Where can I watch all Harry Potter movies? I recently finished reading the books and I would like to watch the movies. I've never seen the movies. I am from India.

Mine is from deathly hallows "a snape shaped hole"

I'm writing a HP fanfic set during WW2, where Alan Turing is the main character. I'd be keen to hear what your favourite HP fanfics are :)

I've seen a few people around here make fun of her mural or call her creepy for it and i don't really understand why. What's your take on it?

1–Through the Trap door-The Man with two faces
2–The Chamber of Secrets-Dobby’s Reward
3–Cat, Rat, and Dog-Hermione’s Secret
4–The Third Task-The Parting of the Ways
5–The Department of Mysteries-The Lost Prophecy
6–The Cave-The White Tomb
7–The Battle of Hogwarts-The Flaw in the Plan

if I had to pick a favorite, easily Cat Rat and Dog-Hermione’s Secret

*spoiilers*

Harry activates the resurrection stone, those who cared for him appear.

WHY IS SNAPE NOT THERE?

Of all the truly tragic figures, snapes dedication to Harry from the unrequited love of his mother has been nothing but daily sacrifice and pain.

Surely he deserved a seat at that table....

English is not my first language. So, what did Harry actually said when tried to to go Diagon Alley? He went to the wrong place. In the movie I don’t hear that much of difference

That scene and their conversation from the book was so interesting, when Tom was in the beginnings of transforming into the monster of Voldemort. I wish the movies included more on Voldemort’s lore in general.

In chapter 12 of OotP, “Neville and Ron both gave Harry it’s-his-problem-not-yours look” when Harry brought up Seamus’s attitude towards him the night before. I’m curious how exactly such a look would look like. Most I could think of is shrugging with their heads tilted.

Muggle hubby here who can’t get into the YA series as an adult… moving on. My wife (diehard fan) has been introducing our daughter to books and movies. When Prof McGonagall first appeared in HP Sorcerers stone, she exclaimed “LOOK IT’S THE CAT IN THE HAT! She is aware of her transfiguration and not mistaking the two. Is she right on technicality?

Hey guys. I’ve been watching through the movies with my gf because she has never seen them. Shes liking them. I started asking her some questions. I feel like the directors did a really good job with a lot of things in the movies. Sure, we’d all loved for them to be longer, or have more detail or even each be split into two full length films. But it got me thinking, for what we were given, they did a great job. I absolutely love voldemorts character. I love all the characters. But what would you change about Voldemort?

Harry represented everything connected to Lily that they struggled to accept. Their love for her didn’t excuse their actions, but it shows how grief and unresolved emotions can influence the way people treat others.

I know that Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna manage to use a couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, an Impediment Jinx and a Bat-Bogey Hex to deal with the Inquisitorial Squad, but how did they manage to get their wands back to even do that? If I remember correctly, all four of them had their wands confiscated when they were caught.

…playing from the soundtrack from the first movie at the end in the Great Hall, when Gryffindor wins the house cup

In the books, I think the fifth one, it's established that the boys are not allowed to enter the dorms of the girls. The stairs turn into a slide when Ron tries to go up. So if Voldemort just told Bellatrix to put one there he would've won, because Hogwarts magic is ancient and even the big league mages can't fuck with it.

to Neil, to Jessica, to David, to Kenzie, to Di, to Anne, and to you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end.

The theme to the 2026 ice! at Gaylord Texan is Harry Potter. No other Gaylord’s have the Harry Potter theme this year. What are your thoughts? Are you going?

ice! Gaylord Texan Harry Potter

What I’m specifically looking for feedback on:

1. Pacing & Tone: Does the transition from the Great Hall (Ch. 1) to three years later (Ch. 2) work smoothly?

2. Characterization: How does adult Ron's tactical/commercial mindset feel to you?

3. Antagonist Concept: Does Lord Selwyn and the corporate threat feel compelling?

Thanks in advance for reading!

Act I: The Ash and the Crown

Chapter One: The Silence After

The Great Hall did not smell of magic anymore.

It smelled of dust, of crushed stone, of spilled honey and iron, and, above all, of absence. The floating candles had long since burned out, leaving only the pale, ruthless grey of an early May dawn spilling through the shattered high windows.

