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macklesufficient:

"villain" characters in hp who are more interesting than severus snape:

-regulus black
-peter pettigrew (!!!)
-narcissa malfoy
-gellert grindlewald
-regulus black
-barty crouch jr.
-horace slughorn
-regulus black
-kreacher the house elf
-dolores umbridge
-regulus black
-rEGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK

muirin007:

snapslikethis:


Just look at all of their faces individually

all i can see is james potter, kingsley shacklebolt, and sirius black high fiving in an ootp meeting 
help

THAT LAST COMMENT

muirin007:

snapslikethis:

Just look at all of their faces individually

all i can see is james potter, kingsley shacklebolt, and sirius black high fiving in an ootp meeting 

help

THAT LAST COMMENT

(Source: ddlovoto)

brood-of-froods:

i like to think that hogwarts has a really strong wi-fi signal, but like the stair cases, it keeps moving around. just muggleborns, chillin on their laptops all suddenly stand up together, dash madly to a different corner of the school, and sit down wordlessly like some kind of mind hive flock of pigeons while the purebloods are just so confused

I see a lot of people on certain websites saying stuff about how Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows were shitty books. And while I really don’t get the hate they have for the books, I gotta admit that HBP has some serious writing problems.

I mean, why are Ron and Hermione suddenly so skeptical about Harry’s theory that Malfoy is a death eater? Do they really think that Voldemort wouldn’t use someone as a tool? Do they think that Voldemort is somehow “above that” or something? And haven’t they been friends long enough to, you know, FUCKING TRUST EACH OTHER?

a letter from the end of the first week of hogwarts

albus severus: dear mum and dad

albus severus: i was in the library today

albus severus: reading a book about previous heads of hogwarts

albus severus: and i would just like to say

albus severus: are you fucking serious

albus severus: i demand a name change immediately

albus severus: just literally anything else please

albus severus: fucking dobby kreacher potter for all i care

albus severus: sorry for swearing i just

albus severus: bloody hell

albus severus: yours sincerely,

albus severus: aragog fang potter or some shit

marilynhanson:

there is a clear distinction between gof sirius and ootp sirius so let’s talk about it because it’s all i’ve thought about for days.

in gof, sirius lives in a  cave eating rats in order to be near harry during the triwizard tournament. this is a decision that puts sirius in danger — being so close to hogwarts with ministry officials prowling around could easily land him back in azkaban. but here’s the thing: sirius doesn’t choose to live in hogsmeade for a laugh, or for his own personal gratification. he did it to protect harry — in the cave scene, when the trio ask what he’s doing, the first thing he says is “fulfilling my duty as godfather.”

and he is. because throughout gof, sirius gives advice, guidance, and comfort to harry. he tells him not to take unnecessary risks, to stay safe, to focus on getting through the tournament alive. sirius chastises harry after he finds out that he went into the forest with krum, he offers sympathy when harry talks about the fight he has with ron, and also, he lived in a cave and survived on rats just to be close in case harry ran into danger.

consistently throughout gof, sirius is a comforting presence to harry. he is intelligent, protective, and even paternal. this is sirius black at his best.

and sirius black at his best stands in stark contrast to the man we see in ootp: angry, mercurial, moody. reckless. he constantly makes bad, impulsive decisions: seeing the kids off at king’s cross, popping into the gryffindor fire, picking fights with snape. in ootp, sirius causes harry more worry than he assuages — directly conflicting with his goal of fulfilling his duty. not to mention, his treatment of harry, which is in direct opposition to what he displayed in gof: now, he encourages harry, compares him to james, even guilts him — “you’re less like your father than i thought.” that’s a shitty, low thing to say to the boy you’ve sworn to protect.

and all of this is leading up to the crux of the matter: sirius’s obvious illness. he’s depressed, he shows signs of bipolar disorder, he has tendencies toward alcoholism. he’s likely dealing with some form of PTSD after twelve years in azkaban. these things are true of sirius no matter where he is, but in gof, he’s in a healthier state — ironically, given his living conditions.

the trigger for sirius’s behavior in ootp is grimmauld place. it’s imprisonment, it’s being locked up in a house that he loathed, one that he was almost definitely emotionally abused in. it’s being kept from having an active role in the order, it’s being goaded by snape, it’s being stuck and unable to help, all in a place that represents everything he spent his teenage years trying to escape.

hermione consistently points to sirius’s instability, says that she thinks he’s being unwise, and when harry takes it as an insult on his mental state — it isn’t an insult, it’s a correct observation — hermione says that he’s been lonely for a very long time. and she’s right. in ootp, we see the effects of all of this on sirius, and they’re invariably negative in the extreme.

it’s heartbreaking to see the contrast here, because in one book we see the best of sirius: loyal, selfless, protective, and loving. immediately following, we see the worst.

