I Once Sat In An Catholic Studies Lecture Where A Professor Argued In All Seriousness That Snape, By

Little pose practice

I like to think the death eaters begrudgingly took Severus to some of their parties. He wouldn’t be this at ease at them, but maybe he actually enjoyed himself.

The Marauders didn't stop bullying Snape after the prank. It actually got worse.

A lot of people are surprised to realize that the scene in Snape's Worst Memory happens after the werewolf prank. When first reading OOTP, people generally assumed that SWM showed escalating tension between the Marauders and Snape that up led to the prank. But in DH, we see Snape and Lily talking about the prank before SWM. This means that the Marauders are still singling Snape out and targeting him after prank. Why?

My theory is that the bullying actually got worse after the prank. Because the only way to hold their friend group together was for the Marauders to double down and rally around blaming Snape for what happened.

Think about it: How did that incident not tear them apart? Sirius not only exposed Lupin's secret – he also attempted to use Lupin as a weapon against Snape, and he could have gotten James killed in the process. That's a huge betrayal.

But Sirius isn't mature enough to take responsibility for it. Lupin isn't self-confident enough to confront Sirius about it. "James would-consider-it-the-height-of-dishonor-to-mistrust-his-friends Potter" isn't going to be the one to lay blame on Sirius or break up the group. But it's too big an issue to ignore. The only way they can get over this is to put it all on Snape. It was just a joke, and Snape is an idiot, and James is a hero.

If you compare the two incidents that the books show us of the Marauders bullying Snape, you can see that totally different dynamics are driving the bullying. This shows how and why the bullying got worse after the prank.

The first bullying incident we see is on the Hogwarts Express, when James and Sirius engage in verbal bullying of Snape, with one small attempt at tripping him up as he leaves. This bullying is a form of bonding for James and Sirius and forms the basis of their friend group. This is an example of bullying driven by Peer Group factors (source), and this sort of bullying is generally done to:

to attain or maintain social power or to elevate their status in their peer group.

to show their allegiance to and fit in with their peer group.

to exclude others from their peer group, to show who is and is not part of the group.

What we're seeing here is that the soon-to-be Marauders are in new environment and they're defining their peer group and establishing social hierarchy, trying to establish their status. The Marauders continue in this pattern of Peer Group bullying throughout their school career, as evidenced by the detention records Snape has Harry transcribe in HBP. The Marauders seem to have thrown out hexes in a scattershot way to establish superiority over other students and look cool. This casual, incidental sort of bullying is likely what Snape experienced for the first several years of school.

But what we see in SWM isn't bullying to maintain Peer Group dynamics. This bullying isn't just flinging a single insult or a clever hex. James and Sirius hunt Snape, they deprive him of his wand and ability to escape the situation, and they repeatedly hex him until Lily (temporarily) stops them. This incident is extremely personal. This is an example of bullying driven by Emotional factors, and this type of bullying is done when the bullies:

have feelings of insecurity and low self-esteem, so they bully to make themselves feel more powerful.

don’t know how to control their emotions, so they take out their feelings on other people.

may not have skills for handling social situations in healthy, positive ways.

What we're seeing here is all the fraying edges of the Marauders' friendship. Sirius has just damaged their group, but he can't apologize or address it without accepting blame, so he has to take his emotions out on Snape. Punishing Snape is a way to exorcise his guilt. And it's actually imperative that he bully Snape into silence, because he is the one who has revealed Lupin's secret to Snape and put them all in jeopardy. Lupin can't confront Sirius about the betrayal of trust, and likewise he can't confront his friends here. Not only does Lupin not have the emotional security for handling this situation, he also can't risk putting himself in front of Snape in this moment, lest Snape scream "Werewolf" instead of "Mudblood." James is here trying to work through his own insecurities – in bullying Snape he is defending his friends, but James is also trying to get Lily's attention. James offers to change his ways if she'll give him a chance, because James needs to reassure himself that he is chivalrous, that he is a hero.