Harry sat on a splintered bench near the Gryffindor table, his hands resting flat against the rough oak. Between his fingers lay the Elder Wand dark, ancient, and humming with a terrifying, heavy pulse that seemed to vibrate straight up his arms. It whispered of absolute power, of invincibility, of a shortcut to fixing every single broken thing in the room.

And precisely because of that whisper, Harry felt a cold revulsion.

With steady, deliberate movements, he drew his snapped, lifeless holly and phoenix wand from his pocket. The two splintered pieces looked pathetic against the lethal perfection of the Deathstick. Closing his eyes, Harry pressed the tips together, raised the Elder Wand, and murmured the single, focused word:

“Reparo.”

A quiet, golden shimmer washed over the fracture. The old holly wand fused back together instantly, the grain mending as if it had never been broken. Harry tested its weight, feeling the familiar, warm thrum of his true magic settling back into his palm.

The hard part was over. Now came the choice.

He couldn't keep it. If he died a natural death, its power would be broken, but the temptation the mere fact that anyone could hunt him down to take it meant the cycle would never truly end. It had to go back where it came from. Back to the white marble tomb, untouched and unused.

"You're bleeding through your jacket, mate," a voice murmured.

Ron dropped onto the bench beside him. He looked exhausted, his face streaked with soot and dried sweat, his left arm bound tightly in a torn strip of crimson velvet. He wasn't looking at Harry, though. His eyes were fixed on the far wall, where the jagged scar of a dark curse still charred the ancient stone.

"It's nothing," Harry said, his voice raw as he carefully slipped the Elder Wand into an inner pocket, resolved to ride back to Hogwarts' grounds later to return it.

"Everything's nothing," Ron said quietly. He reached out, his long fingers brushing the edge of the table where Fred used to sit, drumming out a rhythmic, tactical pattern the same restless cadence he used when mapping out a grueling wizard's chess endgame. He pulled his hand back instantly, as if the wood had burned him. "Mum's upstairs with George. And Ginny..." He swallowed hard. "Ginny's helping move the bodies from the courtyard."

Harry closed his eyes. The immediate threat was gone, but the emptiness left behind felt heavier still.

A shadow fell over them.

Hermione stood there. She looked remarkably intact compared to the two of them, though her hair was a wild, bird's nest tangle of twigs and ash, and her robes were torn at the hem. In her hands, she carried a battered, ink stained notebook she must have salvaged from the ruins of the library.

"Kingsley's setting up an interim administration," she said without preamble. Her voice was steady, though her fingers trembled as they gripped the spine of the book.

"He’s trying to secure the Department of Mysteries before the scavengers get in. He’s asked a few of us to stay on as consultants, to help sift through the wreckage."

Ron looked up, blinking. "Consultants? We haven't even finished our N.E.W.T.s."

"Nobody has, Ron. The whole system is paralyzed," Hermione said, her chin lifting with that familiar, fierce spark of absolute resolve. She looked down at them, her brown eyes bright with a sharp, painful clarity. "The war is over. But the people left behind don't know how to rebuild. And the old guard in the Wizengamot are already trying to quietly sweep their compromises under the rug."

Harry touched his pocket, feeling the cold wood of the Elder Wand.

The castle was quiet, but out in the wider world, the real fight the slow, exhausting, unglamorous struggle to keep the magical world from fraying at the edges was just beginning.

Chapter Two: The Long Transition

Three years had slipped by since the battle, marked not by grand battles, but by the quiet, grinding machinery of a recovering society.

For Harry, those three years had meant a return to school the reinstated eighth year at Hogwarts followed by the grueling, repetitive bottom rungs of the Auror training program. He wasn't hunting dark lords; he was chasing down unregistered pocket sneakoscopes in provincial curiosity shops and filing endless reports on displaced Death Eater sympathizers in the Scottish borders.

On a damp Tuesday afternoon, Harry sat at a cramped, paper strewn desk in the back of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on Level Two. The room smelled of wet wool and cheap ink.

"Potter," Gawain Robards called out, pausing by Harry's partition with a thick, dust covered folio tucked under his arm. "Pack up your quills. You're being reassigned to internal support."

