Please tell us more about Voldemort's relationship with Severus, and why you think it differs so much from Voldemort's other relationships
Whatever it is that lingers between Tom and Severus—power, manipulation, some dark bond none of us can fully grasp—it naturally ignites chaos in the mind of the beholders. And if you’re eager to feel that burn, I’ll gladly embrace you in it. To you brave, reckless souls, I say this: your wish is my command.
So, here we are, picking apart how Severus Snape—mudblood, poor, and bruised from the heavy hand of a Muggle father—managed to land himself a spot at the table with the most rabid pack of blood purists you’ve ever seen. A table, mind you, he had no business sitting at. The Death Eaters, that tight little clique of privileged purebloods, had no real reason to let in this scruffy little outsider. Sure, Snape was useful. Very useful. His skills were sharp as knives, and he could do their dirty work, get his hands filthy so they didn’t have to. But useful doesn’t mean welcome. Useful doesn’t mean accepted. You know who else was useful? Fenrir Greyback and his mangy lot. They brought terror to the doorsteps of half the wizarding world, and did Voldemort’s cause no small service. But did they get a place at the inner circle? Did they get respect? Hell no. They were the dirt beneath the boots of the real Death Eaters. Useful filth. And then there’s Snape, embodying everything these purists claim to despise—a half-blood with a tainted surname, living in squalor, dragged through the muck by a Muggle brute of a father. By all accounts, Death Eaters should have spat in his face and tossed him out like yesterday’s rubbish. But no. Not only does he get a seat at the table, he rises. He’s placed on a pedestal, standing closer to Voldemort than some of the most loyal, purest-blooded lackeys in the room. Voldemort, in all his cold-blooded glory, didn’t just tolerate Severus. He raised him up, right in front of their sneering, offended faces. Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. If you think Voldemort did this out of some sense of gratitude, you’ve missed the point entirely. Tom Riddle doesn’t do gratitude. That kind of sentiment is beneath him, an alien concept. Voldemort doesn’t reward; he uses. Deeds done in his name are expected, not appreciated. You’re not going to get a pat on the back from a man who thinks the world owes him its loyalty. Snape’s service should’ve earned him nothing more than a brief reprieve from pain. A loosening of the noose around his neck, if he was lucky. That’s Voldemort’s way—keep them all desperate, keep them all afraid. So why did Snape, of all people, get raised up? Why did he, the least likely among them, become a favorite?
Mind, it’s not just me declaring Snape as Voldemort’s favorite. That dark, twisted bond is laced into nearly every interaction between the two, as if something unspoken and festering passes between them. But it’s Narcissa Malfoy who lays it bare. A woman born into the highest echelons of pure-blood privilege, the very foundation on which Voldemort’s so-called supremacy stands, doesn’t hesitate when she calls him “the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor.” Let that sink in.
Here is the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a man whose lineage is steeped in the darkest of traditions. But when her family’s future is on the edge of a wand, when her son’s life dangles by a thread, she doesn’t rely on Lucius, doesn’t turn to Bellatrix. No, she comes to Severus, because deep down, she knows. They all do.
It’s something more insidious, something that slips through the cracks in the floorboards of Voldemort’s ideology. He is the one Voldemort trusts, the one Voldemort leans on, the one whose counsel can shift the dark winds of fate. That is real power, raw and untouchable. Narcissa sees it—how could she not? Even with all her aristocratic pride, even with the weight of her name and her family’s legacy pressing down on her, she understands that none of it means a damn thing next to what Snape has. Narcissa, with her family’s long, proud heritage, has to grovel before someone who, by the very logic of Voldemort’s cause, should be inferior. But Snape is different, and everyone knows it. They may not say it, they may not even want to admit it, but they know. He operates outside the lines, above the fray, immune to the very rules that were meant to keep people like him down. Snape, the half-blood, the one with the muddied past, holds a kind of sway that no one else in Voldemort’s ranks can claim.
