Why Doesn'T Voldemort Have A Nose

Sitting down with a sketchbook and a cup of tea, I like to think of the nose as a set of simple planes before I worry about skin texture or tiny highlights. Start by squashing the anatomy into broad, readable shapes: bridge, tip, nostril wings. Blocking those planes with a midtone helps me place where the light will hit and where shadows fall, so the nose sits convincingly on the face rather than floating like a sticker. After blocking, I work in values — not colors — using a soft brush or a well-blended pencil. The trick I keep coming back to is subtlety: soft edges around the bridge and alar creases, a slightly harder edge under the nostrils where the cast shadow meets the face, and a faint core shadow along the side plane. I also use ambient occlusion: the deepest tones where skin meets skin (under the tip, inside nostrils) and a faint rim highlight opposite the main light to sell volume. For digital work I love a low-opacity multiply layer for shadows and an overlay or soft light layer for warmer midtones and a tiny, cool specular highlight where the light grazes oily skin. For traditional media, cross-hatching and gentle blending do the same job. Studying noses from life and doing quick value thumbnails changed my work more than chasing tiny details — a solid value foundation makes everything readable and believable, and that always makes me smile when a face finally clicks.

Late one rainy evening I reread the scene in 'Harry Potter' where Kreacher tells Harry about Regulus, and something about that small, tragic rebellion stuck with me. Regulus wasn't a heroic leader charging into battle; he was a young man who woke up to how monstrous Voldemort really was. From what we get in the books, he joined the Death Eaters partly out of family pressure and elitist loyalties, but then discovered that Voldemort’s cruelty had no boundaries — including making Horcruxes and ordering vile tasks of those he considered beneath him. That discovery seems to have cracked something in Regulus's conscience. What really sells it for me is the role of Kreacher. The fact that Regulus trusted a house-elf enough to involve him, and then tried to instruct Kreacher to destroy the Horcrux, feels like genuine remorse mixed with urgency. He didn't try to topple Voldemort in public; he schemed in secret and paid with his life. To me, that suggests his motive was more personal integrity than ambition — a desire to undo a wicked part of what he'd enabled. It's a quiet, desperate atonement, and when I picture Regulus writing those instructions for Kreacher, it stays with me as an act of private bravery rather than a dramatic, glory-seeking move.

I still get a little intrigued every time I think about the Malfoys — their silverware, their portraits, that cold drawing room in those illustrations — which makes this question fun. Canonically, the 'Harry Potter' books never give a neat number for how much Lucius Malfoy lost after Voldemort fell. There’s no ledger or Ministry notice in the text saying he was stripped of X galleons or forced to sell Y acres. What we do get is hints about the nature of his losses: public disgrace, loss of influence, and the practical blows of being on the wrong side of history. If I had to describe it without inventing facts, I’d say Lucius likely lost most of his political capital and probably a good share of liquid assets — fines, legal costs, and reputational collapse tend to drain fortunes. He may have kept family property and heirlooms for a while, but the Malfoy name wasn’t the power it once was. It’s less about a precise sum and more about moving from untouchable patron to a pariah with battered resources and status, which for someone like Lucius was almost as devastating as losing actual coin.

Delphini Riddle is such a fascinating character in the 'Harry Potter' universe, especially when compared to her infamous father, Voldemort. While she inherited his ambition and raw magical talent, she lacks the same level of refinement and experience. Voldemort spent decades honing his skills, delving into dark magic, and building a network of followers. Delphini, on the other hand, feels more like a shadow of him—powerful but untested. Her obsession with restoring her father's legacy gives her a driven edge, but she doesn't have the same calculated ruthlessness or the sheer breadth of knowledge he possessed. What really sets them apart is their impact. Voldemort terrorized the wizarding world for years, becoming a near-mythical figure of fear. Delphini's influence is more localized, almost personal. She's dangerous, no doubt, but her power feels more like a echo of Voldemort's rather than a true successor. It's like comparing a wildfire to a controlled blaze—both destructive, but one leaves a far greater scar. That said, her potential is terrifying; with time, she could have become something even worse.

