#pAtrOniZing? you mean bellatrix lestrange?

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Warning: This chapter implies dark themes during Hermione’s passage, but it is very briefly mentioned and not graphic. If that bothers you please skip!

Chapter Twenty Seven

Harry’s initial shock seemed to wear by the time they were in the Transfiguration corridor. Before that, Ron had been silent, clear dead set on making it back to the tower unnoticed. 

This wouldn’t seem to be the case as the chosen one came to an abrupt stop. 

“Ron, I know where she is.” He spoke in a broken voice. 

All thoughts suddenly left his head. 

He could give a shit less if Malfoy marched up to them right now and hexed their bollocks off. If the entire Chudley Cannons team flew in and announced they’d won the World Cup, he wouldn’t even bat an eye. 

No, the only thing he could think of right now was Hermione. 

Seeing her again. Looking around a room and knowing she’s safe. Telling her all he wants to say. To hold her...

“W-what?” He chokes after a second. It’s the only coherent thing. 

“Sort of,” Harry adds in a whisper, suddenly feeling sorry for obviously getting Ron’s hopes up. “I’ll explain everything but not here. We need to find Neville and get back to the tower.” 

And if that’s what needed to be done for Ron to get some sort of bloody explanation, then you better believe that’s what he was dead set on now. 

Because of Draco's impromptu appearance at his dorm, they finished earlier than anticipated. Neville was surely still at the pitch doing all he could. Thankfully, they weren’t very far so they jogged outside for him. 

“Neville!” Harry called after spotting him in the stands, waving his arms manically. 

Neville looked shocked at their presence but tried to hide it as he clambered down the stands. 

“Harry, Ron, I thought you still had a half hour? Is everything alright?” He whispered worriedly. 

“Fine, it’s fine. Look, come on, I’ll tell you everything,” his green eyes flicked to Ron’s, “both of you, just not here.” 

Neville nodded anxiously as the three rushed hurriedly back to Gryffindor Tower. Soon enough, they reached their dorm as Ron was ready to burst in anticipation. 

“Okay Harry.” Ron said before Potter could even shut the door. 

He hurriedly ruffled through his robes and smacked the picture atop the nearest surface, someone’s trunk. 

Like before, the ginger can do nothing but stare at it in confusion. 

Neville voices as much, “I don’t understand...” 

Harry’s eyes lock with Ron’s. There’s a fire behind them, one he hasn’t seen since that day he ran after Bellatrix, vowing to avenge Sirius. 

“Do you remember Ron that night at the Burrow. That night it happened, I saw him, I saw Hermione.” He spoke rapidly. 

In response Weasley nodded, “yeah, he came twice. Once right after, once that night.” He recalled. 

“Do you remember what I said? When Mad-Eye asked who was there? What I saw?” He encouraged. 

Ron isn’t keen on the fact Harry’s trying to place guessing games rather than just blurt out an explanation, he supposes he’ll play along. “Yeah, you said it was just a big cold room.” Every detail of that night was burned into his brain and revisited often. 

The raven haired boy nodded in encouragement more than anything else, as he cocked an eyebrow. 

It was evident the chosen one was coaxing something out of him, “And...” he screwed his eyes in thoughts. Harry’s strangled voice echoing in his brain. 

“The only thing I remember was a chandelier. It was the only thing shining in the room, you couldn't miss it.”

“Blimey, a chandelier.” Ron almost laughed. So overcome with a sense of hope on the realization. 

A small smile struck Harry’s lips, “this,” he pointed to the photo, “this was the chandelier I saw.”

“So wherever the chandelier is, that’s where Hermione is, yeah?” Neville voiced, having caught on. 

Harry nodded vigorously. “That’s where I saw her.” 

The excitement that had been bubbling deep within them soon dropped, “only problem is, where is that chandelier.” The brunette Gryffindor whispered. 

At this Ron’s own hope seemed to dwindle a bit, but he wouldn’t let it stay that way for long. No, they were onto something, they had to be. 

Think Ron, think! What would Hermione do, come on...  

It came to him a minute later, “I saw that picture in The Prophet. Over the summer.” 

“Okay...” Harry said not really understanding where this was going. 

“There was an article on the lower corner of the same page. It mentioned Percy. Dad was right pissed off after he read it. He incendioed the damn paper. Said he couldn’t believe his own son was apart of such trash that he was sharing a page with the Malfoy’s.” He explained. 

“Ron?” His friend pushed again. 

“Every article, every picture, in The Prophet article cites a place, an author, a photographer. There has to be something.” 

“Mate you just said it yourself, your Dad set it on fire. Either way, I doubt your folks hoard The Prophet.” Harry reminded sounding a little defeated, but the spark was still evident. 

“You're right, they don’t,” he paused, “but the library does.” 

Neville’s face lit up like it was his Birthday, “he’s right! When we started up the D.A. last year, Hermione and I went through archives from the first war to pull pictures for the board. That’s brilliant Ron!” He exclaimed excitedly. 

They turned to Harry, gaging his reaction. Soon, a grin etched his way onto his lips, “what are we still doing here? Let’s go to the library.” 

They all began racing out. 

“Blimey, spending my night in the library. If only Hermione could see us now.” He whispered to himself. 

...

Her mind may be muddled but she isn’t stupid. Far from it. 

There’s a small crack in the cell next to hers, right on the ceiling. If she strains her ears enough she’s sometimes able to hear what they’re saying. 

“When?” She swears she hears Bellatrix ask. 

“Two nights. I need time to prepare. The Order has been around.” Voldemort hisses. 

“Of course my lord.” Hermione can visualize her bowing in compliance. 

“Until then, not a word of this to the girl, understand?” 

“Yes. Yes, of course. You have my word.” She hears Bellatrix promise. 

Hermione gulps as she hears the cracking of disapparating and stomping of boots from above. 

Painfully, she slinks back into the far corner to rest. It’s an absolute miracle she’s even conscious after everything upstairs. 

Teeth. Nails. His hands, oh god, don’t think- 

She screws her eyes in thought, pulling roughly at her shirt with her less injured hand. 

Her clothes are mangled and tattered. Practically shreds at this point. Her entire body is exposed and that alone makes chills dance along her spine. 

She doesn’t know if the blood covering the expanse of her most personal spots are a good or bad thing. Either way it makes her wretch. 

She hears footsteps come down the steps. The candle flickers on which makes her ease a bit. It only does that when Natali- no, Narcissa, comes down stairs. 

She takes a moment to berate herself. Maybe she’s not as smart as she once thought. 

Stupid, stupid mind, you’re supposed to be brilliant! She scolds, the voice in her head almost sounds like Bellatrix. 

She’s broken from her thoughts as a large clinging of metal practically makes her jump out of her skin. 

