About Me

The way he steps down lmao I LOVE THIS

elphaba took these pics btw

Okay, so here’s another headcanon relating to James being Indian - one that possibly explains a longstanding mystery.

A little background: record keeping in India is, to say the least, pretty ropey. A lot of the older generation (aka, my grandparents) didn’t actually have birth certificates. Hell, we don’t actually know when my grandmother was born. We know where, but not exactly when. (I’m not entirely sure we know when my grandfather was born either, since I strongly suspect he lied about his age when he joined the army in WW2.)

But anyway. There are some records though, that are literal scrolls kept by the pandits, or Hindu priests, in holy cities on the river Ganges (Varanasi, Haridwar, etc.) Each Hindu family has a pandit, and each family has a set of scrolls tracing the family back generations. My family has one. Chances are, if you’re from a Hindu family or married into one, you’ll be on one, though it’s not always easy to find. (We were just lucky that we knew which city ours were in.)

Okay, so what’s this got to do with James? Well, it’s pretty likely that his Indian family are culturally Hindu (even if they’re not necessarily practicing nowadays), so they’d have these family scrolls in India.

So which mystery does this solve? Well, the mystery of where the hell Sirius was at the start of GoF when he was using huge colourful birds to write to Harry?

Yeah, that’s right. My headcanon is that Sirius went to India. He went to see the Potter family pandit to update the scroll with James’ (and Lily’s, and possibly Fleamont’s, unless someone else did it) date of death and add Harry’s name to the scroll.

But then he saw something that shocked him on the scroll, next to James’ name. His ability to read Sanskrit is pretty rusty nowadays, but he can still recognise his own name. At some point, before he died, Fleamont must have either written to the pandit, or gone to India, and had Sirius’ name added. Listing him as James’ brother. As family.

Later (while sobbing uncontrollably), Sirius mirror-calls Remus to tell him that. But Remus then realises something. If anyone intentionally betrays another member of their family, their name disappears from the scroll. It’s extremely old magic that’s been imbued in those scrolls for centuries. No one knows how it’s done; the only people who would know are long dead.

You see where I’m going with this? Sirius’ name is still there. It was never erased. And he couldn’t have rewritten it. That means he never betrayed James and Lily. It means they have proof he’s innocent.

Remus tells Sirius ‘get that fucking scroll by any means necessary so we can clear your name! Not even Fudge can ignore this, not without being called a massive bigot.’ (Okay, there was actually a lot more swearing, since my headcanon is that Remus swears like a sailor. He’s not a werewolf, he’s a swearwolf!)

So Sirius races back to Haridwar to do just that. Either he manages it and his name gets cleared (thanks to some ‘nudging’ from a few powerful people) or, he’s halfway there when he gets the letter from Harry about his scar hurting and promptly flies home.

Personally, I like the idea that he gets the scroll and gets cleared. Heck, maybe the pandit agrees to testify! And yes, I know it doesn’t happen in canon, but it would make a good AU.

Hindus In Bangladesh-

Why do you ignore genocide and persecution when it happens to Hindus? Why are we called propagandists for raising our voices? Who will speak for them if not other Hindus? How many will you brand as “sanghi and hindutvadis” for saying the truth?

If we don’t care then who will?

- No one.

'I am Prince Jaron' - Short Fanfic 👑

*Set at the end of TFP with an alternate ending*

What if Imogen found out slightly earlier than in the books? What if she didn't wait for Tobias and the crown? What if Imogen was there to support Jaron when he confronts his past for the first time in years?

Even though I actually felt some inspiration, I feel like this cut off abruptly. Ran out of ideas. Sorry for any spelling mistakes as always

⚔️⚔️⚔️

I looked directly at Mott. “Go now.”

Mott nodded and took Conner’s arm. “Sir, Prince Jaron will be there. Let’s go.”

“I will get there in time,” I told Conner. “Have Mott secure the kitchen for us.”

They ran ahead and Imogen knelt beside me, asking, “You knew about Roden and Cregan. How?”

“It was their last chance to make Roden the prince.”

She reached for the hem of her skirt, intending to tear off strips for bandages. “Where are you hurt?" 

“Nowhere. Everything is fine. Really.” I smiled and held out my arms to prove it to her. “I just needed a reason to get separated from Conner. Do you think Mott has secured the kitchen yet?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand — you faked that injury?”