but even at his worst, even amid his own battles with illness coupled with the infuriating things about sirius black, he protects harry. he goes to the ministry to fight because harry is in danger, and he dies protecting harry.

sirius was f***** up but even at his worst, he still fought for harry in the end because there was no way in hell the person he loves more than anything else could be in danger without him there to protect him. he lost his duel with bellatrix because he underestimated her, because he’s prone to losing himself in the thrill of the fight, because he couldn’t resist the temptation to goad someone he loathed.

but he went into the ministry that night to protect harry. he would have done it for james, sirius, remus, peter, or lily at twenty; he would have done it healthy in gof; and he did it as sick as he was in ootp.

in spite of everything that happened to him — and everything intrinsic to him, all the cruelty and grudges he clings to by nature — sirius is a good person.

because there is nothing sirius black would not sacrifice for a person he loves.

I’m sure they do. I mean, not like anyone said “maybe Harry should talk to someone” after the Third Task and being treated like shit by the freaking government. And Azkaban is full of soul-eating monsters that literally induce depression and the Wizarding world doesn’t see a damn thing wrong with that. They just shove some chocolate at anyone who’s affected by dementors and call it a day. Except the people in azkaban, who obviously deserve it. The Wizarding World has no equivalent to the geneva conventions and that’s pretty fucked up, to put it mildly.

When they can fix broken bones with a simple potion, I seriously doubt that they think much of mental illness.

our-forelsket:

msrmoony:

Harry Potter au where Harry didn’t lose being a parsletongue and Albus buys a snake as a pet one year because snakes are cool and one day just walks in on Harry and the snake having a deep conversation

Albus is 17 and loses his virginity in his room and forgets the snake talks to his dad and when Harry gets home the snake is all like OH MY GOSH YOU’D NEVER GUESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WHAT HAPPENED

youarebeingshaggedbyarareparrot:

Give me Slytherins in Dumbledore’s Army.

Give me Slytherins vouching for and adopting muggleborn first years during the reign of the Carrows. Walking the corridors a day or two after the start of term, spotting a cornered and terrified looking Ravenclaw first year and wading in like, “Ah, there you are! I tried to catch you at the feast, but you left for that tower of yours. How’s your Mum? She asked me to keep an eye out for you. Come on, don’t know about you, but lunch feels like forever ago. Shall we go raid the kitchens? You can tell me how the family’s doing, it’s been ages since I’ve seen my cousins.” “Who are- umm - do I know you?” “Just keep walking kiddo.”

Give me Slytherins running interference. Sitting in the thick of it in the Common Room, listening in on the discussions and idle plotting the older students under the guise of studying. Giving the odd absent minded smile in the appropriate place and laughing when expected, but making careful notes in their Herbology crib notes. Later relaying the intended and potential threats to the rest of the DA.

Give me Slytherins raiding the dungeon store rooms. With the Carrows’ idea of discipline bleeding Madame Pomfrey’s resources dry, alternative sources of items like raw murtlap, salamander blood and doxy eggs need to be found. Not all Slytherins take potions past OWLs, but there are a number who don’t who leave the dungeons with full book bags and later leave the Room of Requirement or the Hospital Wing with them considerably lighter. Later, the empty bags will be lined with takings from the Green House 8, where Longbottom and Sprout are growing in secret what they can’t steal from anywhere else.

Give me Slytherins insisting on hand to hand fighting being included in the DA’s training schedule. Because it doesn’t matter how good you are in a duel, if they get your wand away from you, you are going to have to find another way to defend yourself. They throw in a few hand held weapons as well because, well, come on, have you seen the corridors around here? There are suits of armour, like, every four feet! There are swords and morning stars everywhere people. Plus, it will scare the shit out of them. And a few halfbloods introduce the concept of homemade weapons and explosives and then the battle plans just get downright dirty.        

Give me Slytherins hitting other students with spells in the corridors. Imagine, you’ve just stumbled out of Defence Agai- wait, no, can’t really call it that anymore – Dark Arts. You’re shaking, trembling from head to foot. They had you demonstrating the Imperious this afternoon. On Luke, you’d always had a bit of a thing for Luke. And you couldn’t do it. You’re not sure what they hit you with but you can barely keep your feet under you. It doesn’t take much for the Slytherin girl to shove you into the wall. You hit the floor as she walks away, her head thrown back in a cackle. You vision blurs with tears from pain, humiliation and just being sick of being so damn scared all the time. Some lion you are. You don’t see the Slytherin boy coming the other way until it’s too late and his wand is already raised on you. You cry out as the first of the tears start to fall and brace yourself. There’s no pain though, despite the continued malicious laughter in the air. You feel warm instead, like someone’s just wrapped you in a much needed hug. You feel warm and safe and, as impossible as it seems, you feel happy and oh so hopeful. You drag yourself to your feet as the cheering charm settles like a warmed cloak and you lock eyes with the Slytherin boy just as he rounds the corridor corner. He winks at you and places a finger over gently smiling lips.

