Things in the HP fandom that ✨just don’t make sense✨
Ship wars
Loving Draco but hating on Ron
Calling Snape abusive while glossing over the fact that the series takes place in an old-fashioned magic school 30 years ago.
Thinking it’s valid that just because you hate a character you can disregard their trauma
Wolfstar shippers who bash Tonks for no good reason (you can obviously not ship Remadora and ship Wolfstar, but why hate on her when she genuinely did nothing bad?)
Insisting that George should’ve died instead of Fred (that’s so disturbing??? wtf is wrong with y’all?)
Excusing literally everything the Marauders did by saying “they’re just kids” and not acknowledging that Snape was the same age
Hating on Cho, Fleur, Tonks, and Lavender (hm I wonder what they all have in common)
Hating Percy when he has an extremely realistic and understandable story and felt genuinely overlooked by his family (which he was).
Calling 9 year old Snape a creepy stalker
Acting like Hagrid was a perfect angel just because he was kind to Harry
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YOU — “No. There is still a chance.”
DOLORES DEI — “You think so?” Her voice is weary.
EMPATHY — Everything about her is weary. She is the Innocence of weariness, of heroically borne suffering.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — That is the picture you have painted for yourself, at any rate.
YOU — “You looked back. That’s the memory, the moment, that I can’t stop returning to. You looked back. I had a chance, for just that moment…”
DOLORES DEI — She meets your eye, gaze still forever cast back over her shoulder. Time stops. The stars are stilled, the ocean silent. There is *nothing* beyond this memory. Nothing at all. All of infinity is contained in this single moment when anything and everything was possible.
“Oh, Harry…” She sighs, soft as eiderdown. “We never had any chance.”
And just like that, the wave of time collapses under its own weight, obliterating everything. This moment was six years ago. She is gone from here. Gone, gone…
PAIN THRESHOLD — You cannot leave. There was nothing outside of this moment, and now there is nothing at all. It’s all gone. There is no point. I’m sorry. I can’t do this any longer.
VOLITION — Please, don’t say that…
“Okay. Well, fuck me, then.”
“How would *you* know?! You gave up! You didn’t even try!”
“We *must* have had a chance, at some point… Doesn’t everyone get a chance, if nothing more?”
“How could you say that…?”
DOLORES DEI — “Because it’s true,” she says, matter-of-fact. “There is no moment in time that you can turn back to, no branching paths, no infinity. There is only what happened. I looked back… and then away.” She closes her eyes, turning her back to you.
“The moment ended. *We* ended. That is all.”
SHIVERS — A wave crashes against an unseen shore, ocean spray tickling the back of your neck. You shiver, but no one shivers with you. You are alone in this intersection. Why are you here?
“Why can’t *I* end?! Why can’t this all just stop? Please, make it stop…”
“Ended? I’ve barely even started! I got a chance to start completely over as somebody new! I don’t need you anymore! You’re just dead weight to me now.”
“No. That wasn’t the real ending. We’re a part of something so much bigger than this intersection, telling a story that encapsulates all of history! There’s *more* to this, it *means* something.”
“Then… What am I supposed to do now…?”
DOLORES DEI — “No, Harry.” She turns back to you again now, and she looks… sad.
“We were not metaphors. We were people. Our narrative was not intelligently designed. It simply followed the patterns of history, because those are the only patterns we *know.* We tried to create something new, but we failed. There is no narrative reward for our failure, no satisfactory ending. There is only the immutable past and the unknowable future.”
RHETORIC — There is no assurance of what is good or deserved or what may bring relief. There is no assurance of punishment, either. There is no assurance of anything. Not even of a future. I don’t know what to say to make this bearable.
VOLITION — Even so… As long as you live, *something* is promised. Can you live with that?
I can’t, I just can’t do this anymore…
I can. It’s enough.
I don’t know. I just don’t know.
I can at least try for a little longer…
VOLITION — That’s all I ask. That’s enough.
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Who else would feel a sense of dread that just jumps on you for some reason? Like it felt like someone suddenly putting their icy hands on your shoulders, before whispering something into one of your ears.
And then you later find out that there really were bad news that day and now you’d become superstitious when similar things occur from then on.
Just reflecting on that part of my past.
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thinking about how one of the only truly *real* details we get about dora is how she liked war games. and harry thinks of her as dolores dei. and dei was the innocence of colonialism and "for-the-greater-good” bloodshed. it all comes full circle. he was obsessed with her not only for whatever shallow holiness he associated with her but also for the violence she was capable of. whatever his reasons may be, he’s drawn to abuse and degradation.
let's talk about how for all he misses her, the only things he seems to remember are negative. he feels hunted by her, he remembers the way she’d yell at him, but he didn't internalize any of the good things that she must have said or done, only the feeling that he loved and worshipped her. but in the flashbacks and the crosswalk suddenly there are all these bad things he can remember. the fact that he’s been *wronged* is a core tenet of his personality, even after a full factory-reset brain wipe. he wants to hurt himself so he holds on to all the ways she ever hurt him so he can just dig the knife in a little deeper. so much of the crosswalk scene just reads as him projecting-- i don't doubt that she expressed some of those sentiments to him, albeit maybe not verbatim, but the phrasing and the sheer intensity of it just feels like it’s him borrowing her image to beat himself with all the things he hates about himself. this guy really does just self-harm using the people he loves, doesn’t he
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