“Yes.” It was the first time her confusion could have been mistaken for distrust. I stretched out my hand to help her up, “I’ll explain on the way.”

“But what about Tobias? What about the crown?” Even though nobody could hear us, she still whispered the word.

“The crown will gain him entry, and I won’t need it.”

“Sage—” She tugged me back as I started walking, searching my eyes desperately.

I squeezed her hand, “Trust me.”

Although she didn’t seem all that convinced, she allowed me to lead her until we saw light pouring  into the tunnel and a figure taking up too much space to be anyone but Mott. I let her climb the ladder first and followed soon after.

“How bad is it?” 

He was obviously asking about my injury, so I just grinned at both of them, “Practically nonexistent.”

Imogen’s frown deepened just as Mott understood, “Unbelievable.”

“I thought it was rather clever.”

“You think everything you do is clever,” This time it was Imogen, still looking as though I was some puzzle that had been scattered and she had to put together again.

“And since when can you talk?”

She gave Mott a pointed look just as I spotted Cook, my favourite chef who always kept silent about my midnight escapes through the trapdoor and into the world. And suddenly, I felt very hollow. I was home. I was prince. And yet I felt like neither. I longed for my family, but they weren’t here. Only Cook. Still, as if drawn to her like a echo from the past, I needed to see her. I needed someone to know I had come home before the entire kingdom knew it. I tapped her on the shoulder before Mott could stop me.

“Did you get the potatoes I asked—” The plate she held shattered at our feet and her mouth hung open. She was looking at a ghost, I realised. It was best to act as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. So I just grabbed a pastry from behind her and winked. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I knew the tears I had caused weren’t out of grief. 

I strode back to my friends with a grin, “Time to come back to life.”

Mott just shook his head with a smile but promised to remain at the sewer entrance to wait for Tobias, nodding once at me as though he knew my plan without my telling him. Perhaps also in good luck. I generously left him the rest of my partly-bitten pastry and exited through the staff door.

Imogen followed me in silence. Up the curving stairs I hadn’t stepped on for half a decade as I ran my hand along the stone walls, each bump and crevice unearthing memories from deep within me. And dread, and sadness. I pushed the last two emotions aside and dared to glance back at Imogen.

She no longer looked suspicious, only nervous.

“I have something I need to tell you.” I said as I stopped and pushed our backs against the wall. A guard was walking by, armed heavily in anticipation of the coronation. My old room was almost in sight. I knew how to get there unnoticed. 

“Yes?” She whispered.

“I—” She looked at me with such trust in her eyes. Trust that would be broken in an instant when she found out who I truly was. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You don’t have to be. I know why you’re doing this now. I understand.”

“No, you don’t. Not until I tell you everything.” I gently ushered her across the walkway and into the royal quarters. And with a wave of nausea, I realised nobody would be here. 

She noticed my distress apparently, “Sage, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I—” The door to my parents room. I gasped, seeing myself caught by them sneaking around. But that wasn’t real, of course. Just my own ghosts. “I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me.” This time she squeezed my hand.

And quietly, because the words seemed to seek refuge in my throat, “I am prince Jaron.”

“Yes, I know.”

“No,” I looked directly at her, “I am him.”

“Sage, I understand if you want me to call you that, and I will. But what’s really going on?”

It’s better to show than to try convince her of the impossible. I nudged open the door to my old room and walked in. The smell of pine and dust thick in the air. Everything was just as I had left it. 

Imogen froze as the door shut behind her, hissing, “Sage, why are we in a royal’s bedroom?”

I took exactly three steps, knowing which floorboard I needed but still waiting for it to creak and then knelt down to tear it free. 

“Sage!”

There, sandwiched between two loose pieces of wood, was the inspiration for Conner's prized replica. I lifted my up my sword and watched it glimmer in the moonlight. The leather warming in my palm. Rubies sparkling. 

It was like the world quietened around me. Enough that Imogen's sharp inhale was just as loud as her back hitting the door. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. No. Stop talking,” her eyes widened, “Wait, no. Forget I said that.”

She looked impossibly small when I stood back up, and suddenly she bowed low.

“Please rise,” I said. “It’s still me.”

She obeyed but shook her head, avoiding my eyes. “No, I don’t think it is, your Highness.”

I frowned at my sword as if it had personally ruined everything. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Her voice was almost imperceptible. 