Give me Slytherin girls laying into boys during DA combat sessions. Gryffindor boys unwilling to raise their wands on a younger, smaller girl. “Oh come on! Seriously?! Dude, do you honestly think that Bellatrix Lestrange is going to smile and curtsy and thank you for being a gentleman?!” *curse flies* “Do you really think that Dolohov is going to extend the same courtesies to me?!” *another curse flies* “Because I telling you now Galahad, he ain’t! Now fight back you damn pussy cat!” “She’s right Davies, now fight back!” “Thanks Longbottom!”

Give me Slytherins convening with other members of staff. Requesting to be put into detention. They can be there for support for the younger students, the non-purebloods when the Carrows get into their stride. The moon touched girl from Ravenclaw, all blonde hair and pale eyes, she came up with this spell. Allows the effect of a curse to be split multiple ways, takes the edge of the Cruciatus is cast at the right moment. But they need more people in there, if anyone else passes out like the first time Lovegood did it will raise suspicion.

Give me Slytherins raiding the laundry baskets for spare ties. Yes, ok, so it’s not going to fool anyone with half a brain for very long, but the number of the Carrows underlings who just clock what colour is dangling around your neck and keep walking is laughable. The other staff members have cottoned on to it, seeing ties being swapped out at the classroom door and say nothing.

Give me Slytherins contributing their own photos and stories to the Memorial Wall in the Room of Requirement as the War drags on. Friends and family, alumni who refused to join Voldemort’s forces and paid the price for their defiance.

Give me Slytherin quidditch players who suggest aerial support squad to patrol the Forbidden Forrest in secret when the Carrow detentions warrant a little field trip. Waiting in the air in case anyone is in need of a quick retrieval. Give me beaters from different houses practicing with the bludgers, improving their aim and trying to see it they can weaponise them, or charm them to attack certain targets. Give me chasers practising flight with a second rider and keepers doing weights training in case they ever need to snatch someone out of danger. Give me seekers testing their reflexes and developing communication short hand for when they will be scouts on the battle field.      

And give me Slytherins in the face of bigotry. Because that shit is a two way street. How many time has it been said, “Why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?!” over the years. “Who’d even want to be a Slytherin?” Truth is, the sorting hat gets a rhyming couplet to give an overview of each house and that is it. Not all Ravenclaws are free thinkers, not all Gryffindors are fearless, not all Hufflepuffs are good people. Give me Zachariah Smith after a bad clash, looking around at the red, blue and yellow lined room and those students bleeding and bruised and staring in on the few wisps of green set solidly among the others. Give me harsh words, unfounded accusations and a comment of ‘snakes in the lions’ den’. Give me Neville and Ginny yelling back, shouting him down, but he’s built up a head of steam and some of the younger members start to look torn and begin to edge way from the Slytherins in their midst. Give me a small slight Slytherin girl, finishing up bandaging a spained wrist of a small Gryffindor boy and rise to her feet prettily dusting off her hands. Give me her crossing the room quickly and quietly to within striking distance and then lamping Smith in the jaw. “Any means to achieve our ends you say? And what happens when our goals are your goals? When our home and friends and lives are the same one threatened as yours? The houses are there to give a sense of family in a new environment and to give us the distraction of inter-house quidditch matches. It was not designed to segregate us, we get enough that out there! We are one side here, and unless certain heads are removed from certain arseholes, it is going to be the side that comes of worse! Now, if anyone else requires essence of murtlap, I’m over by the second window.”

Give me Slytherins in the DA.

diva-gonzo:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(Image source.)
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

This gives me much food for thought…

diva-gonzo:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure

But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.

Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.

Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.

Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured by their classmates for having been born.

Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)

Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.

Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?

Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.

Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.

Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.

Imagine the ghosts.

Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)

Imagine the students unable to trust each other everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.

Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.

Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.

Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.

Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.

Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.

Imagine the students who leave the wixen world hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.

Imagine the students who never use magic again.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

This gives me much food for thought…

Anonymous asked
Once I read this essay by this person who was trying to claim that Ginny from Book 5 was very different from Ginny from Book 4 and previously, and was using quotes of Ginny speaking normally in front of Harry in GoF (which this person insisted was OOC of Ginny in OotP) to prove some other point about Ginny's love for Quidditch. This is how bad Ginny hate gets. People will contradict themselves in one paragraph if they get to bash her. It's amazing, so amazing. Why.

scared-of-clouds:

I’m pretty confident that most Ginny haters read an entirely different series of books to the rest of us. There is just nothing in Ginny’s character to inspire the vitriol she gets. 

