Dear Pottermore: You Don’t Understand Us At All.

006pottermorelogoDear Pottermore, we need to talk. You know I love you, right? Sure, you’re slow to load, and the limitations built into your system are a bit extreme and difficult to work around. But, you’re cooky and odd and you remind me of those endless hours I’d spent clicking around JK Rowling’s website, trying to find easter eggs and Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. That sure was a long time ago, now wasn’t it? Gee, I think that was before the sixth book even thought of coming out! I remember those days, and how upset I was over Sirius’s death, and how much time I spent scouring the internet for even the tiniest scrap of information about Harry Potter. I remember pushing myself harder to learn English well enough to be able to write good fanfiction. Shit… you know what? I think I was like, literally, 12.

I’m not 12 anymore, Pottermore. I’m 23 and ¾. I’ve learned English well enough to write fanfiction. I’ve stopped hoping that the random tapping on the window is an owl. I’m… still in denial about Sirius. And Fred. And Lupin. And Tonks. And the fact that Harry would name his son Albus Severus. Like what the actual hell no just no. But… even after all that… I like you, Pottermore. I like you as you are. You’re the place I go when I want to relive those glory days of being young and having nothing good in my life except those scraps of information about Harry Potter that I scrounged up from the internet.

Except, well…

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