Hermione looks up to see the woman with a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in fear. 

Carefully Hermione surveys the room, trying to find what has her in such a state. 

She soon realizes it’s her. This causes her to self consciously throw her arm over her breasts. 

“Oh child, what did they do to you?” She cries out, dropping to her knees. 

The brunette cowers a little at her words, silent tears streak her cheeks. 

Like last night, she can tell Hermione needs comfort now more than ever, as Narcissa thoughtlessly throws open the bars and drops to her knees. 

Welcoming the soothing touch as opposed to the burning she gets when Greyback or anyone else touches her, she falls onto the woman’s shoulder. 

They sit like this for a while. Narcissa strokes her matted, disgusting hair, soothing her. 

It isn’t until Hermione calms down that she realizes Missus Malfoy has thrown her cloak around her frame. 

“They’re planning something. I don’t know what.” Narcissa tells her in an honest whisper, “it won’t be good for you.” She says next. 

And the words should really evoke some terrible fear deep within her, but they don’t. She’s just numb to the pain at this point. 

“Was it worth it?” She pulls away to look at Hermione’s dull, almost lifeless eyes, “was what you did today worth all this?” Narcissa has to know. She’s not patronizing her, she’s just trying to understand. 

Momentarily she can see a spark in the young witch's eyes as she nods. 

“W-worth e-everything.” She stutters out, having trust that Harry was doing something. Anything. 

All the days she’s spent here she’s felt useless. Like some damsel in distress waiting for her prince to come get her out, but today was different. Today she felt like she controlled her own fate, if even a small portion. 

The consequences were dreadful, unbearable, but in that moment when she called for Harry, she felt like herself again. If only for a second. 

She hasn’t felt that way in weeks. 

Narcissa nodded at her words and then returned to hugging her small frame. 

Neither knew that what Hermione did today would cost her nearly everything.

…

Madam Pince gave them no trouble when they requested the archives. Ron imagines it’s pretty empty here considering it’s most common occupant has been away. 

The book is an enchanted one. You tell it a date or just a general period time and it’ll open to the exact copy from the requested time. 

Harry currently had it in front of him at the table. 

“What do we say?” He asked, eyeing it curiously. 

Ron thinks, “well, the article was over the summer. It was after school, but before Hermione arrived. So I reckon it was between a two week period.” He thinks aloud before deciding, “The Daily Prophet, June Twenty-Seventh 1996.” He told it. 

Suddenly it’s pages fluttered to life, lightly ruffling the boys’ hair as it flicked hurriedly. It stopped after a few moments with a large headline labeled, ‘Dumbledore due to Retire after Ministry Break-In!’

“Rubbish.” Neville mumbled reading it. 

Knowing this wasn’t it, he told the book to keep flipping. 

Most of the headlines were shite. All boasting about how wonderful the ministry is, how awful  Hogwarts is, even mentions of Harry. 

‘The Boy Who Lies, Again!’ The title for June thirtieth read with a picture of Harry from the Ministry. 

Upon seeing that, Ron only hurried his calls to the book. 

“Next day!” Nope. “Next Day!” Another page down. 

Just as he prepared to call for it to move on, Neville yelled out, “stop!” 

His blue eyes peeled from Harry and to the book. In front of them sat the picture of the Malfoy’s, above it read ‘Malfoy Mentality’ in thick capital letters. 

For good measure Harry shakily held up the photo from the dorm next to it. 

A complete match. 

Wordlessly, the three moved closer and anxiously began to read the contents of the article. 

It was a load of rubbish. Just going on and on about how the Malfoy’s manage to remain so respectable during these times (their words not his). A few quotes from Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were also sprinkled about. 

Ron can’t say he was shocked when the whole article was written by one Rita Skeeter. Even more maddening, not once did they talk about wherever the hell that picture was. 

Next, he flashed his eyes to the photo in question, squinting to make out the small font underneath it. 

Photographed by-

“Balthasar Bartolo Brimblehawk!” Neville yells out, causing someone to shush him from nearby. 

He flushes red and drops into a whisper, “Brimblehawk, I know him.” He tells them. 

“You do?” Harry asked, astonished at their luck. It’s almost as if they raised Slughorn’s stash of Felix Felicis prior to coming here. 

He nods a little madly, “he was a big deal way back then, with The Order and all. Those pictures, the ones we had from the D.A. I reckon he took all of those.” 

“Then why the hell is he now taking pictures of the Malfoy’s?” Ron asks before he can help it. 

Neville goes on, “he took my parents wedding photos, my Gran’s too. He even took some photos of me when I was little, my Gran owl’s him from time to time. Last Easter she was having tea with Mrs.Criswell and I heard them talking. I mean normally it’s just gossip mind you, you know about other women or-“

“Neville.” Ron says gently, trying to steer him on track.  

“Right. Sorry.” He says, “anyway, I zoned in because they mentioned You-Know-Who. When The Prophet had their little, uh, change, they wanted only the best. Brimblehawk is the best photographer for this type of thing I reckon, war times and all.” 

“But?” Harry interjected knowing it was coming. 

Sadly, Neville nodded, “but, apparently he refused to be a part of it. Next day his shop was broken into, ransacked. They never said who it was, of course one can only assume...” he trailed, “scared for him and his grandkids, he agreed to do work for them. Reckon he didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“Bugger.” Ron mumbled. He wasn’t naive, he knew how wars worked. His Mum lost her brothers to the last one, but it didn’t make the fact innocent people. People like Brimblehawk, like Hermione, were paying the prince. 

“Last I heard he stills develops photos from time to time down at his shop, he lives above it. Heard he takes less pictures now because of everything, plus he’s rather old, probably around Dumbledore’s age now.” Neville finished with a shrug. 

“And could you get in contact with him? Your Gran maybe?” Harry questioned anxiously. 

He sighed and shook his head, “If I sent an owl he’d surely be confused, tell me Gran and all. Then my Gran would demand answers, well, you know how that goes. I don’t wanna ruin this whole thing, it’s a bit of a secret.” 

“Yeah a bit.” Ron scoffed sarcastically. 

The dark haired boy monetarily glared at his friend, “okay, so that’s out of question, I think face to face interaction would be best. Where’d you say his shop was?” He asked. 

Neville looked a little defeated, “I didn’t. It’s in Diagon Alley.” 

“Diagon Alley! The next time we’ll be allowed over there is Easter holidays. I can’t wait that long!” Ron exclaimed in a harsh whisper. 

“I know, shite.” Harry mumbled, nibbling nervously on his finger nails. 

“Maybe someone else could? I mean, you guys said McGonagall and Dumbledore-“ the brunette started. 

“No.” Harry dismissed, “they’d ask too many questions. If too many people knew, word could get back to whoever has her. They could move her. We need someone who understands how important this is. Someone who knows Hermione as more than the Brightest Witch of our Age.” 

