Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — a letter for Harry.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives — he didn’t belong to the library, so he’d never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
#me in class when i get the answer wrong
if youre still in the glee fandom you deserve a medal
MINE IS CRAPPY
WHAT CARRIAGE ARE YOU IN!??!?!
COME TO THE BACK
THE SLYTHERINS HAVE HACKED DUMBLEDORE’S WIFI
Thanks to the Ravenclaws, guys.
The password’s “AL0H4M0R4”
Pass it on.
Ini semua dunia(via melodramatic-error)
i know it’s called an otp but i have like 50
You’re a writer, or a director. What reason do you have to film this scene that way, staging the characters in this particular manner? What story are you telling?
Take your time. I’ll wait.
The Destiel is strong with this one…
what i planned to do this summer
- paint and make art
- hang out with friends
what i actually did
- ruined every friendship i have