Harry Potter Is Life

I work in a public library and there are times a book comes through circulation that is so awesome I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it before.

Last week I came across this lovely children’s picture book called Why Johnny Doesn’t Flap: NT is OK! by Clay Morton, Gail Morton, and illustrated by Alex Merry. (Pardon the library barcode covering part of the title here.)

[Pictures of the front and back covers of the picture book. The back cover summary says: “My friend Johnny is different from me. We have fun together, but sometimes he acts pretty strangely. He is never exactly on time, he can;t seem to strict to a routine, he stares right into your eyes, and he often says puzzling things. Johnny is neurotypical. I like Johnny and I think being NT is OK.”]

The fact that I was seeing the term “NT” on the cover of a children’s book was enough to pique my interest. Upon further inspection, I discovered that the book is really quite lovely!

[Two page spread reads: “We have a lot of fun together, but sometimes he acts pretty strangely. Mom says it is because he is NT, or neurotypical. He doesn’t have autism, so his brain works differently from mine, but that’s OK.”]

It flips the typical “little Timmy has a special friend” narrative on its head. Instead, the narrator is an autistic boy who has an NT friend who he sometimes struggles to understand. 

[Two page spread reads: It can be pretty interesting being friends with a kid who is NT. He has a lot of quirks that can be very frustrating until you get used to them. Mom says that everyone’s brain is different and different isn’t always wrong.”]

The book uses simple terms to describe a perspective not usually seen in any literature, let alone lit intended for children.

[Two page spread reads: “When something exciting happens, Johnny doesn’t respond like you would expect. He doesn’t flap his arms or jump up and down. He just moves the sides of his mouth up and slightly widens his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t know much about how to express emotions.”]

I think ultimately this flipping of the narrative is more effective in getting the message across that kids with autism are just like everyone else but with unique needs. 

[Two page spread reads: “Johnny never has a meltdown when disasters happen, like a fire drill or art class being canceled. He is afraid of what people might think. It seems like he is bottling his feelings up, but he just has his own way of dealing with things, and that’s OK.”]

And this book is something autistic kids don’t usually have– it’s a book from their perspective! And it’s a non-offensive, matter-of-fact perspective, which is all the rarer.

[Two pages spread reads: “When he talks to you, Johnny looks directly into your eyes, which can make you pretty uncomfortable. He doesn’t mean any harm, though. That’s just the way he is, and that’s OK.”]

It talks about things that autistic people experience and can relate to.

[Page reads: “I like Johnny. I think that being NT is OK.”]

I work in a public library and there are times a book comes through circulation that is so awesome I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it before.

Last week I came across this lovely children’s picture book called Why Johnny Doesn’t Flap: NT is OK! by Clay Morton, Gail Morton, and illustrated by Alex Merry. (Pardon the library barcode covering part of the title here.)

[Pictures of the front and back covers of the picture book. The back cover summary says: “My friend Johnny is different from me. We have fun together, but sometimes he acts pretty strangely. He is never exactly on time, he can;t seem to strict to a routine, he stares right into your eyes, and he often says puzzling things. Johnny is neurotypical. I like Johnny and I think being NT is OK.”]

The fact that I was seeing the term “NT” on the cover of a children’s book was enough to pique my interest. Upon further inspection, I discovered that the book is really quite lovely!

[Two page spread reads: “We have a lot of fun together, but sometimes he acts pretty strangely. Mom says it is because he is NT, or neurotypical. He doesn’t have autism, so his brain works differently from mine, but that’s OK.”]

It flips the typical “little Timmy has a special friend” narrative on its head. Instead, the narrator is an autistic boy who has an NT friend who he sometimes struggles to understand. 

[Two page spread reads: It can be pretty interesting being friends with a kid who is NT. He has a lot of quirks that can be very frustrating until you get used to them. Mom says that everyone’s brain is different and different isn’t always wrong.”]

The book uses simple terms to describe a perspective not usually seen in any literature, let alone lit intended for children.

[Two page spread reads: “When something exciting happens, Johnny doesn’t respond like you would expect. He doesn’t flap his arms or jump up and down. He just moves the sides of his mouth up and slightly widens his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t know much about how to express emotions.”]

