so sometimes i think about harry potter being in the aurors and like
he’d never really thought about child protective services, muggle or otherwise, cause it’d never been relevant, right? like when he was a miserable kid he just thought that was what it was like being an orphan. but then he sees cases come through the department where parents are murdered and there’s kids sitting in their waiting room with copies of the quibbler and water waiting while an auror sits down with a family tree and tries to find whatever relatives this kid might have in the wizarding world, going back maybe even five generations to find anyone living and vaguely related to this child to drop them off with
and he goes to shit apartments in diagon alley after noise complaints and finds children who are black and blue with hexed, bleeding skin who insist they were just playing with a weasley’s wizard wheeze, no really mr. potter
and he thinks about how merope gaunt stumbled into a muggle orphanage and left them a child who would grow up learning fear was the key to harmony, and becoming a god meant safety
and really, how was the headmaster of a school the person who made the call about where he ended up, how was the system so haphazard that a man who wouldn’t be part of his life for another ten years got to make the biggest decision of his life
harry thinks about his cupboard
and then harry potter sits down with hermione and ron and neville (cause of course neville would want a stake in this) and says, “we need to change the wizarding world again.”
and they do.
The world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them.
POTC MEME: [1/3
brotps/otps] » Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann
We are very much alike, you and I. I and you. Us.
The Lost Child
wip of my art homework since my teacher let me go digital.
the divine is full of monsters;
incandescent giants who lick their gold teeth,
whose mouths are full of crumbling cities, who breathe
death and fire and revelation and madness while
diamonds crack like splinters of bone between their gums
their whims are carved in stone, sand, pillars of salt
their feathers sticky with luminescent blood, their fingers
thunderous with creation, lightning in their eyes
that crackles and hisses from every direction of the sky
the divine is not static and humane; the divine does not play nice.
they will eat everything you are.
they will leave you reformed in a roar of light, peel away layers of you like birth
and with a saint’s conviction you will know that nothing feels more like luxury,
better to be blinded by brilliance than close your eyes to awe-
for your lips are always being kissed.
your mouth is champagne roses. you will eat lotuses. your lungs are perfumed and
your bones will blossom into stars. your blood is wine and you are clothed in light;
your skin threshed wheatlike until the gold of you shines."