The Character Gymnasium

[TyrannoLaurus]

Welcome to the first week of:

The Character Gymnasium!

Every Original Character, young and old, gets a little lazy and unfit at times. Sometimes they need a little kick up the backside to make sure they're working to their full potential. Therefore, I will be posting a series of weekly challenges that should encourage you to consider your character in various different ways and think about how they'd behave in various different circumstances.

You can use any Original Character, lifted from the dusty shelves of your author page or brand new out of the box so long as he/she is of your own creation. The challenges will get harder every week, to stretch both your writing ability and the character's potential. You don't have to participate every week and you don't have to keep to the same OC, but I encourage you to do so :)

At the end of the course, special awards will be handed out to the OCs that haven't snapped under the gruelling pressure.

Challenge One: First Impressions

It's often easier to consider how our Original Characterd perceive themselves. But what do others think of them?

For the first week your challenge is quite simple. Write a drabble of no more than 700 words where your Original Character meets for the first time any character from the Potterverse. The drabble must be written from the canon character's Point of View (either first or third person limited) and include their first impression when seeing your OC. There must also be an interaction between them, to see how the canon character reacts to them in conversation.

You're allowed to use a scenario from one of your stories, so long as it is written from a different POV, or create an entirely new scenario for the challenge.

Remember, some characters have very strong reactions to someone when they meet them for the first time and others don't. Consider how your character comes across and what virtues or aspects the canon character would like or dislike in someone.

Please PM me with any questions (I'm not creating a separate thread because I'm *hoping* this is self-explanatory)


All challenge entries must be posted here by the 4th August!

Ten points will be awarded for the highest achieving character!

Five points will be awarded to the runner-up!

[luinrina]

Name: luinrina
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Savaric Orwell
from my WIP Shining Through Blackness (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/viewstory.php?sid=78931&warning=5)

Drabble #1
POV: Isla Black
Words: 657

I started sorting through my possessions, and guess what I found: A painting of me and Savaric when we were only four years old. I didn’t even know I still had it.

~*~

‘Isla, I want you to meet Mr Orwell and his son Savaric.’

The little girl stood at the foot of the stairs, kindly curtseying. ‘Welcome, sir.’ She threw the boy a look; he was her age and appeared very noble… and charming. ‘Sirs,’ she therefore corrected herself as an afterthought and quickly curtseyed again.

The boy had dark hair and dark brown eyes which were observing her silently and with an intensity that made Isla grew warm all over. She was mesmerised by the strength the boy emitted solely through his eyes that gleamed as if they were black.

No one spoke for some moments, but then Savaric bowed, a bit awkwardly, and said, ‘Nice to meet you, princess.’

Isla blinked several times, and then her cheeks coloured a pretty rosé. With an unsure look towards her father who still stood next to her she made sure that the boy was allowed to name her that. Mr Black nodded shortly, and asked, ‘Why don’t you two go into your study where you can show him around?’

‘Yes, father,’ Isla replied dutifully. She looked back at Savaric, smiled and grabbed his hand, tugging him along eagerly.

Both climbed the stairs until they reached the children’s study. It was empty, and Isla used the opportunity to show him her picture books, her drawings and everything else without getting disturbed by her older siblings. Savaric was a patient listener. When Isla showed him her pictures, he said he liked the style of her castles she had drawn; she beamed at him, then quickly embraced him and pressed a wet kiss onto his left cheek. He was baffled for a moment, before he lifted an arm and cleaned the spot where his lips had touched his skin. He glowered at her, but when she started to look uncomfortable being under his stare, he apologised and offered to play a round of tea party with her. Isla accepted, and peace was back between the children.

While Isla symbolically set the water to boil, Savaric asked why they didn’t have tea for real.

‘This is a good idea,’ she exclaimed enthusiastically. ‘We can go down into the kitchen and get some.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t you have house-elves to call if you need them?’

Isla crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking offended that her idea had been thrown away. ‘Yes, we have Poros and Themis. They’re both great,’ she said.

‘Then call them and get them to bring us tea.’

‘Why should I do so? We can go ourselves to get some.’

‘That’s what house-elves are for. They exist to do our bidding.’

She looked at him with her huge misty grey eyes. ‘But I like Poros and Themis. They’re my friends.’

‘They’re not human, and all not human can’t be your friend,’ Savaric replied passionately. ‘Call them.’

Isla didn’t like being ordered by a boy; she was used to get nearly everything she wanted and she only obeyed to her family. ‘I won’t,’ she contradicted.

‘What?’

‘I said I won’t. You can’t order me around.’

‘I –’ Savaric started, but shut his mouth again without having said anything else. He changed his mind though and added, ‘You’re stupid.’

She stuck her tongue out at him. But before Savaric could say anything to her, the study’s door opened and Mr Black entered. ‘There you are. Savaric, your father wants to leave for home. He wishes you to accompany him.’

‘Yes, sir, I’m down in a moment.’

‘Good.’ And Mr Black was gone again.

‘So, it’s goodbye for now, I guess. See you.’

‘Hmm, see you.’

~*~

While remembering the day I first met him, I could only wonder how the last fourteen years could have passed this quick.


Drabble #2
POV: Bob Hitchens (in my WIP his name is Robert, Bob is his nickname)
Words: 616

I’m open-minded and make friends easily. But I think I wouldn’t be able to befriend him. He’s… different, and never before have I encountered someone more… arrogant. It’s difficult to find the perfect description of him, but ‘arrogant’ fits quite well, in my opinion.

He had entered the compartment on the Hogwarts’ Express without a greeting, simply walking in with the words ‘I assume there’s room for two more?’ Sure, there still were free seats, but wouldn’t a ‘Would you mind if we sat in here with you?’ be a lot better?

Now he stares at me, looking me up and down. His dark eyes are unsettling, and I start to feel uncomfortable. Who does he think he is?

Helen, the girl next to me, starts talking, trying to make conversation. The only result she gets are long shared looks between the boy and the other two occupants of the compartment: a girl of noble looks, and another boy, green-eyed, with an aura similar to the boy that is now staring back at me. The arrogance both boys are emitting is overwhelming, and I feel sick in their presence.

Suddenly, the green-eyed boy says to the noble-looking girl, ‘You’re a Black. I’ve seen you before.’

I curiously glance at the girl sitting next to the window to see what her reaction would be. But in this moment the staring boy replies, ‘Let her be, Searle. She has nothing to do with you and the other way round.’

Another round of meaningful looks is exchanged with Black rolling her eyes, and the boy with the green eyes says, ‘If you say so, Orwell.’

‘I do, Searle.’

Tense silence spread and I changed a look with Helen. Both Searle and Orwell glared at each other that it was a miracle that none of them had yet dropped dead from being stared at. I felt just lucky that I wasn’t on the other end of one of those glares.

Helen started talking again after some time, suggesting a round of Exploding Snap.

‘No,’ Searle sneered and leaned back against the headrest, ‘that’s only for Mudbloods.’ The last word he spat into her direction.

Helen was offended, I could feel it, but she hid it quite well. But instead of being sulky, she turned to me and asked, ‘Are you up to a match, then?’

I didn’t know anything of the game, let alone how I should answer her question without putting myself into too much of a bad light. But the only thing to do was answering honestly. Therefore I said, ‘Sure, when you can explain it to me, I’ve never played it before.’

Both Orwell and Searle got up at the same time, their faces showing signs of deepest disgust and pure loathing. I was afraid what they would do now with them standing over us in this looming position. But all they did was Orwell ordering Black to grab her things and go because they wouldn’t sit with filth and scum that could infest them any moment.

‘But they look absolutely healthy to me,’ she responded. Helen had got up after the boys’ words, and both she and Searle were red with anger, although each out of different reasons. Orwell had paled, and Black – she was slapped on the mouth by Searle.

My first impression of both boys proved true when they had left and Helen told me about blood status and that several pure-blood families saw themselves as aristocrats. I could easily believe her having experienced Orwell’s behaviour first-hand. He was prejudiced against Muggle-borns like me, and would never try to get to know us before condemning us.

In my opinion he wasn’t worth my friendship.

~Bine

[Enneirda]

Name: Enneirda/AJ
House Hufflepuff
POV: Ron Weasley's (third person limited)
OC: Artemis Nyxlin, basically brand new :]
Word Count: 698

The Devil's Drinking Hole was a rather dingy, unclean, and downright filthy place for a meeting. Unfortunately, Ron Weasley had agreed to meet her here, in this out of the way bar to discuss his latest Auror case. He had been slipping at work more and more - and help happened out of the blue in the form of a forgotten case.

Ron checked the dirty clock on the wall and confirmed it was midnight. Sliding into a booth, he gazed around: A hooded figure sat with his back toward Ron at the bar, only a hand visibly latched onto a goblet; a scantily clad woman sat at a table, eying Ron in return suggestively. He turned away, embarrassed and disgusted at the same time and laid his eyes on a hooded figure now sitting across from him in the booth.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley," the woman said, putting back her hood. Ron internally jumped when she revealed an eye patch and a sickly pink iris. A scar ran up her pale cheek from the corner of her mouth, probably from a jagged knife as it was not a smooth line.

