen. Proverbs 29:15NLT “To discipline a child produces wisdom, but a mother is disgraced by an undisciplined child.”

Before Spock, per capita murder rates for 100,000–1955, 4.1 deaths. 100,000– 1980, 10.2. Doubled Plus! Coincidence? Doubtful. Stark truth— children need loving correction to feel loved, as adults.

X-Boxes, video games, children’s cartoons, violence in music, witchcraft —are constant fare on the plate of children’s entertainment over the last thirty years. All are aimed at teaching darkness, with our permission, to our children. Does this evil affect our children?

Examples from real people. Names changed. Don raised in a divorced home; controlling parents. Reality became too upsetting to endure. Hiding in video games, his escape from reality took over, when his custodial parent became mortally ill. Able to converse with other players, he never spoke with family about his grief. Gaming became an obsession. Demons attached to the witchcraft inside video games pulled him to the brink of suicide. Lost to reality, he’s depressed, constantly rage-filled.

“ Now regarding your question about food …offered to idols…” 1Cor 8:1NLT. Meats sacrificed to demons— ‘idols,’ —similar to entertainment fare.

Mike developed his imagination of super-powers around Power Rangers, Ninja Turtles, and Harry Potter. Raised in a moderate Christian home, he saw no power in Almighty God. ‘Jehovah— invisible’ gave no ‘powers.’ Introduced to Wiccan, ‘the meat from the idols’ gave him powers and pride.

Face it. Fifty years watching Smurfs, Disney movies, Fantasia and others have been aimed at acclimating children to for the weightier witchcraft of child programing today, Pokemon, YuGiOh, and the world of darkness. Like their generation before them, children are handed the remote control, cell phone; whatever entertains them; whatever keeps them out of parents hair is provided. While satan laughs, ‘give me your children.’

Darrel’s god became sports. Weekend tournaments, Tuesday and Wednesday evening games kept him away from church. Baseball camps kept him from church camps. But he wasn’t good enough to make the cut for college ball. Something innocent, clean and healthy stole the formative years to meet Jesus, while satan whispered, ‘give me your children.’ Now drugs and alcohol replace the ‘fun’ of formative years.

“Teaching what is good”: **Take interest in your children. **Lovingly discipline. **Give them your time, your love and not the remote. **Teach them about Jesus’ love. **Take them to real miracle crusades. **Pray with and for your children, aloud. **Hug and kiss them often. **Tell them how important they are to you and Jesus. **Build a hedge of thorns around them (Hosea 2:6-7). **Don’t give up on your children. Pray. It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Father make parents strong to do battle and save our children, in Jesus’ name I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2019 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional as author. Thank you.

[paradox-oflife]

q and a part 6 pls ignore

1. Who was your favourite teacher at school and why? My 9th grade Lit teacher. She was the kindest soul I’ve ever met.

2. Whats your favourite party game? I LOVE MAFIA. I’m not talking about basic mafia. You gotta play upgraded versions. I personally love playing one called One Night Ultimate Werewolf. I also like playing the law version which is made for super big groups - There’s police involved, and they choose the mafia. The person accused can hire lawyers who defend them. The police have to present their reasoning, and the lawyers have to figure out how to prove them wrong. God it’s basically Danganronpa isn’t it.

3. Is it acceptable or unacceptable to smack a child as form of discipline? Now this is controversial, and understandably so.  I personally would never hit my child and yell at them. But for other people, if it’s a light smack, like a pat, I guess it’s alright. But otherwise nothing harder than that.

4. Can a hetrosexual male ever wear pink? Um, yes??? Do what you want man.

5. Is it criminal to wear socks with sandals? Listen I’ve seen too many people wear these in public to the point where I’m numb to it.

6. If you were captain of a ship, what would you call it? Make it an obscure video game reference or an inside joke. 

7. If you were to join an emergency service which would it be? Probably the medical side of things, like an EMT. Or a firefighter. EMT’s go through a lot of pressure.