Oh, there comes the bitter irony of Peter Pettigrew. After years of scraping and groveling, thinking he’d earned his place in the Dark Lord’s favor, Peter is handed over like a rag for Severus to wring out. Peter, one of the smug Marauders who’d gleefully hounded Snape through school, reduced now to something just shy of a house-elf, bowing and cringing under Snape’s very roof. A cruel twist of fate, no doubt arranged with Voldemort’s signature malevolence. Was this some attempt to plant a spy in Snape's house? Maybe, if you take it at face value. But think for a moment—Voldemort, who couldn’t pry Snape's treachery from his skull with all the power of Legilimency, putting his trust in Wormtail to do the job? The rat that couldn't outsmart a dormitory prank, never mind a master of deception like Severus?
No, this isn’t espionage; this is karma. Cruel, twisted karma orchestrated by the Dark Lord himself. You can almost picture Severus watching Peter scuttle about his house, casting him those withering, superior glances—knowing full well that Tom has given him this indulgence, this little taste of vengeance. Snape treats Wormtail with open contempt, because he knows he can. He knows it’s allowed, expected even. It’s as if the tables have turned in the most bitter of ways, a humiliating reversal of fortune. Pettigrew, who once revelled in Snape’s humiliation, now reduced to the lowest of roles, while Snape—Voldemort’s golden boy—sits at the top. Isn’t it delicious? You’d have to be blind to chalk it up to coincidence. Moreover, Pettigrew’s fate is all the proof you’ll ever need that Voldemort’s rule isn’t founded on something as simple or sentimental as loyalty. Loyalty? Sacrifice? Please. Pettigrew’s life was one long, groveling act of desperation to stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. You bring your master back from the brink of death itself, and still, all you get is contempt. Voldemort demands service, sure. But service? Guarantees nothing. And when you set Severus and Peter side by side, the question gnaws at you. Why? Why is Snape the favored one, the exception, the enigma in Voldemort’s otherwise brutal, predictable hierarchy? What makes him different? There’s something between them—something that doesn’t follow the usual logic of power and punishment. Voldemort doesn’t just tolerate Snape’s defiance; he rewards it, bends the system to accommodate it. Something unspoken, something hidden behind the masks they both wear, grants Snape a level of favor that Pettigrew could only dream of.
What’s crucial to grasp here is that Voldemort doesn’t spare anyone. His entire ideology is rooted in cruelty, in domination, in the ruthless obliteration of all who oppose him. He doesn’t just eliminate enemies; he obliterates them, wipes them from existence without a second thought. And yet, here’s the anomaly: Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a Muggle-born witch, is offered a chance to live. Live. This decision, however, is directly tied to Snape. Snape had begged Voldemort to spare her, and it is this plea—Snape’s plea—that softens the Dark Lord’s otherwise unyielding cruelty.
To truly grasp the enormity of this act, we need to take a step back and consider Snape’s position in all of this. Remember, Severus was just 21 years old when he found himself pleading with Voldemort, one of the most dangerous dark wizard in history, to spare Lily Evans.
Snape wasn’t the imposing, confident figure we often associate with him thanks to Alan Rickman’s performance—he wasn’t a man exuding quiet menace, seemingly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Voldemort. No, at this point in canon, he was barely more than a boy, a young man fresh out of Hogwarts, with no powerful lineage or wealth to protect him.
And yet, despite this—despite the sheer imbalance of power between them—Snape dared to approach Voldemort. Voldemort. With a plea. Not for himself, but for a Muggle-born witch. At best, Snape’s request might have been laughed off, dismissed as the desperate wish of a foolish young Death Eater. But it wasn’t. For some reason, Voldemort didn’t just tolerate Snape’s plea—he actually acted on it.
Consider how critical this moment was to Voldemort’s larger agenda. At the heart of his entire scheme is a singular, consuming fixation: the annihilation of the child prophesied to be his undoing. Harry Potter is Voldemort’s obsession, the one threat he must eliminate to secure his dominion. The Potters were no longer just enemies—they were the key to his future, and Harry was the focus of his most crucial mission. In this context, sparing anyone even remotely connected to Harry was an extraordinary risk. Leniency wasn’t just unnecessary—it was dangerous. By showing mercy to Lily, Voldemort risked undermining his own carefully constructed agenda. And this wasn’t a moment where Voldemort could afford to make mistakes.