You are, of course, totally right. You can’t argue that Ginny in OOTP was completely different from Ginny in GOF, then use GOF quotes to support your character analysis of how OOTP Ginny is different. That’s not just contradictory, it’s downright ignorant

The thing is, Ginny did change over the course of the books. Of course she did. It’s called character development. Stand up anyone who is the same person they were when they were eleven. No-one? Thought not. Let me tell you, I am 28 and I am not the same person I was at 27. You never stop growing and changing as a person. So frankly, this person could argue that Ginny was different in OOTP; of course she was. It would be perfectly normal for Ginny to have changed a little over the course of a year. Especially between GOF and OOTP, considering that during that period she is forced to accept that the person who invaded her mind, subverted her actions and manipulated her for an entire school year is back and is once again a present threat. It doesn’t mean her actual basic character has changed completely, just that she has grown and changed, as everyone does during adolescence. 

I don’t get the Ginny hate, not at all. Neville is another excellent example of a character growing in confidence over the years, improving their self-esteem and eventually becoming a bigger, bolder person. He’s practically the male version of Ginny’s character; someone overlooked in the beginning of the narrative (deliberately, I believe) who eventually becomes integral to the plot. And we all agree that Neville was a BAMF, surely. Let’s extend that same courtesy to the wonder that is Ginny Weasley.

Sometimes I wonder if the only difference is that Ginny Weasley had the audacity to a) be female and b) be a love interest for Harry, but I really don’t want to think of the fandom as being that misogynistic, or that petty. Call me an optimist. 

But it’s just…exhibit A:

Harry Potter, having never ridden a broom and knowing almost no magic gets onto the Quidditch team aged 11. Fandom response: well his dad was a Quidditch player, and clearly it’s in the genes, and he’s obviously just very talented.

Ginny Weasley, having been stealing her brother’s brooms and practicing flying from a young age at home, coming from a family where at least four of her siblings made the team at some point (one of whom nearly played for England) gets on the house team aged 14. Fandom response: well that’s ridiculous, how come no-one knew she was that good before, just because her brothers are good players doesn’t mean she would be….

Can we at least try for some consistency everyone? If you don’t like a character, that’s fine, but please stop trying to present spurious and badly-thought out arguments to boost your viewpoint. 

sassybabushka:

When my friend was in fourth grade her teacher asked for an example of irony, and she answered “Harry Potter searching for the final horcrux, but he is the final horcrux” and her teacher started screaming and said “I DIDN’T FINISH THE BOOK OH MY GOD!”

stem-cell:

deonte-s:

the idea of harry potter not only straddling two worlds between him (the british wizarding world and the british muggle world) but also being met at each end by two entirely different systems of historical dehumanization/subjugation (with harry on one hand being a half-blood in a society built on blood pedigree and on the other hand being black mixed-race in a society built on white supremacy) is at once extremely tragic and extremely compelling narratively

it’s also interesting that either status has a completely negligible effect within the opposite world (i.e. harry’s blood status means nothing in muggle britain and his race means nothing in wizarding britain)

mixed-race harry continues to rise to the top as the most narratively compelling interpretation of the text

(Source: feelknower1993)

imaginarycircus:

ducktrainer:

saemiligr:

dear-monday:

So we know it’s JK’s headcanon that Dudley has a magical child, right? Imagine his kid starting to show signs of magic and Dudley remembering all the odd things that used to happen around Harry. Imagine his kid coming home from Hogwarts and being all, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME UNCLE HARRY WAS FAMOUS?” Imagine Dudley reading up on Harry and finding out about all the stuff he did and all the things that happened to him and struggling to grasp how his scrawny, speccy cousin saved the wizarding world. Imagine Dudley, white-faced with terror at his first big family get-together with Harry, Hermione and all the remaining Weasleys. Imagine Mrs Weasley being decidedly cool towards him until he eats fifth helpings of everything she cooks and telling her that she’s the best cook he’s ever met. Imagine Dudley meeting Fleur. Imagine the others embarrassing Harry by telling Dudley stories about him. Imagine Dudley and Harry going down the pub together for beers. Imagine Harry still calling him Big D. Imagine Dudley cheerfully never dieting ever again and being fat and happy forever THE END.

This makes me absurdly happy

did they just made me happy about DUDLEY

I have thought about this before. I imagined Dudley breaking down and sending Harry a letter somehow or other. Like maybe he goes to all the local nature preserves and quietly talks to all the owls until one agrees to take his letter. And he tells Harry his small daughter made their TV only play old reruns of the Vicar of Dibley for a month and she somehow turned every plate of vegetables into a pudding. And so he’s sorry to ask, but he needs help. His wife is at her wit’s end. Please help.

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