“I have everything to apologise for.” I allowed myself to really look around. A melted wax candle on my bedside table. The sheets tucked carefully into the bed like a treasured memory. Blue and yellow drapes canvasing the bedposts and pot of rotted flower stems, the petals long disintegrated. Forgotten, much like I was. 

“Are you alright?” The words seemed to take on a new meaning.

“No.” I swallowed. Throat burning with unshed tears. But I had a job to do. “I don’t think I ever will be.”

I didn’t notice her walking up to me until she touched my wrist, getting my attention, “I understand.”

That was all I needed to hear. I was breathing again. Where Cook saw a ghost Imogen must have seen a complete stranger. And the thought of my closest friend no longer sharing that sentiment was a nice addition to the pain that was already crippling me from inside out.

"How much time do you have?" She was speaking quietly now. And, to my surprise, studying my face.

"The regents would have started their proceeding. Connor would have made it just about now. I expect another ten minutes until I have to make a grand entrance."

She giggled, "I'm not the least bit surprised you want it to be grand."

"I want Conner to think he's won."

"I forgot about that part. He has no idea, does he?"

"And he won't know until I have him arrested," I looked at her through blurry eyes, "He killed them Imogen. He murdered them all."

Her eyes widened and a look of horror flickered in her expression. "What?"

"It was him. I figured it out."

"You're saying--"

"He murdered my family."

I hoped that darkness made the tears invisible. Though I suspected the tremor in my voice didn't help me be inconspicuous. For days I had been filled with such unbridled rage, such resentment. Briefly I thought that I should poison him with the same vial myself. But an emotion I hoped I could withstand was haunting me. Loss. I lost my family once again... only this time permanently.

And then, like a bandage holding me together, Imogen wrapped her arms around me and placed her ear above my pounding heart. "I can't pretend to know what you're going though. But I want you to know that even though your life is about to change, I will be here if you need me to be."

"As a subject or a friend?" I sniffed.

"You don't have to order me to be your friend, Jaron."

I sighed. My name sounded so nice when she said it. I was longing to hear someone say it and know it was real. So I couldn't help myself, "Imogen?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you say that again?"

She chuckled slightly and looked up at me, her own brown eyes a bit glassy, "What? Your name?" When I nodded she smiled and repeated it almost reverently, "Jaron."

I tightened our embrace slightly. "Thank you. It has been years since I heard that."

"You should prepare to hear it more often. Or Your Majesty."

"As long as you don't end up calling me that."

"What, by your title?"

I raised my eyebrows and leaned in, "Yes. Or else I'll start calling you Lady Imogen."

She threw her head back and laughed, "That would be a sight. You'll have nobles turning over in their graves."

"Well they better start turning. Because when I'm crowned, it will be my first decree."

She stepped away, "What do you mean?"

"I already planned it, back at Fathernwood. As a thanks for all you did for me."

She was silent for far too long, "Jaron, I can't repay that."

"You already have. Several times over." I stepped close to her, "I would be dead without you, Imogen. Of that I am almost certain."

"It was just some cleaning alcohol, anyone could have done it."

"I'm not just taking about my wounds, Imogen."

And it was almost a whisper when she replied, "Thank you."

I cleared my throat, and with it, reined in my emotions, "Well..." I re-gripped my sword, "I think I should probably go. But I'm going to miss this. Being Sage was one of the best things that ever happened to me, and also the worst."

"You've lived the life of a royal and the life of a peasant. You know your people more that any ruler before you. And from what I know of you already, you are going to be the greatest King that Carthya has ever seen. I can't wait to see who you'll become." She bowed her head once more and looked up with a smile, "Now go and take your kingdom back.”

I kissed her cheek and headed off to take my throne, feeling, for the first time in my life, like I was where I was destined to be.

- The End

ok, any headcanons on james that compliment the ones you've done for sirius?

i absolutely loved those and i'm really curious about james

HELL YEAH LETS GO

ADHD. This dude has to be moving, fidgeting, doing something, always. It tires him, and he sleeps very soundly for a full seven hours. Doesn't wake up even for earthquakes (Sirius once did a mini earthquake spell on the dorm room floor in the middle of the night as a prank. It did not wake him.)