"G-good evening," he struggled to say after the initial shock of her appearance. Her gaze was too cold, too stoic.

"Well, what do you want? A killing? A thievery?" she said, lacing her fingers together.

"Er, I need you to find someone," Ron said, put off by her blunt offers. "I need you to find a man named Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. He shifted uncomfortably, as her eye studied him. She smirked. "Nervous?"

"This is illegal," he whispered.

"Of course it is, Mr. Weasley," she said, with a high pitched laugh. "What did you expect? Meeting the Killing Queen is quite illegal. In fact, I'm wondering something - why are you not arresting me?"

Ron rubbed his neck and felt his ears go red. He couldn't tell her that his job depended on her. "I'm considering it if you don't help me." She loudly laughed in his face.

"Excuse me? Mr. Weasley, you're not blackmailing me, are you?" she said, still smiling. It was odd; he preferred her smirk rather than the strangely stretched smile.

"That is precisely what I'm doing," he said, matching her action and lacing his fingers on the table. She angrily glared at him, staring him down. An uneasy feeling surfaced in his stomach, as he realized she could do serious harm to him without even a wand.

She lit a cigarette, a silver lighter producing the small flame. "That's not a very good idea," she said, blowing smoke into the air. "I mean, a lot of things can go wrong with your little plan - I could not go to Azkaban, find out where you live and slaughter your whole family… I could slaughter your entire family now, because of you blunt offer of blackmailing me… I could even kill your unborn baby boy."

Ron's eyes involuntarily widened and panic flew into his gut. She knew more than he thought. She knew about Hermione's pregnancy; the playing field was immediately uneven now. They stared at each other for a long while as she inhaled her cigarette, letting the acrid smoke into the air as she exhaled. "You really are evil," he said quietly.

She shrugged. "At least I'm not a goody-goody who lives in the shadow of his Auror partner," she countered nastily. His eyes narrowed, anger boiling even more now. She put out her cigarette on the table, leaving a tiny burnt ring on the wood. She leaned forward to emphasize her next words: "Listen, I'll make you a deal. Bring me all the information on me from the Ministry, I'll leave your family alone, and by next week you'll have Mr. Malfoy in one of your interrogation rooms."

She stuck out a pale hand for a cemented deal. He considered everything that he needed to do; was it even worth it?

He grasped her cold hand and instantly regretted it as she eerily laughed and threw her hood on once more. She exited the tavern, leaving the door open so a freezing wind could enter.



-e

[leahsm2]

Name: leahsm2
House: Slytherin
POV: Sirius Black
OC: Addison Pidge
Word Count: 699

"But, Isla," Addison protested loudly, three tables over. "I simply don't understand!"

Sirius looked at the girl for a moment as she sat in the library, books stacked up so high that you could barely see her nose. The couple sitting at the table between him and Addison looked startled and dropped hands, before returning to staring soulfully into each other's eyes.

She sat and scowled, not unbecomingly, he had to admit, as he wondered who she was and what she was incapable of learning. Generally, he excused himself from James' s Lily-patrols of the library, but this time he had been unable to think of a viable excuse, and so had grudgingly come along.

"Sirius," James whispered. "There's Lily, alone by the back book shelf. Wish me luck!"

James grinned hopefully at his best mate and he was off, while Sirius rolled his eyes, feeling the futility of his friend's mission deeply within each corpuscle of his being. Watching James go down in flames had lost its appeal long ago, but Sirius couldn't find a subtle way of dissuading him from continuing his pursuit of the disinterested young witch.

"Miss Pidge!" Miss Pince, who was notoriously harsh on any student offenses that might in any way compromise the sanctity of her domain, the chief of which was loud talking, was standing in front of the young girl, her face just inches away from Addison's.

Addison bit her lip, obviously unglued by the unwanted attention, but Sirius was impressed by the level way she looked directly into the librarian's consternated scowl. That took a bit of nerve, he thought approvingly.

"Yes, ma'am," she answered in a delicate whisper.

Sirius stifled a laugh. What a cheeky move, worthy of himself or James! Complete disavowal of any wrongdoing. That gamut seldom worked, but as an avid student of the ins and outs of dealing with an infuriated member of the faculty, he found himself enthralled.

"We do not comport ourselves like . . ." The older woman stopped, carefully choosing her words.

"Like students trying to decipher incomprehensible texts?" Addison asked helpfully, a slight sarcastic lilt to her voice.

Sirius winced. Amateurs, he thought. Always a bad move. No one with any authority wanted to be shown the obviousness of the reasons behind an infraction, and sarcasm was absolutely deadly. He began to feel pity for the strange little Slytherin, in spite of himself. She, like his poor James, was destined for a fiery end.

"Miss Pidge, loud talking and disruptions which keep your fellow students from their academic pursuits . . . "

Sirius caught the look that Isla threw at the boy sitting across from her. It was painfully obvious to all that the only "pursuits" being thwarted at that moment had little to do with anything contained in a book.

". . . will simply not be tolerated. Furthermore, taking that tone of voice with a member of the Hogwarts' staff . . ."

A crestfallen James returned to the table. He began to speak, but Sirius waved him off, curious to see what was to become of the poor little urchin.

". . . is punishable by the taking of ten house points!" Miss Pince took a well needed breath before continuing. "Now go! You can be certain that Professor Slughorn will be informed of the ill manners being displayed by the members of his house!"

Sirius collected his dejected friend and overtook the Slytherins as they retreated from the library.

"Your first instinct was spot on," he whispered, sliding in beside Addison. "If you'd maintained the 'who me?' attitude, I think you'd have won the day."

Addison looked up at him, a small grateful smile playing on her unhappy lips.

"Shove off, Black!" Isla hissed lowly, slowly raising her wand, as Jonathan and James stared at each other in pure hatred.

"I meant to, but I was so angry," Addison whispered back, ignoring her friends' reactions to being in the Gryffindors' presence.

Isla tugged at Addison's arm, a look of pure disgust on her face, as she looked at Sirius and James.

Addison and Sirius exchanged smiles and allowed their friends to lead them off in opposite directions.

[fg_weasley]

Just a warning, some questions are left un-answered, like why she is at the house in the first place. I had it in, but because of the word-count, I took it out.

Drabble One

Name: fg_weasley
House: Hufflepuff
POV: Regulus Black
OC: Honor Turcotte
Word Count: 698

The table was long and set for two, to his surprise. Grimmauld Place was, at present, empty, or so he’d thought. Yet there she was, a stranger to him in this house.

Curiously, Regulus watched her as he made his way to his own seat. She wasn’t looking at him; in fact, she didn’t seem to even notice his entrance into the room. Instead, she appeared to be examining the fine tablecloth as she waited for the house-elf to bring her food. Regulus decided to use this moment to his advantage.

Her hair was a blonde, though not entirely. He could see bits and pieces of little brown streaks littered throughout her long locks. She looked a bit windblown, as if she’d just come from outside and hadn’t cared enough to comb it back into place. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he found himself wishing she’d look up if only to settle the question of their color.

As if she’d read his thoughts, she suddenly did just that and Regulus found blazing brown eyes locked with his and in that instant he recognized her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke until she finally tilted her head and asked, “Is there a particular reason you’re staring?”

Regulus regarded her with that same lustful curiosity, but he ignored her question and posed his own instead. “You used to be in Slytherin, yeah? Back at Hogwarts. I remember you.” In fact he did. He’d seen her around the common room numerous times. However, other than the glimpses in the common room Regulus knew nothing of her except that she was a year his senior. From what he saw of her he’d been drawn; from what he heard she had quite a mouth, but any more than that was an alluring mystery to him. He didn’t even know her name.

She regarded him silently as well, and after another long moment she said, “You do look familiar. You… you’re Sirius’ kid brother, aren’t you?”

Regulus’ grin dropped quickly into a sneering frown. Everyone, even the Slytherins, knew him only by his brother. He watched as her lips turned up a bit in amusement and she said, “Problem? I knew him; he was in my year.”

Of course Regulus already knew this, and her happy tone was not helping. If she liked his brother, it was far less likely that she’d like Regulus. He was always second best. “Aren’t you lucky?” he grumbled.

Apparently he’d been louder than he intended because she laughed. “I shagged him once, you know.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. She was apparently very blunt, but he couldn’t decide if he liked that or not. Either way, this was not information he’d like to have in a first conversation. “Isn’t that just fan-bloody-tastic?” he mumbled under his breath.

“Actually, it wasn’t,” she answered, and Regulus looked up again. “Does that make you feel better?”