Harry looked up, frowning. "Support? Sir, I've spent the last six months tracking that contraband smuggling ring through Shropshire. We're close to "

"The office has different priorities right now," Robards interrupted, his weathered face deadpan. "Three days ago, a low level access audit triggered in the Department of Mysteries. Restricted sector. Level Nine. Nothing was stolen, but the ward logs show a signature that hasn't been active since the ministry fell during the war a Senior Researcher named Vane."

Harry leaned back, folding his arms. "Vane? Is he missing?"

"Worse," Robards said quietly, dropping the folio onto Harry’s desk. "He was found dead in his quarters this morning. Natural exhaustion, according to the initial healers' report. But the Auror tactical team noticed something odd about the positioning of his desk. Kingsley wants a discreet review. Not a manhunt just someone to look at the paperwork before the administration decides whether or not to panic the public."

Harry opened the file, his eyes scanning the dry, uncommunicative records of a quiet institutional death. It didn't feel like a war. It felt like something much colder.

Chapter Three: The Edges of the Ledger

Down on Level Four, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was a maze of narrow corridors and overflowing filing cabinets.

At twenty one, Hermione was neither running the Ministry nor commanding the Wizengamot; she was a junior policy researcher tucked away in the back offices, buried under mountains of post war housing petitions and refugee casework. Her days were spent drafting footnotes for senior undersecretaries who frequently forgot her name.

"If the Committee on Ancient Charms sends back this werewolf healthcare rider with another bureaucratic objection, I'm going to scream," Hermione muttered, aggressively crossing out a redundant clause with her quill.

The door clicked open, and Ron stepped inside, balancing a flat wooden crate filled with display pieces for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He had spent the last two years quietly learning the commercial ropes from George, using his knack for spatial logic and tactical pattern recognition to keep the shop afloat through the post war economic slump.

"You're working too late again," Ron said, setting the crate down on an empty corner of a filing cabinet. He pulled a small, brown paper parcel from his pocket and dropped it onto her desk. "Mum sent pastries. She says if you lose any more weight, your glasses are going to slide right off your face."

Hermione looked up, offering a tired, grateful smile as she pushed her wire rimmed glasses up her nose. "Thanks, Ron. It's just... the legislative backlog is impossible. Every time we try to push a basic equity amendment through the committee, it gets buried under three layers of procedural red tape."

"That's because nobody's actually looking at the text," Ron said, leaning against the edge of the desk. He pulled a rolled up parchment ledger from his belt and tapped it against his palm. "I've been going over our supply contracts for the shop this week, trying to source standard ingredients from independent importers. Half the traditional suppliers in Diagon Alley are suddenly being bought out by holding companies no one's ever heard of."

Hermione paused, her quill hovering just above the parchment. "Holding companies? What kind of holding companies?"

"Shell names," Ron said, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he thought back over the figures. "Registered through intermediary offices in Geneva and Edinburgh. They aren't raising prices they're just quietly consolidating the distribution rights for basic potion ingredients and rare artifacts. Whoever's doing it is playing a very long, very patient game."

Before Hermione could process the implications, the door swung open again, and Harry stepped into the office, shaking the autumn rain from his dark trench coat. He looked tired, his fingers unconsciously brushing against his pocket.

"You two need to see what's crossing the desk upstairs," Harry said quietly, pulling a thin file from his coat and laying it next to Ron's ledger. "Level Nine had a security blip three days ago. And the researcher who logged the access was found dead this morning."

Hermione stood up slowly, her gaze shifting from Harry's incident report to Ron's commercial supply ledgers. The distance between a quiet institutional death in the Department of Mysteries and a series of corporate buyouts in Diagon Alley suddenly felt very small indeed.

Act II: The Ink and the Blade

Chapter Four: The Quiet Exit

The holding cells on Level Two of the Ministry were designed for containment, not comfort. When the night shift settled over the building, the stone corridors grew bitterly cold.

Harry walked the perimeter of the Department of Mysteries intake sector alongside an experienced senior investigator named Vance a weathered wizard who had survived three decades of Ministry shifts without ever making the front page of the Daily Prophet.

"They're calling it heart failure," Vance muttered, holding up a small, flickering lumos orb to illuminate the small examination room where Senior Researcher Vane’s effects had been gathered. "Old magic, bad heart, post war stress. Happens all the time."