8. If you were to join one of the armed forced which would it be? Maybe coast guard. But I really would not want to join the military. I’m too sensitive. If people yell at me I’d probably cry lol. And there’s the colorblind test.

9. Whats the worst thing about being your gender? Periods. And the pain of child birth. Also how it’s scary to walk alone at night sometimes.

10. Whats the best thing about being your gender? Of course this doesn’t apply to everyone, but I feel like sometimes the friendships girls have are more emotional than boys.

11. If you swapped genders for a day how would you spend it? Honestly? Just observe my body. Not in a sexual manner but like, how does it feel like to not have boobs? How does it feel to have a dick???

12. If you were exiled what country would you choose as your new home? I’m moving back to New Zealand lol. I already have a passport and family there. Or maybe Canada if I don’t want a big culture difference

13. Have you ever made someone cry? Yeah :( Not through verbal attack though. I accidentally kicked a football into a girl’s face.

14. Have you ever starred in a school play? In the first elementary school I went to, it was mandatory to do a play. So yes. Three, actually.

15. Were you a member of any celebrity fanclub? Nope

16. Have you ever been a member of any other club? Yes! Animal Services and Protection, CSF (volunteering stuff), Martial Arts

17. If you could have a full scholarship to any university what would you choose to study? The university I’m going to rn

18. Whats been your greatest ever day? I have a lot. One of my favorites was going to an amusement park at the end of middle school. Had a blast.

19. What historical period would you like to live in if you could go back in time? Hmm... Maybe during the Age of Enlightment?

20. What would you bring along to an idillic picnic? My friends, no phones, music, and a sandwich.

21. Whats your favourite childrens story? Does Harry Potter count? I guess not really. When i was little I loved Geronimo Stilton LMAO

22. What movie ending really frustrated you? And how would you change it? The Mist. I mean, it frustrated me not because it was bad, but because it was so FRUSTRATING.

23. What three things do you think of most each day? Now we’re in quarantine, “I wonder how my friends are doing?” “What am I doing with my life?” “Will life be the same?”

24. What do you call your evening meal? Dinner Tea or Supper? Dinner

25. What do you call your after meal sweet? Pudding or Dessert? Dessert. I usually just have a fruit

26. If you had a warning label, what would yours say? “Warning! Certified Grade A Clown!”

27. Have you ever got sweet revenge on anyone? Can’t really think of one

28. Have you ever been to a live concert? aaaah no i really want to though

29. Have you ever been to see stand up comedy? It was a long time ago on a cruise. It was pretty funny :D

30. Have you ever needed stitches? Yup. If you observe closely, you can see a faint scar near my eye. If it was a bit more obvious I’d look like an anime villain lol

31. If you could invent brand new baby names what would they be? LMAO imagine naming your child like, Fire Emblem names. “Hi yes this is my baby, um, his name is Chrom”

32. Do your dreams ever tell you to do anything? I have the most bizarre dreams. They’re super vivid. They range from me summoning tornados, to me being killed in some Danganronpa world. I dreamed of a school shooting once and a couple days later some other school in my state had a shooting

33. Who's your favourite radio 1 DJ? I don’t really listen to radio lol

34. Whats the best way to your heart? Be a good person. Have good morals.

35.  Do you know your own mobile phone number off by heart? Um yes??? 

36. If you were a fashion designer, what style of clothing or accessories would you design? Just comfortable hoodies that don’t change when you wash it.

37. Do you ever laugh at things you shouldn't? I laugh when I’m nervous. Like I go like, “hahahawhat the hell”. I also laugh when I’m shocked.

38. Have you ever been in a submarine? Yes! But it wasn’t underwater.

39. Have you ever walked out of a cinema before the film was done? Nope. 

40. What song would you say best sums you up? Eeeh i can’t decide but Read my Mind by the Killers. Their music video. When he’s twitching his arms, but he’s acting like everything’s fine.