I think ultimately this flipping of the narrative is more effective in getting the message across that kids with autism are just like everyone else but with unique needs. 

[Two page spread reads: “Johnny never has a meltdown when disasters happen, like a fire drill or art class being canceled. He is afraid of what people might think. It seems like he is bottling his feelings up, but he just has his own way of dealing with things, and that’s OK.”]

And this book is something autistic kids don’t usually have– it’s a book from their perspective! And it’s a non-offensive, matter-of-fact perspective, which is all the rarer.

[Two pages spread reads: “When he talks to you, Johnny looks directly into your eyes, which can make you pretty uncomfortable. He doesn’t mean any harm, though. That’s just the way he is, and that’s OK.”]

It talks about things that autistic people experience and can relate to.

[Page reads: “I like Johnny. I think that being NT is OK.”]

at eleven, was described by his teachers as ‘bright’

at the same age, according to the Sorting Hat: “Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes” and “You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head”

mastered the challenging Patronus Charm at thirteen and proceeded to teach it at fifteen

resisted the Imperius Curse at fourteen and soon learned to throw it off completely, even when cast by the incredibly powerful Voldemort

also at fourteen, learned to cast a powerful Accio Charm

at fifteen, was training other students

at the same age, under extreme stress, tested as 'exceeds expectations’ or 'outstanding’ in every subject that required actual magic (including the dreaded Potions)

same age, cast a briefly effective Cruciatus Curse

at sixteen, became a star Potions student simply by following superior instructions

at seventeen, successfully cast the Imperius Curse on his first try, and used it repeatedly

at the same age, cast a successful Cruciatus Curse

 Not that James wasn’t special, of course. James was practically his brother, if not even closer. He and James were two halves of the same person and Sirius would never - could never - hold anyone in higher regards than James. James, after all, had saved Sirius’ life on multiple occasions whether everyone knew it or not. James was the person that Sirius could go to with anything, he could say the craziest thing on his mind and James would be there to support him no matter what the consequences. James was Sirius’ best friend and Sirius wanted to do all of the things that one would typically want to do with a best friend with James. They played quidditch and planned pranks together, they whispered back and forth in class and laughed over things that no one else understood. They would rough house with each other in the dorm, wrestling each other to the ground, laughing and calling each other names. When Sirius ran away from home he had gone straight to James’ without a second thought because to him James meant safety and James was family. 

That wasn’t at all how Sirius felt about Remus. 

Remus made Sirius question all of the crazy thoughts in his mind because he couldn’t bare to have the werewolf look at him with disappointment in those warm brown eyes when Sirius said or did something without thinking. He made Sirius want to be better than that. 

 Sirius didn’t want to do nearly any of the things he did with James, or even Peter, with Remus. Instead he wanted to sit and watch the taller boy read. He wanted to see how intense and focused those eyes were and how carefree he looked when he escaped into whatever other world those books held. He wanted to watch Remus’ long, elegant fingers as his brought one up, flicking his pink tongue out to wet the pad before turning the page and how he would sometimes chuckle to himself at a particularly witty part of the story. 

He wanted to touch Remus all the time, too. Sirius had little to no respect for anyone’s personal space to begin with and none of his friends were ever safe from receiving a bone crushing hug at any given moment of the day, but it wasn’t the same. He would sit next to Remus in class so that he might accidentally brush against him. He would transform into his dog form just so he could hop up onto Remus’ bed and rest his head on the other boy’s lap and beg for scratches. He partnered with Remus in potions, which Remus was absolutely abysmal at, just so he could take the boy’s wrist and show him how to properly slice that ginger root. 