This unprecedented act of “mercy,” this concession Voldemort granted Snape, became the very thing that led to his downfall. Had Voldemort simply killed Lily Evans on the spot, as he did James, she would never have had the chance to sacrifice herself for Harry. The protection her sacrifice invoked—the ancient magic that saved Harry’s life and turned Voldemort’s killing curse back on him—would never have existed. Voldemort, the cold strategist, fell because he didn’t bend for anyone—except, inexplicably, for Snape. And that single, dangerous deviation cost him everything. That’s how it’s all started.
And there it is— how it’s all ends. Voldemort’s final words to Severus Snape before he executes him. But pay attention to how he begins. “Clever man,” he calls him. He suggests that Snape might’ve already known the truth of the Elder Wand’s treachery. Tom would never acknowledge someone’s cleverness if it undermined his own intellectual abilities. If he implies that Snape may have already unraveled the mystery of the Elder Wand, it undoubtedly indicates that Voldemort had recognized Snape’s crucial role in the wand’s problems long before. It’s not just idle chatter or casual flattery. No, it’s a bloody confirmation that Voldemort himself had long ago pieced together the mystery of Snape’s involvement with the wand. This wasn’t some last-minute realization that forced his hand. It wasn’t ignorance that delayed Snape’s death, not at all. It was deliberation. Voldemort, for all his cruelty, wasn’t stupid. He suspected, long before that moment, that Snape was at the center of the problem with the wand’s loyalty. He just chose not to act on it until the very last moment.
He held back from executing him, searching for any other way around the wand’s limitations, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve killing Snape. But when it came down to it, when all other options were exhausted, Voldemort finally made his move.
And what does he do? He delivers a speech. A bloody speech, full of regret and excuses—“I regret what must happen.” Does that sound like the Voldemort we know? The Dark Lord who kills without a second thought, who carves his empire from the bones of the disobedient? Hell no. This is the man who thrives on fear, on swift, brutal punishment. And yet, here he is, delivering justifications like some guilty executioner. This isn’t Voldemort’s usual method. This isn’t the whip coming down fast and hard. This is something altogether more… hesitant.
That speech, soaked in rationalizations, tells us everything we need to know. Snape’s death wasn’t just business—it was personal. It’s a messy, ugly end to the unexplainable dynamic between them. Even at the very end, Voldemort is bending, twisting, trying to justify his actions to the one man who had managed to worm his way under his skin. And in that second, we see something rare—a glimpse of the complexity in their relationship. Voldemort’s usual ruthless efficiency is absent.
His “I regret it,” spoken once more, stands out like a blade in the gut, sharp and unexpected, slicing straight through Voldemort’s usual cold indifference. The Dark Lord, who has never spared a thought for the wreckage in his wake, lets these words hang in the air, unnatural as they are. A man who’s never known the weight of remorse now offers something that almost feels like regret. Not true regret, of course—Voldemort doesn’t have the luxury of feeling something so weak, so human. But still, It’s not a sentiment he offers to anyone else. It’s almost as if Voldemort doesn’t know how to process this lingering attachment, as though Snape’s mere existence demands something from him that Voldemort is incapable of giving. Snape occupies some strange corner of Voldemort’s mind, twisted and dark it may be, that not even the Dark Lord himself seems to understand. Despite the fact that I’ve painted a whole canvas of tangled thoughts on the strange relationship between Severus and Tom, I’ve barely begun to tug at the thread of their inexplicable dynamic. There’s so much more I could unearth, layers of intrigue and tension that ripple through every scene between them, and I could easily go on for hours about the small, delicious details woven into their story. But, as it happens, my full-time job is already sharpening its knife and aiming for my back, so I'll have to bring this whole saga to a close with the following quote:
For me, the intensity of this scene speaks volumes about their relationship, capturing the very essence of what makes these two so bloody fascinating. The way their gaze alone can make Death Eaters flinch under the weight of their unspoken understanding. It’s not fear, not exactly. It’s something colder, something deeper. As though they’re witnessing a bond forged in the dark, a grim understanding that none of them can ever be a part of.