He looked into her brown eyes a moment before answering. “A bit, yeah.” He laughed and so did she. “Can you tell me the name of my brother’s vixen, then? Friendly curiosity, of course.”

A moment passed and neither broke their heated gaze. She tilted her head slightly to the left and Regulus could tell she was fighting a smile. “Honor.”

Honor. Bit of an ironic name for a girl who seemed anything but honorable. Still, as he watched her smile he felt his own grin widening. Regulus liked Irony.

“I didn’t, you know.” He hadn’t been expecting her to speak again just yet, and he gave her a questioning look. “I didn’t shag him. I was joking. You looked so cross when I said I knew him I just had to see your reaction to that.” She smiled again in that alluring way of hers and then winked.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that and feel a strange sense of relief. “Great sense of humor you’ve got.”

Picking up her fork, she replied, “I usually tend to think so.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of her yet, but he did know one thing: she’d caught his attention, and he didn’t dislike it.

Drabble Two

Name: fg_weasley
House: Hufflepuff
POV: Cedrella Black
OC: Camille (I will edit this later because I cannot for the life of me remember her last name a the moment.)
Word Count: 654

Through narrowed eyes Cedrella watched Camille across the entrance hall. She watched Camille holding tightly to Septimus’ hand as if letting go would mark the end of her life. Cedrella scoffed inwardly to herself. Though she’d never really held a conversation with the girl, she knew she wouldn’t like her. The few times Septimus had talked about her during their Head duties had been enough to solidify Cedrella’s assurance of this.

Septimus looked up then, and his hazel eyes caught her blue ones, and his lips turned up just a bit. Cedrella moved her mouth to the side, letting the right corner of her lips curl up into an expression she knew only Septimus and Pollux would recognize. Then Camille looked up and the smile she’d held faltered as Cedrella’s own slipped back into a scowl when their eyes met.

Not really sure what she was going to say, Cedrella walked across the hall to where they were standing. Upon her arrival she saw Camille’s hand, if possible, squeeze Septimus’ a little tighter and she pulled it closer to her body possessively. Cedrella felt herself smile at the sight and she flicked her eyes up to meet Camille’s wary ones. She could tell Camille was calculating her as she spoke.

“Septimus,” Cedrella greeted him as she turned her smile on him. He raised an eyebrow and she knew he recognized her wicked grin. She was enjoying watching Camille squirm.

She turned back to Camille. “You must be Camille, then. Septimus has told me… little about you.” Cedrella offered another smile as Camille’s faltered even more and the light in her eyes dulled. She turned a questioning look on her boyfriend and Cedrella took the moment to do some of her own calculation.

Camille had stringy, strawberry blond hair that almost clashed with Septimus Weasley’s vivid red. Her blue eyes were softer and did not hold the spark that Cedrella knew her own did. Camille was also shorter than she, another fact that widened Cedrella’s smile. Just as she’d expected, she wasn’t fazed by her. Camille obviously felt threatened by Cedrella, though, which of course, did not surprise her. Cedrella could easily push Camille out, if she so chose.

There was a slight hissing sound and Cedrella knew Camille was whispering something to Septimus. Before he got the chance to answer, Cedrella spoke up instead.

“Well, I am sorry to bother the both of you, but there is a reason I came to talk to you.” She paused and let her eyes fall back onto Camille’s. “I need to borrow Septimus from you for a bit. Head duties we need to attend to, you understand.” There were no Head duties, of course, but Cedrella was enjoying the look on Camille’s face at the mention of her taking Septimus. Head duties were something Cedrella and he would always share. Camille would be left out and she could do nothing for it. The notion was eating at her, Cedrella could tell, and the obvious effect it had on her expression made Cedrella want to laugh. She didn’t, though.

Looking warily up at Septimus, Camille extracted her hand slowly. “Of course. I understand Septimus has things he needs to do.”

Cedrella grinned her wicked grin again and said, “Wonderful. We’ll see you later, then.” She turned on her heel, still smiling widely. When they were far enough away and she heard Septimus fall into step beside her she addressed him. “What a quaint girlfriend you’ve got yourself, Sept. A bit jumpy, though, and she doesn’t talk much, does she?”

Septimus stopped walking and regarded the delighted expression on Cedrella’s face. “There are no Head duties, are there?”

Cedrella began to walk backwards as she spoke to him in a happy tone. “Of course not.”

Laughing and running a hand through his hair, Septimus said, “Oh, you are wicked.”

Cedrella grinned and turned back around. “I know,” she agreed.


xox
nikki :D

[Mistletoe]

Name: Mistletoe
House: Slytherin
POV: Draco Malfoy
OC: Lucy Bliss, who I have been meaning to use for a long, long time.
Word Count: 700
Warnings: AU
I couldn’t believe Father had chosen such a young bride, and she wasn’t even of much status. He had always had our best interests as a pureblood family close to his heart, or whatever resided in his chest. This was off the charts, however. I had heard she was beautiful, but she was young enough to be my bride, not my father’s.

As I neared the door to our dining room, my stomach leaped into my throat. It was slightly unbelievable I was meeting a girl young enough to be my sister about to marry my father. Father wasn’t even doing me any good either. Ever since Mother had been killed, he had been grasping at whatever opportunity he could to make us as powerful as we once had been. I highly doubted that this marriage to a girl no one knew would do us any good. Who had even heard of the Bliss family before?

I paused when I reached the door at the end of the hall. I felt like I was the parent and my father was the child, seeking approval of his new girlfriend.

I grasped the knob and slowly pushed the door open. She was sitting at the end of the table, her shoulders erect and her fingers fidgeting on the table in front of her. She was perfect, something I had not expected. Her dark, cat-like eyes held the expression that mine always had: determination to prove oneself. Despite my predisposed low opinion of her, I instantly felt a twinge of respect.

The door clicked shut and her eyes flashed to me, their depth almost frightening me. Her shoulder-length, light brown curls bounced around her face, making her rather long, far too slender nose seem to fit against her high cheekbones.

“You must be Draco.”

Her voice was too deep for her petite, porcelain-colored face. I had expected a child-like chime to escape her lips; instead, I received a matured and hardened rasp.

“You must be Lucy,” I countered. She stood, her movements that of a dancer—another part of her that was contradictory. It seemed none of her fit together; her movements were graceful, her face was petite and soft, but her eyes and voice held something different.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said, her lips remaining soft, but straight. “You remind me very much of your father.”

“I’ve heard. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” I replied, my careful tone betraying none of my emotions. I walked to the table and pulled out a chair for myself. Gesturing for her to sit, she did so, and I followed suit.

After a moment of silence, I treaded into the only territory I found safe. “So, you went to Durmstrang?”

“Yes, I did. I graduated last year,” she hedged.

“My father warned me. I graduated last year as well.”

I studied her reaction. A brief emotion flickered across her face—I couldn’t tell if it was fear or haughtiness. I also couldn’t tell which I preferred.

“You went to Hogwarts,” she stated. “And were in Slytherin. I’m not sure how that system works, but I’ve heard that house is held in high esteem.”

A smirk slid onto my lips. I felt she was trying to talk to me as if I were younger. Fancy that.

“All those who are worth anything end up in Slytherin; the other houses are for the weak and filthy. I preferred Durmstrang to Hogwarts, but Mother wouldn’t allow me to go there.”

A twitch of a smile jumped to her lips; her strong demeanor had begun to break. I was now the one that had the higher hand in this meeting. It had been my goal, and now that I had established it, I had to keep it.

Thinking of a quick excuse, I announced, “It was a pleasure, Miss Bliss, but I must be going now.” I bent my head in a brief bow, never breaking eye contact with her.

Her wall was back in place, and her eyes as deep as ever. It was hard for me to tell if I was going to be able to resist this girl who would soon be my stepmother.

--Kat

[cirelondiel]

Name: Cirelondiel/Chelsea
House: Hufflepuff
POV: Hermione, first person
OC: Isobel Hayman, of Koomalong Academy, Australia
Word count: 699 according to MS Word
Warnings: None

Koomalong Academy is remarkably different to Hogwarts. Long, low buildings, courtyards filled with leafy eucalypts, and flat red desert stretching in all directions - a far cry from the soaring towers and wall of mountains that formed the backdrop for my seven years at school.

I admire the grounds through the window, trying not to let nerves take hold of me. I've never been good with speaking to large groups. My work in the Ministry is deeply satisfying and worthwhile, but when I wrote my book, I didn't expect to be sent halfway around the world to talk to Australian schoolchildren.

I go over my speech plans in my head as Professor Midgely speaks.

"... so please make Madam Weasley welcome."

The children clap and I stumble forwards, feeling self-conscious.

"Good morning. Thank you very much for welcoming me; I'm honoured to be here. As you know, we'll be discussing discrimination and Muggleborn rights..."