 He absolutely did not want to rough house or wrestle with Remus the way he did with James. At first he thought it was because he had the strangest urge to protect his sickly looking friend and didn’t want to cause him any sort of extra pain or discomfort, but then he saw Remus and James sparring off one day at the Potters’ over the summer and as it turned out, Remus’ frail appearance was a bit of a facade because he was far stronger than any of them and he didn’t need Sirius to protect him at all. Still, when Remus, panting and laughing and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, rolled off of James (who had finally shouted “Alright! I give! You win!”) and looking up at Sirius with a challenging grin, inviting him to defend James’ honor, Sirius had turned red and made an excuse about nursing a quidditch injury from the previous day. In reality, it was that imagining himself rolling around in the grass with a shirtless, sweating, laughing Remus, with their hands grasping and groping at each other and inevitably - because lets face it, if James in all his Quidditch toned, athletic glory couldn’t beat the werewolf, there was no way that Sirius could - being pinned down under the other boy, forced to look up into those eyes as he was straddled and held down by strong hands, made Sirius’ stomach twist. It made his skin prickle and his face heat up. It sent a warm tingly feeling through his veins and all of the blood in his body seemed to travel downwards and there was just simply no way he could roll around with Remus like that and not present a very obvious and painfully embarrassing problem.

 He used to think that perhaps he was wrong. Maybe Remus was his best friend and that’s why Remus made him feel warm and happy and calm. He had made sense of it by reminding himself that James was more of a brother than a friend and besides, you could have more than one best friend, couldn’t you? However, he was pretty sure that whatever a best friend was meant to be, they weren’t who you were supposed to be thinking about when you were snogging that girl from your herbology class whose name you can’t recall because you’re too busy remembering what your best friend’s lips looked like while he was sucking on his sugar quill in class and you suddenly wanted to be that sugar quill.  They weren’t supposed to be the last thing you thought about every night, wishing you could work up the courage to tip toe across the dorm room and sneak into their bed just so you could wrap your arms around them and bury your face in their hair and not let go. They weren’t supposed to be the first thing you thought of every morning when you woke up, alone and dealing with sticky sheets and disappointment and the feeling of dread when you realize that you’re totally fucked because you’re in love with them. 

Look at this fic, Isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think my tag search is complete? Wouldn’t you think I’m a fan, A fan who has everything?

Look at this trove, Treasures untold! How many canons can a person’s head hold? Looking through Tumblr you’d think, Sure, we’ve got everything…

I’ve got drabbles and one-shots a plenty, I’ve got fan art and fancasts galore. You want character aesthetics? There’s a million and twenty!

But who cares? No big deal, I want MORE!

I wanna be where the Marauders are! I wanna see James and Sirius scheming, With all four boys in the Shack, Past that knot in the TREE

Look to the source, you won’t get too far: Map-maker mentions that neglect bromancing. I want the stories of how They came to BE!

The halls where they walk, The trees where they run, The lake where they laugh and joke in the sun, Animagi so free, wish I could see More of that world!

What would I give if I could live a day in their lives? What would I dream if I could see magic through their eyes? Betcha those friends would understand We’ve all got our problems! And they’d say we’re better, All together “Until the very end”

I’m ready to know what Jo Rowling knows, Ask her some questions and get some answers: Like how did they react When they first saw Moony TURN??

When can I learn? Wouldn’t I love, love to know more of the times they grew up? So far out of reach, But I wish I could see More of that world…

Out of my reach, Wish I could be, Part of your world.

(Adapted from the Disney original by Howard Elliott Ashman / Alan Menken. I own nothing)

James: Classic Good Guy. Stands up, chest puffed out and calmly says ‘leave them alone’. Clenching his fists in rage, but trying to diffuse the situation before it escalates. If he does end up fighting, it’s clean. No hits to the back of the head, no cheap shots, he’ll fight with honor. Only satisfied if he can win fair and square.

Peter: The Joke Man. Cracks a joke that is totally out of place, and tries to ease the tension before it starts. He’s the safe zone buffer. Never escalates a fight, but evades them by distraction.

Sirius: The Hit Me Harder Guy. He’s the one that is constantly undermining your strength as he is punched in the face. There is no evading the fight, there is only winning. The ‘come on and hit me’ with a bloody lip stretched into a smirk. The smile on his lips not matching the coldness of his eyes. He will hit and be hit until someone stops the fight, and he rarely loses.

((OOC: I am so glad you asked, this has been on my mind a TON.

