“A clever plan..because if Harry here and his friend Ron hadn’t discovered this book, why–Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will…and imagine…what might have happened then…The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns…”
It brings me SO MUCH joy that the plot of Chamber of Secrets basically happens because Lucius is terrified out of his mind of Arthur and Molly Weasley and their SEVeN kids who were all raised to hold the line in case anyone tried to start a genocidal regime again. They are so powerful and so dangerous to any attempted rise to power from the Death Eaters, and Lucius feels the need to try and marginalize and demonize them in order to decrease the threat they pose.
And boy was he right to be concerned, they are…unstoppable. Each and every one of them. You thought it was impressive that it took five Death Eaters to kill their uncles? Try having a couple Weasleys illegally on the airwaves, one destroying Voldemort’s Horcruxes, one protesting at Hogwarts, one running loose in the government, one housing escaped prisoners, and one getting foreign support!! More children than they can afford? Try more children than you can effectively stop!!
And then when they ALL show up to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts? What a trip for Lucius Malfoy! Hey bigots! Would you like to pick an opponent based on which Quidditch position they excel at, or do you wanna roll the dice and go with one of the brothers who got 12 OWLs? Those are your only two options because Weasleys are EVERYWHERE and the weak link is NO ONE. The fear that must have been in his heart when one or two of them was around every corner of the school taking down his DE pals…is so amazing to think about. Glorious. Iconic. Every Weasley has red hair, freckles, and a drive to destroy the concept of blood purity at all cost!!
The Weasleys are not always nice or right, but they are GOOD and they believe in standing up for what is good, and when evil is around they SHOW UP to fight it. No questions asked. And evil is so scared of them, so worried about what they can do, that it resorts to desperately weaponizing a little girl to try and stop them.
THIS IS AMAZING!!!! GO, WEASLEYS!!!
The thing I love about Arthur Weasley is his function as a foil to Lucius. The Weasleys are dirt poor and Arthur’s job is a joke, but he’s widely respected to the point that the governers mention that finding his daughter in the chamber is the last straw. Not a pureblood student.One that’s related to Arthur. He’s well connected enough to get them into the Minister’s box at the Quidditch world cup. I forget which book it is, but at one point he gets an entire fleet of enchanted cars to take the kids to King Cross station to catch the train. This is all through sheer personal influence; everything the Malfoys achieve is through bribery. Lucius should fear the Weasleys.
Arthur Weasley runs on fairy tale power; he does favors for people, because he’s kind, and they do favors for him in turn.
I took my meds too close to bedtime again and I need you all to know the dream I had last night involved Robin Williams becoming the new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Not, a character portrayed by Robin Williams, just Robin Williams as himself running around Hogwarts doing wandless magic and being as loud and big as possible because and I quote before I forget:
“Listen, children, I’m not saying all this bad shit that is happening isn’t scary and you shouldn’t be concerned–because you should!–but I’m telling you this now for free. Life is a boggart, it’s the biggest boggart of them all. You never know what it’s going to look like one moment to the next. And sometimes you just gotta laugh. It’s okay to laugh. It’s part of the grieving process. You need to grieve before you can heal. But it’s okay to laugh while you’re doing it.”
I didn’t wake up right after that, some more stuff happened in a hazy sort of way as the dream began to dissolve into conciousness, but I remember him yelling Expecto Patronum as he punched a Death Eater in the face. Because sometimes, evidently, you have to make your own happy memories.
I think Actual Robin Williams might have visited your dreams last night.
I sincerely believe that by 7th year Ravenclaws would just tell the door to their common room to fuck off and it would open for them
Q “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” A “You shouldn’t shove either up your arse.” “…Technically, yes.”
Imagine it, a poor First Year is waiting outside the common room, they can’t answer the riddle in a way to appease the eagle and must wait until someone else to answer it for them. It’s getting late, they’re starting to resign themselves to having to spend the night here.
Suddenly, their saviour comes! It’s a seventh year! Back from a night finishing off their Araithmancy essay in the Library. They look angry, but our poor little first year squares their shoulders, waiting to see what will happen, and hope that they’ll keep the door open for them.
The Seventh Year bangs the handle against the wall, and a slightly disgruntled voice asks the question again: “What is the truth?”
The Student Replies, “The Truth is that I am so fucking sick of all these mother fucking questions about stupid fucking topics like this you bloody fuck-witted bastard. Who in the name of Merlin’s saggy left testicle gives a fucking damn about all this shit anyway? I’ve been working my arse off in the library for the last seven hours now let me the fuck in or, truthfully, I’ll blast my way in and take you with me.”
