Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.
She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away.
(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)
But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.
Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”
She didn’t really know who Harry was.
But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.
He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.
Val wanted to go.
Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.
Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.
"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"
Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.
"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"
Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.
But they moved.
Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.
She knew what she was now.
(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)
How to draw ‘the other eye’. Because people keep complaining.
The answer? You don’t draw a whole eye first.
You do it part by part, then make adjustments and add details as you please.
If you draw the whole eye first you’ll just stress over making the other eye as similar as possible. This way it’s also easier to adjust and correct.
Aside from that last step with the ‘transform’ tool, this also applies for traditional art.
Hope this helps!
THE WORLD MUST KNOW
Ghouls have feelings too. No different than humans do. Why don’t humans turn their attention toward that? Why don’t they try to understand? It’s something so obvious, so simple. Why aren’t ghouls allowed to live a normal life? I’m the only one who is aware of it; the only one who can communicate it. Only me; the ghoul and the human. Humans and Ghouls should learn more about each other. So don’t tell me it’s only the ghouls who are messing up the world, humans do it too. If you can’t understand, I’ll make you understand.
im making friends with the netflix customer service guy
how sweet of you
I’M TALKING TO A DIFFERENT ONE AND TROY ASKED ABOTU ME