Looking at the way the bullying dynamics change and escalate in those two scenes, I think it’s clear that Lupin’s line, “Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn't really expect James to take that lying down,” is an understatement.

Snape was a special case because he knew Lupin’s secret, which would always make him a potential threat. The Marauders would always take any opportunity they could to reinforce that Snape was powerless to do anything to them. And they’d continue to take out all their emotions about the prank on Snape rather than confronting each other.

John Nettleship and the roots of Severus Snape

I wrote some of this earlier as a reblog to one of @feelabitfree​ posts, but I feel like more people could be interested in the subject, so I’m putting it in its own post for the general tag.

So this is about John Nettleship, the man who was one of JK Rowling’s inspirations to create the character of Severus Snape.

He was Head of Science at Wyedean School in Sedbury, Gloucestershire, where he taught Chemistry to JK, who began studying at the school in September 1976. Her mother, Anne, worked as a technician in the Science department from 1978. He was often known as “Stinger” by pupils due to his last name being “Nettleship”.

Yes, those are images of Mr. Nettleship in his science lab.

I learned that John, even though he was surprised and mortified at first, later on felt honored for his connection to Severus and wanted it to be remembered. This is all taken from this article, which provides detailed information about… a bit of everything (really), from people who knew him well. There is also this condensed version of it. (And I’d say: do visit the source, there’s a lot of interesting info on other stuff about Snape in there).

John at the time that he taught Rowling was in his thirties, like Snape in the books; whip-thin and (in the words of a former student) “ghostly white”, with swinging curtains of long and often rather greasy black hair, a burning gaze, an intense manner, irregular teeth and a rather large nose, and was often a bit scruffy and unkempt, even though he was always fastidiously clean.

This is John in 1976, 4 weeks after JK started at Wyedean.

He was a lifelong Labour Party activist and he later became a much-re-elected local councillor.

An innovative, inspirational teacher and an advocate of child-centred learning, John cared deeply about teaching and about his students, but when Rowling knew him his first marriage was failing and he was dazed with insomnia, which explains why Snape is so angry and excitable. He also had to compensate for looking about eighteen - and for the children’s mockery of his social clumsiness.

(…) As a child he suffered extreme physical abuse from youths running a Cub Scouts troop. At the school he taught at before Wyedean his colleagues marginalised and bullied him for his outspoken independence, and at both schools he endured Marauder-like verbal and physical attacks from certain students: but at both there were also students who admired and supported him.

(…) He remembered Rowling, who had spent her break-times in the office he shared with her mother, with fond admiration, and became an active fan who conducted Snape-tours while wearing an academic gown, and lectured on likely local inspirations for people and places in the Potterverse.

Photos of John when he was 39 and 41 years old, respectively (second one was cut by himself because he didn’t want the entire world seeing his nipples, but the writer of the article makes a point to stress that he had remarkably thin arms).

John did the Rowling family a great favour, for as Head of Science at Wyedean Comprehensive in Sedbury he hired Anne Rowling, a woman already partially disabled by multiple sclerosis and almost certain to get worse, at a time when no-one else would, and took her on as a Biology lab. assistant. He remembered Anne as a jolly, humorous woman with what she herself called “a dirty great laugh”. He was enormously fond of her and fought the school tooth and nail to get improved disability-access for her: in particular, to have a lavatory installed in the science block so she wouldn’t have to struggle back to the main building several times a day. All that is unambiguously good in Snape, his intelligence, wit and passion for his subject, his showmanship and fluency, his protectiveness of others, his courage, love, loyalty, honesty, dedication and sense of duty, his independence and his moral seriousness, is identifiably derived from John.

There is some discussion in the article about how he believed he probably had Asperger’s Syndrome and so some of his behaviour was actually due to missing social cues and not out of spite and rage as JK maybe interpreted (and wrote Snape’s background in order to explain).

In JK’s drawings of him, Snape often has a stubble and is shown wearing a Dracula-collared cloak which are never described as such in the books, but could be inspired by John and this high-collared hippyish jacket he used to wear.