My talk goes smoothly. I'm impressed by the insightful questions the students raise and their passionate responses to my calls for worldwide equality. Finally my hour is up, and I am directed to a small table where students come up in waves to talk to me further and request my signature. I feel more like a celebrity than a visiting government official. I suppose that's what you get for being a central part of Voldemort's defeat.

There are only a few students left milling around when a lone girl of about sixteen approaches me with a copy of my book. She shyly asks me to sign it.

I ask her name.

"Izzy - well, Isobel - Hayman," she says. "Actually, I-I'm a Muggleborn, too, and I was just wondering... I mean, after living with wizards... did you find it hard to fit in with Muggles?"

I'm intrigued. This is quite a departure from the typical questions I get about my book and my work. It's one I don't have a good answer for, either, because I didn't spend a great deal of time with my family after starting Hogwarts. Mum and Dad would write with news of overseas trips, and I would reply and say I would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays because of exams, or going to Ron's for the World Cup. I don't regret it, because I needed to be with Harry and Ron during those times, but I do feel a certain amount of guilt. Mum and Dad were always supportive, but I think they felt like they'd been cheated out of their little girl by my world.

I tell Isobel this, and she nods rather gravely. We go on to discuss blood discrimination some more. She says she's never been picked on for being Muggleborn, but that her lack of knowledge of things that other students take for granted meant she often felt out of place here in her early years. I advise reading as much as possible, and she nods earnestly.

"Oh, yes, I do. That's why I know so much more about the wizarding world now, it's all so fascinating!”

I regard her as she speaks, seeing her eyes light up as she goes into raptures about this world. She reminds me a lot of myself: brown hair, though it has a sleekness that I would have envied when I was her age; a Muggleborn girl who seems to have lost touch with her old world; and with a thirst for knowledge. She seems intelligent. I'm certain she'll be very successful, if she's not held back by her timidity and lack of confidence. The more she talks, the clearer it is that she doesn't feel that she fits in with either the Muggle or the wizarding world.

I advise her to keep on reading, but to appreciate her Muggle heritage. I hope she’ll learn one day that being a Muggleborn witch can be a blessing.

Professor Midgely comes over to take me to lunch - apparently a traditional 'Aussie' barbecue is being prepared in my honour - so I ink my quill and write a message in the front of her copy of my book:

For Isobel:
Use your charms to your advantage!
Best wishes, Hermione Weasley.

[Rhi for HP]

Name: Rhi for HP
House: Slytherin
POV: Draco Malfoy
OC: Reuben Peck
Word count: 700 according to Microsoft Word
Warnings: None

‘You must be kind,’ Mother reminded me. ‘Reuben is delicate. Often ill.’ She fussed with her hat as we stood in the entryway waiting. I sighed. She had repeated the same thing for the last hour.

These dinner parties were bores. Do not mess your robes, Draco; asked a few dull questions by some adult and then shunted to the end of the table to eat in silence. This time was to be worse, however. Mother’s friend Mrs Peck had a son my own age, and of course the expectation was that we would be dear little friends by the end of the evening; pen pals for years afterwards, assuredly.

The door finally opened to reveal the Pecks, dressed formally, as we were. Their son stood between them. I disliked him immediately. Short, curly blonde hair and large, watery blue eyes. Dark circles under the eyes, milky complexion, bruises all over. Everything about him gave off the feeling of illness and frailty. The night would be a long one.

‘Evette!’ exclaimed Mother. ‘It’s been too long, my dear.’ She embraced Mrs Peck and then nudged me. I outstretched my hand as I had been taught for a proper handshake with the miserable boy.

He seemed to crumple before my eyes, frail shoulders folding in on themselves like wings. He was obviously horrified. At what, I had no idea. He fidgeted, eyes flicking to the hand and away from it rapidly, as if he could usher it away with that glance. The silence stretched awkwardly between us, amplified by the adults towering above, undoubtedly wondering as I was at the situation. Finally Mr Peck growled and elbowed his son roughly, with a look that said clearly this kind of thing had happened before.

I swear the boy let out a little sob, his eyes pleading, head tilting back to look at his father standing over his shoulder, searching desperately for any way out. The face there was set. He looked like he was about to cry. I rolled my eyes. What a pathetic creature. Instead he gulped and stretched out his thin bird-bone hand to meet mine. He allowed the tips of his fingers to clasp as briefly as possible before he pulled back, clearly intending to withdraw them once more. But I wasn’t having any of that. I gripped his bruised little hand tightly in a proper shake. He let out a whimper which was thankfully inaudible to all but me. When I finally released him, I saw tears in the corners of his eyes—probably from pain.

The tension eased as the grown-ups saw this civility. Conversation began. Stealthily, when he thought everyone’s attention had been redirected back to the gossip of high society, he withdrew from his pocket a snow white handkerchief and thoroughly wiped down his right hand. I didn’t care if he was ill or delicate or any of that. It was inexcusable.

‘Take him to your room, Draco,’ Mother instructed, leaving no room for protest. Grudgingly I complied. I wanted to beat some sense into him, but his skin was like paper—probably ripped upon contact. Instead, I led him upstairs and sat down on my bed.

‘So what do you like to do?’ I finally asked, as he remained standing, watching me carefully, arms folded around himself.

‘Read,’ he practically whispered, voice rasping from disuse. He coughed to clear it. ‘I like to read books.’ I grunted in response. Nerd. I lay back on my bed, as he remained standing, hands clenched behind his back. I grew self-conscious in the silence as I realised he was watching me intently.

‘Why are you staring at me?’ I growled. Always best to be on the offence. He flinched visibly at my tone and then murmured a response, not meeting my eyes.

‘I’ve never met anyone of my own age before.’ I snorted, rolling my eyes. He was what, nine? How was that possible? ‘My mother says I’m too delicate to play with other children,’ he said, answering my unspoken question. I settled into the soft comfort of my bed. If I had it my way this would be his first and last encounter with this child.


Drabble 2:
POV: Ginny Weasley
OC: Rahim Peck *pronounced Rah Heem* (with mentions of Reuben)
Word count: 671
Warnings: A bit AU, I suppose

The maharaja of the west. The teenage sultan. Hogwart’s own reigning prince.

I watched him walk—if you could call his strong, confident yet graceful stride a ‘walk’—into the Great Hall for breakfast. Black eyes calmly surveyed the scene under like-coloured fine brows. A small smile played round the edges of full lips.

The atmosphere changed subtly as the boy entered the room. He didn’t announce his presence, but somehow, everyone knew it. Something stirred in the communal unconscious, unacknowledged but recognised nonetheless: The prince has arrived….

Black leather shoes, which even in wet, muddy February were polished to mirror quality, clicked smartly on the flagstones. Heads turned surreptitiously to watch his progress, their owners not even aware they were doing so. He silently made his way through the rows of tables, before stopping at the red-and-gold-clad one. Mine.

An olive-skinned hand, the fingers unnaturally long, casually brushed away an errant lock of hair. I could almost hear the girls of Hogwarts sighing as one as their eyes traced the path of that curl. It was common knowledge that hair such as his, which hung in long, edgy black ringlets, framing his face just so, had never been paralleled in Hogwarts history.

And yet, if you looked closely at this boy, you would almost think he was obtuse. Written there on his handsome face was a lie he seemed to believe in earnest: I’m not perfect…

‘Oi, Rahim!’ One of his friends waved him over. He smiled and sidled in next to him.

It took only seconds before all the seats around him had filled. He was just one of those people with blessed auras: everyone wanted to come closer. I listened expectantly, and sure enough there came a peal of laughter from what seemed to be the whole House, all over some witty joke he’d made.

‘Ahh—’ sighed my friend from across the table suddenly. I heard the click, click of shoes on stone somewhere behind me but paid them no attention.

‘What’re you—?’ I was cut off by a sudden tap on the shoulder, light as spring rain. I turned round in my seat, and who was there, but Rahim himself, in all his glory, for all the world as if he had a halo of golden light framing his body.

He smiled breathtakingly. You would expect that I, who had seen him day in and day out for years now, would be used to him. But no, it still took me by surprise every time, that a human being could be so immaculate.

‘Excuse me,’ he said in his measured, quiet voice. ‘Would it be possible for me to slide in next to you? I need to speak to my brother.’ I blushed profusely, unable to speak, and mumbled to the table what was probably assent, uncomfortably aware that every eye in the Great Hall was turned on me. ‘Thank you,’ he said casually, apparently not miffed at how I had turned into a pool of jelly. He clapped me on the back in goodwill and then seated himself next to me. Not because of me, of course. No, his brother, Reuben, whom I had never much liked, had been sitting on my right. How the two had come from the same mother was beyond anyone’s guess.

I peeked over my shoulder to see Rahim withdraw a thick envelope from some hidden pocket and slide it over the table to his brother, who took it with shaky hands.

‘There you go, then, Reub,’ he was saying. ‘Mum and Dad sent pocket money for the year.’ His brother was silent, perhaps as awed as I was at the mystery of their relation. ‘Well, have a good term then,’ he said, winking, seemingly unaware that his brother sat immobile, staring at his breakfast, never acknowledging him. Perhaps he was just used to such behaviour.