Grindelwald and Voldemort are both iconic dark wizards, but their power manifests in wildly different ways. Grindelwald was a visionary, almost a revolutionary—his charisma and ability to rally followers through ideology set him apart. Remember how he convinced entire wizarding communities to join his cause? Voldemort, on the other hand, ruled through raw fear and brute force. His power was more about personal dominance, like his obsession with Horcruxes and immortality. Grindelwald’s strength lay in his intellect and persuasive magic, while Voldemort’s was in his sheer ruthlessness and dark arts mastery. It’s like comparing a political mastermind to a warlord—both terrifying, but in distinct flavors. What fascinates me is how their legacies differ. Grindelwald’s war had a twisted 'greater good' philosophy, while Voldemort’s reign was pure blood supremacy. Grindelwald’s downfall came from Dumbledore’s personal connection to him, whereas Voldemort was undone by his own arrogance. Honestly, I’d argue Grindelwald was more 'powerful' in a strategic sense, but Voldemort’s name still sends shivers down spines decades later. The way 'Fantastic Beasts' explores Grindelwald’s rise makes me wish we’d gotten a deeper dive into Voldemort’s early years too.

Man, diving into the differences between Voldemort and Grindelwald is like comparing two storms—one’s a chaotic hurricane, the other a calculated blizzard. Grindelwald wanted wizard supremacy, sure, but he framed it as liberation, a way to break free from the secrecy imposed by the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. His vision was global, almost political, with a twisted belief that wizards ruling Muggles would 'save' them from themselves. I always got the vibe he saw himself as a revolutionary, not just a tyrant. The whole 'For the Greater Good' mantra? Chilling, but it had a perverse idealism to it. Voldemort, though? Pure, unfiltered narcissism. His goal was personal immortality first, wizard dominance second. He didn’t care about governance or ideology—just power, fear, and erasing anyone 'unworthy' (read: Muggle-born). Grindelwald might’ve wanted to reshape the world; Voldemort just wanted to own it. And man, the way he treated his followers like disposable tools? Brutal. Grindelwald at least had some charisma, some cause. Tom Riddle was just a scared kid who never grew up, lashing out at everything. The contrast in their legacies says it all—one’s name whispered like a warning, the other like a curse.

Man, thinking about Voldemort's visit to Grindelwald in 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' still gives me chills. It wasn’t just some random detour—this was a calculated move by the Dark Lord. Grindelwald, despite being imprisoned, was the only other wizard who’d come close to wielding the kind of power Voldemort craved. He wanted the Elder Wand, sure, but deeper than that, he needed validation. Imagine being the most feared dark wizard alive and still feeling insecure because Dumbledore bested you. Grindelwald, who’d dueled Dumbledore and lost, was a living reminder of that weakness. Voldemort’s ego couldn’t handle it; he had to prove he was superior by extracting info and then killing the man who’d once been his parallel. And the irony? Grindelwald’s last act was denying Voldemort the satisfaction—lying about the wand’s location to protect Dumbledore’s legacy. That moment was less about the wand and more about two dark wizards confronting their own legacies of failure. What fascinates me is how Rowling framed this as a clash of ideologies. Grindelwald, for all his horrors, had a twisted vision of 'wizard supremacy for the greater good.' Voldemort? Pure narcissism. Their confrontation was the series’ way of showing that even monsters judge each other. Plus, it added layers to Dumbledore’s past without him being present—masterful storytelling.

If my nose piercing falls out before it's fully healed, I’d gently clean the area with saline solution to avoid any infection. I’d then try to reinsert the earring carefully, making sure my hands are clean. If it’s giving me trouble, I wouldn’t force it. Instead, I’d consider heading to a professional piercer. Keeping an eye on any signs of infection is key during this healing process. Also, I'd avoid touching or playing with it too much. Patience is vital to ensure it heals properly.