That’s what keeps dragging me back to these two. The tension, the labyrinth of contradictions, the complex tangle of manipulation. I want to look away—hell, I should look away, just like the Death Eaters did. But there’s something about it, something that coils around me, tightening like a serpent’s embrace. Can you blame me?
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lurien’s butler being the embodiment of a ‘cowardly husk’ in their end really does set the precedent for how you’re meant to interpret lurien himself imo
Look, I think it’s pretty clear that the border-crossing people secretly really like Héctor. Evidence for this includes:
• How happy the border guard looked when he finally got through. • The fact that when his Frida Kahlo disguise fails he admits that “actually I am Héctor”, not giving any last name. Clearly he’s gained enough of a reputation with these people that he knows they’re not going to confuse him with the twelve thousand other 'Héctor’s that they’ve met doing this job. • The other border guard not locking him up, despite Héctor begging him and trying to bribe him and just generally pushing his luck (I remember sitting in the cinema thinking that I would have locked this guy up by now. But it makes sense if they’ve known him for ages and are all slightly amused by/sorry for the guy).
Probably they loved him for providing some much-needed entertainment every year. The border guarding gig on Dìa de los Muertos can’t be the best job in the world, since it mainly involves standing around, watching other people head off to their own families while counting down the hours until you can see yours.
The knowledge that, at some point during the night, Héctor will show up in some crazy disguise or with some convoluted plan to get through (I suspect that the year he met Miguel was the first time he dared to just make a dash for it, since that’s the only reason I can come up with for why he wasn’t better prepared to stop himself from sinking into the bridge. Probably he was just desperate with the knowledge that this could very well be his last chance), which would then cause some excitement and give you and your coworkers something to talk about, was probably the one thing that kept them from dying (again) of boredom.
And of course, once he got through, this all stopped, since there was obviously no need for it anymore. Sure, Héctor still regularly got butterflies moments before the crossing, convinced that this was the year that they somehow forgot him again and he had to stay behind (one time he freaked out so badly that Imelda had to physically push him in the way of the scanner), but even he never thinks of sneaking through.
And the border guards, weirdly, kind of miss it— the Dìa de los Muertos night shift is just so boring now— and somehow, word of this reaches the Riveras.
And that’s how The Game begins. The ‘try and get Héctor through border control without them realising it’s him’ game. Thought up to amuse the border guards and, though nobody mentions this to Héctor, to distract him and keep him from getting too nervous before a crossing.
Héctor absolutely loves it— though a large reason for this is that it’s an excuse to spend more time with his family. Felipe and Òscar in particular get really into it and have been known to spend weeks before the crossing plotting their next attempt. Coco — who most definitely takes after her father in this respect— joins in.
Rosita helps out as well, but less with the inventive side and more with the practical side (where are they going to get the stuff for the disguises? Who’s going to play what part? When are they going to carry it out?), while Victoria makes it clear that she disapproves but then joins in anyway because somebody has to be there to point out the obvious flaws in their plans. Rosita and Coco together then persuade Julio to get involved, though he mainly just sits there offering only the occasional suggestion, and doesn’t have much to do with the overall planning.
Imelda, for her part, thinks that its stupid and childish and will have no part in it whatsoever, thank you very much. Oh, except for providing any materials that they need, and coming up with ideas, and helping them pull it off… other than that, she’s not going to have anything to do with it. (Wisely, her family avoid commenting on the fact that, for somebody who isn’t involved, it’s strange how often she ends up taking over the whole thing.)
Elena, when she dies, takes the same line as Imelda. “This is idiotic and I’m not going to do it— but here are some detailed instructions on how to do it and woe betide you if you do anything else without consulting me first!” Miguel’s father is happy to help out and his mother, to everybody’s surprise, throws herself headlong into it and has great fun working on all the details and coming uo with zanier ideas each year.
When Miguel himself dies, he finds the whole thing hilarious (him being the only one of the younger Riveras who ever witnessed one of Héctor’s original, more madcap escapes) and insists on sneaking across the border with Héctor. He even manages to convince them to try Héctor’s old idea (apparently mentioned in the novelisation) of dividing himself up into baskets and getting carried across that way.
