How Did Harry Potter: Wizards Change Fantasy Fandom?

I get a little obsessive with celebrity money gossip, so here's my take: most public estimates for Harry Jowsey put him in the ballpark of around $1 million, give or take. Some outlets peg him closer to $600k while others stretch toward $1.5–2 million if you count projected future earnings and business ventures. Those gaps come from how different sites value influencers' intangible assets like brand cachet and social media reach. Looking under the hood, the cash likely comes from a mix of reality TV paychecks (not enormous, but helpful), sponsored posts on Instagram, YouTube ad revenue, occasional public appearances, and side hustles or product lines. If he’s monetized any premium content platforms or run successful collaborations, that would push the number up. Investments, agent deals, or property ownership could also alter the snapshot dramatically. So I’d comfortably call it a mid-six-figure to low-seven-figure profile, roughly around $1M by most reasonable estimates. It’s juicy to watch how fast these figures move with a viral moment — he’s the kind of personality who could spike that number in a year, which keeps me checking the tabloids every so often.

the short of it is: theories are mutating faster than a Polyjuice potion mix. The revival — from 'Harry Potter and the Cursed Child' to the 'Fantastic Beasts' films and the steady drip of new commentary — forced a lot of tidy fan ideas to either evolve or crawl back into vaults labeled "headcanon." Old staples like "Snape was misunderstood" or "Dumbledore is the puppet master" got complicated when new material shifted motives, retconned timelines, or introduced whole new players. That doesn’t kill speculation, it redirects it. You'll see established communities splitting into three camps: those who chase official continuity and dissect every tie-in for clues, those who treat the revival as optional and double-down on original-book lore, and the creative folks who lean fully into fanon and write brilliant alternate universes. Platforms matter too — long-form essays live on blogs and YouTube deep-dives, while TikTok runs rapid-fire micro-theories and edits that spark overnight trends. Personally I love how the revival made people re-examine motivations and gave new seeds for fanfiction; some theories died, but plenty more have grown, stranger and richer than before.

I love hypotheticals like this — they make me giddy. If I had to pick a single most important rule, it’s that context is king. Put 'Harry Potter' and 'Percy Jackson' in a hallway with a few suits of armor and Harry’s got a lot of advantages: precise wandwork, a repertoire of defensive and controlling spells (Protego, Stupefy, Petrificus!), and a history of outsmarting foes through planning and clever uses of magic. Harry’s experience with things like Horcruxes, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand (if you want to go full Hallows) gives him toolkit options that are wildly versatile. He’s patient, resourceful, and his spells can be instantaneous—disarm, bind, immobilize. That matters in a duel. Now shift that scene to the open sea or even a riverbank and the balance tips hard. Percy’s whole deal is elemental control: water isn’t just a power, it’s his lifeblood. In water he heals, grows stronger, breathes, and can manipulate tides and currents at scale. His swordplay with Riptide (Anaklusmos) is brutal and precise; he’s trained as a fighter and is used to direct, lethal combat against huge monsters and gods. Percy also has the durable, battlefield-tested instincts of someone who’s constantly facing beings that don’t follow human rules. So who wins? I’d say it’s situational. In a neutral arena with little water, Harry’s magic and crafty thinking could win the day. In or near water, Percy becomes a force of nature that’s extremely hard to counter. Personally, I love that neither outcome feels boring — both are heroic in different ways, and I’d happily watch a rematch under different conditions.

To me, Hermione has always felt like the kind of person you'd want in your corner when the stakes are high and breakfast is terrible. She’s fiercely intelligent, morally anchored, and somehow both practical and romantic in a way that doesn’t scream saccharine—more like steady light. In 'Harry Potter' she’s the one who reads the manual, builds the plan, and then holds your hair back when you puke from a potion gone wrong; that mix of competence and care is an undeniable part of what makes her attractive as partner material. If I imagine her as a girlfriend in the more mundane parts of life, I see someone who’d remind you to eat, nudge you toward better choices, and push you to grow. She’d also expect respect for her boundaries and passions—books, causes, and perfectionism included—so this isn’t a relationship for someone who wants a passive plus-one. There’s warmth underneath the criticism because she’s loyal to a fault; she’ll defend you publicly and scold you privately, and that balance is strangely comforting. Fandom loves to pair her with both Ron and Harry for different reasons, but removing canon for a second: Hermione as a partner gives stability, intellectual companionship, and moral courage. She challenges you, makes you kinder, and refuses to accept half-measures. That’s girlfriend material in the deepest sense—maybe not fairy-tale sweet all the time, but real, demanding, and loving. I’d want someone like her in my life, even if she’d reorganize my bookshelf on sight.