Wakes up at an ungodly fucking hour. He doesn't own an alarm clock (it has no effect on him), but his internal clock is set to wake him up at exactly 4:30 in the morning for quidditch practice. He is done with jogging through the entire castle, half an hour of yoga, and an hour of quidditch before 7 A.M. rolls around. Sirius calls him "a demon from muggle hell" for it.

The only one who can keep up with Sirius' intelligence. He is scarily smart, but because most of his time is invested in quidditch and pranks, nobody realises just how smart he is until the results are handed out and he's right there next to Sirius on the top of the rankings. Both of them are always exchanging ranks 1 and 2 on overall performance. It annoys Snape and Lily to no end, because those two are always exchanging ranks 3 and 4 on the list.

The definition of Reckless. If Sirius hadn't stopped him, he would probably have turned the castle to rubble in less than five minutes. This was the exact reason why people (who were in the know) were surprised when Sirius was the one that sent Snape to Moony. They had all thought it would be James' fault.

A fucking bookworm. My dude reads literally everything from mystery to romance to encyclopaedias to research papers to fucking dictionaries of different languages. Even when he doesn't speak the language, the weirdo (affectionate and derogatory).

Indian. Specifically, from Pune city, Maharashtra.

About languages, he's learnt a lot of them. The order of learning of languages, starting from his native tongue, is thus: Marathi, Sanskrit, Hindi, English, Ancient Greek, Tamil, French and Latin. He learnt the first six at home, and French and Latin from Sirius. He's good with languages.

Photographic memory. The reason he never has to study, and also the fact that he understands everything he reads on the first try.

He and Sirius both have twelve OWLs and eight NEWTs. They have Outstandings in all of them.

My dude has the widest, largest doe eyes possible. The only people who can withstand them for more than two minutes are his parents and Sirius.

Bharatanatyam dancer. Has his Visharad certificate, and genuinely enjoys dancing. Gives at least three evenings per week for dance practice to keep up his muscle memory.

Doesn't actually hate Slytherins. Neither does Sirius. Both of them have several friends from the house of Serpents, they just hate the ones that actively use Dark Magic on muggleborns, and Snape and his gang are a part of that.

Lmao the sheer arrogance in him, oh my fucking Gods—

Doesn't give a shit about the rules set by other people (unless they're set by his parents), but has a set of rules for himself that he strictly follows. No one can tell what these rules are, but he has them and he follows them. At the top of that list, there is "never betray your loved ones". He followed that one until his death.

Nevertheless, he will break every single rule. Every. Single. Rule. For Sirius. For Sirius, he will do anything, from taking care of him when he's sick to burning the world for him.

The Hat would actually have put him in Slytherin, except he had no ambitions except to cause chaos at the tiny age of eleven years. Otherwise, he's almost a perfect fit for Slytherin— determined, strong willed, cunning enough to pull difficult pranks, resourceful (because how else you gon plan epic pranks?)

He went to Gryffindor for three reasons and three reasons only: Sirius was there, he had no particular ambition, he wanted to be with Sirius.

M O T H E R H E N. Such a mother hen, but only for a select few people (the marauders, Lily, and Harry). He doesn't give a fuck about anyone else, but these are my people and if I weren't here they would literally get themselves killed put of household related incompetence how are you still alive by the Gods—

Follows ancient Vedic religion (because I do hehe)

Very very panromantic. Demisexual.

Had a crush on Sirius for a short while in fourth year, and then on Frank Longbottom in sixth year after he had one (1) glance at the older boy dressed in full Auror robes.

Loved his mother so much omg he was such a Mama's boyyy

Gave shit to Remus for looking like a professor at the tender age of fifteen, but wanted to become a Transfiguration Professor himself. He was also excellent at Potions (another reason Snape hated him) but decided ultimately that Transfiguration was his calling

Was in his last year of his Transfiguration Mastery on Samhain of 81.

Died with a Killing Curse on his lips. He was ready to cast it wandlessly, for his wife and child. Died with a Killing Curse on his lips.

currently contemplating the fact that glinda gets her ears pierced at some point during the time jump between acts. like. this is a girl obsessed with image and appearance and who does her hair perfectly every morning and almost always has an accessory. you think she wouldn't have already pierced her ears if that's something she personally wanted??

so the 'elphaba's promise' deleted scene went like this right

Help I’m reading the 2nd Oz book and damn Glindas cold af

Arjun: *clenching his fists* Fight me!

Krishna, standing behind him, sudarshan chakra in hand: *mouthes* Do not.