But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew — and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents — that there was all the difference in the world.
god I am so tired of people throwing roses at my feet as I walk by
I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since… since the birth of Lydia Martin.
Eleventh Era + Minimalist (insp)
"What would I give for a playboy who couldn’t keep it in his pants, and who runs through women? What I have is a son who shows no interest in them. What you do at night with your boys, after your show of skirt-chasing, is a disgrace."
#his acting in this scene #just #just this alone #oh my god #the way you can feel every single emotional punch his father lands on him #and how he still tries to keep it together#not let the tears fall #don’t let him see #how he grits his jaw #that little spasm #an he’s about to roll his lips into his mouth but doesn’t #just breathe #breathe breathe breathe #it fucking murders me #every time #your talent blows me backwards #you’re such a gift #im forever thankful that you”ve graced my screen
I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that’s happened to us… everything just changes so fast. Everything’s so… ephemeral.