The most hilarious thing about the fact Buckbeak had a trial and lost is that later on JKR resolves the issue by having Hagrid take him in again and renaming him Witherwings. That’s literally all it took. What if in POA, Hagrid simply said, “Sorry, Buckbeak flew away.”
After dropping the kids off at King’s Cross, Harry and Ginny head back to the taxi with Lily.
“I hope he remembered to pack that new underwear I got him,” Ginny says, fidgeting with the seatbelt. It’s one of the few Muggle contraptions that are still a complete mystery for her; no wizarding form of transportation uses seatbelts. Her daughter helps her, rolling her eyes. “It was lying out on his bed this morning.”
“If he does, we can just owl it to him with a howler screaming, ‘YOU FORGOT YOUR UNDERWEAR!’ A great way to make new friends.” Harry glances at the teeming parking behind him as the cab inches away. “Wonder why King’s Cross was so packed with Muggles today. It’s not usually this crowded.”
Ginny stares at him. “Harry, it’s because of you.”
“What?”
“Those books about you. The Muggles love them. They came here because they knew we’d be here today.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry says. “The Muggles think those books are fiction. Why would they come all the way out here if they don’t believe I’m real?”
Ginny lays her hand on his arm, and the twinkle in her eyes reminds him of someone he knew long ago. “Well, as someone wise once said, just because it’s happening inside their heads doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
Imagine in Cursed Child Harry trying to use the map to make sure Albus and Scorpius stay apart
and the map just rejects him Mauraders style like
“Mr Moony presents his compliments to Mr Potter, and begs him to stop being such a bad father.”
“Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Mr Potter is acting like a prat.”
“Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that the wonderful Harry Potter has become such an arse nowadays.”
“Mr Wormtail bids Mr Potter good day, and advises him to sort his fucking life out.”
Regulus Black, the loyal son. Regulus Black, the Slytherin. Regulus Black, with grades just good enough to please his mother.
Regulus Black, who keeps his hair neat and is polite at family gatherings. Regulus Black, who does not pick fights, who does not ride a motorcycle, who does not hang out with werewolves or get disowned.
Regulus Black, who Phineas Nigellus keeps an eye on from the portraits on the walls. Regulus Black, who occasionally hears whispers of kindness from random frames, and catches winks and thumbs-ups from oil-painted old men and women as he walks to class.
Regulus Black, who sits through painfully long and dull Slug Club dinners, and writes thank you notes, and attends quidditch matches in the Slytherin bleachers with the right kind of kids.
Regulus Black, who graduates with a freshly healed tattoo on his forearm. Regulus Black, whose brother will not speak to him. Regulus Black, who makes his family proud.
Regulus Black, who lies to his mother when he says he will be staying with friends, who tells her he will take care of himself, with a knot in his stomach and an old necklace in his pocket.
Regulus Black, wandering the British coastline, only Kreacher for company. Regulus Black, angry, disillusioned, miserable. Regulus Black, finally doing something on his own. Regulus Black, disobeying everything he’d ever quietly and mild-manneredly adhered to.
Regulus Black, smearing his blood on the stone door, seeing it, with no reference for it except childhood scraped knees and bloody noses and cracked lips in dry weather. Regulus Black feeling important.Regulus Black, an individual.
Regulus Black taking the boat with Kreacher across the glassy water.
Regulus Black, cold, scared, drinking from the basin. Regulus Black, weakening, writing on a scrap of parchment, sending Kreacher home.
Regulus Black, fighting the undead.
Regulus Black, dead at nineteen.
Regulus Arcturus Black, the unsung hero of the House of Black, never burnt from the family tapestry, never again spoken of by his brother, never buried, never honored. Never remembered as anyone but a good pureblood boy who kept his head down and disappeared.
Teddy Lupin arrives at Hogwarts with a mop of untidy black hair and bright brown eyes. When he’s sorted into Hufflepuff and the hat is plucked from his head the Great Hall gasps collectively because his hair has turned canary yellow in recognition of his house colours. He keeps it this way for a week before it returns to messy black for the remainder of the year.
In second year he favours hair that is the exact same shade of pale blonde as Victoire Weasley. Only Minerva McGonagall notices that the first moment his hair involuntarily takes shade is when the hat atop Victoire’s head calls Gryffindor.
Third year is the year of bubblegum pink hair. This brings a sad smile to some of the older professors who remember that shade of pink sported frequently by vivacious young girl many years ago.
Fourth year and he resumes the Weasley shade of red because it’s shy little Molly Weasley’s first year and there’s a distinct lack of red heads around.
Fifth year is when Dominique is sorted into Ravenclaw, and his little adoptive family is spread over three Hogwarts houses now, so he spends the first few months with varying colours of scarlet, royal blue and bright, sunshine yellow. Sometimes it’s a multi-hued mix of all three but then he develops an annoying habit of changing his hair to the vibrant house colour of whoever he’s talking to and forest green makes it into the mix.
In sixth year there’s an incident that leaves him unconscious in the hospital wing and his altered features slowly fade to reveal what he would look like without the ability to change his appearance. McGonagall stops dead in the doorway when she finds the spitting image of a young Remus Lupin laying passed out in the bed. Teddy cries when she tells him this, unable to consciously stop any alterations to see for himself. She promises to take a picture if it happens again and Teddy spends the rest of the year with sandy brown hair and amber eyes borrowed from the creased photo he keeps by his bedside.
Seventh year he settles on a particular shade of turquoise blue. It’s vivid and different and entirely of his own design for no other reason than he thinks it suits his personality. Victoire agrees that it does and it stays that way for the entire year, marking the first time he keeps a colour that he hasn’t borrowed from family, friends, houses or old photos for more than a week.