The world of Harry Potter is one of the most beloved franchises across several generations. The seven books covering the captivating story of young wizards, in total, sold more than 450 million copies, and the movies grossed more than $7 billion. A part of such great success has been the detailed work of all people involved which we, as fans, can admire infinitely.
We at Now I’ve Seen Everything wanted to dive deep into this magical universe and brought you our curious finds.
1. One might think that Aunt Petunia is cooking in this scene. But she is actually dyeing Dudley’s old clothes grey for Harry’s uniform. This is only ever mentioned in the first book.
2. Number 7 on Harry’s Quidditch uniform
- Actually, the number 7 is a symbolic number in the world of JK Rowling. Moreover, Lord Voldemort has 7 Horcruxes and the last one, as we know, was Harry, which is quite symbolic too. However, the costume designer noted that the choice of this number for the Quidditch uniform is a reference to David Beckham, who played under this number a while back.
3. In the third movie, when Hermione appeared in class out of nowhere, we can actually see her time turner around her neck, which she hides in the next shot.
4. The scarves of Hermione, Ron, and Harry
- The costume designers decided to hint at the character of each person with the help of tiny detail — a scarf. If you’re paying attention, you know that each character ties it in their own way. Hermione tightens it as neatly as possible, according to the rules. Harry throws the end of the scarf over his shoulder. Ron doesn’t tie this accessory at all.
5. Although it may have gone unnoticed amidst all the chaos, in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 we get to see a reunion between Hermione and Viktor Krum.
6. As the story progresses and Harry and his friends begin to destroy the Horcruxes, you can see how Voldemort’s clothes become discolored, his eyes droop, and small lesions appear on his skin as a sign that he is getting weaker.
7. The changing costumes of Dolores Umbridge
- In the image of Dolores, it was important to outline that she has power. We see that she, like many other powerful people, is rather conservative. For example, she wears the same hairdo and sticks to the same colors. Umbridge adores the color pink but its hues change as the plot develops.
- The costume designer commented on it in the following way, “I started with a lighter pink, and then as the film developed the pinks get hotter and hotter and hotter because she’s getting more and more hysterical.”
8. Harry’s scar
In the final shot of the film, Harry’s scar is noticeably faded and barely visible. It’s the reference to the last line of the novel series, “The scar had not pained Harry for 19 years. All was well.”
9. Ralph Fiennes (Lord Voldemort) asked for a hook to be added to Voldemort’s wand so that he could move more fluidly and “snake-like” without the wand falling from his hand.
10. In the last movie, Lucius Malfoy is seen sporting a new tattoo on his neck. This is the prisoner number he was given when he entered Azkaban.
11. Gilderoy Lockhart’s wig
- In Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, attentive viewers can notice that the professor of Defence against the Dark Arts, has a wig lying on his table. As we will later learn, Lockhart is a liar, who was cheating everyone and hadn’t done any feats. That is, he lies about everything and even his golden curls are fake.
12. Professor McGonagall has a secret talent.
- The Quidditch trophy from Harry Potter and the Sorcerers’ Stone not only features James Potter, Harry’s father but Professor McGonagall as well. Who would have guessed she was such a great player.
13. Hermione’s valuables.
- When Lockhart unleashes the pixies, Hermione immediately throws her books to the ground while no one else does because she knows the pixies will rip anything in plain sight apart.
14. Severus Snape and Gryffindor’s scarf
- Severus Snape is one of the most controversial characters. It’s not without reason that we see a striped scarf from Gryffindor hanging on the wall in the scene where he is killed. Perhaps he personifies the true inclination of Severus, and in due time he should have gone to Gryffindor, not to Slytherin.
- In the book, Dumbledore once says the following phrase relating to the distribution of students by faculty, “Sometimes I believe we sort too soon.” Perhaps, the professor was right. Perhaps, the scarf hanging in the closet is saying that people can change for the better.
15. As strange as it may seem, in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a portrait of Voldemort can be seen on the side of the staircase.