Smiling, he withdrew himself from the table and strode back to his place further down, where, it seemed, he had been sorely missed.

[XhayleeXblackX]

Name: XhayleeXblackX
House: Slytherin
Point of View: Harry Potter, third person limited.
Original Character: Maverick Crawford, whom may be found among my drabbles.
Word Count: 699 in MS Word.
Harry sat alone at a table in the back of the pub staring into a mug of butterbeer as he waited for his only daughter to arrive. He often presumed this habit when lost in thought. He wasn’t sure why he felt nervous, but, then again, he wasn’t exactly sure why he had agreed to even come at all.

“Oh, just come. Please, Dad, you’re the one who’s always saying that there is no power greater than love, aren’t you? Just meet us at The Three Broomsticks, please.”

Lily was the reason he came, it seemed foolish to think otherwise; he could never say no to her, especially at the pleading desperation in her voice. He placed the mug to his lips and drank deeply. He checked his watch for what seemed the hundredth time, and was vaguely deciding to leave when the pub door opened, letting in the bright sunlight as a red-haired girl walked in, closely followed by a boy with hair a much darker shade of red.

“Hello, Dad,” Lily said, hugging her father. “It’s so good to see you.”

“And you too, Lily,” he replied.

“Dad, this is Maverick Crawford. Maverick, this is my dad, Harry Potter,” she announced, gesturing to each of them in turn as she spoke.

Harry focused his gaze upon Maverick, studying him intently. He was slightly taller than himself, his hair wasn’t as long as Albus had made it out to be, actually short compared to the two feet his son had described to him, and his black eyes held a certain warmth that reminded him vaguely of someone, but he couldn’t figure out whom it could be.

“I’ll go get us drinks, shall I? And you could do with a new one, too, Dad,” Lily said, and Harry had the distinct feeling that she had left them alone purposely.

Unexpectedly, Maverick held out his hand and said in a firm voice that clearly gave away his nervousness, “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry shook the boy’s hand, amiably surprised that Maverick had showed such a formal, yet genuine gesture, and politely motioned for him to sit down in the seat across from him.

“I hope you will excuse my asking, but in light of recent events, I feel it necessary. What exactly are your – er – intentions with my daughter?”

Maverick’s eyes widened slightly, but he did not flinch otherwise. He sat silently for a moment, before looking across the table and straight into Harry’s own vivid green eyes.

“Mr. Potter, I assure you that my feelings for Lily are completely genuine. I understand that she has suffered a good deal of pain at my hands, but I am not the same person that I was. I am not the reckless, carefree boy I used to be. I love your daughter, and have nothing but good intentions where she is concerned,” Maverick stated, a confidence in his voice that had to be admired.

Slightly dumbfounded, Harry continued to stare at Maverick. The confidence and sincerity that he had put behind his words seemed to have settled the matter. He watched as the boy’s eyes started searching for Lily. When they found their target they lit up happily, and Harry realised whom Maverick’s eyes reminded him of: a young Sirius Black, though he was not entirely sure why they did so.

“I appreciate your words, Maverick, and I will trust that you have indeed changed. However, you should know that I will not take lightly to my only daughter coming home from school with a broken heart and shattered spirit again,” Harry said finally, when Lily could be seen making her way over to their table.

Maverick nodded his head agreeably and relieved Lily of the three mugs she was carrying. The rest of the hour passed in pleasant conversation and by the end, Harry was thoroughly impressed with his daughter’s choice.

“I hope to see you again soon, Maverick,” he said as they prepared to depart.

“And I, you, sir. It was truly a pleasure.”

As Harry watched them exiting the pub together, a thought suddenly struck him: Maverick had never so much as glanced at his scar.

-Haylee

[mudbloodproud]

Name: mudbloodproud
House: Hufflepuff
POV: Ron Weasley (First person)
OC: Skylar (last name withheld for now as I haven't submitted the story yet)
Word count: 699 according to Microsoft Word
Warnings: None

The first time I saw him, he was standing across the street from Grimmauld Place in the little square. He seemed to be watching the house, though I knew he wouldn’t see it as all the protection charms placed on it over the years were still in place.

He seemed to be around seventeen or eighteen. His hair was dark and a bit on the long side. He was there again a week later as Harry and I prepared for another meeting with Minister Kingsley.

“Harry, that kid is standing outside again,” I called over to Harry who was trying to stuff a bunch of papers in an old battered briefcase my dad had given him.

“Harry, did you hear what I said?” I asked, not sure if Harry was paying any attention to me.

“What? Oh, yeah, I heard you. I’m sure he isn’t a Death Eater, Ron. He’s probably just lost, or waiting for someone.” Harry said to me. I watched as he shoved the remaining papers into the inside pockets of his robes. “We have to get going. We should have been at the Ministry ten minutes ago. If you’re so worried, we’ll Apparate from the top step. No one will see us leave.” Harry stood and walked towards the door.

“I’m telling you, there is something wrong with that kid,” I stated as I followed Harry into the hall.

Opening the front door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry and I stood side by side on the top step. We both turned on the spot and Disapparated.

***

The next time I saw him he was watching Harry and me from outside my brother’s store. As we left the shop, I noticed him walking ahead of us on Diagon Alley.

“Harry, I know I saw that kid watching the store while we were in there,” I stated emphatically. “Look, there he is up ahead of us. Let’s see where he’s going.” My pace quickened to keep the stranger in sight.


I watched as he went through the gateway and into the Leaky Cauldron. When we entered, Harry headed towards the bar to ask Tom about him. As Harry talked to Tom, I looked around the room and spotted him sitting in the corner.

We learned his name was Skylar and he was from America. Tom also said he had been there about a week.

“Harry, he is staring at us. He hasn’t taken his eyes off us since we came in” I told Harry.

Harry turned suddenly and walked over to the table where this Skylar was sitting.

As we drew closer to him, I noticed several things at once. He didn’t seem to be the least bit ashamed at having been caught watching us. I also noticed he looked familiar though where I could know a wizard from America from, I could not figure out.

His hair was dark brown and his eyes were grey. He didn’t react to our approach.

“Hi, my name is Harry, Harry Potter. Is there something I can help you with? Are you looking for someone?” I could tell Harry was trying to sound pleasant, but he wasn’t succeeding.

I saw him hesitate in his answer. ‘He’s hiding something,’ I thought.

“Actually, I’m looking for you. I have a few questions for you about…” He paused for a brief moment. When he continued, his voice sounded harsh, “my father. I have been told you were with him when he died.”

His father? Who was his father? I looked closer at him. I had a flash of memory of another man with dark hair and grey eyes. But I knew he had no children.

I already distrusted this man, now it seemed my distrust was warranted.

“First off, what’s your name? Who is your father?” Harry’s voice sounded angry. When he sat down across from Skylar, I knew I had better sit next to him, just in case things got out of hand.

Skylar’s next words deepened my distrust of him. As we stood to follow Skylar upstairs, I pulled my wand out of my pocket. I was worried this was a trap and I was going to be prepared.


This is a character I have in a WIP I am about to submit the prologue for. This is why I haven't given his last name. Don't want to spoil the surprise in the story.

[MorganRay]

POV: Peter Pettigrew
OC: Marcus Malfoy
House: Hufflepuff
From: Fools in Love (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/viewstory.php?sid=64360&warning=5)
Words: 426

They kicked me. They’d done it before, but now, it was my fault. I wandered down to the dungeons looking for ways into their common room. I wanted to find ways into everything, and that’s when they found me.

They kicked me again. Why didn’t they use their wands? Maybe they thought I was below magic or duelling.

“Marcus! Come over and help us finish this runt!”

I wiped the spit from my lips. Who was this new attacker? I didn’t need another foe. When I saw the boy that came towards me, my stomach flipped. He was one of their beaters, and he was a good head taller than any of the other Slytherins. I remembered this kid was built like a rock.

But, more importantly, he was a Malfoy.

The lead boy gestured down to me as I struggled to stand. “We took his wand. Go at him, mate.”

Malfoy pushed his long, tangled blond hair out of his face. He tilted his head up to look at the other Slytherins before looking back down at me. I squirmed away from his gray eyes at first, but then, I realized he looked at me with indifference. I was nothing to him, but that could be very bad. I realized that might mean he would beat me senseless and think nothing of it.

Malfoy jerked his leg forward. I covered my head and shut my eyes.

The blow never came.

I squinted my eyes to look up at Malfoy. He had turned towards his housemate. “He’s not worth my time.”

His voice shocked me. It sounded like it belonged to some half his size who was five years younger.

“Really?” the other boy taunted. “You’re the great Marcus Malfoy! Come on, mate, give him one shot!”