41. Do you have any old friends would wish you could meet up with again? Yeah :( I had a super super close friend from 4th grade and we slowly drifted apart. By the time of high school we just stopped. I want to be friends with her again :((( I really miss her

42. Whats your favourite Nursery Rhyme? Idk... ring around a rosy maybe just because the context of the lyrics lol

43. Do you prefer metric or imperial measurements? Of course I’d take metric over imperial, but I’m used to it by now.

44. Who's your favourite monarch of all time?Queen Elizabeth I

45. What was the last thing you ate? These Asian things called Zong Zi in Chinese. I’m pretty sure like every country has their own version of it lol/

46. Whats your favourite farmyard animal? I love baby chickens but cows for me I guess

47. If you could choose one celebrity to be the father/mother of your child who would it be? Just someone who’s caring. Tyler Joseph

48. What would you do if someone proposed to you tomorrow? If it’s someone I like, then I’d freak out. Because I’m way too young for it.

49. What are your 3 favourite internet sites? Reddit, youtube, and uh... tumblr or wikipedia. I use tumblr mobile way often

50. How high can you jump? Never measured but definitely not that high

51. Which fictional character do you wish was real? aw man i would say a character but then that would imply their universe exists

52. Who was your first crush? PHFFT IT WAS probably Marshall Lee from the genderbent episodes of Adventure Time.

53. Whats the greatest thing about being your nationality? The food

54. Whats the least greatest thing about being your nationality? Having to explain the difference between Taiwan and China. Like. It’s understandable.

55. Do you believe in destiny, fate or free will? I kinda correlate destiny with fate. It’s a bit paradoxical. We have free will to do whatever we want, but whatever choice you make will end up being your “destiny”

56. If you could talk to one species of animal which would it be? Dogs. They just seem so happy all the time. I want to tell my dog I love him so much.

57. If you had friends round what DVD's would you have to watch? Mean Girls, Heathers, Legally Blonde, or Daria

58. Do you like vanilla or chocolate? Vanilla>>> fight me

59. Are you a giver or a receiver? Both

60. Do you have any enemies? Yeah. Me.

61. Are you scared of needles? YES YES YES

62. How many piercings do you have? Nah I was going to get my ears pierced a while ago but something came up so ever since I’ve jsut haven’t gotten it done

63. Have you ever got majorly lost trying to get somewhere? yes it was scary. Had to use google maps because I have a terrible sense of direction

64. How fast can you say the alphabet? 4 seconds

65. Do you say "Zee" or "Zed" to describe the letter Z? Zee

66. What was the last thing to make you feel happy? My dog fell asleep at my feet and I couldn’t move for the past hour but I love him

67. What was the last thing to make you feel angry? A friend of mine. I love her and all but she takes a week to respond to my texts. And I’m tired of waiting.

68. You are walking to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss told you if you are late one more time you're fired. Do you save the dog? Okay realistically I immediately call animal control or the nearest vet or something. But in some alternate universe I’d take pictures as proof, grab the dog, then get it out.

69. Are you the kind of friend you'd want to have as a friend yourself? I perceive myself as a not so great person. But my friends perceive me as a good person. So yeah. i mean, I might not text first sometimes but if smoeone texted me I’d always respond asap!

70. Do you have any questions or queries about things you're just to scared or embarrassed to ask anyone about? Do my friends like me as much as I like them? I’m so scared of that

71. If you were a wrestler what would your stage name be? and what would your special move be called? Haha maybe like Paradoxical (yes thats my blizzard tag) I’d do something like a shihonage

72. Whats the most interesting thing you can see out of your nearest window? A cat

73. Do you think Barbie is a negative role model for young girls? There’s a lot of Barbie models out there. I don’t think they’re completely bad. But there’s negative things.