“Who?” Neville asks after a moment, thinking the chosen one was onto something. 

Harry didn’t speak, but Ron did. 

“Fred and George.”

[romioneficfest]

Soul Searching

Title: Soul Searching

Prompt/Summary: Hermione admits she was wrong.

Rating: K

Name:

Brief Summary: Hermione admits the way she went about House Elf rights when she was younger wasn’t quite how she should have handled things.

Content Warning: None

Notes: This is very AU and contains an in-depth discussion of house-elf rights.

“You know, Ron,” she said quietly, “you were right and I was wrong.”

Blimey, the Hermione Granger he knew never admitted she was wrong! Ron looked at her with trepidation.

“Um, uh, are you a pod person that’s taken over my girlfriend’s body?” They had watched a Muggle movie called The Invasion of the Body-Snatchers a couple days ago.

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“I stand by my position that house-elves have a right to freedom,” she explained, “But I was wrong to try and hide those hats in the Gryffindor common room and trick the school house-elves into picking them up. And you were right to call me out on it. It was underhanded and very patronizing of me. I never asked them what they wanted, not even once. I fell short of my high ideals of equality and fairness and justice and…No wonder they were all so offended!”

Ron’s mouth closed with an audible snap.

“Don’t feel too bad, sweetheart,” He said gently. “Everyone fucks up. And I reckon we’ve both got a lot to learn about house-elves. I didn’t even see how rough they had it until you pointed it out!”

The words seemed to calm her down. A small hand slipped into his as they walked along the beach of Shell Cottage. The setting sun blazed and glowed the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor, like a phoenix soaring over the horizon.

“House-elves are oppressed,” Hermione mused. “and any legitimate movement for social change has to center their struggle and prioritize their right to self-determination. But I was wrong…I should have known better than to think I knew better than them. I see now that I have no right to tell them what their liberation should look like, or what their relationship to their traditional occupation should be.”

She sighed, and placed her hands over her temples. “As a witch and member of the very class that oppresses them, I was way out of line. And I honestly don’t know how to fix it.”

“Hermione, we’ve been over this before,” Ron said patiently. “you can’t be right all the time. None of us can. You wouldn’t be human if you could! And sometimes, there are no easy answers. Life isn’t a textbook, you know, it doesn’t come with an answer key at the back. Even the house-elves can’t seem to agree what’s best for them. And to be honest, we wizards and witches are so loud we kind of drown them out.”

They were silent for a while. Ron and Hermione were both haunted by Dobby’s near-death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. But the elf had largely recovered from his injuries, thanks to the devoted care of Harry and surprisingly, Winky. Winky and Dobby had hated each other for a long time, due to their vastly different stances on house-elf rights. Still, Dobby was a hero of the War and highly respected by his people. Her friendship with Dobby helped Winky sober up and get over being dismissed by Mr. Crouch. Ron still didn’t get what she’d seen in the crusty old geezer, but he was glad to see she’d finally moved on with her life.

Hermione gave a watery smile. “Dobby and Winky’s political stances are not as opposed as they seem. Both of them support better working conditions for their people, and neither of them condone actual abuse at the hands of humans. It’s just that Winky has a lot of pride in her people’s traditional occupation of domestic labor. And we have to admit that labor has value and is important! Essential, even. Most of the wizarding world runs on it.”

“I mean, only rich people can afford house-elves,” Ron said, “my family hasn’t had one in like, centuries. But Hogwarts would be shot without them, that’s for sure. And I’m pretty sure the Malfoys would starve to death without them.”

“Isn’t it odd that much of the wizarding world can be so dependent on another race of beings and yet so contemptuous of them?” Hermione wondered. “The Death Eaters didn’t emerge in a vacuum. The systems of oppression that produced them are still with us in the form of violence against house-elves, Muggle-borns, werewolves, and goblins.”

His girlfriend used a lot of big words, especially when discussing her grand social theories about the world. But Ron always got the gist of what she was saying. He’d been around her long enough.

“Hermione,” Ron said in a low voice. “You got seven Os on all your NEWTS! Seven Os. That’s kind of a big deal. You could be anything you want. But you always said you wanted to do some good in the world. So why don’t you make SPEW a full-time thing and fight for the rights of these people? I think you’d be good at it. You’ve just gotta be sure you involve them and stay in touch with what they want.”

She looked up at him, startled.

“You don’t think it would be stupid?”

“Of course not! I became an Auror for you, remember? And I’d work double-time to support you if that’s what it took.”

He couldn’t really blame his girlfriend for doubting him on this stuff. Sometimes, he still wondered what she saw in a boor like him. Ron felt twinges of shame for the things he’d said about SPEW before the war. Auror training taught him that hatred and bigotry were powerful sources of Dark magic. Voldemort’s soul had been a shitty, rotten, maggot-filled cesspool of both. No wonder the twisted old snake had wanted to tear it apart.

George had offered him a post at the joke shop, but in the end, Ron couldn’t bring himself to replace Fred. He just couldn’t. Losing Fred had felt like losing a limb. Ron let the pain fuel him for his next round with the Death Eaters. He clenched his teeth and fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I swear, Hermione,” he growled, “I won’t rest until every single Death Eater and all the fuckers who sucked up to them are brought to justice.”

Hermione glowed, her face shining bright like moonbeams and starlight and all that mushy and dramatic bullshit he didn’t get. “I know you won’t.”

She curled into him. His face was very warm, and he could feel it turning as red as his hair. Ron swallowed hard and held her against his chest, feeling like one of the gallant knights in the stories his mum used to tell him. It was a damn fine feeling, he decided.

“I think I’m going to take your advice. My parents want me to apply for a post in the Ministry, but I think it’s as much my destiny to be an activist as it’s yours to be an Auror.”

The stars sparkled above them like a diamond in a wedding ring.

“I have a confession to make,” Hermione whispered.

“Oh, yeah?”

“When we were at school, I had a crush on you for so long that I was afraid of what would happen when we finally got together. My greatest fear was that we didn’t share the same values, and that it would drive us apart. I don’t have that fear anymore.”

“I was afraid of fucking us up, too,” he admitted quietly.

“You know, there’s a Muggle saying I once read in a book,” Hermione said. “Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.”

Ron thought of the final battle of Hogwarts, when he’d been the one to remember the house-elves and warn them to leave the kitchen for their safety. They all fought valiantly at Harry’s side to protect the school and defeat Voldemort. His girlfriend was a tough witch to impress, but he knew he’d got through to her that night. He thought of how proud he and Hermione were of Harry, who’d fulfilled the prophecy and become the first DADA Professor in many decades to last more than one year in the post.

“Well, sweetheart, that sure does sound like us.”