Also, let me show the Snape fandom this thing his son made because it is adorable and you’ll feel proud:

Now I want to finish this long ass post with this: John also enjoyed singing! And if you’re interested in hearing the original strong baritone voice that inspired our favorite overgrown bat, you can do that right here (there’s also a video on the link).

Lost dreams 2024. Photograms

Photos taken with a pinhole camera

Hyperfixating pt. 3

Requiem (2025)

Angel's Egg (1985) dir. Mamoru Oshii

My problem with Lily and James being seen as a super couple has nothing to do with Severus Snape but rather with the fact that when we look at the relationship between James and Lily through a feminist lens, it’s hard not to notice some pretty glaring issues that go beyond just whether or not they’re an “OTP” couple. Sure, on the surface it might seem like a story of two people finding love amid all the chaos, but scratch beneath the surface and you see a whole lot more about toxic masculinity, objectification, and the erasure of a woman’s agency. James is celebrated as this charming, rebellious “bad boy” with a roguish smile, while Lily gets stuck playing the role of the sacrificial, moral compass woman—someone who exists largely to balance out and even redeem the male narrative. And honestly, that’s a problem.

James is shown as this complex, active character who’s constantly surrounded by friends, enemies, and drama. His life is dynamic and full of choices—even if those choices sometimes involve manipulation and deceit. He’s the kind of guy who can easily slip out of confinement with his Invisibility Cloak, leaving Lily behind in a narrative that, over time, turns her into a background figure. This dynamic isn’t accidental; it’s reflective of how our culture often values male agency over female independence. Lily, on the other hand, is repeatedly reduced to her relationships with the men around her. Instead of being a person with her own dreams, opinions, and friendships, she becomes a symbol—a kind of emotional barometer for how “good” or “bad” a man is. Her character is used to validate the actions of others, which means her individuality gets smothered under the weight of a trope that’s all too common in literature: the idea that a woman’s worth is measured by her ability to tame or save a troubled man.

This isn’t just about a lack of depth in Lily’s character; it’s also about how her portrayal reinforces harmful gender norms. Lily is depicted as this kind of sacrificial mother figure—a person whose primary virtue is her selflessness, her willingness to suffer and sacrifice for the sake of others. While selflessness is often celebrated in women, it’s a double-edged sword when that selflessness is the only thing we see. Instead of having her own narrative, her role is defined by how much she gives up, not by what she contributes or the inner life she leads. And it’s not just a narrative oversight—it’s a reflection of a broader cultural pattern where women are expected to be nurturing, supportive, and ultimately secondary to the male characters who drive the action.

What’s even more frustrating is how Lily’s isolation is used to further the narrative of James’s redemption. Over time, we see Lily’s network of friends and her connections outside of James gradually disappear. It’s almost as if, once she falls in love, her entire world is meant to shrink around that relationship. And here’s where the feminist critique really kicks in: this isn’t a realistic depiction of a balanced, healthy relationship—it’s a story that subtly suggests that a woman’s fulfillment comes from being dependent on one man and his circle, rather than cultivating her own identity. Meanwhile, James continues to be portrayed as this larger-than-life figure who’s got a whole world beyond his romantic entanglement, a world filled with vibrant interactions, rivalries, and a legacy that extends beyond his relationship with Lily.

Another point worth mentioning is the way in which the narrative seems to excuse James’s less-than-stellar behavior. His manipulation, his lying, and his willingness to trick Lily into situations that serve his own interests are brushed off as quirks of a “bad boy” persona—a kind of charm that, in the end, makes him redeemable because Lily’s love is supposed to “tame” him. This kind of storytelling not only normalizes toxic masculinity but also puts an unfair burden on Lily. It’s like saying, “Look how amazing you are, you’re the only one who can fix him!” That’s a dangerous message because it implies that women are responsible for managing or even reforming male behavior, rather than holding men accountable for their own actions.