74. Have you ever needed an eye test? Don’t have glasses so no. But I might need some soon at the rate of time i spend on electronics

75. Do you find yourself attractive? No. I’m just. Average.

76. Can you roll your R's? Yes

77. What social class do you consider yourself or your family background to be in? Upper middle class

78. Do you know any magic tricks? I used to but I never execute them well enough to convince anyone lol

79. Whats the largest amount of money you've ever won? I ever won? Probably like, $100 lol

80. Whats the largest amount of money you've spent in one spree? $200, if we’re not talking necessities.

81. Whats the largest amount of money you've had to borrow off of a friend or family member? I don’t borrow money. But the most from a friend was like $20 maybe.

82. Have you ever been on a cable car? Yeah, San Francisco is known for that stuff. But I’ve only been on one like, twice.

83. Do you prefer Honey or Jam? Jam! But I like honey too.

84. Do you prefer the French or Germans? Uuuuh, French?

85. How fast can you get changed? Pretty damn fast, if we’re talking my normal outfit.

86. How fast do you type? Around 98 wpm

87. How fast can you run? I’m a decent sprinter. I got 12 seconds on a 100m dash.

88. Which is better, Mario or Sonic? Mario. But both are cool

89. Whats your favourite biscuit to dunk? (im assuming british biscuit but in that case idk)

90. Which would you rather have if you had to, a broken leg or a broken arm? Arm. I like walking around.

91. Do you read a daily newspaper? Nah

92. Do you watch the news on TV? Sometimes

93. Have you ever had anything published? Nope

94. Do you believe in love at first sight? Not really. I mean, Romeo and Juliet, and Frozen has warned us right

95. How many remote controls do you have in your house? Two.

96. Have you ever been in a hot tub or sauna? Yes, and it’s hella

97. Have you ever had chicken pox? Nope. Vaccines rock

98. Do you own a lava lamp? Nah, it seems cool but I’d be too mesmerized by it

[gracewithducks]

Where is Jesus? (Acts 1:6-14) - Ascension Sunday

Some weeks are rough. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, personally, globally – rough. And this, this was one of those weeks. 

 Last week, our youth led us in an uplifting worship service – full of laughter and positive energy, and the reminder that our decisions matter, and we should think before we act. We were encouraged to be kind, as often as we can, because in life, there is no rewind button; we don't get a chance to do it over again. 

 For many of us, that message hit home on Monday evening, in a devastating way. Young people - predominant women - and their parents were targeted in Manchester, England – as a suicide bomber attacked the crowd leaving a pop concert. For many young people and their families, what had been one of their best nights, long anticipated, much celebrated - quickly became a nightmare. Teenagers, young men and women, parents waiting to pick their children up –even an 8 year old girl, there with her mom and sister - were killed. All in the name of someone's understanding of God. 

 A couple of days later, in Egypt, masked attackers opened fire on a bus full of Coptic Christians, on their way to worship and be refreshed at one of Egypt's most holy and tranquil sites. Men, women, children were killed – all in the name of someone's understanding of God. 

 And on Saturday, on a train in Oregon, a man started ranting and yelling abusive threats at two young women – one a woman of color, the other wearing a headscarf marking her faith. When two bystanders stepped in to defend the women, the attacker turned on them, and stabbed them, and killed them – out of, presumably, his own professed anger that too many Muslims have killed too many Christians over the years. So much violence, so much fear and hatred and revenge and retaliation, so much senseless and needless grief – all in the name of someone's understanding of God.

 And it aches, my friends, it aches, because I know and you know that so many more acts of violence large and small, take place every single day - and hearts are broken, lives and bodies are torn apart, all in the name of someone's understanding of God. 

 And maybe you're like me; maybe you were hoping to come to worship today and find some words of hope or comfort from Christ, the one who we believe came to reveal God to us, the one whose life is the lens through which we understand God. 

 But we are out of luck, because today is Ascension Sunday: today is the day when we remember how Christ, when it all was said and done, how he left us behind. Today of all days, when we need to hear "come to me, you who are weary and heavy-laden" or "blessed are the peacemakers" or even "lo, I am with you always" – today, what Jesus has to say to us is: "Good-bye."