Malfoy turned away from the crowd and ducked his head again. I wondered why that hulk of a kid didn’t just hit me, already. None of the other Slytherins had a problem with punching me. He was a Malfoy, though. Maybe he really thought I was worthless. Somehow, that thought didn’t comfort me.

“I guess you can’t take on one little, baby Gryffindor,” the leader jeered.

Malfoy spun around faster than I thought a guy his size could move. He swung his fist out and slammed the leader in the jaw. Blood spurted from his face, and the shock of the action rippled through the Slytherin crowd.

“You’re a slimy git, Malfoy,” one of the other kids shouted, and Malfoy shot him a scowl before he turned and lumbered away.

He didn’t even look at me. I wish he thought I was worth at least even one kick.

[Evester]

Name: Evester
House: Hufflepuff
POV: Cedric Diggory
OC: Dandin Walcott
Warnings: None
Words: 699

“Bye, Dad,” I whispered, hugging my dad for the last time and trying not to cry. I wouldn’t see him again until Christmas, and before this I had never been away from my parents for more than a night or two.

“Have fun, Ced, my boy. You’ll do brilliantly, I know you will. Just remember that I am so proud of you, all the time.” My dad gave me a last slap on the back before stepping away to let me shove my trunk onto the train.

“I can help you if you want.”

I jumped about a mile as a voice sounded from above me, and I felt the weight of my enormous trunk relieved somewhat as someone grabbed the other end and pulled as I pushed.

“Thanks, mate,” I called, not able to see my helper from behind my trunk.

“No problem,” I heard.

Finally, the trunk was on the train and I climbed up, pulling the door closed and waving once more to my dad before turning to meet the boy waiting behind me.

He looked my age, but he was skinny and rather ragged-looking. His hair fell into his eyes, and framed his slightly gaunt face – strong jaw and snubby nose. He just looked back at me, still holding one end of my trunk.

“Thanks, mate,” I repeated, smiling. He just looked away, down the passageway.

“There’s an empty compartment here, if you want help moving it,” he said quickly, gesturing to the glass door next to him.

“Where are you sitting? Where’s your trunk?” I asked curiously, watching him studying me out of the corner of his eye.

“Down the train, at the other end,” he said a little defiantly.

“Oh.”

We looked at each other again, before I stuck out my hand bravely.

“I’m Cedric, by the way. Cedric Diggory. Thanks for the help, but if you want to go back to your friends, I can manage from here.”

“I’m Dandin Walcott,” the scrawny boy mumbled, not looking at me. I got the distinct impression that he was slightly intimidated by me, but I had no idea why.

He turned and walked slowly down the passageway, past groups of older students laughing, past an old lady pushing a trolley and finally turned into a compartment at the other end of the train car.

Curious, and because I had nothing else to do, I quickly shoved my trunk into the empty compartment Dandin had pointed out and followed him down the train. Maybe his friends were a bit friendlier, and maybe I could find out more about Dandin Walcott. I glanced into his compartment as I passed, pretending to look for the bathroom.

It was empty, aside from Dandin himself and a beat-up old trunk lying on the floor.

Abandoning my pretense, I knocked on the compartment door.

“Hey Dandin,” I said, edging inside. Dandin scowled up at me, and for a moment I considered just going back into my own compartment. “Would you like to come join me in my compartment? I was looking for someone to play Exploding Snap with.”

“What’s Exploding Snap?” Dandin asked, his face reddening.

“You know, with cards, but they blow up... it’s really fun,” I started, but Dandin looked away.

“Well, think about it, and I’ll just be down the hall...” I finished, edging back out into the passageway and turning...

SMACK. I ran straight into someone passing by. Or two people, as I found out when I looked up to see two boys my age with red hair – who looked exactly alike. They laughed and nudged each other as I rose to my feet.

“Who are you?” they asked. But before I could answer, Dandin jumped up from his seat and flew to the compartment door, a scowl on his face for the twins.

“He’s Cedric Diggory, and you knocked him over on purpose, didn’t you? Who are you?”

As the red-headed twins protested loudly at this accusation, I looked curiously at Dandin. He had barely said hello to me, and had ignored me rather rudely I thought, but here he was defending me. Maybe we’ll end up friends yet, I thought happily, grinning at him.

This is a version of the scene in which Cedric and Dandin meet for the first time (they become best friends later). However, this scene is not in my WIP The Cedric Diggory Files because that story begins in Cedric's fifth year. At the beginning we have a bit of Amos Diggory, and I'm sure you can figure out that the twins at the very end are Fred and George Weasley.

[xOxLyDzxOx]

Name: xOxLyDzxOx
House: Ravenclaw
POV: Lily Evans
OC: Mikhailae Connelly
From: Crazy, Kooky Confessions of Lily Evans
Words: 513

She was so pretty.

I realise now, that even at eleven, her lovely, child’s features were just a teaser, just a hint of the beauty that was to follow.

I was fascinated. She stood with a boy of about the same age, who was like a male version of her (obviously they were twins), looking like a princess out of the muggle fairytales I loved. I thought of my own dark red hair as I looked at hers – long, dark brown locks that looked like silk.

I was enthralled and intrigued. I had a longing I’d never known before – I wanted to know her, I wanted to be her friend. She, like this magical world that I’d only just been introduced to, was an enigma and I found myself inexplicably drawn to both like a moth to a light.

I lost sight of the pretty girl as the crowd pushed forward to farewell children. Getting on the train, I couldn’t help but feel sort of scared, yet so excited. I was finally going to the place that the kind man with the blue eyes had told me about.

I made my way down the train, looking for an empty compartment, before finally finding one near the back of the train. I sat, pulling out my book, and began to read.

After a while I heard the compartment door slide open and I glanced up from my page. Standing in the doorway was the pretty girl from the platform.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she asked, smiling. She had a very noticeable accent, one that I couldn’t quite identify.

“Sure,” I nodded, indicating that she should sit.

Up close, she was even prettier. She had wide, midnight blue eyes that were fringed by thick, dark lashes, full lips and high cheekbones.

“My name is Mikhailae Connelly,” she said. She didn’t seem shy, like I felt. On the contrary she was confident and, for an eleven year old, extremely charismatic. She just seemed to ooze...well, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what made her so interesting, but she was.

“I’m Lily,” I told her.

“That’s a pretty name,” she drawled. Her accent only added to her enigma – if only I could figure out what it was!

As if she had read my mind, Mikhailae added “I’m from Australia, by the way.”

This created as many questions for me as it answered. “Why don’t you go to school there, then?” I asked.

She shrugged. “My dad says Hogwarts is a good school, and that me and my brother, Jesse, will like it a lot.”

There was silence for a while after that. In all honesty I was a little intimidated by her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t nice, because she was, but I was in awe of this girl.

Plucking up my courage, I eventually said: “You have really pretty hair,”

“You have pretty eyes,” Mikhailae shot back immediately, smiling at me.

Somehow, in that moment, I knew. This fascinating girl, Mikhailae Connelly, and I would be best friends until the day we died.

[CakeorDeath]

Name: CakeorDeath
House: Grythindor
POV: Harry Potter
OC: Penny Palmer
Word count: 470

Harry was drinking coffee as he saw the sun come up through the fifthly window. He had been awake since nine in the morning and he hadn’t eaten anything apart from a sandwich and some cauldron cakes. He hadn’t been able to get to a shower either. He was a wreck and he really hoped that he could get this over with quickly as possibly.

There was a knock and the door was flung open by Kritchard, a junior auror; after him came the girl with her hands in cuffs. “Bit unnecessary, don’t you think?” He remarked, annoyed.

“The suspect did not immediate comply with my orders, I had no-”

Harry cut off his excuses and told him wearily to sit down and take notes. Harry couldn’t be bothered to deal with Kritchard, he was really tiring and Harry wasn’t in the mood. He turned his attention to the girl.

She was rather plump and had frizzy, blond hair that had obviously been mussed by the wind and her journey here. She looked absolutely terrified, like a rabbit caught in headlights, and her voice quavered as she spoke, “When can I go home?”

He smiled tightly at her and asked if she was alright. “Some of our people can be a little rough in their methods; they are more used to dealing with hardened criminals than innocent teenage girls.” He slightly emphasised the ‘innocent’ in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

“When can I go home?” She asked again, insistent. That was the one thing she wanted, the one thing he couldn’t let her have.

“You’re at Hogwarts, yes?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” she snapped. Then, almost automatically, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to rude, you’re only doing your job. But I honestly don’t see what that has got to do with anything.”

“You’ll see. What year are you in?”

“Forth.”

“And your fourteen years old?”

“My fifteenth birthday’s in ten days time.”

“What do you know about your birth mother, Penny?”

“Nothing!” suddenly the tears that had been threatening burst their banks and she completely broke down. “I don’t know anything and I don’t know what this is about. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Harry stared at her and was forcibly reminded of his eleven-year-old godson’s outbursts. He passed her a box of tissues and patted her awkwardly on the arm. She seemed so … nice. It was the only way of putting it. So ordinary and scared. She wasn’t brave because she’d never had to be. So unlike he had been. So unlike what he had expected.