The imbalance in their character development is glaringly obvious when you compare how much more we learn about James versus how little we know about Lily. James is given room to be flawed, to grow, and to be complicated. His friendships, his rivalries, and even his mistakes are all part of what makes him a rounded character. Lily, however, is often just a name, a face in the background who exists mainly to serve as a counterpoint to James’s narrative. Her inner life, her ambitions, and her struggles are rarely explored in any meaningful way, leaving her as a one-dimensional character whose only real purpose is to highlight the moral journey of the man she loves.

It’s also important to recognize how this kind of narrative plays into broader cultural ideas about gender. When literature consistently portrays women as the quiet, isolated figures who are only valuable in relation to the men around them, it sends a message about what is expected of real-life women. It suggests that a woman’s worth is determined by how much she sacrifices or how well she can support a man, rather than by her own achievements or personality. This isn’t just a harmless trope—it contributes to a societal mindset that limits women’s potential and reinforces gender inequality. The way Lily is written reflects a kind of “tamed” femininity that’s supposed to be passive, supportive, and ultimately secondary to the active, adventurous masculinity that James represents.

At the heart of the issue is the lack of balance in their relationship as depicted in the texts. The idea that Lily “fell for” a man who was clearly not a paragon of virtue is problematic, but what’s even more problematic is how her role in the relationship is so narrowly defined. Rather than being seen as an independent character who makes choices and has her own voice, she is constantly portrayed as someone whose existence is meant to validate the male experience. Even when the texts mention that Lily had her own issues—like hating James at times or suffering because of the way their relationship unfolded—it’s always in a way that underlines her weakness compared to James’s dynamic, active presence.

Looking at the broader picture, it’s clear that this isn’t just about one fictional couple—it’s a reflection of how gender dynamics have long been skewed in literature. Male characters are given the freedom to be complex, flawed, and full of life, while female characters are often stuck in roles that don’t allow them to be fully realized. This isn’t to say that every story with a sacrificial female character is inherently bad, but it does mean that when a character like Lily is reduced to a mere symbol—a moral compass or a measure of male worth—it’s time to ask why and what that says about the society that produced that narrative.

So, what’s the way forward? For one, we need to start reimagining these relationships in a way that allows both partners to be fully fleshed out. Lily deserves to be more than just a side character or a moral benchmark; she should have her own narrative, her own dreams, and her own agency. And as much as it might be appealing to think of James as this redeemable rebel, it’s equally important to hold him accountable for the ways in which his behavior perpetuates harmful stereotypes about masculinity. A healthier narrative would be one in which both characters grow together, where mutual respect and equal agency are at the core of their relationship.

In the end, the story of James and Lily, as it stands, is a reminder of how deeply ingrained gender norms can shape the stories we tell. It’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of allowing toxic masculinity to go unchecked and of confining women to roles that don’t do justice to their full humanity. For anyone who’s ever felt frustrated by these imbalances, there’s hope in the idea of re-writing these narratives—of pushing for stories where both men and women are seen as complete, complex individuals. And really, that’s what literature should strive for: a reflection of the messy, beautiful, and often complicated reality of human relationships, where no one is just there to serve as a prop in someone else’s story.

Ultimately, if we can start imagining a world where characters like Lily aren’t just defined by their relationships to men, where their voices and stories are given as much weight as those of their male counterparts, then we can begin to chip away at the outdated tropes that have held us back for so long. It’s about time we celebrated the full spectrum of human experience—and that means giving women like Lily the space to shine on their own terms, without being constantly overshadowed by a “bad boy” narrative that has little to say about their true selves.

Am I the only one who thinks the song "Seven" by Taylor Swift you can perfectly relate it to Severus and Lily's childhood friendship? I've been trying to understand what the song means and why Taylor wrote it to learn more about the song's lyrics.

The phrase that resonates with me the most is this one:

“I've been meaning to tell you

I think your house is haunted

Your dad is always mad and that must be why”

https://www.reddit.com/r/TaylorSwift/s/rk5aT7uN0z