colonel-nogan
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~What is the music of life?~~Silence, my brother~
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Brace yourselves…
I just came up with a theory.
A while ago, someone came up with the theory that Dumbledore had a horcrux - Fawkes. The SuperCarlinBrothers talked about this theory before being bluntly shot down by J.K. Rowling.
But the joke’s on you, Jo. I was already torn apart by you when you said that all disabilities in your world would be “fixed” or “overridden.” You can’t hurt me anymore! Haha! I’m as immortal as Harry!
“Wait, as immortal as Harry?”
What do I mean?
Well, I’ll tell you!
I think that the original theory was onto something. I think that Fawkes was a horcrux. But I don’t think he was Dumbledore’s horcrux. No, no…
I think that Fawkes was Harry’s horcrux.
Now, before I begin, note that this is just a theory and that it’s midnight, I’m tired, and there’s a good chance that I might not get everything right. But I’m going to try. I await your many many many messages in my inbox to explain why certain things I bring up can or cannot work.
First of all, let’s get the shakiest part of this theory out of the way. The prophecy. The prophecy has always confused me but I’m pretty sure it can still fit into this theory. I’m just not exactly sure how. Again, I’m tired. So let’s just assume that the prophecy fits perfectly.
And here we go…
To repeat: I think that Fawkes was Harry’s horcrux.
A horcrux, of course, being an object in which a person stores a minuscule piece of their soul which keeps them alive.
And I believe that Harry has unknowingly stored a piece of his soul in Fawkes.
And I know what you’re thinking.
“Ah, marauders4evr, you truly are tired. Don’t you know that you have to kill someone in order to create a horcrux?”
I do know that.
“Little tiny innocent Harry Potter is a pure cinnamon roll too good for this world. Surely he has never-”
Ahahahahahahaha.
Remember that time little tiny innocent Harry Potter stabbed a gigantic snake?
I do!
And I think that after he does this, a little piece of his soul jumped ship, merging with Fawkes’ soul. After all, Fawkes had landed on his arm in order to cry Harry back to life.
“No, wait, no. J.K. Rowling said it herself - in order to create a horcrux, you have to perform a ritual so disgusting that her editor nearly vomited when hearing about it.”
Clearly her editor has never read fanfiction but I digress.
It is true that usually some big dark ritual is performed in order to create a horcrux.
Except for one occasion.
It’s widely accepted that the reason why Harry became a horcrux is because Voldemort’s soul was so splintered (from the amount of horcruxes that he created) that a piece of it just broke off and went into this child.
“So, wait, Harry’s soul was splintered?”
Well it certainly wasn’t stable. You’ve got two souls that have been suddenly fused together faster than Ruby and Sapphire. And we know that Harry’s soul has always been unstable. That’s why the Dementors affected him more. That’s why he kept having weird dreams wherein he saw into Voldemort’s mind. That’s why his scar hurt whenever Voldemort was nearby or angry or existing or…you know that part was never clear. But the point is that we know that Harry’s soul is corrupted. So much so that I think it’s safe to say that it’s splintered, splintered enough that after murdering a snake in cold-blood, a part of it flies off and attaches to Fawkes.
“Okay, marauders4evr, take it easy. If Harry’s soul was so splintered that a piece of it could break off after he murdered someone without the need for the dark ritual, then why wasn’t a horcrux created when he burned Quirrell to death hmmm?”
Okay first of all…why doesn’t anyone ever talk about the fact that Harry straight up killed his professor? I mean it was in self-defense but still…you think anyone would talk about that but they don’t, not in canon or in the fandom. But I digress.
Who’s to say that Harry didn’t accidentally create a horcrux after killing Quirrell?
“Okay, now you’re full of it.”
Probably but hear me out.
What if a little tiny piece of Harry’s splintered soul did break off and go into an object in the room? Maybe an object he was holding like…
…oh snap.
Yep. If you want, you could also argue that the Philosopher’s Stone was briefly a horcrux. I say briefly because Albus Dumbledore states outright that Nicolas and Perenelle destroyed it. (Note: Not the Nicolas and Perenelle from my books, although wouldn’t that be an interesting twist?)
