Untitled (or, Mischief Managed)
This mix is about Harry Potter, the greatest seven-book trilogy ever written.
Why It’s Pretentious: I know, big shock, the girl who named her house Hogwarts is obsessed with Harry Potter and made a mix about the series. I lovingly crafted this in preparation for the seventh book— though, at 7 songs and 25 minutes, it wasn’t even close to being long enough to soundtrack my 12-6 am rapid-fire absorption of Deathly Hallows. Obviously, being high school, I chose remember the saddest and most angsty moments possible so get ready to cry your eyeballs out like those credits are already rolling. (I also worked in Morrissey because do you not know me at all?)
TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT. RAISE YER WANDS UP, WIZARDS. MISCHIEF MANAGED.
Tracklisting and downloads after the jump.
katiechow replied to your post: “This is my friend Sarah Champion. She is a…
Do you still have the fanfic about the table you sold on Craigslist?
Harry Potter & The Armchair That Would Look Great In Your Living Room - $10 (West Nashville)
“I think I found it,” said Hermione, slamming a large dusty book onto the table. “The final Horcrux. Also, I’m in love with Ron.”
“Wha-?” asked Ron, food tumbling out of his mouth.
“This is fanfiction, Ron. We have to make out later. You know the rules.”
“Right then,” coughed Harry. “The final Horcrux?”
Hermione assumed the posture of an insufferable know-it-all, licking her finger and flipping to page 487 in one graceful yet pretentious swoop.
“It says here that Helga Hufflepuff purchased a small armchair for one of the common rooms at Hogwarts. However, as time went on, it matched the decor less and less until finally, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin demanded that the chair go. Broken-hearted, Hufflepuff hid it and it was never found again. Don’t you see? It MUST be in the Room of Requirement!”
Harry peered at the accompanying illustration. “That room looks a bit empty to be the Room of Requirement, don’t you think?”
Hermione stared at him cooly.
“Rowena Ravenclaw hadn’t moved in,” she explained, in a voice that would be deemed excruitatingly slow by even the most dim-witted snail. “They didn’t require anything yet. Honestly, don’t you two read?”
“You know who doesn’t read?” chimed in Ron. “People who think this chair is a Horcrux. Doesn’t everyone know that the final Horcrux is—”
“SHUT UP, RON.” yelled Hermione. “WE MUSTN’T GIVE AWAY FOUR-YEAR-OLD SPOILERS.”
“So what’s the plan, then?” asked Harry, bringing the spotlight back to himself.
Hermione smiled softly. “I’m glad you asked, Harry. We’re going to find the chair, sell the chair on Craigslist for $10, save the world, and then I’m going to make out with Ron.”
THIS STORY IS 100% TRUE. PLEASE BUY OUR CHAIR.