If Hermione Were The Main Character In “Harry Potter”
Hermione Granger and the Goddamn Patriarchy.
posted on Jan. 16, 2015, at 2:00 p.m.
Mr and Mrs Granger of London were proud to say that they had a witch for a daughter.
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Not that they said it much, or at all, to anyone. But they were proud all the same.
Proud, that is, until their daughter, Hermione, wiped all trace of her existence from their memory.
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It was act born not of spite or rebellion, but of love.
Though it pained her beyond measure to do it, Hermione was in the midst of a war, and she was trying to protect her parents from harm.
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To make sure they were completely safe, she shipped them off to Australia, where nothing dangerous ever happens.
Hermione had been doxxed by supporters of the cause she’d been fighting against for years: The Patriarchy.
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The Patriarchy’s first mistake had been to assume that women were somehow lesser. Their second mistake was to fuck with Hermione Granger.
Now bitches gonna die.
Daniel Dalton / BuzzFeed
The theme music is Taylor Swift. Because why the fuck not.
Six years earlier, Hermione first boarded the Hogwarts Express, excited to make friends and finally be valued for her talents, rather than teased for being different.
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“Hello, I’m Hermione Granger. Is that seat taken?”
“I’m Harry, Harry Potter.”
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“And sorry, this carriage is for boys only.”
It was in that moment that Hermione first learned a valuable skill.
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Throwing shade.
Of course, she’d heard of Harry Potter, as all witches and wizards had, and couldn’t believe he of all people would say something so silly.
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“I’ve read all the rules – there’s no such thing as a boys-only carriage.”
“Do you know who that is? That’s Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.”
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“And he just said boys only, are you deaf or what?”
“It’s funny you should say that, because I’m Hermione Granger, The Girl Who Gave Literally Zero Fucks.”
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“And I sit wherever I damn well please.”
At Hogwarts, Hermione tried making friends.
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“I fucking love books.”
But not everyone was interested in knowledge.
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“Alright gorgeous, wanna see my wand?”
She did not want to see his wand. She couldn’t think of anything she’d like to see less.
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Boy wizards were just the worst.
Case in point: She tried her best to be helpful to Ron Weasley, but was shunned for it.
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What. An. Idiot.
It wasn’t just the boy wizards either. Grown-up wizards were equally terrible.
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Professor Snape completely ignored her in favour of the boys in the class.
Hermione did not like being ignored, nor did she like institutional gender bias.
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So she set that bitch on fire.
Her badass antics attracted the attention of Ron and Harry, who decided they wanted her in the gang.
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“You are fierce and independent and that scares us. Also you set a dude on fire. Will you be in our gang, please?”
Despite their vaguely offensive ways, Hermione sensed that Ron and Harry weren’t so bad, even if their strut game needed work.
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“Bitch, I’m fabulous.”
Over the course of the year, she saved Harry and Ron several times.
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Without Hermione, The Boy Who Lived would be dead as shit.
And when Harry legit murdered a dude, Hermione stood by him and tried not to judge.
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Harry had issues, yes. But who didn’t.
In second year, while others floundered, Hermione continued to excel.
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Even though she’d read that women are less likely to speak up in classrooms, Hermione gave literally zero fucks for socially mandated gender roles.
Time and again, she proved how badass she was.
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When Cornish blue pixies were released in the classroom and proceeded to wreak havoc, who was it who saved the day? Not the fucking teacher, that’s for sure.
But there were still obstacles.
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“You still running around with Potter? I’ll show you what a real wizard is.”
“With that wand?”
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“I doubt it.”
“Dirty witch.”
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“Go make me a sandwich.”
Hermione didn’t let Draco see her cry, but his words hurt.
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It wasn’t that she couldn’t deal with teasing, it was that he’d made her feel like an object, a thing, and she understood that no matter how clever she was, or how good at magic, she’d never be more than that to Draco and people like him.
Even her friends were ignoring her cleverness, it seemed.
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Like when she risked her life to discover what was petrifying students around Hogwarts, and it took them ages to realise she was holding the answer the whole time.
And when they finally figured it out and defeated the Basilisk, it was Harry and Ron who got all the credit.
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Still, she was happy for them. They were friends, after all, and they had been so brave, and friendship and bravery were more important than books and cleverness, right?