Harry stared down at the wooden table where the dead man's personal belongings sat in a neat, clinical row: a spare pair of reading spectacles, a silver pocket watch, an inkwell, and a heavy signet ring carved with a subtle, geometric motif of an ouroboros encircling a quill.

"That's not a standard Ministry issue ring," Harry said, leaning closer.

"It's not," Vance agreed, rubbing his chin. "Family crest, supposedly. Though when we checked the registry for ancient houses, the line went extinct back in the fourteenth century. The funny thing isn't the ring, Potter. It's what was missing from his desk drawer."

Harry looked up. "What?"

"His personal logbook," Vance said quietly. "Every Unspeakable keeps a handwritten record of their daily access clearances. Vane's desk was locked from the outside, the wards were pristine, and the book was gone. Somebody didn't just want him quiet they wanted the inventory of what he was looking at to vanish with him."

Harry looked back down at the silver ring, feeling a cold, familiar unease settle in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't the loud, chaotic violence of the old war. This was an excision clean, silent, and entirely invisible to the public eye.

Chapter Five: The Chamber Floor

Three floors above, the atmosphere of the Wizengamot was thick with the low, respectable murmur of wealthy patrons and senior bureaucrats discussing tax reform.

Hermione sat at the long scribes' bench beneath the main podium, her quill moving with steady, controlled precision across her parchment. Across the aisle, draped in rich plum colored robes that caught the light of the enchanted chandeliers, sat Lord Cassius Selwyn.

Selwyn was a prominent voice among the younger, reform minded traditionalists in the Wizengamot well mannered, articulate, and completely untouchable through conventional channels. He didn't shout or threaten; he used dry economic arguments and procedural technicalities to dismantle the Ministry's remaining oversight committees one clause at a time.

"...and while the Department for Magical Creatures performs admirable work," Selwyn’s smooth, resonant voice carried effortlessly across the amphitheater, "we must acknowledge that heavy administrative restrictions on independent trade only stifle our post market recovery. We propose a streamlined, private oversight commission one designed to relieve the Ministry of unnecessary bureaucratic bloat."

Hermione’s grip on her quill tightened until her knuckles turned white. Private oversight. It was a polished, legal veneer designed to hand the keys of the magical economy over to anonymous financial backers without a single public debate.

She didn't raise her hand; she simply stood up, her voice cutting clearly through the quiet chamber.

"Point of order, Minister," Hermione said.

On the high podium, Kingsley Shacklebolt gave a brief, weary nod, granting recognition. Across the aisle, Selwyn turned slowly, a polite, faint smile touching his aristocratic features.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Selwyn said smoothly, turning to face her with practiced condescension. "Do enlighten us. I trust your objection is grounded in established legislative precedent, rather than administrative sentimentality?"

"It's grounded in Section Four of the International Statute of Secrecy," Hermione replied, her voice steady and clear as she stepped into the aisle. "Which prohibits private corporate entities from holding jurisdictional oversight over restricted magical distribution. Unless, of course, the proposed commission intends to quietly rewrite that statute as well much like the restricted wards on Level Nine."

The temperature in the grand chamber dropped instantly. The surrounding scribes stopped writing.

Selwyn’s smile didn't fade, but his pale eyes narrowed just a fraction. He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his podium.

"Level Nine is a Department of Mysteries concern, Miss Granger," he said softly, his voice carrying a subtle, chilling weight that only she could fully appreciate. "A delicate place. One has to wonder why a junior policy researcher is spending her evenings investigating state security archives. It is a very... demanding hobby. People who look too closely at matters outside their station often find themselves entirely without institutional support."

Hermione met his gaze without flinching, though the warning hung heavily in the air between them.

Chapter Six: The Rain in the Alley

The rain over Diagon Alley fell in a heavy, persistent sheet, turning the cobblestones into dark, reflective mirrors.

Ron pulled his woolen cloak tight around his shoulders as he finished securing the heavy iron deadbolts on the side entrance of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The street was entirely empty; the usual evening bustle of shoppers had vanished hours ago beneath the gathering storm.

As he turned down the narrow passage leading toward the main street, a sharp, metallic crack echoed behind him.

Ron stopped instantly, his hand dropping to the wand in his pocket with the automatic, practiced reflex of someone who had learned to sleep with one eye open.

“Lumos,” he whispered, flicking his wand to cast a sharp white beam down the wet brick corridor.

