I think your data might be a little one-size-fits-all, actually. In 2007, a test was performed in which a lady read DH in a little less than 50 minutes. If you already understand the material and you’ve taught yourself not to repeat all the words in your head, you can go much faster than the average reader. Some people even process information in chunks rather than individual concepts, which leads to an even faster time. Audiobooks tend to be even a bit slower than the average reader, but in general if you have a physical book and it’s not your first time reading the book, a reader that is comfortable with their comprehension can go pretty fast.
(Also, sorry if this sounds condescending—I don’t mean it like that in any way, I just get scientific sometimes and I can’t figure out how else to phrase it)
I can read HBP in 2 hours. It’s one of my favorite books ever, so by now I can go pretty fast haha
I stopped counting years ago tbh. I first read the books at 10 and I’ve reread them hundreds of times since though, to the point where I have most of the series memorized, so…XD
Depends what type of smart, I think. Hermione was great at academic work, McGonagall was great at understanding things quickly, Lupin was great at observation and communication, and we don’t know a ton about Rose but I’d say she’s good at making sense of the world around her. They’re all smart, but they have different strengths. Though, considering that good grades and quick comprehension are often hailed as hallmarks of being a genius or having an above average IQ, I would say that Hermione and McGonagall would traditionally be considered the smartest.
He was Fred and George’s younger brother and Harry Potter’s best friend. I think the teachers must have expected him to get into some trouble but just didn’t want to deal with all of it. Lol
Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, then Hufflepuff. He was more fueled by ambition and determination than wittiness or wisdom, I think, and I say that with all the love I have for his character. Lol
106 Votes in Poll
89 Votes in Poll
I think the Minister has too much control. Fudge played a large part in messing things up for the first few books, at least. I can imagine that when a more humble Minister like Kingsley is in control, there wouldn’t be quite as many problems. Magic is a power you have to be careful to not let get to your head.
I’m dyingggg XD I’m just imagining Voldemort very politely asking a confused Lucius if he may use his bathroom or eat his food, and the Malfoys calling a meeting to say “I guess we’re nice now??”
Either a plot hole, or he just hadn’t processed everything that happened during the whole traumatic graveyard ordeal yet. I’ve also read a lot of theories that thestrals don’t appear once you’ve seen death, but once you understand it. I don’t know that for sure, of course, but it kinda makes sense to me.
Considering money that is their own, I’d say Harry wins. He got his parents’ fortune as well as Sirius’s, and he also grew up around economics and money-conscious Muggles. In the long run, he’ll probably be better off.
IT WAS THE ‘90s. Harry could so have been that kid. He wanted something made of solid gold at least three times he went to Diagon Alley, and he was always saying Bill looked cool. Meanwhile, Draco’s over here with skin as pale as the morning dawn, pale blond hair, pale grey eyes, and rich Wizarding clothes.
Anyway, this made me laugh way harder than it should’ve, though that may just be my broken humor. XD
Harry, Ginny, Remus, or Regulus.
A stag would be coolest, but I’ve always liked Ron’s terrier. It suits him.
In the movies, absolutely, in the books there are more of them so I’ll have to disagree there.
I love them alllllll except Peter
Cottage Cellar
Somewhere in the Woods
Time Unknown
~
The woods housed a secret. Buried deep within a twisting bramble of thorns and branches, surrounded by dozens and dozens of dozens of trees, there lay a cottage. Alone below the cottage, in the lamplit cellar, there lay a girl, curled up on a wooden pallet bench. Her long black hair pooled beneath her head while her hand stroked the fringed edge of a faded floor rug. A small radio sitting on the rug made a gentle sort of racket as a singer crooned:
Oh, what an interesting woman she was,
And oh, what an interesting man!
He was with me, but not once he met Jean
She stole my darling’s hand
But the worst part about the whole sordid affair…
“…was that she was far smarter than I,” the dark-haired girl finished. Her fingers brushed dreamily back and forth along the rug. The song faded to a trance-like lull before fizzling out altogether, the radio static crackling. She sighed and sat up, scratching at the black lace collar of her green dress.
Astoria hadn’t left the cellar in seventeen years, with the exception of school, where she kept her head down, didn’t go to Hogsmeade, and was required to write a letter home each night. There was no chance of ever falling in love to begin with, much less losing her sweetheart to a dazzling genius. But the grey eyes belonging to the Malfoy boy that made her head spin still haunted her dreams. Over the past week, she’d often wished she had a less vivid memory, so seeing him wouldn’t hurt quite as much. A glance cast over her shoulder at the tall mirror in the corner of her cellar only served to make her feel worse. She looked down at her hands in her lap.
It was the moment of calm before the storm.
A blinding light flashed behind her at the same time five loud bangs sounded on the cellar door. She jumped from the bench, her attention glued to the door in terror.
“GIRL!” an old woman’s voice screeched. “How could you! How could you! I’ll have your head!”
Her heart was suddenly racing ten thousand times a minute. “Grandmother!” she cried.
Another deranged scream from behind the door, before the lock and chains clanked to the ground and it burst open. An old woman with one startlingly blue eye and stringy grey hair staggered in, clutching a wand and a piece of parchment. “You ungrateful wretch!” the old woman sobbed, shoving the paper at her. “You drew your picture on my list! I had to tell the handsome man at the Quidditch shop that I was an artist, and now he’s going to expect me to turn up with more pictures when I go back tomorrow to pick up my order!”
Guilt sparked in her throat as fast as a rocket. “I’ll draw another,” she blurted. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Her eye began to tear up. “You betrayed me,” she whined pitifully. “My own granddaughter that I’ve taken such good care of betrayed me…”
“No, no!” Astoria said quickly, dropping into a curtsy. “I would never, Grandmother, I know how much loyalty means to you.”
Her grandmother sat weakly down on the bench, bony fingers threading through her scarce silver hair. “You don’t,” she whimpered. She shot to her feet all of a sudden, and Astoria stumbled back in surprise. “You don’t!”she shrieked, and reached her hand out to grab Astoria’s hair. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out as the old woman jerked a handful of hairs free. Her grandmother seemed to relax once she had them, and stroked her thumb across the strands. “I’ll feel better once I’m younger,” she murmured to herself. “My potion, I need…” She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the cauldron in the corner by the mirror. She tottered over and fished an empty glass vial out of her pocket. With a triumphant swish, she plunged it into the Polyjuice. Dropping one of Astoria’s hairs into the vial caused the liquid to turn a bright, clear silver, and she tipped it down her throat. Astoria watched her grandmother’s hair fill out and darken, and her face lose its wrinkles and spots—until she looked exactly like her. Her grandmother stepped in front of the mirror and let out a contented sigh. Her hands ran down her skirt, adjusting her dress to Astoria’s body.
She turned and smiled at Astoria, who gave her a small wave, before walking briskly out of the room.
The door swung shut behind her. On the other side, the chains clinked back into place.
Once again, Astoria was alone. She stared at the door for a moment longer before sinking back down on the bench. An odd lump stuck in her throat. She looked up into the mirror, and shivered. Seeing the transformation had never bothered her quite like this before.
When she started feeling sick at the memory, her thoughts snagged on the one other person that could always calm her, even if he had never once actually noticed her. “Draco,” Astoria whispered, “I hope you’re alright.”
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Read and seen everything except Beedle the Bard.