In third year, Harry was still getting all the praise, all the opportunity. By virtue of being born, it seemed.
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It’s not that he was dim, he just didn’t have to try. Most of the time it felt like he was being carried by incredible privilege. Sometimes literally.
Hermione was working twice as hard as everyone else. And still the teachers shunned her.
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“Tell me, Miss Granger, are you incapable of restraining yourself, or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?”
She was finding it hard to hold back.
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“I’ll take pride in setting you the fuck on fire again, how about that?”
Harry and Ron had begun to think of Hermione as a sister, and felt protective toward her.
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But sister or not, she didn’t need them to protect her.
Especially when Draco Hair Gel was involved.
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“Hermione… Nice hoodie. It’d look even better on the floor of the Slytherin dorms.”
“What did you say to me? Go on, say that again.”
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“It was a compliment, I swear. It was just a compliment.”
“Yeah? Well so’s this.”
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Twitter wasn’t around in those days, but if it was, she’d have just invented the #BossWitch hashtag.
And despite valuing knowledge above all, part of her couldn’t help but enjoy how flawless she looked while knocking Draco Hair Gel the fuck out.
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“What? I woke up like this.”
It was clear that she was the one who was protecting Harry and Ron, and this was never more evident than when she revealed she could control time.
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She’d been using her Time-Turner to attend twice the number of classes, but she agreed to use it to help Harry save his godfather, even though it meant she’d never be able to use it again.
She’d given up her greatest power for her best friend, because helping people made her feel good.
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And though she hoped he understood the sacrifice she was making by letting her education slide, she knew he didn’t. Because men.
Boys her age only seemed to understand one thing.
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How much fun it was to play with their broomsticks.
So she was happy when fourth year rolled around.
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And brought with it the Tri-Wizard tournament and Bulgarian bombshell Viktor Krum.
More than happy. Excited. Ecstatic even. Positively quivering with anticipation.
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After years of boys, finally a man. And what a man.
It wasn’t long before Viktor noticed Hermione.
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*swoon*
And Hermione noticed Viktor noticing her.
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Their flirting was really next level stuff.
With the dance approaching, Ron joked that Hermione probably didn’t have a date. She was not amused.
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“I am fucking glorious. Of course I have a date.”
Viktor Krum had asked her to the dance, and the pair looked resplendent.
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The
Daily Prophet, mouthpiece of The Patriarchy and not a paper with much in the way of moral fibre, wrote that “Hermione was all grown-up”.
Ron was more than a little jealous and asked Hermione to dance, but she didn’t want to.
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“Why are you dressed like that if you don’t want attention, eh?”
“Ron, you idiot! How dare you. How fucking dare you!”
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“I didn’t dress like this for Viktor, or for you, or for anyone. I dressed up for me. Don’t you get it? For me. So I could feel good. And you’ve ruined it!”
Ron tried to apologise, but it was too late, and he didn’t really understand what he was apologising for.
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It was more clear to Hermione than ever that this was a wizard’s world, and she was just another witch.
Trying to repair the damage, Harry apologised on Ron’s behalf.
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“He said he’s sorry. Ron’s a nice guy, not like Draco. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“That’s the problem, Harry. He didn’t think what he was saying was wrong.”
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“And it’s not just Ron and Draco I have to worry about. It’s all wizards.”
“Not all wizards, though. Right?”
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“Yes all wizards, Harry.”
“Not all witches feel that way though, surely.”
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“Yes all witches. All witches have had to put up with comments like that, and worse.”
“But that’s… That’s impossible. If what you’re saying is true, that every witch feels threatened by every wizard, then…”
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“I just can’t believe it.”
Fireworks were exploding in Hermione’s brain. Her heart was pounding. She was furious.
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If she couldn’t get Harry, her most reasonable, supportive male friend, to understand, then she may as well give up.
But then the Dark Wizard Voldemort returned.
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“Surprise, bitches!”
And summoned his Death Eaters, including Draco’s dad, Luscious Locks, to update him on their plan.
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“We’re not oppressing all witches quite yet, my lord. But soon. Soon.”
Harry witnessed the whole thing.
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He couldn’t believe his ears.
Harry managed to escape. But his world had changed forever.