Hermione beamed brightly up at him and snuggled closer. “Thank you, Ron. Thank you for supporting me in the cause we both believe in.”

The sun slipped over the horizon, and the blue water splashed onto the powdery white sand of the beach. Hermione’s face turned up like a flower in spring, and she raised her lips to his. Ron felt his mind go blank at the taste of her cherry-red mouth. He didn’t want to ruin it by talking, so he lifted her clean off the ground, just as he’d done for their first kiss. Hermione’s bushy brown hair tumbled across his face, smelling all sweet and fresh like new parchment and freshly mowed grass and the perfume he’d bought her long ago. And she giggled into the kiss. Ron had wanted this for half his bloody life, but he knew then he would never get enough.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

2,6,7,10,12,15,18,20-🌹

2. what fandoms were apart of that you aren’t any longer? 

I was obsessed with, and I mean obsessed, with Primeval but, like, does anyone even know what that is? It was a low budget, British TV show about Dinosaurs that ran from 2007-2011 and it was everything to me. Claudia & Nick should have been endgame.

6.  do you read fanfiction? If so, do you have any favorite authors or fics?

Yep, yep, yep. So it was Primeval that got me into ff, funnily enough, and nikkimurray over on fanfic.net was my absolute favourite. My favourite authors for Criminal Minds are @themetaphorgirl​ <3 (go check out Patron Saint) and crazygal27 over on fanfic. She writes Emily so well and it breaks me. 

7.  name a character you wouldn’t mind naming someone after.

This is so funny because I was literally talking to my friend about this the other day. So, Emily was on my baby name list from like...the moment I had an awareness of babies. Then I met a girl in high school called Emily and did not want to name my baby after her. In the meantime, I decided Aaron was a great baby boy name. And now I wanna call my little girl Emily again. But I CANNOT call my kids Emily and Aaron. But I would totally name my child after Emily Prentiss because that badass energy is everything I want for my kids.

10.  characters that deserved worse? >:]

This is honestly really difficult. Bellatrix Lestrange comes to mind. She deserved to hurt for what she did to Neville’s parents.

Within the CM universe; Hastings. Hastings deserved worse. 

12.  if you could change one ending to a book/show/game/etc, what would you change about it?

Anyone who has read Red Queen, I just wanted Mare and Cal to be happy. Evangeline’s ending, however, definitely makes up for this. We stan a metal-weilding lesbian heiress who helps kill her abusive parents. 

Also, Game of Thrones, but I’m not going there.

15. does it bother you if a character shares the same name of someone you know well?

I’ve never really thought about it, and now that I’m thinking I can’t think of a single person I know really well or am close to who shares the name of a character I love or one I really dislike. So, no, I don’t think it bothers me at all.

18.  characters you want to wrap in a blanket and tell them they’re going to be okay? 

Uh, the whole BAU team, but that goes without saying - although specifically Emily in ‘Lauren’, when she’s listening to Penny’s voicemail and she does the little nod. The little nod. It breaks my every time.

13 year old Derek Morgan.

Baby Spencer, within all of @themetaphorgirls writing.

Piper Halliwell, immediately after Prue dies, always breaks my heart.  

Addison Shepherd when she gets told she can’t have a baby.

Theo Crain when she can’t feel anything after she touches Nell’s dead body.

The. List. Goes. On. 

20.  name a song that reminds you heavily of a specific fandom or character.

I always go with ‘As it Seems’ by Lily Kershaw, for CM. The lyrics just fit so well with the context of the scene, and the season, and Emily’s departure. I can’t listen to it without getting weepy. 

Also, ‘Young and Beautiful’ by Lana Del Rey, for Narcissa Malfoy, another fave of mine. 

Thank you for the asks rose-nonny <3 <3 

Ask me something

[sheweapon]

( 📺 for me to use a line from the last TV show I watched as a starter ----- from new amsterdam ) ---- @marvmacdonald​

“ if the system can’t handle the little things, then it certainly won’t notice the big ones, “ she says, a smile tingeing her words, making them sound softer. as if she’s speaking to a puppy ---- a sweet thing, below her. to bellatrix, that is what the young aurors are. small and sweet and funny - for a while. but all toys must be put down, eventually. but not quite yet. “ or do you think the auror department is being run efficiently? “ she asks, surprise spilling from her voice, an eyebrow quirking in query. the smile never disappears from her lips. “ under a bones ? “ 

[meggonagall]

Saving Severus Snape - Chapter 3

1st September 1976 Hermione woke the following day, and for a moment, completely forgot where she was. It took her a few seconds to remember that she had slept in the Ravenclaw dormitories, twenty-two years in the past. She sat up, wiped her eyes sleepily and felt her heart rate pick up, as she thought of the evening ahead of her. It was the first of September, which meant that a train full of students, who were adults in her time, would be arriving at Hogwarts. James Potter, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and – the person who she was the most apprehensive about seeing – Severus Snape would be on that train. As her pulse accelerated even more at the thought, she heard and felt her stomach rumble, despite her nerves. She had not eaten since she, Ron and Harry were taken into the Hog’s Head, by Aberforth Dumbledore, the night of the battle. She got out of bed slowly, put back on the clothing she had worn for the last two days, and thought it was a good thing Dumbledore had cleaned them for her. Hermione looked down at the hooded sweatshirt and jeans ensemble she was wearing and thought that she did not look too inappropriate for the time period she was currently in, which was comforting since she would have to venture into town to purchase things she would need. The clothing and other items Dumbledore was not able to provide her with. As she walked over to her trunk, to retrieve the pouch of money Dumbledore had given her, her stomach growled once more and she placed her hand on it. Where do I go to eat? I don’t think The Great Hall would work, as there are no students except me here. Maybe I’ll just get something in Hogsmeade, she thought. 

