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.

A class concert at Vaganova Ballet Academy

OCTOBER IS THIS WEEK

OCTOBER IS TOMORROW

“…Engines on the Other Railway aren’t safe now. Their controllers are cruel. They don’t like engines any more. They put them on cold damp sidings, and then,” Percy nearly sobbed, “they…they c-c-cut them up.” -”The Bluebells of England.”  Stepney the Bluebell Engine.  Rev. Awdry, Wilbert.  London: Egmont Publishing, 1963.

“Smudger,” said Duke. “Was a show-off. He rode roughly and often came off the rails. I warned him to be careful, but he took no notice.” “Listen, Dukie” he snared. “Who worries about a few spills?” “We do here! I said, but Smudger just laughed.” “Hahaha!” “Until one day, Manager said he was going to make him useful at last. Smudger stopped laughing then!” “W-w-why? What did he do?!” “He turned him into a generator. He’s still there behind our shed. He’ll never move again.”

Okay, so we see Railway Management doing all this shit, right, but supposedly it’s so much worse in the Other Railways? I mean, sure, you might get turned into a generator or bricked into a tunnel for not doing as you’re told, but at least you’re not cut up and sold for parts, right? It’s not so bad on the island of Sodor, right?

Or maybe that’s just what Railway Management wants the engines to think.

Maybe the island of Sodor is the real totalitarian regime, and the engine citizens (slaves) are fed propaganda, illustrated in hellish grays and sulfuric yellows, about how bad it is everywhere else, at all the Other Railways.

You are lucky to be an engine of Sodor.

Railway Management cares about you.

Trust Railway Management.

Stay on Your Track.

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