What details in Harry Potter did you manage to notice only after re-watching or re-reading each one?
Preview photo credit Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets / Warner Bros. Pictures, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 / Warner Bros. Pictures
My parents forced me to pay for my own dinner while they covered the bill for everyone else – Their justification was absurd
Jennifer’s parents caught her off guard during a family dinner by unexpectedly asking her to cover the cost of her meal, while they paid for everyone else. Jennifer’s resentment brews as the sting of unfairness deepens, setting the stage for a confrontation the family won’t forget.
The night I got the text from Mom about a “special family dinner,” I nearly choked on my microwaved ramen. It had been ages since we’d all gotten together, and even longer since it felt like my parents actually wanted me there.
love my family, but being the middle child is like being the bologna in a sandwich where everyone’s fighting over the bread.
I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to make up some lame excuse, but then I thought about Tina and Cameron, my perfect older sister and my can-do-no-wrong little brother.
They’d be there, basking in Mom and Dad’s approval, like always. And I’d remain the perpetual afterthought if I didn’t show up.
“Count me in,” I typed, hitting send before I could change my mind.
Mom replied instantly. “Great! Le Petit Château, 7 p.m. next Friday. Don’t be late!”
Le Petit Château. Fancy. I whistled low, already mentally tallying up my savings. This wasn’t going to be cheap, but hey, maybe it was a sign things were changing. Maybe they actually wanted to spend time with me, Jennifer the Forgettable.
That Friday, I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, feeling nervous. Just as I was about to go in, Mom and Dad showed up. Mom was all smiles, while Dad wore his usual concerned expression.
Inside, we found a cozy table, and soon after, Tina and Robert joined us. Tina looked stunning, as always, making me feel like a potato by comparison. Finally, Cameron arrived, late as usual, and complaining about traffic.
Now we were all settled, Mom wasted no time in making me feel insignificant.
“So, Jennifer,” Mom said, peering at me over her menu, “how’s work going? Still at that little marketing firm?”
I nodded, trying not to bristle at the ‘little’ part. “Yeah, it’s good. We just landed a pretty big client, actually. I’m heading up the campaign.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Mom said, her attention already drifting back to Tina, who was regaling Dad with tales of her son’s latest soccer game.
That stung, but the atmosphere improved while we ate. The food was great, and soon we were talking and laughing like we used to when I was a kid.
I was enjoying the meal and the rare feeling of being part of the family, but then the check came.
Dad reached for it and started going over the bill, like he always did. But then he frowned, looking directly at me.
“Jennifer,” he said, his voice oddly formal, “you’ll be covering your portion tonight.”
I blinked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “What?”
“You’re an adult now,” he continued, as if explaining something to a child. “It’s time you start paying your own way.”
“But…” I started, my voice small, “I thought this was a family dinner. You’re paying for everyone else.”
Dad’s frown deepened. “Your sister and brother have families to support. You’re single, so it’s only fair.”
Fair. The word echoed in my head, mocking me. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. Without a word, I pulled out my credit card and handed it to the waiter, praying it wouldn’t get declined.
The rest of the night was a blur. As I drove home, the hurt began to curdle into something else. Something harder, angrier.
The next morning, I woke up with a headache and a heart full of resentment. I spent the day alternating between moping on the couch and pacing my apartment like a caged animal. By evening, something inside me had shifted.
I wasn’t just going to let this go. Not this time.
An idea started to form. Crazy at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was going to give them a taste of their own medicine.
I invited Mom and Dad over for dinner and then spent days perfecting the menu. I cleaned my apartment until it sparkled, bought fancy candles, and even splurged on a tablecloth that didn’t come from the dollar store.
The night of the dinner arrived, and I was eerily calm. I had a plan, and I was sticking to it.
The doorbell rang at 7 p.m. sharp. I took a deep breath and opened the door with a smile plastered on my face.
“Mom, Dad! Come in!”