That’s the one year they call it a draw, since their skeletons start to reassemble at the point of crossing but, technically, both Miguel and Héctor had gotten through before that happened (or, rather, Miguel’s forearm and foot and Héctor’s hand, ribcage and straw hat got through in Imelda’s basket).
The border guards claim to find it a bit annoying— though, last time they brought him in for it, Héctor noticed a large scoreboard hanging on the wall (so far the border guards are winning, but the family’s help has finally allowed Héctor to score a few points of his own). A similar scoreboard hangs on one of the walls of the villa (oh yes, guess who ended up with Ernesto’s villa?) in the room where, once a year, the whole family gather to make their plans.
And once again actuator refs. 😊☕
Commission for my friend @nikodavisartwork !
I am reading Pratchett again and realised that Discworld probably has many characters who could become avatars of the Entities and never even noticing because That's How Life Has Always Been. namely I can think of Bloody Stupid Johnson for the Spiral and Rincewind for the Hunt but I'm sure there are others
Rincewind as a Hunt avatar is GALAXY-BRAINED, my friend. Rincewind isn’t a Hunt avatar who makes you feel hunted - not in the usual way. Not with eyes too sharp and teeth sharper yet, the sense that he could lunge at any moment - ha! No. No, Rincewind is just so terrified of being hunted himself that it bleeds out of him; you make eye contact and suddenly you can hear the hiss of arrows in the air, see the flicker of threats in the corner of your eyes, feel the hunters at your heels. Rincewind is the Herne the Hunted of people.
ive been thinking a lot about papyrus lately n how the fandom looks at sans and papyrus’s relationship and like.. i know most people would just take this line as a joke, why wouldn’t they, pap is trying to feed a fucking rock, but like… i think some of it rings true. papyrus is a big naive sweetheart, sure, and sans is always looking out for him, sure, but ppl tend to take that to this extreme where they see it as like “papyrus is too silly and childish to take care of himself and sans has to be the big protective older brother even if pap doesn’t rly notice”.
but…. papyrus actually does rly well for himself. look at him. he’s living a life most young adults could only dream of. he’s got a clean room, a nice house, a good work ethic for a job he’s very passionate about, a positive outlook on life, high self esteem, and even a racecar bed. who doesn’t want a racecar bed? i don’t even like racecars and i’d kill for a racecar bed. like, yeah, he’s kind of got an unusual way of doing things and doesn’t always pick the smartest option, but apart from the occasional possessed murderchild coming after him with a knife, he can take care of himself just fine.
and…. sans knows that too. sans doesn’t try to intervene with every little thing papyrus does, even when he messes up. he mostly just cheers him on from the sidelines and tries to make him happy in all the little ways he can. and sans is a lot stronger and more knowledgeable than he lets on, yes, but in contrast to his brother he does a really shit job of living a healthy lifestyle. he’s messy, lazy, he slacks off at work and overeats and has generally completely given up on being happy. and im saying this as a severely depressed person myself, i get it. i love sans for those qualities because i relate. i just think people give him too much credit, and papyrus not enough.
people talk about how papyrus is the thing that matters most to sans, and he puts most of his remaining energy into making him happy, which is true, sans loves his brother more than anything. but papyrus isn’t something he needs to protect. if anything, i think sans actually envies him sometimes, for being so unwaveringly confident and soft-hearted in such a bleak world. they take care of each other, balance each other out. they’d probably be a lot worse off without each other, but papyrus isn’t a fragile baby and sans isn’t his babysitter. and it matters to me (again, as someone who Relates) to be able to see sans as somebody who’s pretty bad at existing in general, and for people to be able to recognize that positivity isn’t inherently childish… them’s my two cents
Oh NO. Had the most horrific thought, my heart is hurting. Thought I’d share.
To preface: So, we entertain the running joke about calling Bruno “Hernando” and “Jorge” when his hood is up/bucket is on - we’re playing along! It’s fun! This was a cute little joke by the screenwriters to show that this is a silly, theatrical, creative man who has definitely gotten a bit more eccentric in his decade of loneliness and solitude - UNDERSTANDABLE. Look at all of us after only 21 months, come on.
