patrickat:

“America has one wizarding school.” JKR, please. America spans nine time zones and we can’t even agree on whether there should be sugar in tea or what we should call those beverages made from carbonated flavored water.

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15 things JK Rowling could include to treat Native people and culture respectfully:

red-stick-progressive:

1.       Don’t make the centerpiece of the story about a boarding school. If you’re white you probably don’t know this but, boarding schools were used to genocide Natives for centuries.

2.       Bother to do some research on the cultures you’re trying to write about. Natives are not simple. They are complex and deep. In some ways much more so than the European colonizers.

3.       Natives had the most advanced and sophisticated government structures in the world at the time. International war laws, reverse hierarchical federalized democracies, independent economic entities, the clan systems, the most expansive road and trade networks in the world, the list goes on just do some reading.

4.       Don’t diminish or dismiss the natives as backward or simple in the fiction either. JKR decided that natives don’t use wands for magic and stuff because they don’t do specific or focused magic, that’s racist nonsense.

5.       Natives would do some wild shit like Onondaga fire magic or Aztec surgical stuff. There were Mixtec oracles and mystics who cut the flesh from their face and replaced it with gems, that shit is metal.

6.       The wand thing could be replaced with turquoise gem totems, or obsidian magic knives or some shit like that. Taking the tools away from them is dehumanizing imagery.

7.       Don’t mess around with pipes or anything like that. You’re white JKR, you’re white.

8.       If you have a character run away into the woods in Massachusetts, she is gonna run right into Native cities. Don’t pretend that America is this open uninhabited nature reserve. That wasn’t true and it is racist.

9.       Don’t pretend that American societies are going to be as backward and prejudiced as other places. Most American languages didn’t have gendered pronouns. American cultures did not have the institutional patriarchal bullshit or homophobia. We would probably be pretty accepting of people that could do magic.

10.   There should be magical clans… that sounds dope.

11.   There should be magical schools already and there could be a really cool plot about protecting them from the Spanish and the English.

12.   They should not be schools as much as campus communities, workshops instead of classes. The predecessors to the Cherokee would create communities and give them a purpose, which was a practice common throughout North America. There would be a half-dozen school the size of massive cities centered around dope pyramids like Cahokia.

13.   Magic using medicine men would come to villages to teach the citizens that couldn’t leave or something like that.

14.   Instead of skinwalkers which are too specific and appropriationy, try something like the Witiko, which is about cannibalism and evil deeds freezing your heart or something (fluctuates according to region). Could very easily be related to evil magic users.

15.   The basic thing I think is to do some research and maybe ask some natives before you try shit like this.

To be clear for some white people who think I’m being sensitive or something. First off, fuck you, the second thing is JK Rowling is trying to make a shit ton of money with this. And she will so she should at least not contribute to the immolation and genocide of Native peoples at the same time.

papauera:

queereowyn:

remus is a living link between the first and second wars (which is hard to find considering how many people died in the first war), and yet his role in the first war is rarely spoken of even though that could illuminate important backstory. he is a werewolf and therefore represents an aspect of wizarding society that is rarely shown in the series, and yet he is presented as being somehow unique among werewolves (the rest of which are generally all depicted as monsters). he is financially destitute and spends a great deal of time living on the streets and/or in muggle society, which means that he could provide an alternative insight into wizard and muggle relations and into social inequality in the wizarding world, and yet the topics never come up when remus is around.

remus knew lily and james well and still grieves for them as much as sirius does, and yet his relationship with them is never mentioned, and harry—even after finding out that remus knew his father and mother—never once asks remus about them despite the fact that he is otherwise desperate for information about his parents. remus manages to come out of the first war and more than a decade of grief and isolation not only alive and functional but also as a figure of great strength, calm, and deeply held moral beliefs, and yet his guidance is never offered or asked for, he is never seen taking care of sirius even though that role should logically fall to him (no one takes care of sirius, actually, except harry, who is the one who should be the least responsible for sirius), and remus’ only role in the order is to liase with other dark creatures, because that’s the only value that dumbledore—and jkr—sees in him.

so i think it’s quite easy for me to say that jkr dropped the fuckin ball with remus lupin and that i’m never going to be over it

  

sourwolfsam:

Gryffindors are bright mornings, leaves dripping in gold. They’re the trailblazers, unafraid of the road ahead. They’re laughing so loud your stomach hurts, the knowledge that your friends are right behind you wherever you go. They’re ice skating with someone you love, clinging on to them for dear life. They’re make-believe games with quests and dragons and swords pointing at the sky. They’re rosy cheeks, winter winds and freezing hands. They’re the adrenaline when a plane takes off, the drop at the top of a rollercoaster. They’re delighted screams and freedom, the wind through your hair. They’re panting, pillow fights, feathers bursting into the air. They’re finger painting and festivals and burning sunsets. They’re the burn in your lung after chasing something you’ll never be able to catch. 

Hufflepuffs are honey and flowers and the soft autumn sun. They’re knitted jumpers and scarves and soft tan boots. They’re fresh air and nature, the sound of birds singing. They’re rolling down a hill in the spring, grass stains on your knees, daisy chains in your hair. They’re waving at someone across a crowded room, bright smiles and laughter. They’re coming home after a long day and seeing your family. They’re playing fetch with your dog, your cat weaving between your feet. They’re fluffy socks and song birds and kraft notebooks with hand drawn patterns. They’re throw cushions on a bed, a tiny cottage surrounded by wilderness. They’re the ground beneath your feet, the air that you breathe. They’re the light you chase when you thought you’d never see the morning. 

Ravenclaws are leather bound books and overstocked libraries. They’re waking up at two am to google that thing that’s bugging you. They’re journals with half the words crossed out, scribbles and ink stains and missing pages. They’re stretching when you’ve been hunched over all day, rolling off the edge of a bed, burrowing in blankets. They’re torch light and held breaths and reverent whispers. They’re the entire night sky and everything beyond it; the embodiment of the universe. They’re desperate searches and hidden castles and ghost stories by firelight. They’re the mystery of a dark corridor, the force of a whirlwind. They’re the excitement of discovery, the rustle of crunched up paper. They’re the last whisper before you fall asleep. 

Slytherins are foggy hillsides and picturesque landscapes. They’re hand written love notes and subtle glances across a classroom. They’re black boots, long coats, buttons done up to the top. They’re tipping your head back to breathe the air, kicking up stones on a deserted path. They’re mirrored lakes, everything below the surface. They’re the confidence to get something right, the feel of magic in your fingertips. They’re holding your breath underwater, pretending to be a mermaid when you swim. They’re finding that one song that makes you want to create a storm. They’re the chill in the breeze, the force in the tide. They’re enchanted forests and lingering glances and long drives. They’re the lightning and the thunder and everything in between.