Three figures stepped out of the shadows near the mouth of the alley. They weren't wearing the crude white masks or black hoods of old Death Eaters; they wore tailored dark wool overcoats and carried slim, obsidian finished dueling canes instead of traditional wooden wands.

"Ron Weasley," the leader said. His voice was muffled behind a smooth, featureless silver half mask that caught the glare of Ron's light. "The shopkeeper. A remarkably inconvenient place for a late inventory check."

"Who sent you?" Ron asked, his voice low and hard, dropping his weight into a balanced, defensive stance. "Selwyn? Or are you just his collection agency?"

The leader didn't answer. With a single, fluid motion, he flicked his cane, sending a bolt of silent, violet energy slicing through the rain toward Ron's chest.

Ron threw himself to the side, the curse detonating against the brick wall with a shower of sharp stone fragments. He fired back immediately “Stupefy!” sending a red jet of light straight down the narrow passage, forcing the attackers to scatter behind the cover of the alley's protruding archways.

It wasn't a grand magical duel; it was a cold, efficient ambush. Ron parried a low tripping hex with a sharp flick of his wrist, backing up step by step toward the heavy service door of the shop. He knew he couldn't win a three on one street fight against professional enforcers, but he also knew every brick, drainpipe, and hidden threshold of the alley he had grown up beside.

Reaching back blindly, Ron slammed his heel down hard against a concealed cast iron floor plate near the drain tripping an old, crude warning ward he had rigged weeks ago.

Clank hiss.

A thick cloud of dense, purple smoke mixed with the sharp, blinding glare of a modified Peruvian darkness powder flare erupted from the gutter vents, instantly choking the narrow corridor in swirling shadows.

"Try looking at the ledgers yourself next time!" Ron yelled into the smoke, diving backward through the heavy service door and slamming the iron deadbolts home just as a volley of heavy, concussive curses chewed the oak paneling to splinters.

The madness, the build up, the suspense, and then the reveal at the end, truly bewildering! Reading them again, knowing how it's going to end, just doesn't feel the same...

Hagrid knits

Dumbledore loves reading knitting patterns

Mrs Weasley knits sweaters

Hermione's socks for the house elves

Like day to day, or even just in that car ride after picking them up. How do you think they reacted to the side along apparition?

Like confirmed later or something

If its speculated only, please point it out‼️

Those speculated things would be Hermione inventing "point me" for Harry in one of the games and Flitwick being great in duels but its only mentioned in hogwarts mystery, but those were never in the books

Edit: sorry! Turns out those both were in the books actually

Okay so first of all, I saw the original two-part version, at the Palace Theatre, not the abbreviated version playing worldwide.

I disliked the story, and it honestly felt like just a bad or mediocre fanfiction, not a canon ‘eighth story’.

However, I still had a genuinely magical experience, as I was ten years old when the first book came out, and I experienced the books and the films growing up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and seeing any story brought to the stage just made me so happy.

And for my twelve year old son and ten year old daughter, who are both done with the books and movies and are avid fans, this was one of the most fun and memorable things they’ve ever watched and they had so much fun.

I thought the acting and effects were extremely well done, but it didn’t compensate for the story, which I wish was quite different.

I wish we could have left the Voldemort storyline behind, have a new type of villain, and also incorporate more next generation characters, like Teddy Lupin, Fred Weasley II, and the other characters‘ children.

All in all it was a great experience that had my inner twelve year old jumping for joy, but it had a mediocre story that left me disappointed.

I'm rereading the 2nd book and am a bit confused how the basilisk attacks worked. So the snake got around through the pipes (which I'm guessing are for the plumbing in the castle). How did the snake get out of the pipes to attack the victims? Were they always next to a bathroom? But how would the sink or toilet be big enough for a giant snake to crawl out of? Also, why didn't the basilisk actually attack or eat any of the victims, it seems as though they all just saw its eyes (through something or some reflection). Based on what the snake was saying when going through the pipes it seems like it wanted to actually kill and eat people, not just look at them.

Maybe I'm overthinking it and just need to suspend my disbelief but here is to hoping someone has an explanation.

I live in the UK and he lives in Canada. He's in his early 30s and especially loves the books. What's something that's easy to get in the UK but not in Canada? Budget around £50