The deeper level to it that I also acknowledge is that he assumes aliases to get through the things that scare him, in an intentional way, like hey if it isn’t “Maldito Bruno” sneaking out to the kitchen, spackling the cracks, mixing plaster, etc maybe none of that bad luck will leak out, maybe no one will catch me, maybe it’ll be okay, maybe the fix will stick, maybe it will just go right this time. It’s Hernando, it’s Jorge, they’re brave and they fix things and they DON’T cause bad things to happen.
This is a headspace we see from him with his vision ritual and superstitious tics as well, and it is is a VERY common set of internal rules to be working from when you have OCD. (“If I can do it perfectly, nothing will go wrong” - I go into that in a lot more detail in my post about the mechanics of his visions, which I’m STILL working on bc it’s turning into a gd essay)
BUT.
Are we forgetting that Bruno has grown up USED to being one of three? The triplets are a unit - they each have their strengths and weaknesses, they protect each other, they assume different roles to get through difficult times. Consciously or not, would he not need those roles to be filled in their absence?
We have Pepa - the weather-wielder, bold and brave and terrifyingly tempestuous, always ready to stand in front, be the loudest, take the initiative, defend her family - undaunted in the face of any conflict that might make her gentler siblings shrink.
So we have Hernando, who patches the cracks and is afraid of NOTHING.
We have Julieta - the one who heals wounds with her cooking, warm and kind and calm, steady and supportive and observant and tactile - the glue that keeps the three of them together when her more anxious siblings feel ready to shatter.
So we have Jorge, who makes the spackle meant to heal the cracks in the casita and keep everything from falling apart.
He needs his sisters. So, in their absence, he constructs characters that can take up the mantle of protector, of healer, while he tries to maintain the distance he thinks is necessary to keep his family safe.
It’s just him, of course, fixing things from behind the scenes to try and prevent a future only he has witnessed. And he knows this.
What he doesn’t realize, naturally, is that his sisters need him, too. His foresight, his careful attention to detail, his knack for stories, his unerring kindness and humility, his quiet words of support. They are stronger together, always, and they’ve all been scattered and hurting for so long.
Jinx : 😠
Silco : you’re my daughter 🥺 , I’ll never forsake you
Jinx : 🥺
Enjoy!
Remus Lupin: in depth analysis
Gentleman Monster: How Remus’s Marginalization and Comparative Privilege Made Who He Is
The Marauders Map scene in POA: Verbal Fencing Between Snape and Lupin
Lupin and his use of pauses and “ers”
Neither Likes Not Dislikes Severus…
Remus And His Use of Language + Sirius’ Dark Humor
Fanon vs. Canon: Remus Lupin Edition (reddit)
Lupin as a manipulator
Lupin is a gold standard for for the male manipulator trope
Lupin and how he presents in front of others
Remus would rather categorize himself with his oppressor than validate his own experiences.
Lupin and how he views himself
Prisoner of Azkaban: When Hostility Meets Passive Aggression
Remus’ “unmistakable signs of trying to live among wizards”
Remus lupin: Repentance vs Regret
Lupin lying to himself and others
Remus did a lot of “growing up” during the lost years
“And I haven’t changed…”
Remus Lupin: ENFJ
If Lupin and Tonks had survived the battle?
Lupin and the boggart lesson
Nearly Always Right: Remus and Harry
Remus with his own special brand of comforting logic
Remus Lupin at his most dangerous
Remus Lupin is so detached from things
Fanon vs Canon: “Remus is always sweet and kindly.”