Dad handed me a bottle of wine. “Place looks nice, Jennifer.”
“Thanks,” I said, ushering them to the living room. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you something to drink?”
As I poured their wine, Mom settled onto the couch, her eyes roaming over my bookshelf. “So, how have you been, dear? We haven’t heard much from you since… well, since our last dinner.”
I forced a light laugh. “Oh, you know how it is. Work’s been crazy busy.”
We made small talk for a while, the conversation stilted and full of long pauses. Finally, the oven timer beeped, saving us all.
“Dinner’s ready!” I announced, perhaps a bit too cheerfully.
I’d outdone myself with the meal: herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and a quinoa salad that had taken forever to get right. Mom and Dad made appropriate noises of appreciation as they ate.
“This is delicious, Jennifer,” Mom said, sounding genuinely impressed. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
I shrugged, tamping down the flare of resentment at her surprise. “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”
The dinner progressed smoothly, almost pleasantly. I almost forgot why I’d invited them over in the first place. Then Dad started with one of his lectures about financial responsibility, and I knew it was time.
As I cleared the plates and brought out a fancy tiramisu for dessert, I steeled myself. This was it.
“So,” I said casually, setting down the dessert plates, “I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
They both nodded, smiling. “It was wonderful, dear,” Mom said.
I smiled back, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Great. That’ll be $47.50 each, please.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Mom’s fork clattered against her plate, and Dad’s face went through a rapid series of emotions – confusion, disbelief, and then anger.
“I’m sorry, what?” he sputtered.
I kept my voice calm, channeling Dad’s tone from that night at the restaurant. “Well, you’re both adults. It’s time you started paying your own way.”
Mom’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “But… but this is your home. You invited us.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice hardening slightly. “Just like you invited me to Le Petit Château. And then made me pay for my meal while covering everyone else’s.”
Understanding dawned on their faces, quickly followed by shame.
“Jennifer,” Dad started, his voice gruff. “That’s not… we didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean what?” I interrupted, years of pent-up frustration finally boiling over.
“Didn’t mean to make me feel like I’m worth less than Tina or Cameron? Didn’t mean to constantly overlook me? Or did you just not mean to get called out on it?”
Mom reached out, trying to take my hand, but I pulled away. “Sweetie, we had no idea you felt this way.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Of course you didn’t. Do you have any idea what it’s like to always be the afterthought in your own family?”
Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“We love you just as much as your siblings, Jennifer.”
“Do you?” I challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m just as successful as Tina, just as hardworking as Cameron. But somehow, I’m always the one who’s expected to ‘act like an adult’ while they get a free pass.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it was heavy with unspoken words and long-ignored feelings.
Finally, Dad cleared his throat. “We… we owe you an apology, Jennifer. A big one.”
Mom nodded, tears in her eyes. “We never meant to make you feel less valued. You’re our daughter, and we love you so much. We’ve just… we’ve done a terrible job of showing it.”
I felt my own eyes welling up, but I blinked back the tears. “I don’t want your apologies. I want you to do better. To be better. To see me.”
Dad stood up, his movements stiff. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave.
Instead, he walked around the table and hugged me. It was awkward and a little too tight, but it was more genuine than any interaction we’d had in years.
“We see you, Jennifer,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And we’re so, so proud of you. We’ve been blind and stupid, and we’ve taken you for granted. But that ends now.”
Mom joined the hug, and for a minute, we just stood there, a tangle of arms and unshed tears and long-overdue honesty.
When we finally broke apart, Mom wiped her eyes and gave a watery chuckle. “So, about that bill…”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Tell you what. This one’s on the house. But next time we go out? We’re splitting the check evenly. All of us.”
Dad nodded solemnly. “Deal.”
As they left that night, things weren’t magically fixed. Years of feeling overlooked and undervalued don’t disappear in one conversation. But it was a start. A crack in the wall I’d built around myself, letting in a glimmer of hope.
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