I bet for the professors teaching Ravenclaws is like herding cats away from empty boxes.
Older Ravenclaws have finely honed the art of asking just the right argumentative questions to direct their teacher onto an entire-class-session-long tangent about something entirely irrelevant to the course material.
Can you imagine Ravenclaws trying to overhaul the entire school system with Muggle ideas. Trying to figure out how to best teach people, more concerned with how people learn than what they’re learning.
“Why do we force people to learn things they aren’t interested in, we should create our own curriculum.”
“We should figure out everyone’s learning styles.”
“We need smaller class sizes.”
“No, no, wait, guys, what if we eliminated grades entirely.”
Yeah, Ravenclaws would drive Hermione up the wall.
“Fire the whole staff and start over.”
“Present more opportunities for seventh-year independent research!”
“Why hasn’t anyone made magically modified calculators yet?”
“Why are we still using quills and parchment when pencils exist? Please explain.”
“I don’t want to enter the work force directly after school, what are my options for higher education? Is there magical university?”
“I don’t feel confident in my professor’s qualifications because she’s teaching me astrology but doesn’t know any facts about space beyond about the year 1764.”
Muggleborn Ravenclaws forming rogue study groups to teach other students chemistry and algebra and English literature, just imagine.
“They call this the astronomy tower but we’re learning about the effects of Venus when it’s in the fourth house and the professor doesn’t believe Neptune is a planet I am really concerned.”
“Okay but what’s the oxidation state of Mandrake root in pepperup potion?”
“But can you apply differential calculus to arithmancy or not?“
“The portrayal of the witches in Macbeth has some pretty troubling implications, also, I don’t think their potion would have actually done anything.”
The Elder Wand, the most powerful wand ever made. The Resurrection Stone. The Cloak of Invisibility. Together, they make the Deathly Hallows. Together, they make one master of death.
Imagine Harry and Ginny a few months into their marriage and they’re so happy and in love and then one day they go shopping for food and household items and Harry just casually grabs certain items before Ginny hisses at him to “Check the prices, Harry, God! That bed set is far too expensive, we’re not going to have anything left to get the food with!” And Harry starts to laugh and say “We don’t have to worry about -” and then he stops and he and Ginny look at each other. And Harry realizes that she’s grown up having to measure out all her money and decide what she can and cannot have for a certain week or month or year. And Ginny realizes that she is actually no longer obligated to worry about money ever again.
Imagine Harry and Ginny eating dinner together and Ginny’s telling him about certain meals her mum made and teasing him about how he wolfs everything down and “Honestly Harry, you’re worse than Ron!” and Harry retorts laughingly “well old habits die hard, I had to fight Dudley for meals all the time, you at least knew you were going to eat every day!” And Ginny’s grin starts to fade and she asks “You…you didn’t get to eat everyday?” And Harry realizes what he said and he changes the subject quickly and Ginny looks at the plates in front of him and resists the urge to pile on some more potatoes. And the next day Vernon Dursley’s car is egged.
Imagine Harry and Ginny both suffering from night terrors and PTSD and agreeing that maybe going to that therapist Hermione recommended isn’t such a bad idea, and that’s how Thursday night became Therapy Night when they go out to dinner or to the pub after each session and agree that they need to talk to some Healers about introducing these sessions since therapy is still widely seen as muggle nonsense in the wizarding world.
And Ginny murmurs over her fire whiskey that sometimes she can still hear Tom Riddle murmuring in her ear, and Harry whispers that he dreams about running after his mother and father and Sirius and Remus as they disappear behind the Veil in the Department of Mysteries and he doesn’t know if he wakes from terror or regret about not making it through. And they go back home and hold each other closer that night and both wake up with raging hangovers.
me on a date: So what’s your Hogwarts house?
them: Idk I’m not really a big fan of Harry Potter
me, shoving breadsticks into my purse: Sorry I have to go rn
I'd Much Rather Have a Dragon 