Fanon vs Canon: “Remus is always sweet and kindly.” pt. 2
Snape and Lupin parallels
Harry/Remus dynamic
Lupin isn’t the middle ground in Mrs Weasley vs Sirius argument
Remus and what his friendships represent
Power game that goes on between Lupin and Snape in POA
Shame of My Flesh: Reading into Sirius’ Thoughts on Crouch Family
The Hogwarts Express scene in Prince’s Tale: A Sirius and Snape analysis
Sirius and Molly Argument in OOTP
Someone Like A Parent: The Beginning of Bond in POA
Snape, Sirius, and revenge Arrested Development – Sirius, Snape, Obsessions and Blind Spots
Why Sirius hated Snape so much
Padfoot and Prongs: an analysis of the friendship
Sirius and Walburga: the passive-aggressive Sticking Charm
Sirius and Walburga’s similarities
Regulus and Sirius’s relationship
Sirius and Lily
Sirius and Orion Black
Sirius Black and Complex trauma
Grimmauld Place: Azkaban by a different name
The worse thing Sirius Black has ever done || The ‘Prank’
Sirius Black, Mental Health and Masculinity
Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Padfoot and the Liminal Space
Sirius was not an immature man -child
Sirius is both emotionally and academically intelligent
Sirius’ sense of humor
Sirius Black the Loner
Sirius Black and Acts of Service
Part one: Sirius and the shadow of being a Black.
Part two: Sirius Black: the victim of the system he was born to rule
Sirius and Snape both want to be part of a world that they will never truly understand.
Fanon vs canon: James and Sirius are either very saintly or very evil.” pt 2
Sirius’s views on Death-Eaters: The world isn’t split into good people and Death-eaters.
James, Sirius and Snape: privilege and intelligence
Sirius and Regulus’s relationship is Kreacher
Sirius is not as explosive as he is often characterized.
James and Sirius had the best friendship in the story
“the marauders’ is essentially just three people wanting to be james’ best friend but only one of them actually achieving it”
Too Deep for the Healing
How does growing up with elderly parents affect James’s personality?
“the marauders’ is essentially just three people wanting to be james’ best friend but only one of them actually achieving it”
Ashes thoughts on James
Fanon vs canon: James became a reformed character for Lily’s sake
Fanon vs canon: James and Sirius are either very saintly or very evil.” pt 1
James Didn’t Suspect Remus - First War edition
James inner sense of nobility prevents him from killing
Peter Pettigrew is emotionally intelligent and uses it in a strategic manner.
Peter is a Beautiful Scum Bag
Peter Pettigrew and the Werewolf Incident (Not as Much of a Key Event for Him)
Peter and Remus
Reading Marauders Dynamics in SWM
J/S vs F/G: different types of troublemakers
The rifts that made it possible for the Marauders to fall apart were evident even as far back as Hogwarts.
An Analysis of the Snape’s Worst Memory Pensieve scene
The marauders recklessness
The marauders individual relationships
Fallout of the “prank”
Lily’s weakness is her fondness for being the exception
Lily and Altruism
Lily’s cold anger
Lily and her friendships
Slughorn’s favorite student
“Friendzoned”
Lily Evans is attracted to James Potter in Snape’s Worst Memory.
Interpretation of Lily’s blush
Lily and internalized misogyny
Fanon vs canon: Lily is either very saintly or very evil.”
Lily intended to break off her friendship with Severus before SWM
Harry’s relationship to the Prince as a blueprint for Lily’s friendship with Snape
Lily never hated Petunia
What’s Up with Petunia’s Resentment of Lily?
Lily is blind to the flaws of people she admires/loves unless it explodes in her face.
Lily’s feelings for Snape are more complex than fandom gives them credit for.
“Lily in nature”
Snape and Class
Lily and Sev
How Dumbledore’s death speaks to Snape’s moral evolution
Feminist reading of lily/James/snape
James and Snape were rivals? Nah.
Snape was really traumatized by SWM
Snape being female coded
The extremely dysfunctional friendship of Snape and Lily
Trolly problem: Snape and Lupin
Snape: class and power
Lily Potter’s Son
Two up, two down
Snape and the Order confrontation of the Dursley’s
Severus Snape or the Importance of Body Language
Snape and the prince nickname
Snape was not upset over the lost of the order of merlin
Snape had to practice being a person
Spinner’s End (white hound)
Snape as a “bad victim”
Snape and queer coding
Dumbledoor, Snape and the werewolf incident.
Snape was his own man
a matter of perspective
Snape, Sirius, and revenge
Snape doesn’t want revenge
Snape and lily’s shared spirit
Snape’s use of language
Why does Spinners End matter?