 And I don't know about you, but it leaves me wanting more. All along I've believed, I've preached and staked my life on the belief that Jesus comes to do more than offer us admission to heaven when we die; Jesus comes to give us hope and peace and purpose in this life, in this world, here and now. And yet, in the end, Jesus floats back up to heaven – and we are left, open mouthed, gaping and – for all his promises to never abandon or forsake us – we can start to feel so very much alone. 

 The disciples, Jesus' closest friends, clearly wrestled with the ascension, too. For forty days Jesus had appeared to them, offering them signs of comfort and hope – and that was great – but they were hoping for so much more. 

 So when Jesus gathered them that day and started talking about power from on high - they started to wonder, "Is this it? Finally, at last?" And they asked him, "Lord, is it time? Is it time, finally, for you to set things right?" Sure, we believe that you died and rose again, and that's great, really – but the Emperor is still in control; we are still occupied and oppressed; the same voices that shouted for your death still shout for ours. We believe that death has lost its sting – but we are still being stung. When are you going to set things right? Is it time yet, finally, for your kingdom to come?

 And Jesus says – not even "no;" Jesus says, "It is not for you to know." Don't worry about all that. It's none of your concern. 

 Really? We're the ones trying to make our way in this mess of a world, and it's not our concern?

 And Jesus goes on, "The Holy Spirit will come to you, and give you the power you need. And you will share my good news everywhere, among friends and enemies alike, in your neighborhoods and to the ends of the earth."

 And then, while they watched, he floated away – like a balloon does, when the string slips through your fingers – he floated away, and they stood staring into the sky until he was hidden from them by a cloud. And even then, they stood watching, waiting, confused and befuddled, with no idea what to do. 

 And I have those days, too. I mean, if Jesus came to reveal God to us, if Jesus came to show us the way, and to show us the truth that God is with us – then how in heaven's name can the story end with him leaving us behind? If he came to reveal the good news that God isn't in some heaven, far, far away – then how are we supposed to celebrate today, Ascension Sunday, the day when Jesus floated back up to heaven, far, far away?

 It's not enough. It doesn't make sense. And especially on days like today, on weeks like this, it's downright insulting. Why doesn't Jesus love us enough to stay?

 I was talking to my husband the last couple of days, because – I confessed to him - I've been struggling. I've been wrestling to find the good news for us today. And when I flat-out asked him, "Where is the good news in Jesus leaving us behind?" he rattled off what is, for us, the "right" answer: "It's good news, because unless Jesus left, the Holy Spirit couldn't come."

 And I confess, though I've been taught as much, I'm not so sure. It seems to me like one of those arbitrary rules – like how, in Harry Potter's world, you can use magic for just about everything except making food or making money - like, really? It's magic! Who's to say how magic works?

 And we're not talking about magic, I know, but we are talking about God. And who's to say how God works? Are there really limitations like that on what God can do? Are Jesus and the Holy Spirit like Clark Kent and Superman, or Batman and Bruce Wayne: they can never be seen in the same place at the same time? But isn't the Trinity more complicated than that? There is more to it than God just showing up in different masks and hoping we don't put the pieces together - right?

 I don't know. I confess, I don't. 

 I do know that Jesus says: it's good for me to leave, because then I can send the Holy Spirit to help you and comfort you and guide you and give you strength. 

 So, okay. That's what Jesus says. 

 But I still struggle. Wouldn't it be easier, don't you think, if Jesus stayed? If – instead of an ineffable Spirit who whispers and nudges in each of our hearts, as we try to figure out how best to live – wouldn't it be easier if we could just ask Jesus, and hear what he has to say?

 No more fighting over the Book of Discipline. No more worship wars or wars over interpretation of Scripture. No wondering where to draw the lines, or whether it's possible to love the sinner and hate the sin, or what sins were supposed to be hating in the first place. No fighting over precious rocks or holy pieces of land, when Jesus keeps reminding us that God loves people, not places, and it's God's love that makes lives - not land - holy. Nobody marching off to kill their neighbors in Christ's name – because he'd not only put out a statement against it, he'd catch a plane and be there waiting, sitting with the very people we wanted to bomb. 