Molly is a textbook meddler. I imagine she spends a lot of time hovering by the door with a cup of tea, going “It sounds like things are serious in there, I’m just waiting here till it’s died down a bit and then I’m going to give them this tea, see, which is my reason for standing here like this right now.”

Which is sometimes cute, in a sort of As Time Goes By sort of way:

Just constantly breezing into rooms, demanding answers.

But it can also be real tiring. And sometimes you just want to tell her to butt out, as a lot of people do in the case of her meddling in Remus and Tonks’s relationship.

But here’s the thing. She meddled, she undeniably meddled, and I think she meddled harder than anyone else. My theory is that she took it more to heart, quite possibly because, as we see in the books, Tonks appears to have been talking to her about the situation, going round for tea and a bit of a moan type of thing. So Molly is a bit pushier than is maybe polite, like when she loudly mentions to Remus that Tonks is spending Christmas alone, and seems to insinuate that this is Remus’s fault.

But I’ve just re-read Half-Blood Prince, and know what I’ve realized?

MOLLY WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE MEDDLING.

The scene where Bill is in the hospital post-Fenrir attack. Everyone around the bed. Molly mentions that the wedding may need to be cancelled, Fleur goes “BITCH? THE FUCK NOT!” They realize that they have both been ridiculous in the name of loving Bill, and they hug it out. Perfect. And then Tonks turns to Remus, and she basically goes, “WELL, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT. HE GOT ALL BITTEN UP. SHE DON’T SEEM TO MIND, NOW, DO SHE?” And Remus goes, “GIRL, THIS IS A WILDLY DIFFERENT SITUATION TO THAT, NOW, INNIT?!” And then, look what happens:

“And I’ve told you a million times,” said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, “that I am too old for you, too poor… too dangerous…”

“I’ve said all along you’re taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus,” said Mrs Weasley over Fleur’s shoulder as she patted her on the back.

“I am not being ridiculous,” said Lupin steadily. “Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.”

“But she wants you,” said Mr Weasley, with a small smile. “And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.”

He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them.

“This is… not the moment to discuss it,” said Lupin, avoiding everybody’s eyes as he looked around distractedly. “Dumbledore is dead…”

“Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world,” said Professor McGonagall curtly, just as the hospital doors opened again and Hagrid walked in.

Y’ALL. EVEN OUR MAIN BABE MINNIE G CHIMED IN THERE.

Know what this says to me? It says to me that the ENTIRETY OF THE ORDER has been watching this whole thing going down, thinking, “Remus, you unbelievable prat, we get that you’re damaged, we respect that. But also, like, this girl is in love with you, and your only arguments seem to be, ‘I AM NOT TRULY WHAT SHE WANTS! I am sCARY MONSTER! I am undeserving of the pretty and whole!’, and frankly, it’s getting boring, love.”

So then, if this is the case, if the Order is SO INVOLVED IN THIS that even McGonagall has an opinion at the ready, why haven’t we seen more of it?

Because the books are written from the perspective of one Harry James Potter, a 16 year old boy with a crush of his own, a Dumbledore with a fucked up hand, and the weight of the entire world resting on his scrawny shoulders. Who has been in school. Away from EVERYTHING.

Do you think he maybe wasn’t paying the closest attention to this situation?

Do you think the kid who saw Tonks a total of three times that year, who thought that she was in love with Sirius, maybe missed a couple things?

So pretty much, this means that we get to cobble together what happened in the Order ourselves. And that is a personal journey for all of us. You get to decide what happens in the rest of the world of the books when Harry isn’t presently in the middle of it. Here’s what I think, though.

Tonks and Remus have been working together in close proximity for a while. It is clear that they have chemistry, and they’ve been enjoying each other’s company. It’s also clear that Remus has been getting little frowny lines, and then running off on dangerous missions, leaving Tonks behind, stressed and sad. Tonks goes to Molly, because of the Order members, Molly is the only female in a happy, fulfilling relationship, and also because she is a complete mom. She vents. Molly listens. And when Remus is back in the area, maybe he says a couple things to Arthur that has Arthur frowning and concerned. Arthur and Molly talk. And they aren’t the only ones talking about it. Kingsley Shacklebolt has a betting pool going. Mundugus has already set up buyers for all the cutlery he plans to steal at the wedding. But time keeps passing, nothing continues to happen, both Remus and Tonks are noticeably sadder, and the entire Order is just staring at them. And Molly occasionally walks behind Remus’s chair, bellowing, “WHY, TONKS! YOU LOOK SO UNBELIEVABLY PRETTY TODAY! WHAT A CHARMING HAIRSTYLE, DON’T YOU THINK, REMUS!?” while the rest of the Order swivels around to see what will happen. 