Hermione and Ron don’t blindly trust harry
Hermione “character growth” with SPEW
Hermione wouldn’t like fiction
Harry and Hermione understand each other
Hermione can be very ruthless
Hermione and internalized misogyny
Book Hermione
Cool Hermione Things: Magic Under Pressure
Hermione IS soft
Hermione was born a leader and diplomat
Harry is in awe of Hermione
Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins: A Closer Look into Hermione’s Modification of Her Parents’ Memories
Fanon vs Canon: “Hermione is always sweet and kindly.”
Deconstructing Harry: The boy we meet in Philosopher’s Stone to the man in Deathly Hallows
Harry And Personal Conflict: A Meta On Evolving Dynamic With Ron and Hermione
The Resurrection Stone Scene: Culmination Of Harry’s Emotional Arc
The Resurrection Stone Scene: Culmination Of Harry’s Emotional Arc
The Dementors and Harry’s Complex grief
Harry’s intuitive, empathy related approach to morality
Harry identified with and reluctantly admired Snape even before ‘The Prince’s Tale’
Harry and Hermione in The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore
Harry and The Dursleys: Examining His Response to his Abusers
The Mirthless Laugh: Sirius and Harry
Harry and intellectual curiosity
The Potters and class
Harry-Hermione Friendship
On Harry and the adults in his life
Harry and masculinity
Harry’s quirks
Ron and the Horcrux: An Alternate Reading
Ron isn’t a strategist, he’s the heart
Gender Dynamics in the Trio, Part One: Gender and Subordination
“Lucky you”
Percy with F&G and Bill
Percy fell through a big crack
Is Ginny Upset That None of Her Family Noticed Her Disappearances/Serious Health Problems/Posession in her First Year? (If She is, They Still Don’t Seem to Notice)
Molly Weasley is a Misogynist
That Time Fleur Exploded at Molly and Became a Member of the Family
The Weasleys Aren’t Evil, Or Anything, But They’re Not Saints Either
Ginny, the diary, and her family’s reaction
Does gender plays a role in Harry and Ginny’s respective interactions with Voldemort?
Percy and Arthur were close without actually knowing each other’s true selves,
Ginny and writing failures
fred and george could be weirdly brutal towards ron
Percy, Fred, and George
Weasley siblings reacting to the expectations put upon them
Weasley analysis
Bellatrix: Mental health and the feminist lens
Dumbledore as a Mentor
“all draco wanted was to be loved” debunked
Walburga Black: the madwoman in the attic
General Thoughts on the Black Family
Fanon vs canon: “The Evans family treated young Snape very warmly.”
Albus Dumbledore Has Done Great, Generous, Things for People (Though He Also Uses These People as Pawns Later)
Albus Dumbledore is not only respected and feared, but also loved
Trevor and Neville’s Boggart
Wandlore: Remus and Lily
Neville’s Boggart
The Abandoned Boy And His Problematic Fathers: Snape with Voldemort & Dumbledore
The Blacks are a family in decline
Hogwarts School Uniform
Why the Wizarding World Didn’t Oppose Voldemort
The Blitz Paved the Road to Voldemort
Hogwarts Houses by Muffin
How Old is the Bias Against Slytherin?
No, Really, the Hogwarts Houses Are Awful
House Elves Are Slaves
A History of Magic Brought to You By The Carnivorous Muffin
Light and Dark Magic is Stupid: Here’s Why
The Wizarding World Lacks a Key Understanding of Magic
The Wizarding World and Its Profound Ignorance of Muggles
The Slug Club is Actually Very Necessary
The Order of the Phoenix is a Useless Joke
Harry Potter as a colonial fantasy
Death as one of HP’s themes
The “not like other girls” syndrome in the Harry Potter books.
HP series being ‘ethically mean spirited’
Marauders era and the 70s aesthetic?
JKR and chirstianity
Harry potter series and how american readers can understand classism a little better
Slytherin and Eton: A Primer on the British School System.
JKR’s absolutist way of seeing the world: gryffindor and slytherin