After scrolling through a ridiculous number of candid photos and fan shots, here's the clearest picture I can paint: the evidence for Harry Styles having a supernumerary nipple is almost entirely photographic and observational. Over the years, paparazzi snaps, poolside photos, and a few close-up shots circulated on social media that show a small raised spot or darker patch on his chest that some fans call a ‘third nipple.’ Those images are the main things people cite — multiple angles, different cameras, and fans pointing to the same spot on his torso. That said, there’s never been a medical statement from Harry or any credible medical documentation confirming it, so the claim rests on interpretation of photos. Lighting, moles, scars, or even camera artifacts can trick the eye, and a lot of the conversation lives in tabloids and meme threads. Personally, I treat it like a quirky bit of celebrity lore — interesting to notice, pretty common anatomically, and not something I’d harp on without confirmation. It’s one of those tiny human details that makes pop culture feel oddly intimate to fans.

I got curious about this little phrase a while back and went down the rabbit hole — what people mean by 'harry styles pilgrim' is mostly a fandom-born shorthand, and its roots are social media, not a single published source. Tracing it, you start in Tumblr and Twitter streams from the One Direction era where fans slapped whimsical tags on photoshoots and edits: people noticed Harry wearing vintage-ish coats, scarves, or hats and started calling the vibe 'pilgrim' as a tongue-in-cheek way to describe that roaming, 1800s-inspired look. Those tags and captions spread organically in gifsets, edits, and fan art, which is why the phrase feels more like folk language than a line from an interview or song. Over time the label migrated — Instagram and fan forums picked it up, and then later TikTok and Reddit rekindled it when creators made montages set to moody music. In some corners it became a playful archetype in fanfiction: the 'pilgrim' Harry who shows up at a crossroads, wounded and poetic. So rather than a single origin point, the phrase seems to have crystallized from a cluster of micro-uses across fandom posts in the early 2010s and then reappeared during later meme cycles. Personally, I love how these tiny, shared jokes grow into something that feels like secret club language — it’s cozy and a little ridiculous, the best kind of fandom energy.

I got drawn into the Black family drama long before I noticed all the little threads connecting characters, and Andromeda is one of those threads that quietly rewrites whole family trees. Born a Black, she’s the sister of Bellatrix and Narcissa, but she makes the single bold choice that defines her place in the family: she marries Ted Tonks, a Muggle-born, and is disowned for it. That edit on the tapestry — her name crossed out — is so small on paper and so huge in meaning. It literally marks her as erased from the pure-blood lineage in her relatives’ eyes, and yet she becomes the person who brings different bloodlines into the family branch that matters later on. Her decision reshapes the Black legacy in a human, messy way. By raising Nymphadora Tonks she creates a connection between the Black genealogy and people who actively fight Voldemort; Tonks joins the Order and later marries Remus Lupin, producing Teddy. So Andromeda isn’t just someone who defied tradition for love — she’s the pivot between old supremacist dogma and a blended, more compassionate future. In the lore of 'Harry Potter', that feels huge: one woman’s courage quietly undoes generations of cruelty, and her descendants carry forward a different kind of pride. I love thinking about her as proof that family names don’t have to define your heart — it’s human choices that do, and that really sticks with me.

Counting up Andromeda Tonks' connections in the canon feels like untangling a stubborn little knot of family pride, quiet rebellion, and real maternal warmth. At the center is her immediate Black family: she is the sister of Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, which sets up one of the sharpest contrasts in the series. Bellatrix is fanatically loyal to Voldemort and the pure-blood ideology, and that hostility toward Andromeda’s marriage is explicit and poisonous; Narcissa is more complicated, tied to family expectations but ultimately capable of compassion in her own way. The Black tapestry and the whole idea of 'always' pure-blood superiority make Andromeda’s choice to wed Ted Tonks an act of social exile — she’s literally disowned for love, and that shapes how she relates to the rest of her kin. Beyond the Black household, her marriage to Ted Tonks and her role as the mother of Nymphadora Tonks are what define her most warmly in the books. Ted is the reason she’s estranged from the Blacks, and Nymphadora’s presence in the Order and her friendship with people like the Weasleys and Remus Lupin creates a whole network around Andromeda. In 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' Andromeda shows up at Shell Cottage and later becomes Teddy Lupin’s guardian after the Battle of Hogwarts; that grandmotherly bond is tender and canonical — she’s the family anchor for the next generation. Then there’s Sirius Black: he’s a cousin who shares her disgust for the worst parts of the family’s ideology, but both he and Andromeda suffer from family fracture and exile in different ways. There are also ties, quieter but meaningful, to people like Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Weasleys, Bill and Fleur — those friendships and alliances are part of what lets Andromeda live a decent life removed from pure-blood fanaticism. For me, her relationships are a small, compassionate counterpoint to the big, ugly loyalties in the series, and I always end up rooting for her steady, stubborn kindness.