Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickasslavenderpatilbecause everyone should read it
This post makes me sad and everyone should read it.
January: Selfie Olympics
February: Flappy Bird
lets see how the rest of the year goes
March: No Oscar for Leonardo DeCaprio
April: it’s a metaphors, you’re a metaphors, we are a metaphor, if I see another metaphor I’m going to kill someone
Wonder how July is gonna be
i will keep reblogging this each month
all 46 excuses on my friends wall,
1. i was just really, really early for tomorrow
2. we can’t all be usain bolt
3. in this day and age, we shouldn’t need labels like “late”
4. i had pe first period do you blame me
5. i really, really didn’t want to sing
6. my brother thought it would be hilarious to drop me outside the prison gates
7. you can’t tell me how to live my life
9. my legs fell off and i had to roll all the way to the emergency clinic
10. there was a freak yachting accident
11. i am a fucking retard
12. this is just for my wall
13. do you even read these
14. “it does not matter how slow you go, so long as you do not stop”
15. i spent my entire night writing tom daley fanfiction
16. my father left my mother for an air hostess seven years ago do you expect me to get over that emotional trauma overnight
17. sarah palin and i got into a twitter war and i couldn’t leave and let her win
18. traffic jammy jammy jam
19. how can i go to school when alex turner
20. my sim was having an emotional meltdown and i needed to be there for her
21. i was sticking it to the man
22. i spent my entire night worrying if i would ever lose my virginity
23. fifty shades of late; i was walking and then i caught the eye of an attractive member of the opposite sex and we began exchanging significant looks and i knew we would one day make sweet love so i just walked alongside him and tried to catch his eye and to be continued
24. part two he was playing hard to get so we walked and walked and he had the perfect hair colour it was sort of beige brown anyway it turned out he was walking to a bus stop so obviously i had to catch the bus because true love and silently we rode out to papakura and into the sunset
25. my meth lab caught fire
26. my bed is more comfortable than your school will ever be
27. i was sad
28. it was a nice day, so i walked leisurely
29. i had beat my younger brother for saying “swag”
30. i had to travel back to the 1950’s to ensure my birth
31. 2 kool 4 scool
32. i had to stop, collaborate and listen
33. i tried
34. i’m sorry i’m late
it’s not my fault
my auntie was killed
and i joined a cult
35. a haiku about lateness:
late late late late late
late late late late late late late
late late late late late
36. my best friend was telling me how to give a satisfactory blow job i wish i was joking
37. i was fashionably late
38. i was caught in a flash mob true story omfg
39. i did not choose the late life, the late life chose me
45. i was fighting al qaeda
YESSSS IT’S ON MY DASHBOARD AGAIN
the post that doesn’t age