This is what I think happened. You may have a different idea. Both our ideas are true and valid and can never be proven wrong, unless JK comes out with a multi-film franchise about the inner workings of the Order, which, you know, I wouldn’t put it past her. Be that as it may, though, the evidence in the books is as follows:

Molly meddles in the relationship. As do multiple other members of the Order.

Is that annoying and not their job?

Yeah!

Is it annoying that they feel the need to meddle because fOR FUCKS SAKE REMUS, JUST TAKE HER OUT FOR A CUP OF COFFEE OR SOMETHING.

Yeah!

So what’s my point?

Remus doesn’t throw himself into dangerous situations because he’s trying to get away from Tonks… he throws himself in harms way because he’s trying to remove himself from the equation… FOR Tonks. Remus loathes himself, and so the life he pictures with Tonks is being seen through that warped lense. He loves her so much he’s willing to do anything for her… including keep her safe… which means he can’t have her. He can’t comprehend the fact that Tonks wants him… who would want someone so broken and monstrous? He thinks she’s lying… which is a disservice to her. 

So yes… everyone gets pushy, because when you see someone that you love hurting themselves for the WRONG REASONS… you’re going to try and step in. Maybe they didn’t do it in the right way, but they did it because they knew Remus, and they knew how stubborn and irrational he could be, and they didn’t want to see him get hurt. They wanted him to be happy. 

Remus made the decision to hurt himself, and Tonks was like-

Adding to the Remadora factor, everything we see is through Harry’s eyes. And unfortunately, the moments we see with Remus and Tonks aren’t very promising. But what we know in canon is that Remus loved her, and so even though the moments that are shown are Tonks being happy and Remus looking thoroughly stressed… keep in mind, they’re in a war and Remus hasn’t had time to go through a process of self-healing. He’s spent almost his entire life hating himself, and that’s not something easily altered. If Remus and Tonks has survived the war, and been able to settle down, I think Remus would have eventually been able to accept what she was telling him as truth and grown to be unbelievably happy. But the healing couldn’t happen while there was a war on. 

Prompt: “I’m your EMT and you keep telling me that I’m pretty when I’m concerned but you nearly DIED you idiot AU” mixed with a sprinkle of “You have a concussion so I told you we’re married and you have amnesia? Because I didn’t think you’d actually go along with it But you DID and now I don’t know what to do AU” READ ON FANFICTION

“Sirius hit me with a nunchuck.”

He was such a stubborn liar but she loved him either way.

“You jumped out the window onto the trampoline, Sirius told me.”

He was blinking interestedly at her through his glasses; probably waiting for her to say something other than the few profanities that she’d said while loading him into the truck. The thick black frames he wore were lopsided and partially covered in some of the blood that had dripped from the wound on his forehead. The EMS they were on bound for the Hospital bounced down the small English road. The truck sirens wailed overhead to warn passing vehicles to move to the side of the road. Up front, Lily’s partner Frank was updating the hospital on their arrival time.

“Are you mad?”

Lily was taking her patients blood pressure (it was elevated, go figure) and the man was looking at her like she was either his worst nightmare or best daydream. It was hard to tell what he was feeling since she was feeling so many emotions that night it was hard for her to process his too.

“Have you been drinking tonight?” Lily asked the man, James Potter, as she removed the cuff from his arm after deeming him alive (enough).

Lily knew the answer of course; she’d seen the shot glasses on the table in the living room. She could smell the drink on his breath. She hadn’t seen him this plastered in years, not since the night they’d met. James snickered when she stuck his arm for fluids and she longed for the moment when he was back to his righteous self and she could take the mickey out on him.