 Then again, perhaps I romanticize that possible world: because in the world Jesus was in, nobody wanted to listen to him, anyway. Greed and power and fear are powerful, even when God is standing right before your eyes. 

 So let me tell what I think the good news is for us today – because I do believe it's here. 

 The good news of the ascension is that Jesus leaves: not so God can be far, far away, but so God can be everywhere, all around us, and even within us. That's the promise of the Holy Spirit: that we don't have to wait for a press release, that we don't have to crawl up a holy mountain or wait in line to have our needs heard or our way revealed. God is with each one of us, in every moment of our lives – and in a much more powerful way than one man alone could ever have revealed God's omnipresence, God still really is with us, Emmanuel, always. 

 Jesus ascends, so God can be everywhere – and so God can be nowhere. And that, I think, is good news too. 

 So much of the trouble we get ourselves into in this world, so much of the violence and injustice and the bloodshed – it's done by people who claim to know, for certain, that God is on their side. And if Jesus was still here, physically present, in Israel or Palestine or Rome or the White House – can you even imagine the battles, the power struggles, the wars waged by all those who wanted to own him, to control him, or else to silence and shut him down?

 Even when Jesus was on earth, there was an inner circle, wasn't there? A group of people who were especially close, who could claim to know him better and have more unrestricted access than anyone else. All the crowds could hope for was a glance or a kind word – only a few really got to know him, and to be fully known. 

 But Jesus didn't come to set up another religious elite; he didn't come to establish just another set of us against them. 

 He came for everyone. He came for us all. 

 That's the good news of the ascension: that Christ is equally close to every human being on earth. His love isn't reserved for a chosen few, nor are his grace or his peace. If he stayed, we might never have realized just how broad – and just how powerful – his kingdom of love is. 

 Friends, I firmly believe that, if your understanding of God leads you to hatred, if it leads you to pray for the death of your enemies, if it allows you to stand by while innocents suffer, just so you can make a point – then you are not worshiping the God revealed in Jesus Christ. The voice whispering in your heart isn't the Holy Spirit, it's your own ego. The god you worship is an idol of your own making. 

 The Christ we follow is the one who welcomes children, who values women, who calls unlikely disciples and empowers them with his love. The Christ we follow is one who welcomes strangers and makes room for foreigners at his table, who heals the sick and feeds the hungry – not because they are worthy – but because they are in need. The Christ we follow blesses the poor and the mourning and the peacemakers, and he staked his life on the promise that God's love even conquers death. And he invites us to do the same. 

 We have not been abandoned today: we have been challenged to look around and find that Christ is still with us, in the faces of the children in our neighborhoods and the lonely widows up the street, in the faces of our friends who are sick, our neighbors who are hungry, in homes that are condemned, drinking water filled with lead, in ramshackle tents in refugee camps, washing dishes at our favorite restaurants... Christ has not left us; he is all around us, if only we have eyes to see and the courage to love him, still. 

 May we not be so busy staring into heaven that we miss the opportunities to meet Christ, and to serve Christ, all around us still today. 

  God, sometimes we wonder where you have gone. We feel abandoned; we feel forsaken. Our hearts are breaking; our very world is shaking itself apart – and you are so very far away; we start to wonder if you notice; we start to wonder if you even care. Forgive us, Lord, for all the times when we have claimed you as ours and ours alone – forgive us, Lord, for all the times we have been a part of violence in your name – by our action, by our inaction. Forgive us, Lord, for the times when we have failed to recognize you, and for all the times when we have tried to put limits on your love. Open our eyes. Open our hearts. Empower us, and guide us, by your Spirit. In the name of Christ, risen, ascended, with us still, we pray; amen.