This, what he had to tell her, was going to be tough. For both of them.

“Listen, I know this is hard. I know you want to go home. But … things are complicated now.”

[saizine]

Name: saizine/Lessie
House: Slytherin
POV: Orion Black
OC: Absinthe Rueben
Word Count: 699

Orion Black. He went by many names from the mouths of many people, but he allotted the most amount of temperate affection to his given name. Just as he had entered the small alcove that led to the main doorway, there were three apt raps on the door. The muscles in the man’s forehead creased slightly at this visitor’s impertinence.

‘He is at least ten minutes early,’ said the man as he brought his thumb and forefinger together, calling the house-elves and ordering them to set the drawing room for an early tea.

He opened the ornate door, and his mind was consumed by the image of the three people that stood on his doorstep. He had only spoken to the man before, and speaking was a term he used loosely: more aptly, he had returned a letter of composed script with an affirmative, agreeing to interview the man’s daughter regarding her pending betrothal to Regulus.

He hadn’t expected this man to match the script on the letter. His face was sculpted in a way that was immensely handsome, but cold and seemed completely unnerved by Orion’s aura of majesty. The robes that he wore were not really any colour at all, but all the colours churned to create a rich and deep brown, a statement that challenged Orion’s rich colouration of his own clothing. ‘Good Afternoon, Mr Black,’ he said suavely. ‘I’m Absinthe Rueben.’

Orion’s eyebrows rose as the man stepped over the threshold and entered the house, closely followed by his wife and daughter. I didn’t even ask him inside. What impudence. The man held his shoulders straight almost rigidly, and Orion was suspicious of the smooth-talking wizard as he closed the door. ‘Ah, yes, Mr Rueben,’ he said.

Orion led them to the drawing room, his nostrils flaring as Mr Rueben ran a hand over his antique furniture – Orion Black’s antique furniture! Mr Rueben didn’t command an air of respect, but rather an air of ownership over everything and everyone, rather like alcohol did; Orion once had been a victim of the alcohol that seemed to live on in Absinthe Reuben’s name. He was suspicious of the man as, to Orion’s shock, gestured to his own family like he was in his own home.

He sat opposite the foreign family, his eyes scrutinising the man’s wife (who, in his eyes, was still very pretty, but she had to be at least five years younger than Mr Rueben), and his daughter, who was strangely pretty, but in a nonchalant way. However, he noticed that the mother had her hands around the daughter in a protective way, as if she didn’t want to let her be bound into an arranged marriage at her age, like she was. Orion suspected that she had been forced to marry against her will – not that it bothered him much.

What bothered him was this man in his house – he couldn’t decide whether he wanted an ally or an enemy of this man. Neither seemed like a very good option. Mr Rueben smirked as Orion met his eyes and it extended to his eyes: a cruel expression, but one that Orion knew must have made women melt. Did he want to fraternize with a womaniser? Did he want to make a connection with this family? He thought not.

‘This is Gemma, my daughter,' said Mr Rueben as he placed a hand on the daughter’s back and pushed her sharply forward, after holding his wife’s right with what seemed to be a comforting grip, but Orion wasn’t stupid. He knew a discontent marriage when he saw one… he was in one.

The girl stepped forward, and smiled coyly. Orion recognised her father’s smile, but there was something in the girl’s eyes as she pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear- they held a message: I don’t want to go through this anymore. Orion prided himself on a granite heart, but it was less stony than he thought; even he wanted to be rid of this man and his power over the two women as soon as possible.

Orion saw the girl relax slightly as he summoned the house-elves. ‘Let me call Regulus.’

[GringottsVault711]

Name: GringottsVault711
House: Slytherin
POV: Arthur Weasley
OC: Siobhan Murphy
Word Count: 665
Warnings: AU

The wedding was only just over and guests were pouring into the reception hall, chattering gaily amongst one another. Arthur Weasley peered around at the circular tables — each covered in cloth of a shimmering, pale blue — until he found a setting with a card upon which his name was neatly written.

He sat down and, feeling somewhat awkward about the state of his robes, hid his feet and frayed hem beneath the table. The truth was that in the last two years, since his wife’s death, his wardrobe had fallen into a state of disrepair, and he hadn’t gotten around to replacing his dress robes before the wedding. He didn’t mind so much, but he couldn’t help being somewhat self-conscious over his appearance.

He was peering at the entrance, hoping to spot the arrival of the wedding party through milling guests, when a young lady took the seat next to him. She was exquisitely dressed, but rather drawn and tired looking. It was no wonder why – in her arms was an infant, who couldn’t have been older than two months.

“Looks like you’ve got a handful, there,” Arthur said warmly. The young woman gave him a small smile, and the baby, head topped with strawberry-blonde curls, gazed at him with interest. Arthur instinctively reached out his hand and offered his forefinger for the child to grasp, which she did.

“And what’s your name?” he said to her.

“This,” the mother said, looking affectionately at her daughter, “is Lucille.”

“Hello Lucille,” he said, and Lucille gurgled in response, amusing him. He looked back to her mother, who was casting him an appraising eye, her gaze lingering for a moment on a loose thread on his shoulder. The girl was clearly wealthy, judging from the clothing of both her and the child; he blushed at how he must look next to them. She did not sneer at him, though. “You’re Arthur Weasley?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, shaking her hand. “And you are?”

“My name’s Siobhan,” she said simply, withholding her last name. He was sure he knew it, though; after all, the wizarding community was not a large one.

“You’re married to—”

“Yes,” she said before he could fill in a name. “Unfortunately.”

“Ah.” There was a small awkward silence.

“Is he here?” Arthur asked tentatively. “Your husband?”

Siobhan scoffed. “No, he’s not. He wasn’t invited and he likely wouldn’t have come if he had been. Thank goodness.”

Arthur wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. He felt rather sorry for the girl. She was not exuberantly friendly, but she seemed pleasant. And it was a rare thing to find a member of her society who didn’t loathe Weasleys purely on principle. They fell quiet again, and Arthur watched as Siobhan doted upon her daughter. It was beautiful to behold the bond between them, and he was glad that, if perhaps the girl had an unhappy marriage, she at least had the blessing of her daughter.

Siobhan looked up at him again, a solemn expression on her face. “I knew your son,” she said quietly. The remark caught him off guard, as did the deep respect within her voice, and he felt his chest constrict for with sudden emotion.

“Yes, I know,” he said, his voice catching. “You were with him, and Hermione, when it happened.”

Siobhan nodded. Arthur gave her a sincere smile. “It’s good to have met you. I admit, from what I’ve heard, I had doubts—”

“That a pureblood Slytherin could be any sort of decent?” she smirked.

“Shame on me,” he said meekly, though he knew from the impish glint in her eye that he was in no trouble. There was a short squeal then, the sound of Lucille showing her displeasure at the lack of attention she was receiving. Arthur chuckled and watched as Siobhan placed a loving kiss on her daughter's cheek, and felt not only sure, but very pleased, that his doubts had been in error.

[Hufflepuff at Heart]

Name: Hufflepuff at heart
House: Gryffindor
POV: Lily Evans
OC: Beth Williams
Word Count: 673

Lily saw her for the first time on the Hogwarts express. It was hard to miss her, truth be told. If Lily had been from a Wizarding family she would have heard of the Williams' expansive mansion, the Quidditch Supplies empire that her father was in charge of, the lavish parties they threw whenever the spralling six floors of William Manor became too stifling for stiff and haughty Mrs. Williams.

What Lily saw was a spoilt eleven-year-old, with the latest designer luggage and freshly manicured nails. The heritage behind her carefully lipsticked lips and her sleek siamese cat, which she carried protectively under her arm, wasn't hard to imagine.

Beth Williams sighed as she climbed aboard the train, rolling her eyes wearily at the dingy compartments occupied by her even dingier schoolmates-to-be. Hugging her pink travelling cloak closer to herself as if to keep out the cold of the commoners surrounding her, she gave a curt nod to the only person to have accompanied her; the young man who had carried her luggage to the train. Lily wondered who he was; a concierge, some kind of butler? He appeared far too young to be her father, and she paid him so little attention that he could hardly be her brother.

The girl ahem'd several times; Lily wondered how she could do it through her tightly pursed lips, until she realised her trunk was apparently in the girl's way. With an embarrassedly muttered "sorry", Lily hauled it out of the way, and the girl sailed past sighing heavily, with an airy, "quite all right." Lily suspiciously eyed the deserted corridor that surrounded her luggage, and wondered why she had had to move.

There were nudges and murmers from the compartments as the mini, black-haired, Marilyn Monroe look-alike stalked down the train; Lily felt as if she was being left out of some sort of train-wide joke as she struggled with her own half-ton dirty brown trunk, trudging down the train in the girl's wake.

