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hi I'm Amanda and I'm kinda rad sometimes. Ryan I know you're out there

And though she be but little, she is fierce





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sdzoo:

Throwback Thursday - January 2013, Panda cub Xiao Liwu makes his public debut.

tsukiyama-shoo:

tsukiyama-shoo:

please tell me im not the only one who remembers that photoset/gif that went around where it has the final scenes of death note where light is trying to defend himself but someone replaced the text so it was him teaching them how to swim

image

i am suddenly in a rly shitty i hate everyone mood where did this come from

  • me: instantly jumps to worst possible conclusion
burdge:

victims of the 90’s

burdge:

victims of the 90’s

Imagine a Muslim Witch

petrichorlore:

Her parents are severely alarmed at her first incident of accidental magic, when she’s a baby and summons the apple slice right out of her distracted mother’s hand. They read Quran over her and throughout the house to ward against djinn, but the accidental magic continues, so the write ayat-ul qursi and put it in a locket for her to wear to protect her from the evil eye and sihr.

Nothing stops, and since she doesn’t act possessed, they decide its just a miracle from God, makes sure she reads Quran and does her prayers, and make dua, and she grows up well-adjusted and slightly worried about this ability of her. Her parents make sure she doesn’t get a big head and think she’s a saint or something.

Then she turns 11, and McGonagall comes to tell them about Hogwarts. The parents are sceptical and demand some kind of proof that this woman isn’t about to spirit their daughter away. McGonagall is taken aback that the issue for these Muggles isn’t the magic so much as the ‘invisible boarding school we can’t tell is safe or not’. 

So she gathers other Muggle parents to testify that their daughter is going to a real and proper school, and that’s that, she’s off to Hogwarts. She gets sorted into Ravenclaw (but almost into Slytherin for all that ambition she has). 

Through the years, though, things she never considered comes up. Like how she’s basically a vegetarian at Hogwarts in her first year cause the house-elves don’t know about halaal meat, or how everyone looks at her funnily when in Third Year she gets special permission from Dumbledore to break from classes for prayer (and she learns to be quiet for Fajr when her roommates complain).

Or how Madame Pomfrey gets worried about her fasting in Ramadan, and the house-elves are insulted when she won’t eat their food until she explains, and then stuff her full of food half an hour before Fajr and at Maghrib.

Or that she takes to healing the muggle way because not all those potions have ingredients that she can ingest, and she talks to a sheikh for advice on if salamanders and bat eyes are actually halaal. 

And then its a struggle to be the only hijabi in the school, and she makes friends with the Baron so he stops Peeves from trying to pull it off all the time.

And how annoying it is when the only holidays that get celebrated are Christian ones, and that’s when she makes friends with Anthony Goldstein, who agrees that there should be more religious diversity so he can really enjoy Hannukah at school. 

She gets in trouble for saying her spells in Arabic, to the consternation of all her professors who don’t understand the language and insist that its dangerous if they can’t govern her spell-casting.

So she starts a duelling club, and Padma joins her and casts spells in Punjabi, and Anthony who does his spells in Hebrew (they’re not making up spells, just changing the language, and isn’t it funny that the spells are always a teensy bit different?), and others trickle in, and new magic gets practiced under the supervision of a Ministry hire who encourages them and speaks sixteen different languages.

Then people claim she’s a frigid freak because she keeps turning down boys who want to date her (even though she really likes them), until she puts the gossipers in the Hospital Wing, and then no one says anything after that.

She worries about the practical non-existence of Muslims in Wizarding Britain, and will that affect the jobs she can get, because wizards and witches are a bit funny about religion?

alicelongbottem:

I was thinking about something recently. Neville was really talented with Herbology. So he’d naturally gravitate towards studying various aspects of it, right? What if during his 7th year at Hogwarts he found a way to use Victorian flower language?

At one point in time flowers had been used to pass secret messages. Each flower had a meaning, and there were multitudes of books dedicated to deciding those meanings. It would be a brilliant way to send covert messages for the Hogwarts Resistance. What self-respecting Death Eater would know about Muggle flower language from a century before?

The likelihood that they’d figure it out is so infinitesimally small. Neville could teach DA members what the flower language meant (or at least what key flowers meant) so they could pass messages and make it look like dating couples being sweet, or a student helping Professor Sprout.

So then a bouquet of irises, lemon geraniums and white poplars, with accents of white heather, witch hazel and four o’clocks, (and maybe a few rhododendrons) wrapped in a violet ribbon suddenly means something to the right people.

To someone who can translate it that bouquet of flowers becomes:

“I have a message from an unexpected meeting, cast a spell for ‘wishes come true’ (aka the room of requirement) at 4 o’clock on Saturday. Be careful!!”

scarheadcanons:

ϟ 10) Ron once became so curious as to what color his Polyjuice Potion would be that he actually took the month to brew it himself. A few seconds after adding the hairs, he pitched the whole cauldron out the window. Of course it would be maroon.

stilesstays:

harry potter + social media [2/?] or in which ron is weirdly ok with his sister and best mate sucking face

art by burdge [x] [x] [x] [x] (do not remove)

scarheadcanons:

ϟ 37) The first time Minerva McGonagall seriously considered retiring her post was the day she read “Potter, James” off the first year roll again.

burdge:

Happy birthday, buddy. Thanks for stickin’ around. <3

burdge:

Happy birthday, buddy. Thanks for stickin’ around. <3

livesandliesofwizards:

At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.
Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.
They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.
“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.
“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”
If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.
Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.
~
The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.
This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.
Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 
The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.
~
The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.
They were worried they would have to be kind.
They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.
Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.
Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.
(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

livesandliesofwizards:

At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.

Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.

They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.

“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.

“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”

If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.

Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.

~

The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.

This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.

Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 

The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.

~

The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.

They were worried they would have to be kind.

They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.

Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.

Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.

(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

scarheadcanons:

ϟ 83) When Harry began filling out the official paperwork for employment as an Auror, he was startled and even a bit shaken when he realized he didn’t know what to put for a living address. It had always been number four, Privet Drive or Hogwarts. He supposed he could claim 12 Grimmauld Place since it belonged to him, to which Ron said he was being a git and told him to put down the Burrow.