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“It’s The Patriarchy, it’s real. It’s really real!”
Harry apologised to Hermione.
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“You were right. I’m so sorry. Yes all witches.”
Hermione forgave Ron, realising he, too, was a victim of The Patriarchy.
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“When you grow up in a culture that allows wizards to speak to witches that way, how are you supposed to know that it’s wrong? But do it again and I’ll cut you.”
Krum asked Hermione to write, but she was kind of over her Bulgarian phase.
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Krum was a physical being. He valued looks, not books, and Hermione longed for conversation and intellectual stimulation. But it was fun while it lasted.
Fifth year at Hogwarts heralded the arrival of the pinkest evil of all, Dolores Umbridge.
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Some witches just want to watch the world burn.
Professor McGonagall confronted Umbridge, and revealed herself to be quite the boss witch.
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“Hurt my students again, and I’ll fuck up your shit.”
While Harry was too sad to do anything, Hermione came up with a plan.
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“We need to train ourselves to fight The Patriarchy. Who’s in?”
Rebellion was a suit she’d not worn much, and she liked it.
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“It’s sort of exciting, isn’t it. Breaking the rules. Destroying the joint.”
They commenced training in secret. Hermione let Harry take the lead on teaching, to help boost his confidence.
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It turned out Ron’s sister Ginny was pretty badass, and Hermione was glad to have another capable, independent witch around.
Hermione was the first of the students, other than Harry, to conjure a Patronus.
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Harry had first conjured a Patronus two years earlier, while standing atop his lofty mountain of privilege.
But Umbridge, there to ensure nobody questioned The Patriarchy, hunted down their secret training room.
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“And before you start, Miss Granger, this is not about sexism. It’s about ethics in magic teaching.”
When confronted, Dumbledore did what Dumbledore did best.
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Left teenagers to deal with everything.
It didn’t help that Harry was making terrible decisions.
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“Let’s murder that bitch.”
Hermione convinced him not to. Then he decided to go rescue Sirius from the Ministry of Magic.
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“But what if it’s a trap?”
It was totally a trap.
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Sigh.
It was Luscious Locks and fellow soldier of The Patriarchy Bellatrix Lestrange.
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She was the kind of witch Hermione liked least. One who was interested in keeping The Patriarchy as it was because it suited her interests.
Ginny, being a badass, destroyed the joint.
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Hermione was eternally thankful that somebody knew what they were doing.
Unlike Harry, who had no idea what he was doing.
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He was impulsive and a bad listener, and he got Sirius killed.
Despite this, and that brown corduroy blazer, the rest of the group still looked to Harry for answers.
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At least there was a group, Hermione thought. It could be worse.
She’d grown quite fond of her two best friends.
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She wondered if in an alternate universe, there was a Hogwarts School full of children who didn’t have to worry about The Patriarchy.
She even helped Ron make the Quidditch team with a little well-timed magic.
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Ron didn’t have much in the way of natural talent, but she appreciated his commitment to his friends. He was the kind of person she didn’t mind giving extra help in life.
Unlike Johnny Privilege himself, Harry James Potter, who had found himself a book full of potion cheat codes.
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The last thing he needed was another helping hand. Hermione warned him about using the book, but did he listen?
No, he didn’t.
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And he almost killed Draco with a spell from it.
In retaliation, Draco joined The Patriarchy.
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“Why should witches get all the benefits, huh? Wizards are the ones who are really being persecuted. Misandry is what it is. Misandry!”
Snape also outed himself as a member of The Patriarchy.
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And then he killed Dumbledore.
“Well, I suppose I had this coming.”
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“Severus, sever me.”
Now the most powerful wizard in the world was dead.
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And that brings us back to where we started.
The fight against The Patriarchy was beginning in earnest.
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Hermione was nervous. She was a thinker, not a fighter. How was she supposed to fight a war?
Harry, however, had no such doubts. He had a plan and everything.
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“We’re going to hang out in the woods for three to five months or so.”
“Three to five months?”
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“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I know what I’m doing. I’m Harry Potter. There’s a prophecy about me and everything.”
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“We’re going to wait here, and then when the time is right, we’ll go back to Hogwarts and destroy the joint, etc.”
But all that walking around in the woods made Ron lose his shit.