So the Philosopher’s Stone is gone. Kaput. Which means so is that little tiny piece of Harry’s soul. Which stinks. But it’s not really relevant to this theory, it just provides a safety net for lingering questions.
But I digress…
I think that Fawkes is Harry’s horcrux. Which explains why Harry seems to be drawn to him so many times in future books. The others seem comforted by his songs but Harry has always had a genuine connection with him which isn’t really explained. What if this is that connection? Two souls reaching out to one another, causing a subconscious connection?
“Okay so Fawkes is Harry’s horcrux. What does that mean?”
That means that if Harry were to say, walk into the Forbidden Forest to stare Voldemort straight in the eye and accept his fate…
He would come back.
Because really, it’s never explained how Harry comes back. There have been a few feeble guesses. This is mine.
The reason why Harry came back is because he couldn’t die because a piece of his soul was in Fawkes.
As long as Fawkes is alive, Harry cannot ever truly die.
“Wait a minute…Fawkes is always alive.”
And now you see the best part of the theory!
No matter how much Fawkes dies, he always comes back. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes.
Fawkes can never die. Which means, if you believe in this theory, that neither can Harry.
Which means that Harry can never die.
Which means that Harry Potter will always be The Boy Who Lived.
And really, what better way to symbolize his eternal life than a phoenix? It’s literally the representation of Harry - someone who ‘dies’ multiple times but always comes back. Harry and Fawkes. The Ones Who Lived.
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List of bullshit I pulled in high school
My yearbook photo was a picture of some random baby off of Google I photoshopped my 17 year-old self’s head onto. It made it in.
Slipped a video titled “hot busty lesbian porn” into the personal folders of everyone in my computer class, which after they all crowded around to see what it was, turned out to be the video for Never Gonna Give You Up (it was 2007, so not yet a worn out joke). Thanks to them (like idiots) deciding to swarm a computer with sound, the computer lab filled up with cheesy ‘80s pop and the sound of me laughing so hard I ended up on the floor clutching my stomach.
Figured out that the school board internet filters blocked based on words and URLs, so I bypassed them simply by pinging their IP addresses, giving me free reign to Youtube and wherever else I felt like going to. I abused this power, and the fact I luckily had one of the computers with built-in speakers, to blast copious amounts of death metal all class.
Formed an air band called Minotaur Lizards whose career peak was “playing” a montage of classic rock songs during a school presentation.
Acted out the mock trial that made up the final for our senior year Law class as head prosecutor, wearing no shirt, no socks, a Dead Kennedys t-shirt, and shorts. Somehow got 10/10 for “appropriateness of dress” by being so utterly wrong that the teacher considered me to have looped back around.
Made sure that the yearbook contained the words “Harry Potter erotica”, and nobody realized until it had already gone to print.
Did accounting for some of the pot dealers in my year and ended up taking a good cash bonus home after my suggested “baked sale” hit it big.
Managed to get out of gym class the last two years on the promise to teachers that if I kept a friend, who was in a wheelchair and one of the above-mentioned dealers, occupied and out of trouble, I could skimp on doing class for non-test days and eke out a 75%.
Turned in so many bullshit essays and “I was bored on this vocabulary test so I write it all in haiku” results that teachers would be disappointed if I turned in ‘normal effort’ work.
Found out someone I really disliked hated my laugh, and dialed up how totally hilarious I found Cool Runnings so much that my laughter got him into a hissy fit that ended with his suspension.
Figured out the school’s weak exits where one could slip through without being noticed, and began selling this information to people once our school cut its truancy officer for budget reasons.
Managed to send through enough filthily-worded Valentine’s Day candygrams with the help of a friend on the inside that there were no candygrams the next year.
Did most of my work for my last year on a single piece of paper I’d just fold up and stick back in my pocket out of general laziness and my lack of need for notes. Math teacher kept poking fun at it, which led to an escalating war of attrition that ended when I handed in a test written on a corn tortilla.
Was voted Most Unique in what is most certainly the last flattering time that award was given in the school’s history
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SOULMATE AU WHERE YOUR TATTOO SHOWS THE FIRST THING YOUR SOULMATE THOUGHT WHEN THEY SAW YOU.
