Small Town Librocubicularist

Mrs Bennet:

Olave Baden-Powell (1889-1977) played a crucial role in the founding of Scouting and Girl Guides in the United Kingdom. She was the first Chief Guide for Britain.

I mean really? With the book shelves?

It’s like an alcove of happiness.

You want a whole row of individual seats? Fine, here you go. 

Or how about a whole window bed for those snugglers out there.

Curtains.. Guys this one has curtains.

Seriously? This is basically a glass cube of bliss.

 You can even get them with corners! Not enough corners? Okay.

Ba-BAM!! Corners for cocooning. 

There’s also the Roman-esque themed seat for the historians out there. 

 If you don’t want to snuggle up in blankets with hot cocoa in this then I don’t even know why you’re on this planet. I mean dat stonework. 

This one’s an entire rectangle. Just imagine all the cuddling that could happen in there. It’s practically a fortress.

This one’s fucking curved okay? it’s just chillin, up of the ground, and curved for your lounging convenience. 

So Rowling had no way of knowing the political climate during the 19 Years Later epilogue, but we do now. So consider this: what kind of world does the Golden Trio live in right now?

Their country is in the middle of Brexit talks, with racism and protectionism at their worst and the magic community isn’t far behind. 

Young Pure Bloods march the streets with torches and capes, shouting “They will not replace us!” They wear Deatheater masks and temporary tattoos (oh it’s not the real thing, they’ll wash it off and be back at the office on Monday).

In the news, the authorities call for a cease of violence and ask people not to fight the young pure bloods. In the streets, people talk about talking to them calmly to fix things. Ron is livid. “You don’t reason with bloody Deatheaters! You throw curses at them!”

Hermione’s work for equality in the magical world gets harder every day. She starts getting death threats in her mail, many howlers that leave her in tears. She keeps going. When people insist that every werewolf is dangerous to society and they should all be banned from country, she tearfully remembers Lupin giving his life to protect them all, she remembers Dobby with a knife in his heart and Hagrid with his half giant blood and his giant heart. She keeps fighting. 

As much as he hates it —and he hates it a lot— Harry becomes a vocal public figure again, constantly condemning blood purists and calling for action against them. His office calls horrified after the first interview, telling him he can’t be calling for violence against this people who are only protesting. “They are Deatheaters and this is how we deal with them,” he snarls back. “Have you forgotten Voldemort?” On the other side of the line, he can feel them flinch. 

No one who fought the war has forgotten it, but so many others seem to, it pains Harry. It’s been barely twenty years since he saw children die in the grounds of Hogwarts, killed by grown angry men who believed themselves superior. It’s been barely twenty years since Tom Riddle’s death body laid on the ground and he thought they could finally have peace. 

The trio sends their kids on the Hogwarts Express and they can’t help but remember their experiences there in a time much like this. They never thought their own children would have to suffer as they did, they pray they won’t have to. 

It’s the sound…

Of the Sherlock fandom…

Rising once more.