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“Sorry, but I just don’t understand. Witches and wizards are equal already. It’s not like it’s the 1950s. It’s not like anyone is burning witches these days. You want to oppress wizards, is that it? You want all the power, don’t you!”
Ron left, despite Hermione trying to appeal to his sense of reason.
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“This isn’t about having more, Ron. It’s about being equal. Witches and wizards don’t have the same rights and opportunities. Why won’t you understand?”
Hermione, who had been singlehandedly responsible for their survival with her badass wilderness skills, took solace in her first true love: books.
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“Sometimes I think I should have been a Ravenclaw, you know? I think I’d look pretty fucking darling in blue.”
The weeks dragged by, and Hermione was beginning to regret letting Harry choose the plan.
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And then Ron came back.
“I finally understand. It’s not just some witches, but all witches, who are subject to broad and pervasive sexism everywhere they go, every day.”
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“Once you see it, you can’t help but see it. It’s like we’re living in a patriarchal dystopia. Surrounded by prejudice and oppression. And trees.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Ron Weasley! I’ve been telling you this for years.”
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“And now you get it. Now. Wasn’t it enough when I was telling you?”
With Ron back, and after months of wandering around forests, Hermione finally took charge. She was ready.
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“Let’s go fuck up their shit.”
Hermione had a plan. While Harry distracted everyone with his…Harryness…she snuck the entire Order of the Phoenix into Hogwarts.
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And she saved Harry and Ron’s lives at least three times on the way there. How many was that now? She’d lost count.
McGonagall fought off Snape, and in her first act as Hogwarts Headmaster, activated the defences.
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“I’ve always wanted to use that spell. And be free of patriarchal oppression.”
Sensing this might be her last night on earth, Hermione kissed Ron.
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She didn’t have time to explain that this was not a binding contract guaranteeing a future involving marriage and children. Sometimes a kiss was just that.
Draco was still trying to make this all about him.
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“Witches get a free ride, it’s wizards like me who suffer. Where’s my special treatment? Where’s my kiss? I deserve a kiss. It’s misandry I tell you.”
“Misandry? It’s not even a word!”
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“Don’t misinterpret your feelings of inadequacy for the cultural, social, economic, and political oppression of an entire gender. Feeling personally maligned does not a wider prejudice make.”
Draco didn’t listen, so Hermione shut him down the best way she knew how.
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She set that bitch on fire.
Outside, things had escalated somewhat.
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The Battle of Hogwarts had begun.
Hermione broke the bad news to Harry: For the plan to work, he’d have to die.
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“Sorry, bro.”
With Harry dead, Voldemort marched up to Hogwarts.
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“Harry Potter is dead. Long live The Patriarchy.”
But Hermione wasn’t done yet.
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“Not so fast, cockface.”
“The Girl Who Gave Literally Zero Fucks, we meet at last.”
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“You’re too late. We win.”
“You know, I used to hate you, but now I pity you.”
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“You don’t hate witches. You hate yourself. That’s what this is really about.”
Harry was alive the whole time!
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So much privilege, that boy. Even death gave him a pass.
Hermione told Harry to keep Voldemort distracted.
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Harry was OK with this, as he had zero problem being centre of attention all the fucking time.
Meanwhile, Bellatrix tried to kill Ginny.
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Bellatrix was the kind of witch who would say she only had wizard friends.
But Molly Weasley was having none of it.
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“Not my daughter, you bitch! And certainly not the image of witches you perpetuate!”
Hermione had figured out the source of Voldemort’s power, the one thing he couldn’t live without.
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His snake.
Using Ron as bait, Hermione cornered it.
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She needed to get the timing just right.
She’d given Neville the most important job, because good leadership is about good delegation, and he arrived right on schedule, cutting the head off Voldemort’s snake.
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Just the tip, really.
With his snake dismembered, Voldemort crumbled away to nothing.
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And took his archaic notions of gender roles and patriarchal values with him.
“Does this mean The Patriarchy is over?”
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“Unfortunately no. Their figurehead is gone, yes, but the fight will continue. We need to weed out and destroy sexism in all its forms. Bitches got work to do.”
Hermione did just that. Instead of settling down and having kids like Harry did, she dedicated her life to wiping out sexism, in both the magic and Muggle world.
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All was well.
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