EXAMPLES:
“dear lord I want his babies”
“why are they staring at me”
“FANFICTION BLUE EYES”
“they’re wearing socks with sandals that’s disgusting”
“who the hell drinks coffee with a straw”
“i have to think something sexy at them. oh wait did that count. thats so embarassing they better not be my soulmate.”
“leARN TO USE A TURN SIGNAL, MOTHERHUGGER”
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A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life.
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.
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do you ever like… hear somebody make a joke about how sad they are and everyone else is laughing but you’re sitting there like: i gotta help this guy. holy shit are you okay bud. nice joke but for real i’m here when you need me we can talk about anything no judgement
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my first thought after seeing exeggutor’s new form was ‘spark would climb that’
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Confession: So, I decided to get a Grey Warden tattoo and had to explain it to my father. He doesn’t understand video games or really anything involving things I like. So, long story short, I somehow convinced my father that the Grey Wardens were an actual group of elite warriors who existed in ancient Sumatra just so he wouldn’t think my tattoo was nerdy. He still suspects nothing.
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“We are separated by years and death, but her hold on me is unrelenting,” Leliana says. “Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her smile, the dismissive wave of her hand, and I turn and see it is only movement in a mirror. I hear her words, and they are mine. She is the shadow that hounds my steps, because she is my shadow. My mother loved me, Cecile nutured me, and Dorothea saved me, but Marjolane made me in her image.”
—The World of Thedas Vol. 2
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You know what still fucks me up?
In DA:O , in the Cousland Origin, I’m usually playing Little Lady Cousland. And the first time I played through it? Had zero idea what was going on, really. So when Arl Howe showed up, even though I knew Tim Curry is rather typecast as villains, I saw no reason why I shouldn’t play Little Lady Cousland as genuinely liking him and his family. I mean, why not? He’s probably been her father’s best friend since before she was born. He’s probably met all his children before. So Little Lady Cousland goes out of her way to say it’s good to see him, and that she’d like to see Thomas again very much, and when he’s about to leave she tells him “be safe”.
And in that moment, there’s hesitation in Howe’s voice. “I… thank you, dear girl.” Just a second. A second of regret, a second of rethinking this. A second of seeing a young woman, who he’s doubtless watched grow up, cheerfully and sincerely telling him to be safe. A second of wondering “What am I doing? Am I really sending this girl to her death? Her whole family to their death?”
But he still goes through with it. He still ruins her life. And by the time Little Lady Cousland… no, Grey Warden Cousland… finds him again, there is not a hint of that hesitation or regret in him anymore. He is all anger and venom, and whatever gray area there was in his character has fled. She screams, “WHY?! You were father’s best friend! We trusted you! Why did you do this?!”. He snarls “Your father was a fool.” And, in one regrettable moment, the last of Warden Cousland’s softness slips away, and she murders the man who ruined her life, who she once considered like family.
A year later, Warden Commander Cousland walks into the dungeon at Vigil’s Keep and sees a ghost, not of Rendon Howe, but of herself. A young man she knew in what seems like a past life, who has lost the little softness life had left him and is filled with nothing but bitterness. She’d like nothing more than to give him the closure of her death, but she knows how empty such an offer would be. So instead, she apologizes. Says she can never make it up to him and she knows it, but extends her hand. “You’re free to go. And you can take whatever heirlooms you wish.” He leaves, unconvinced this isn’t a trap.
She’s not sure why she feels so wretched watching him go. But she knows why she feels Rendon Howe’s blood on her hands again, and that hollow lack of satisfaction it gave her to see it pool on the floor.
But then, miraculously, Nathaniel returns. He joins the wardens. And Warden Commander Cousland sees Nathaniel Howe again, the one she and Thomas used to speak of in glowing, admiring terms. The adventurer, the knight-errant, the hero. And slowly, as she befriends him and fights alongside him, she begins to feel a little more like Little Lady Cousland again herself.
Bad blood between families no longer stains their children’s hands. Old wounds heal over. Some semblance of happiness returns to hearts that had forgotten how young they really were.
THAT’S what still fucks me up.
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