Still having her beaded bag with her, she put the pouch inside it, stuffed her wand in her front pocket and walked out of the dorm, through the common room and out onto the stairs. As she walked down them she realized, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, she had slept in quite late. It must had been early afternoon at that point. She walked through the silent castle, not seeing anyone on her journey out of the entrance hall, and into the grounds. Upon arriving outside, she stopped for a moment, to take in her surroundings. The sky was mostly cloudy, the sun barely peeked out through breaks in the clouds and the wind blew softly, throwing off the musky scents of late summer. She looked around at the scenery in front of her, still amazed that, for her, everything here was just blown apart and destroyed. Shaking the thoughts of war from her head, Hermione took a deep breath and started her walk towards Hogsmeade. The journey down seemed to take twice as long alone, which was not a good thing for her. It gave her more time to get lost inside her head. Okay, so this evening… Don’t speak to anyone unless they speak to you first. Do not bring attention to yourself. She kicked a rock in frustration. Oh, of course people are going to speak to you! You’re new. Different. An object of curiosity. How are you not going to draw attention to yourself? Just simply being here will be enough for everyone to notice you. As the skyline of the familiar village grew nearer, her anxiety reached its highest point yet. She knew that it would be best if she did not stand out, but she honestly couldn’t figure out a way to achieve that. There was simply no way that she would be able to stop herself from being remembered by some of those students. Surely the girls who she would share a dorm with would recognize her in the future? Should she change her appearance? No, that won’t work. Madam Pomfrey has already seen me. How in the world would I explain that? If only Dumbledore didn’t bring me to the Hospital Wing… While she entered the village, and made her way to The Three Broomsticks, she tried to think of any way she could alter herself, without making it too obvious to Madam Pomfrey, but enough to look a bit different. Girls dye their hair all the time. I could, perhaps, change the color of my hair, she considered as she opened the door to the pub. When she walked inside, Hermione’s shoulders immediately relaxed and she exhaled in relief. The pub was relatively empty. Only a handful of witches and wizards were scattered around at different tables. She looked behind the bar and saw a very young  and – as much as she hated to admit it – extremely beautiful, Madam Rosmerta cleaning a glass and smiling kindly at her. Hermione gave a tight grin in return and briskly made her way to an empty table in the back corner of the room. She pulled out a chair and sat against the wall, facing the entrance. So many months on the run and constantly looking over her shoulder left her with the feeling of not keeping her back to a door. She slouched down low in her seat, tried to remain unseen and continued thinking of ways she could keep her identity concealed. Her concentration broke when she was approached by the statuesque barmaid, who was basically just walking, talking legs and breast. Old habits die hard, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of jealously while she took in the friendly smile of the woman in front of her. “Hello, dear!” Rosmerta greeted warmly. “Hello,” Hermione mumbled. “Can I get you something?” She flashed a brilliant smile while holding a quill and pad. Hermione, who tried to avoid eye contact, ordered a Butterbeer and a sandwich. After Rosmerta took her order and sashayed away – with a few of the wizards’ eyes following her short black skirt – Hermione reached into her beaded bag and pulled out a book to read. Her eyes didn’t really take in the words as they scrolled across the page. She was distracted by the sounds of whispered conversations, glasses slammed onto tables and silverware clanging on plates. She peered over the top of her book and looked around at the patrons in front of her. It was a painfully familiar scene. The way the people were conversing; quietly, looking over their shoulders, sideways glancing. It was obvious; the first Wizarding War was in its infancy. As she observed the tense atmosphere around her, Rosmerta returned with her food and drink. “Here you go,” she said as she placed them in front of Hermione. Hermione gently placed her book on the table and chanced looking her in the eye. “Thank you,” she replied softly. Rosmerta eyed Hermione curiously. “You look a bit young to be on your own, dear. Like you could still be at Hogwarts,” she said. Being taken aback by her bluntness, Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. “I – er – Well.” “I don’t mean to pry,” Rosmerta said, smiling. “It’s just not exactly safe to be travelling alone at the moment.” Hermione couldn’t help but notice that there was nothing but compassion in Rosmerta’s eyes. She shook her head. “No it’s alright. I understand,” Hermione reassured her. “I am at Hogwarts, actually.” “Oh!” Rosmerta looked confused and a bit surprised. “I assumed the students still arrived on the train.” “They – I mean – we do,” Hermione confirmed. Rosmerta’s eyebrows knitted together. “I arrived yesterday,” Hermione continued. “I’ve never attended Hogwarts before - I was home-schooled - but I will be finishing my final two years there. My uncle is the Headmaster and has agreed to admit me. I wanted to have the opportunity to take my NEWTs.” Hermione felt her face heat up as she lied and wished that Rosmerta would just leave her to eat in peace. Sadly, the opposite happened. Rosmerta pulled out a chair and sat down with her. “Oh, you’re Dumbledore’s niece? How lovely!” she exclaimed and held out her hand. “I’m Rosmerta, dear. Your uncle is a wonderful man.” Hermione took her hand and returned her handshake. “Nice to meet you,” she muttered. “I’m Hermione Devereux.” Rosmerta remained at the table with her while Hermione ate her lunch. She told Hermione how her father owned the pub and would one day leave it to her, gave her advice about Hogwarts – as Rosmerta had only left the school two years ago – told her stories of some of the students. She went on for nearly ten minutes about two young trouble makers – Sirius Black and James Potter. Hermione noticed Rosmerta blush a bit as she spoke about Sirius, which made her almost choke on her Butterbeer. It seemed the curvy barmaid harbored a sweet spot for her best friend’s godfather and it made her wonder if Sirius really was as charming as he was rumored to be, when he was young. Before Azkaban hollowed him and death claimed him. Hermione shivered at the thought. When Hermione had finished eating and pulled out money to pay for her meal, Rosmerta waved her off. “No, no, Hermione! It has been such a pleasure speaking with you. It’s on me!” she insisted. “I couldn’t possibly-“ “Really. It’s nothing at all. Your money is no good here,” Rosmerta winked. Hermione, who never really liked Rosmerta – mostly due to Ron’s infatuation with her – was touched by her kind generosity. She smiled a genuinely thankful one and put her money back in her beaded bag. “Thank you, Rosmerta. That is truly very nice of you.” “Don’t mention it. Just make sure during your next Hogsmeade visit, you stop in and visit. I really enjoyed speaking with you,” Rosmerta told her, as she started to gather Hermione’s empty plate and cup. So much for not leaving an impression on anyone, Hermione internally grumbled. “Absolutely. It was really lovely speaking with you as well,” she replied, a bit more cheerfully than usual for her. After Hermione and Rosmerta said their final goodbyes, Hermione gathered her things and started to leave the pub. When she opened the door her bag dropped to the floor and bent down to pick it up. As she stood up, she ran right into a woman who made the hairs on her arms stand up and bile rise in her throat. A young Bellatrix Lestrange. Azkaban had really done a number on the stunning young woman in front of her, she realized. Bellatrix’s hair was long, jet black, shiny and full. Her teeth – as she bared them at Hermione – were white and straight. Her face was full and flush, the sunken in cheeks and dark circles under her eyes missing. She was tall, lean and dressed impeccably. The woman was as gorgeous as she was terrifying. “Watch where you’re going, filth!” Bellatrix spat at her. She looked like her hand was reaching for her wand. “I – I’m so sorry,” Hermione barely choked out. Just as Bellatrix looked like she was about to rip Hermione apart – either verbally or magically – a pale hand with long slender fingers gripped her upper arm. Hermione truly felt like she was about to lose her lunch upon hearing the smooth silky voice that belonged to the man holding onto Bellatrix. “Now, now, Bella. Surely we mustn’t lose our temper at every small incident,” Lucius