The eagle knocker tutts, but allows the student entry anyway, and our little first year enters, eyes wide and in shock. They watch the seventh year go up to their bedroom, awe all over their face at their new hero. They did, indeed, learn something that day by waiting for someone to arrive, they learnt that swearing has a magic all of it’s fucking own, and that sometimes it is big and clever to use it.
The only head canon I will ever accept. Its both perfectly witty and fantastically assholish
witty and fantastically assholish… pretty much quintessential ravenclaw traits right there
My favorite version of this headcanon is that there is one Ravenclaw who went all seven years by answering the riddles with some variation of “not a potato” and was only ever wrong once.
Yesss Luna, do it! You’re probably the only one who could pull off that look anyway… 🙂
Phew! This is my longest comic to date. I didn’t want to cut out the Hermione sadness or the Luna goodness, so I decided to make it 13 panels long instead of 10! I hope you guys enjoy!! 🙂
This scene was the winner of March’s HP Comic Poll! If you’d like to vote on my next Harry Potter comic, or want to see them before I post them anywhere else, check out my Patreon!!
tbh the most unrealistic thing in harry potter is when mrs weasley in the first book asks “now what’s the platform number?”
like this woman has been going to that school for seven years and then dropped kids off on the same place for nearly ten like why on earth would she forget the platform number
I still have the headcanon that Molly BAMF Weasley saw a scrawny underfed child with an owl who had no idea where he was going and looked lost and confused and was like, “Ah, yep, new son.” but didn’t want to scare him by outright approaching and asking if he needed help so she was just like, “MUGGLES, MUGGLES EVERYWHERE! DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THE PLATFORM NUMBER TO WIZARD SCHOOL IS? WHAT’S THAT? NINE AND THREE QUARTERS? OH, YES, THAT’S RIGHT. THE PLATFORM NUMBER IS N I N E A N D T H R E E Q U A R T E R S!”
Of course seeing as how Harry isn’t the most observant bloke, she probably ushered her kids past him fifty times as different ones screamed the platform number until they finally got his attention.
With that being said, and I’m extremely sorry for taking over your post:
11:45:
They had just enough time to make it onto the platform, get their trunks loaded, and say their goodbyes. Molly ushered them all along, wishing that she could just Apparate them all onto the train and be done with it. There was too much to do, too much to say, too m—
All at once, she screeched to a halt. Percy crashed into her, causing the twins to snicker.
A tiny boy was being crossly turned away by a security guard. A boy whose ribs poked through his baggy shirt, whose glasses were broken, whose jaw was trembling as he tried to find his way. Well, surely she could be the person to guide him there? And did he…? Yes! He had an owl! He was one of them!
The poor child; he looked so lost.
Where were his parents?
Never mind, never mind. She would see to it that he would get on the train. But she had to be careful. She couldn’t startle him. He’d run off and that would be the end of it. No, no, they had to be crafty.
11:47 AM:
“Packed with Muggles of course,” Molly said loudly, ushering her very confused children past the boy. “What’s the platform number again?”
“Nine and three quarters,” Percy said. “Mother, how could you have forg—?”
It was George who nudged him as he understood what she was doing. She had done it before, after all, and she would do it again.
Unfortunately, it didn’t work.
The boy didn’t seem to notice them.
11:48 AM:
“Packed with Muggles of course,” said Molly again, marching her children past once more. “What’s the platform number?”
“Nine and three quarters,” Fred and George screamed in unison.
And still the boy remained lost.
11:49 AM:
“Mum,” Ron panted, tripping over himself as he ran to keep up with her. “Slow down!”
Molly ignored him as she practically flew past the poor boy. “Packed with Muggles of course! Now, what’s the platform number?”
“Nine and three quarters,” Ron bellowed.
11:50 AM:
Molly honestly didn’t care if her entire family missed the train and she had to set off across the UK herself like a mother leading a flock of ducklings: she was going to help this boy onto the bloody train.
She marched past him with a fiery determination and said, “Packed with Muggles of course!”
The boy looked up.
Yes! Okay, this was it, this was it, this was it. Play it cool. He was following them. Listening. Pretending not to.
They stopped.
“Now,” Molly said. “What’s the platform number?”
“Nine and three quarters,” piped Ginny.
Victory!
The next nine minutes were a whirlwind of chaos but they managed to get the boy through the barrier. At Molly’s insistence, Fred and George popped up and helped him get his trunk into the compartment. She handed Ron an extra sandwich and muttered, “Tell him that everywhere else was full.”
He dutifully nodded.
As the train took off, she waved to her children, including her newest one.
Bristling with pride, she began to head back to the Burrow. There was simply no time to waste. She had a jumper to knit.
If I ever don’t reblog this post – assume I’m dead
Procrastination Station 