Shout out to Oliver Wood for never being like “wow Harry Potter” and always treated him like he would anyone else “get the snitch or literally die trying you have to do it WE CAN WIN”
Headcanon that the Ravenclaw door allows entry to those who willingly and humbly admit that they do not know the answer or that their answer is wrong, because having an open mind and awareness of the limits of your intellect is proof of wisdom.
Supplementary headcanon that there are a lot of good answers, because the door opens for good reasoning, good arguments, and the way your mind hacks away at the problem, not the actual answer itself.
Imagine Hermione, working in magical law and drafting new werewolf legislation and naming it after Remus.
Those laws being unanimously voted in with no deliberation by a ministry that has been rebuilt by Remus’ friends and acquaintances.
Werewolves slowly coming forward to register themselves in a new department because Hermione makes sure she takes them out of the magical beasts division. Kingsley specifically hiring a werewolf to run the registration office, because it makes sense and it proves they’re finally making a change for the better.
Werewolves not being called werewolves, they’re ‘people afflicted with lycanthropy’ because first and foremost, they are human.
People afflicted with lycanthropy all over the country registering with the ministry, setting up support groups, getting help from the ministry and having access to employment schemes because it’s now illegal to discriminate based on lycanthropy when hiring, and knowing it’s all thanks to Lupin’s Law.
a kid at hogwarts who just wants to get a proper education but can’t focus because of all of the shit harry potter and his friends keep getting themselves into
Jenna B. Lacey, age eleven, knew exactly what she was going to do with her life.
She was going to go to Hogwarts, get top grades, and be the youngest female Minister of Magic by age 35.
It would have been a good plan, if she hadn’t been in the same year as Harry Potter.
* * *
Year one started out great. She was sorted into Hufflepuff, did well in all her classes, and aced the exams.
A troll smashed its way through the study room she was in on Halloween, but that wasn’t going to deter her.
* * *
Year two was a disaster. People were getting petrified, and worse—the teachers had to herd them from place to place, which severely cut down on her library time. She had to study in the common room, which meant instead of a nice, quiet atmosphere, she got a soundtrack of nervous Hufflepuffs.
And on top of that, exams were cancelled. It was a disaster.
* * *
Third year, she started to notice a trend.
First the troll, than the petrifications, and now dementor guards and escaped convicts. What did they all have in common? Potter.
After Black broke in and everyone had to spend the night in the Great Hall, interrupting Jenna’s last minute studying for a test the next day, she took to giving Potter angry looks in every class.
He did not notice.
* * *
They announced the Triwizard tournament at dinner the first night of fourth year, and Jenna almost started crying.
Potter was going to take this one over. She just knew it.
And she was right.
Voldemort rose at the end of the year. She honestly didn’t know what she had expected.
* * *
Fifth year brought Umbridge. She joined the DA because she was going to need a better background in defense, but that didn’t mean she was any happier about Potter.
She imagined it was him she was hexing instead of Zachariah Smith.
But, by the end of the year, focus on her studies was impossible. After Dumbledore left, it was complete anarchy.
Potter’s fault. Of course.
* * *
Sixth year she started volunteering in the hospital wing. She needed a backup plan in case Potter fucked it up.
All seemed quiet, until they brought Malfoy in. It was apparently Potter’s fault, which surprised everyone except Jenna.
Later, she was peacefully studying in a little nook on the third floor when some Death Eaters and some other adults started dueling right under her nose.
This was the worst fucking school, honestly.
* * *
They were calling it “The Final Battle.”
Jenna ran through the hall, dodging in and out of the children evacuating, until she saw him.
“POTTER.”
He turned, startled. “Um—Jenna, right? We’re sort of busy—”
She grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up until he was eye level with her. “If I’m not Minister of Magic by age 35, it is going to be entirely your fault and I’m going to hurt you.”
She dropped him and stormed away, leaving him to whatever he was doing. She had to fight this goddamn war so she could go back to her fucking studying.
* * *
She became Minister of Magic at age 36.
Fucking Potter.
I think I just found the best Harry Potter fanfic
Ron Weasley offered the stranger sitting next to him on the train half his sandwich even though it was all he had.
Ron Weasley sacrificed himself for the good of Harry and Hermione at age eleven because even then he thought they were more important than he was, and the ones worth saving.
Ron Weasley was Harry Potter’s first friend and the first thing Harry ever had resembling a family.
Ron Weasley lived in a cramped house and wore hand me down robes and he didn’t even think twice about offering his room and food and family to Harry every break.
Ron Weasley took care of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger when they were too busy taking care of the rest of the world to worry about themselves.
Ron Weasley stood on broken bones when he was thirteen years old, to tell a man infamous for murder that if he planned on killing his best mate, he would have to go through him first.
Ron Weasley was the person Harry would miss most in the world.
Ron Weasley was a pureblood wizard who, from a very young age, devoted his life to abolishing blood status, even if he didn’t quite understand his own privilege.
Ron Weasley gave Dobby his own clothes and socks to be buried in, because he understood how important it would have been to him.
Ron Weasley thought about saving the house elves when everyone else forgot.
If you don’t love Ron Weasley, The Boy Who Cared, I don’t know what books you read but they weren’t the same ones I did.