“Might’ve had a few shots of tequila.” He slurred, “Sirius brought us the good stuff from Nevada.”

“How many constitutes a few?”

“Six.”

“Holy Hell James.” Lily looked back up at his face, frowning, “Six shots of tequila?”

In honour of you and the fact that it’s my 21st birthday.

And the fact that my OTP couple right here only made it this far no i didn’t cry writing this and thinking about how in one year ill be older than the potters

‘She had broken it before it even really began. While her heart was screaming now and her head was screaming things she couldn’t even decipher. And now his heart was broken too.’

Warning: NSFW and a lotta swearing

Enjoy.

It had been four months

Four agonizingly long months 

And Lily just couldn’t sit back anymore

Couldn’t keep watching him from afar 

Knowing the whole time it was her damn fault

The fear inside her chest taking control of her

Lungs pierced by frustration, heart by sadness, head by the fact that it was all on her

So, she lost it

Lost it on a girl who didn’t entirely deserve it

And then lost it on herself later that night when the moon was high and her chest was caving in

You’re an absolute idiot Lily Evans

An absolute prat

He’s going to throw you off the Astronomy Tower and you’d deserve it

But she was too protective, too snarky, too quick to tumble down the path that had placed her here in the first place

The one that had her ready to lose it again when she heard him

An amnesia fic for Jily Trope Fest @jilyfest, based on a prompt by @prongsmydeer. Thanks to @realslytherinchick​ for the beta!

Waking up was a battle.

Lily clawed against the thick cotton that kept her mind firmly trapped asleep, but her brain kept tricking her, kept sending her visions of her awake and doing normal things like brushing her teeth. The visions weren’t true, she knew they weren’t true, but she kept slipping and believing them, just for a few seconds. Then she’d remember, I need to wake up, and she’d rip and tear until her brain sent her another tidy image that made her believe she had, in fact, already woken up.

She’d gone through perhaps four or five of these cycles—sleep was so slow and so fast and so tricky—before she finally punched through.

Her eyes opened. For real, this time.

She drew in a deep breath. Finally. Finally.

Then she drew in a sharp breath.

She had never considered herself a connoisseur of ceilings. If someone had asked her to describe the ceiling in her childhood bedroom, she would have had no answer to offer other than “white,” and possibly “in need of a fresh coat of paint.”

This ceiling was white, too. It could have been a ceiling anywhere. Really, she thought, it was the unnaturally chemical smell of antiseptic that tipped her off.

Also that whole hospital room setup around her.

She began to sit up, propping herself up on her elbows, but that triggered all sorts of new, weird fuzziness in her brain. She let herself lie back down for a minute, pinching herself so she wouldn’t get smothered by the persistent fog of sleep threatening to roll back in. Then she gingerly made another attempt to sit, this time succeeding. She adjusted her pillow behind her and let her back rest against the wall.

With sleep firmly tucked away, anxiety crept in. After all, nothing good had ever preceded someone waking up in a strange hospital room with no memory of how they’d got there.

If she were in Muggle hospital, there’d be a chart at the end of her bed – and there was something peeking over the edge, now that she looked for it. If only it weren’t so very far away. If only her body weren’t so very weak. By her estimate, she wouldn’t be able to reach it for at least three minutes.

At least her body seemed to be intact. She wiggled her fingers and toes, shifted her limbs. Nothing pinched, nothing ached, nothing seemed to be bleeding.

Nothing seemed to be wrong at all.

Except…it wasn’t that something was wrong, really. It was just that her brain wasn’t functioning quite how it was supposed to. She couldn’t pinpoint precisely how her mind should have been working. She couldn’t even nail down what, exactly, was so unusual. It just felt…weird.

And, if she were being honest with herself, not good.

She started at the click of the door opening, but relaxed when it was just a man in lime green Healer robes.

A very fit man with a disaster of black hair, a long nose, and a paper coffee cup in one hand. She sat up straighter.

He jerked to a stop in the doorway, still clutching the handle. This was rapidly followed by a grin stretching across his face.

A very nice grin, she noticed. He had good teeth. Lily had always liked good teeth.

“Good,” he said. “You know I hate waiting.”