Malfoy gently scolded. Bellatrix snorted in disagreement and ripped her arm out of his hold. She walked past Hermione, and made sure she slammed her shoulder into Hermione as she passed. An identical replica of Draco then stood before her; blond hair, straight nose, grey eyes, pointed chin and an unmistakable aura of wealth. The only difference between Draco and his father was Lucius’ long, shoulder-length hair. Hermione was still frozen. “Please excuse my sister-in-law,” his lip curled around the title, as if it highly displeased him. “N-No problem,” Hermione said softly. “If you’ll excuse me.” She ducked around Lucius and hurried out of the pub as quickly as she could, without flat out running. She nearly jogged down the street, and took a turn between two buildings. As she stood with her back against a wall and tried to catch her breath, she unconsciously cupped the inside of her left forearm with her right hand. It was where Mudblood had been carved into Hermione’s arm – by Bellatrix –  just a few short weeks before. Seeing Bellatrix, or Lucius Malfoy, was nothing she anticipated. She was aware they were a few years older than Harry’s parents and Professor Snape, so she knew there would be no chance of running into them at the school. She felt foolish for not even thinking about them being in Hogsmeade. Of course there was the possibility of running into them there – or any of the Death Eaters. Hermione remained in that spot for nearly five minutes while she calmed herself down. She figured she should get her shopping done as quickly as possible, so she didn’t run into them once more. Something told her that Bellatrix may not be as lenient with her a second time. With an hour to spare – before the students arrived – Hermione was back in the Ravenclaw dormitories, changing into her school robes. She took the miniature boxes, which she had transfigured to a tenth of their actual size, out of her bag and returned them to normal. She was very surprised to find a specialty shop in Hogsmeade which sold Muggle clothing – it did not exist in her time. She was able to find a few time-appropriate outfits, undergarments and a few accessories for her stay here. There was also a shop that sold school uniforms that she had purchased some items from. As she put her new clothing away in her wardrobe, her stomach was in knots. It would not be much longer until she would see so many people she had known. People who had died. She had been through a lot in her short life, but she knew nothing would compare with what was to come. Her nerves began to overwhelm her. Her palms were sweating, her heart felt like it was beating in her throat, she shook from head to toe, and she started to feel a bit dizzy. She sat down on the edge of her bed and placed her head in her hands. Breathe, Hermione. Just breathe. She began to give herself a pep-talk. You can do this. Yes, it will be quite a shock seeing James and Lily. You know that is going to be the biggest shock of them all. And seeing a young Professor Snape is going to be just…odd. But you can do this. Hermione got up and walked into the bathroom. She took out her wand, and using a Glamour Charm, she changed her hair to be long, poker-straight and a deep black. After that, she lifted up her left sleeve and made her scar disappear. If she were to pretend she was not a Muggle-born, it would not be ideal for someone to see what was carved into her arm. She looked into the mirror and was pleased with the results of the charm. She still looked like herself, but not quite; exactly what she hoped to achieve. After one last glance at herself she squared her shoulders and left the bathroom. She continued to repeat her mantra of, You can do this, as she forced herself to walk out of the dorm and through the common room. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she wasn’t sure if she should arrive into the Great Hall with Dumbledore, or try to filter in with the rest of the students. She stood in the corridor and shifted her weight back and forth, each time she changed her decision. Finally she made up her mind and walked towards the Great Hall on her own. On her way down she began to hear the excited babble from the students who now just arrived. She stopped dead at the sound. Fear paralyzed her. Deep breaths. Come on. You know you can do this! She forced her feet to move again and continued her slow walk towards the oncoming students. As she turned a corner, she saw them – the students. She almost stopped once more, but something inside her forced her to keep moving. A few girls stopped at the sight of her, whispered to one another, and continued on their way, giggling. Hermione kept her head down and marched straight into the hall, right behind them. She spotted the Ravenclaw table and quickly sat down all the way at the end, and took the nearest seat to the exit. Even though she planned on not looking around, her curiosity got the best of her. She watched the students as they filed in and began to recognize some faces. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she saw a very young, extremely handsome, blond wizard with a wide, gorgeous smile and sparkling blue eyes strut in and sit down, a few spaces away from her at the Ravenclaw table. It was Professor Lockhart. Wow… Hermione thought as she looked at him. Lockhart caught her staring and offered her a wink and a smile. Hermione blushed and put her head down, then suddenly remembered how he looked when she, Harry, Ron and Ginny saw him at St. Mungo’s on Christmas their fifth year. Her smile quickly disappeared. More and more students filtered in, all laughing and catching up from the summer apart from one another. Ravenclaw table was nearly full, as were the rest of the tables, yet she still hadn’t seen the people she was the most nervous about. After a few more moments she heard loud laughter behind her, then the sound of someone falling to the ground. Four boys stood around a huddled figure, who was sprawled out on the floor in front of them, his things scattered everywhere. “Oops! Sorry, Snivelly! Didn’t see you there,” a gorgeous young man, who Hermione immediately recognized, yelled and let out a bark-like laugh. It was obvious, by the tone of his voice, that he absolutely did see the boy he knocked to the ground. Two of the other boys laughed, one of which – who was wearing glasses and looked strikingly like her best friend – clapped his hand on the handsome boy’s shoulder. They were both extremely good-looking, Hermione thought. Sirius was tall, tan, muscular, had playful grey eyes, and a mischievous grin. The Harry lookalike she knew was James. The only differences were his hair was a bit longer, he had hazel eyes and he was obviously missing a scar. James was a bit more built than Harry and maybe a tad taller. The other boy who laughed she knew was Peter. He was every bit as unremarkable in his youth as he was as an adult. He was short and chubby with messy, sandy hair and watery brown eyes. He had a very unattractive laugh; it was more like a cackle. It made Hermione’s skin crawl. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Remus. Hermione thought that James would have been a bigger shock for her, but now that she was looking at him, it was Remus who surprised her the most. He had some scars on his face, but nowhere near as many as he did in her time. His blond hair was thick, shiny and down to his shoulders. But what was most different about him was his eyes. They were wide, golden and full of life. She never realized how dead his eyes had looked in her time, until she saw them then, while he was young. Hermione couldn’t take her eyes from them all. “He probably slipped on the grease that’s falling from his hair,” James laughed as he kicked the boy on the floor’s wand away. “James…” Remus warned. “Wha-“ “James Potter!” a girl shrieked from behind them. James went rigid; his eyes wide and fearful. “Uh oh. Warden’s here,” Sirius joked and walked quickly towards the Gryffindor table. Peter took off after him and Remus shook his head, then followed the other two boys. “James!” the girl yelled again. “Bloody hell,” Hermione heard James mutter. She watched him turn around slowly. “Yes Lily?” Lily? Really? All of them at once?! Hermione complained in her head. While Hermione stared at the beautiful red-headed girl - who was berating James for bullying yet another student - she almost forgot about the boy on the floor, until he stirred and stood up. Hermione stopped breathing. Lily’s eyes narrowed when she seemed to recognized the boy. “Oh…never mind, James,” she said coolly before she turned her back on the two of them and went to join the rest of the Gryffindors. “Lily! Wait!” James yelled and ran after Lily, but Hermione’s eyes were still on the boy who just stood up. There was no mistaking him. Long curtains of black hair, a long, hooked nose and deep black eyes, with a look of utter loathing in them as they followed James’ and Lily’s retreating figures. It was Snape.

