Cis, gay, 21 yo Mexican, slash head that likes to reblog things according to his mood.
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8 years and still trapped in here
The chamber is something approaching clean when they collapse into chairs in the kitchens. The house elves tuck them next to the fire and slide several pastries and a pitcher of pumpkin juice in front of them.
Harry is not a fan of being twelve. He’s short and weak and everything is harder than it should be. On the other hand, none of his joints creek when he moves, which is an upside.
“So,” Draco says, pressing his glass against his forehead. “Are you going to do anything to regain what you’ve lost or are you going to prove me right?”
“What,” Harry says flatly, too tired to try and untangle whatever bullshit Draco is talking about.
He sighs. “I’ve set several things into motion myself. I am not putting up with Voldemort coming back again, once was enough thank you very much. Plus some other, less pressing matters.”
“We’re not staying,” he protests. “We have to go home. You can’t seriously want to relive being a teenager again.”
“Want to? No. But I am willing to. Unlike you it seems, because I was right, and you don’t actually care about - well, anything, apparently.”
“Don’t make me hit you,” he threatens, but it comes out weaker than he’d like because his muscles all feel like jelly.
Draco frowns and actually appears agitated, more so than Harry’s ever seen him outside of Voldemort’s thumb. “What’s wrong with you? I don’t get you, Potter. Sirius Black is alive here, you know. And Remus Lupin. And Fred Weasley. You can stick around and help me make sure they live and don’t suffer like they suffered before and do the same for a lot of other people too, I guess. Or you could return to the future.”
“That’s not how things work, Draco,” he says, trying to be gentle even though he’s pissed. “We can’t just - rewrite history, not even for the better. We don’t know that it will be better. We might just make everything worse.”
“There was a war,” Draco says tiredly. “How much worse can we possibly make it?”
Their names were Nerissa and Katherine Bowes-Lyon. They were kept in the Royal Earlswood Hospital, formerly known as “The Asylum for Idiots”. Burke’s Peerage listed them both as deceased in the 1940s but Nerissa died in 1996 and Katherine died in 2014.
The hospital had no record of any visit from the family during the time the sisters were there, and they never received a birthday or Christmas card. They also received no money beyond the £125 paid to the hospital per year.
Nerissa Bowes-Lyon was buried in a pauper’s grave with a plastic marker and a serial number:
The family didn’t even buy her a headstone until a Channel 4 documentary highlighted the sisters’ story and showed the grave. None of her family had attended her funeral.
The Queen was reported to be “hugely distressed” by the airing of the documentary.
“Can I just say something in MY defense? We had to keep our disabled family members a secret, because then people might start to question whether my family has magic blood that makes us uniquely able to govern.”
Can we please make the deep sea the next cool desirable “final frontier” pretty please. I want Elon Musk to design a horrible Tesla Brand submarine and go down to map the Mariana’s Trench for commercial development and watch it crumple like a tin can the second it reaches 200 meters
In case you thought the OceanGate missing submersible news couldn’t be worse- this has happened before. The submersibles don’t even have a beacon. They rely on a gamepad controller and short texts to the mother ship for navigation.
The company knew full well the technology they’re using is dogshit and not approved by anyone at all, and they were covering it up to sell more 100,000 dollar trips to rich tourists so they can see the Titanic.