[knightofwalpvrgis]

The Wizarding World and General Fandom Rant

I hope this comes out as eloquently as I’ve been thinking it up in my head, but I I fear I’ve already failed with my first sentence. My fury at the respect given to The Wizarding World fandom and the works it’s grown from has reached a fever pitch, and what I’m angry about is multi-faceted and quite complex, so please bear with me while I try to explain it in some reasonably sane way.

I’ve realized that, to be honest, a lot of people do not respect the Harry Potter stories and the world it created. They don’t. And among a very large size of the population, that ignorance and that disrespect is promoted. Forgive me for being over-dramatic, but the stories are patronized and trivialized to an astonishingly laughable and horribly shocking extent, you’d almost think it was vendetta-ized, and it partially is. My irritation and my seeming irrationality comes from the fact that (with full respect to other fandoms,) The Wizarding World is the last fandom/extended universe to deserve this kind of treatment. 

I hate the fact that I even have to argue a point that I think is proved by The Wizarding World IP already: That this franchise is astonishingly mature for a four quadrant piece of branded, commercial fantasy entertainment. It’s overall very stylistically dark and gritty, thematically heavy, disturbing, and complex, contextually violent and shocking, and, in a narrative sense, extremely ambitious and groundbreaking. It takes risks where other IP’s don’t. It’s a coming of age epic that translates and segues into a global conflict/drama, that manages to hang onto personal and intimate storytelling, rather than blow every plot element out of proportion with ridiculously cosmic effects and plot elements a la Star Wars, or Marvel, allowing the content to be moving, upsetting, affecting, and deeply life-changing. It is, despite so many people’s insulting trivializations, a modern classic, in my opinion. From every facet you look at it, its hardly indistinguishable from adult fantasy, and that’s because Rowling created it for adults as much as she did a younger audience of teenagers or even tweens. No one is saying its the best intellectual property ever to grace this earth, but it is supremely intellectual and truthful and important for modern IP, and that, to me, is obvious. From an aesthetic and stylistic standpoint to a deeper thematic one.

Yet so many people, including those within the fandom, I will add, seem to never want to represent it as this, or give it any of the credit they would give any other film or book forg maintaining even a quarter of the gravitas Harry Potter has. In the case of Harry Potter and J.K. Rowling’s Wizarding World, no one ever addresses anything meaningful within the series. It’s always torn down, placed on a lower shelf, and even actively pushed aside by people hoping to exclude and already biblically popular story from the cultural consciousness.

What I mean by this is as follows:

1) What is Harry Potter known for?: Think about it. What is the first thing that someone who doesn’t have a very good knowledge of The Wizarding World going to associate with the series? If my time spent outside the fandom is any indication (lol, I live here,) it’s all irrelevancies. Ignorant journalists forced to publish and editorial on the Potter fandom use universally known photos from irrelevant scenes of a fresh faced, geeky looking Harry James Potter from film 1 because that’s the only face of the story they’re familiar with. Often, it seems oddly intentional. Journalists often seem to write about Potter with as patronizing a tone as possible. Repeatedly associating the fandom and the story with geeky, awkward first film promotional photos and rare cartoons of Harry from some once-published 2014 commonwealth re-release or that old Goblet of Fire cover is an easy way to undermine the strength of the story, and it’s not something you see done to any other property.

But also, what do people talk about when Harry Potter comes up? People might bring up the melodramatic “Luke, I am your father” quote from Star Wars, “You Shall Not Pass,” from Lord of The Rings or the heart-ripping scene from Indiana Jones, but with Harry Potter, people only seem to be able to mumble out a screed of irrelevancies, typically consisting of “10 points to Gryffindor, Bertie Bott’s Beans, and Quidditch,”...that’s shameful. Here’s a list of things that are hardly associated with the Wizarding World brand despite the fact that they extend far beyond a few symbols of innocence/world building details from the first book:

The Death Eaters, The Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s Army, The unforgivable curses, The Philosophers stone, The Chamber of Secrets, Sirius Black and the Marauders, the Sacred Twenty Eight and the House of Black, Draco Malfoy and the Malfoy Family, Peter Pettigrew and his betrayals, Lily and James’ Heartbreaking romance, The First and Second Wizarding Wars, The Goblet of Fire, The Triwizard Tournament, and the Rebirth of Voldemort, The Battle of the Astronomy Tower, Department of Mysteries, the Seven Potters, and Hogwarts, Gringott’s Wizarding Bank, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, The Dark Mark, Albus Dumbledore’s tragic past, Lord Voldemort and his entire back story, Dolores Umbridge and the corrupt ministry of magic, Horcruxes, divination, prophecies, and seers, Sybill Trelawney, Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, the Weasley twins, Delphi Diggory, Bellatrix Lestrange, Azkaban, the entire extended story on Pottermore and the International Confederation of Wizards and Regulus Black, wandlore, MACUSA, the Deathly Hallows, Leta Lestrange, Credence Barebone, and the entire events of Fantastic Beasts and Cursed Child, Obscurials, Grindelwald, Dumbledore’s sexuality, love potions, combat spells and wizarding academics and ministry departments, and international wizarding communities and dementors, inferi, and on and on and on...

Why do you never hear of these things when you ask someone to discuss Harry Potter? Why do I have to read editorials about how quaint Harry Potter is because it imbues magic with “eating jellybeans?” Because it would totally blow the patronization attempt out of the water if they were to focus on anything remotely plot related. Instead, we live in a world where even members of the fandom have joked themselves into thinking that the only things about these stories that matter are Hogwart’s houses, fucking magic candy only ever mentioned once, and a niffler that appears for 1/16th of the scenes in Fantastic Beasts. Can we grow up and talk about plot and character shit, you know, the stuff that actually matter? Thanks.

This leads me to my second point:

2) Blatant patronization. Infantilization. Treating the franchise as diminutively as possible, handling it like a crayola turd just dropped from a 3 year olds asshole. I can’t honestly believe I’ve had to sit through article after article of journalists and even fandom members who contribute Potter’s success to “eating jellybeans,” “being more innocuous than Bambie,” “lighter than the Chronicle’s of Narnia,” “similar to Percy Jackson and Savvy,” called “G-rated wizardry,” have tv shows and books and films be termed “a grown up Harry Potter,”...its just extraordinarily insulting to me, especially there’s no coherent argument I can give. It’s hard to be able to think coherently when you’ve just read an editorial on how “squeaky clean, harmless, and unchallenging,” all the Wizarding World films are when they rated Mrs Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children appropriate only for 15+ year olds and called the Star Wars franchise a “sci-fi epic for mature adults.” My brains reacts to it as if I’ve just heard someone compare Game of Thrones to Spongebob. It’s just horribly incongruent to everything this series has come to be known for.

These are some of the more extreme examples, but too often I’ve seen members of fandom who still treat it diminutively. “The childish stuff is what Harry Potter is about,” and, when confronted with the dark realities of Merope Gaunt’s treatment of Riddle and Severus Snape’s murder, “yea, but I just forget about that dark stuff because it’s a childrens book.”

Jesus Christ, lets set something straight:

Allow me to drop some facts on these commenters for a hot second. The majority of the audience, as researched by a number of publishers, lies within the 15-30 year old age range. In terms of marketing, there are no toys, very little kids clothing, comparatively few young skewing published editions globally, little to no instances of kid-marketed visual media. live entertainment, fandom experiences instances of retail...It’s all adult retail, items sold through Pottermore, and Hot Topic, The Noble Collection, Primark, Interior Design, Elope, Hot Rags, The WB Shop, Universal Orlando, Spencers, BMW, King Ice, Carat Jewelers, Hallmark.... It’s mainly marketed to a mature audience. So patronizing treatment on this front is unwarranted. 

The second part of this is content. The questionable content is never indulgent. But it is often shocking, horrific, tragic, occasionally graphic, bloody, mild to moderately gory, disturbing, thematically resonant, and intentionally creepy to say the least, and there’s increasingly no magical veneer to hide beneath. The setting is more or less realistically painted and the altercations are personal, the emotions real, the characters realistic...most of the films are rated PG-13, a number of the films nearly R, and restrictively rated in regions from Australia to Eastern Europe, to Asia, to the UK and Ireland and Latin America...

This is all extremely important. Its extremely important that we recognize potter for these things. Conflict is only dramatically effective if it contains the strength and potency to make it so, and by, excusing it away, calling it safe and clean where it isn’t, you’re effectively neutering it for no other reason than to give someone a false impression. 

It isn’t for kids. That’s not saying they can’t and don’t read it, or an audience of children has never been sought after or even directly marketed to. But look at Star Wars: Marketing through Disney Channel cartoons, Toys R Us, Sippy Cups, The Disney Store, and look at DC and Marvel doing the same thing. Look at all of those brands doing the “fast and funny action spectacle” films to please as wide an audience as possible. It takes, in essence, no creative risks, and yet it feels as if these franchises get lauded for, again, having only a quarter of the gravitas the Wizarding World has. 

Recognizing these stories for being unique in the sense that they are mature and they are challenging is exactly what’s appropriate for Rowling’s storytelling. Percy Jackson, often finding itself at the base of comparisons for the Harry Potter series, clearly skews younger than it. With short books, slang-y writing, an over-abundance of sophomoric humor, clean conflict, and chapter titles like “I Scoop Poop,” I’m equal parts bemused and frustrated that comparisons are made. At the same token, Chronicles of Narnia is an extremely lighthearted, short, simple, puritanical story of adventure and fantasy. Potter isn’t. It’s contemporary, edgy (in the non-eye-roll-worthy sense of the word,) inventive, sophisticated, and energetic, but slow, complex, extremely adult in sensibility, aesthetic, tone, and writing. Star Wars, while immersive, preoccupies itself with far more childish oddities and humorous diversions than Potter does and maintains an extremely irreverent and light tone throughout, Marvel is similar but even more conveyor-made, and Lord of the Rings, for all the intellectuals who champion its brilliance (and it is brilliant) and superiority over Potter fail to realize the importance of maintaining recognizable thematics, mature conflict, and emotion within a story. 

And this is beneficial to those younger children that do read the stories. You are, by suggesting the Potter stories are merely escapist inconsequential fantasy for childish types, telling a lie, and you are also insulting their intelligence. What type of judgment are you making about an adult or a child’s character when you suggest, however innocently, that their favorite stories are nothing but irreverence, that they’re clean, and dispute any kind of attempt to get you to see that they are thematically relevant and important! Harry Potter and Jo’s Wizarding World is so deeply and emotionally attached to our society for a reason. let’s treat it accordingly. These stories are bold, and groundbreaking, and thrillingly dark and heartbreaking, and WE LOVE THEM FOR THAT.

That’s not to say we can’t ever mention irrelevancies. But to caricaturize the Potter stories with them like we have is shameful and disappointing. And the oft-repeated argument is “kids books are still important.” Yes you’re right. They are. But not in the way I’m discussing. Not in the way Potter is. Harry Potter does not fit in such a young-skewing, streamlined, narrow category:

The story includes thematics pertaining to murder, betrayal, torture, war, depression, abuse, tragedy, love and hatred, spirituality and the nature of life and death, sadomasochism, genocide, totalitarianism, corruption, blood purity and inbreeding, corruption, lust and desire, fascism and naziism, vengeance, gray morality, even rape and manipulation and grooming and forced murder and torture...Keep making comparisons to the 100+ year old “Grimm’s Fairy Tales” and likening it to just another kids book all you want, but it will never fit that mold, and I think we need to treat the series like it’s worthy of the majority adult audience and marketing scheme that it already has and has had for years.

That’s my issue: where is the proof that it’s “for kids”?! There is none! I find it strange that people will praise The Hunger Games, an increasingly vapid and typical dystopia for being “mature and sophisticated” or even Rogue One and Civil War for being “very adult and heartbreaking,” but then turn around to The Wizarding World, a universe that has about 5x the sophistication, and repeat the tired “Grimm’s fairytales did it first argument. Im sick of it.

This whole rant came about because I saw so many reviewers admonishing Fantastic Beasts for being dark, and thematically resonant, and too political, either openly shaming that side of the story, or pretending like it didn’t even exist. Every time Potter film is released, there’s someone somewhere writing a review admonishing the “horrendously dark tone” at the expense of “kid-skewing charm” or some other stupid shit. I just don’t know where to end this.

The Wizarding World is, evidently, the ballsiest, most truthful, most ambitious and dark and heartbreaking and resonant four quadrant piece of branded entertainment out there. It’s every bit as important and as grim and truthful as any fantasy ever has been. 

Can we start treating it like it is? Please?

(pardon the typos. Absolutely no time to edit this. Just embrace the general message. Hope it flows well enough.)