Lily heard a haughty sigh from the corridor as she herself waved furiously from her compartment, wiping away the tears which threatened to obstruct her final view of her parents until Christmas. The pink girl had chosen the compartment across the way from Lily, and through the window, Lily could see she had resolutely crossed her arms and legs, clearly sickened by the painful shows of emotion which were flooding the train. She heard a loud scoff from the same compartment as Lily called out a wobbily final goodbye to her mother, which simply spurred Lily to wave even harder in defiance. She wondered vaguely where the girl's concierge had gone.

It seemed the girl had finally found friends; the next time Lily looked in her direction she was chatting animatedly with some similarly clad, manicured girls. Calling them friends was a stretch, though. The look on the girl's face wasn't quite one of happiness, thought Lily. It looked more like a mask of her true feelings, whatever they were. Her eyes were always a little too round and the smile never quite reached her eyes. Each time it was her turn to talk, her movements and speech became more elaborate and excited, as though she was trying to best whatever it was the last girl had said. The word "clones" drifted fleetingly through Lily's head, but she dismissed the thought. Perhaps they would all prove to be interesting people with unique personalities and valuable skills. Well, maybe.

She looked down at her favourite faded denim jacket, the cascade of red hair which ran freely down her shoulders, at her unpolished, bitten nails, and wondered at the likelihood of herself and this little princess becoming firm friends. Maybe she would turn out to love mountain hikes and snowball fights, but somehow she doubted it.

[ArcherCheer14]

Name: ArcherCheer14
House: Hufflepuff
POV: Xenophilius Lovegood
OC: Asta Harrison-Lovegood
Word Count: 625

I blew my light hair out of my eyes, not bearing to taking my eyes and hands from the book. My latest assignment for Care of Magical Creatures: eighteen inches on the nundu, an African creature. I was almost done. Two more inches and I could get outside and relax, gaze into the distance, watch the first-years timidly dip their feet in the lake to see if the Giant Squid would nip their toes. It was time to get away from the books. To unwind in peace.

Yes. Done. I scrolled up the parchment, stuffed it in my bag, and reached for all my books. There were six of them; I briefly contemplated making two trips, but I really needed to get outside. I couldn’t see before me, but it would only take me a second to get a few back onto the shelf and have efficient vision again.

But before I could put even one back, I found myself flat on my back, a beautiful brunette on top of me. Normally, I wouldn’t mind this, but I recognized this petite fifth-year from the rumors and speculations around the school.

Asta Harrison.

She was a little spoiled brat, or so I heard, one of those girls who thought that she was superior to us lowly mortals. She was supposed to be one of those girls who thought that being purely blooded, being purely magical, meant being purely elite. She grew up surrounded by money, everyone knew. Apparently, she popped out with a silver spoon in her mouth. From the womb to the mink coat. From her mother to her mother’s pearls.

I had heard all this from stories that spread like wildfire, and I automatically believed them. But of course, I had never met her before then. My perceptions about her changed the moment after we collided, when a curse fell out of her perfectly rounded mouth.

She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, looked down at me with her clear gray eyes, and I felt like I was being slowly suffocated by smoke, but then I realized it was because her left arm was on my windpipe, not her gorgeous eyes.

But she was probably inbred to look that pretty anyway, I thought. Out loud: “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said in her clipped accent, sounding vaguely like London, brushing off my concern. “Are you?”

“I’d be better if you weren’t cutting off my air supply.”

Immediately, she sat up, and realized, blushing slightly, that she was astride me. She stood up quickly and brushed off her skirt. “Here,” she said, still blushing, “let me help you up.”

I grasped her extended hand and pulled myself up, nearly pulling her down again in the process. She bent down to retrieve my books, scattered in the collision, as I looked down at her chestnut hair, curling around her shoulders.

“Here,” she said briskly, handing me the pile of books. I reached for them, and our hands met.

Her touch was electric. Our eyes met: her gray and my green, and I couldn’t pull my gaze away. It was as if her eyes were magnetic. My whole body was numb. I could barely breathe, but this time it wasn’t because she was crushing my windpipe. I smiled down at her and lifted her up.

But suddenly another rumor flashed in my mind. It wasn’t so much a rumor as a fact; I had seen it myself: little Asta Harrison went through boyfriends like candies, leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever she went in her expensive jewels.

But at that moment, I didn’t care that she might break my heart. I wanted Asta Harrison to be mine, and at that moment, the chase began.

[coolh5000]

I hope this is not too late but it is still the 4th in my timezone.

Name: Coolh5000
House: Slytherin
POV: Minerva McGonagall
OC:Charlotte Pearson
Word Count: 695

As usual, Minerva McGonagall used her first lesson with the new first-years to absorb as much as she could about them. Of course, this year there were fewer new students, due to the lack of Muggle-borns.

As the first-years trooped into the room, she cast an appraising eye over them. She felt a twinge of sadness knowing that they were entering the school at such a turbulent time and would no doubt suffer during their first year at the school but she was determined that their lessons with her would, at least, be no different to usual.

There was one student in particular that she paid special attention to: Charlotte Pearson was a Half-blood but her mother had left the Wizarding world many years ago to please her Muggle husband and therefore Charlotte entered the school almost as ignorant as a Muggle-born. This worried Minerva greatly. Currently, the people in charge of the school were not aware of the girl’s situation. She had been on the list and consequently been sent a letter. When she was then asked to provide proof of her blood status she was able to show her mother’s family tree. However if she were to give away anything of her upbringing she would be subjected to terrible punishments. McGonagall shuddered as she thought of some of the things she had already witnessed in the two days since term began. It would have been easier all round if Charlotte had simply stayed away but the new laws on compulsory education made it impossible for her to hide.

Minerva watched the girl closely throughout the lesson. She clearly had as much ability as any of her classmates but occasionally lacked confidence or struggled to master the wand strokes which were so new and so strange to her.

As the first-years were leaving for lunch, Minerva called Charlotte over to her.

“Miss Pearson, could I have a word?”

The first-year looked at her, her nerves showing clearly in her eyes.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Why don’t you sit down,” Minerva said trying to sound as gentle as possible.

Charlotte sat at the seat opposite the desk and Minerva saw her eyes drop to the table. She cleared her throat and began talking.

“Miss Pearson, I wanted to talk to you because things at Hogwarts are a little different to how they have been in previous years and as your Head of House, I feel it is my duty to protect you.”

The girl looked up. “Are you sending me home?”

“No, of course not! Why ever would think that?”

“At the feast on the first night, the man was saying that people from non-magical families don’t deserve a magical education. Well, I’m not from a magical family. I thought that would mean I’d be sent away.”

Minerva sighed. She had no idea how she could explain this in a way that an eleven-year-old would understand. At last she decided the best way would be to tell as much of the truth as possible but simplified.

“You’re mother is a Witch, even if she doesn’t use magic anymore and that means that you’re considered to be from a magical family. You must understand, however, that the opinions you may have heard about people from different magical backgrounds are only held by a very few people, and you shouldn’t believe everything they say. Unfortunately though, it is those people who are currently in charge of Hogwarts and therefore it is important that you don’t talk about the fact that your mother no longer uses magic or else you may find yourself in trouble.”

The girl looked positively terrified at this point and Minerva found herself wishing once again that Dumbledore had not died and left them in this mess – not that he could help being murdered.

After dismissing the girl, Minerva sat, thinking about the conversation they had just shared. The girl was clearly very nervous to be here, though she had tried incredibly hard in the day’s lesson and seemed determined to do well. She would just have to hope that she was able to avoid the scrutiny of the Death Eaters until the war was over.

[LilyLunaPotter]

Still the 4th, right?

Name: Lily Luna Potter
House: Hufflepuff
PoV: Lily Evans
OC: Mimi Stewart
Words: 675

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

“Huh?” I looked up from the book I was reading to see a blue-eyed brunette about my age standing in the doorway of the compartment where I sat alone.

“Mind if I sit here?” she repeated.

“Sure,” I said quietly.

“Thanks,” said the girl. She dragged her trunk into the compartment and gave the luggage rack an appraising look. “How did you get your trunk up there?” She reached toward the rack and barely touched it. “You can’t be much taller than I am.”

“One of the Prefects helped me,” I said.

“Huh.” Without further ado, the girl clambered onto the bench across from me, hoisted her trunk above her with effort, and almost dropped it. I jumped up quickly and caught the other end. Between us we managed to maneuver the trunk into the luggage rack.

“Whew. Now that that’s taken care of, hi! I’m Mimi Stewart.” Mimi grinned at me confidently.

“Hi.” I smiled shyly. “I’m Lily Evans.”

Mimi sat down across from me and said, “So, what’re you reading?”

“Um, it’s ‘Hogwarts, A History,’” I said, not really wanting to talk, but glad that we were at least saved from the awkward silence that comes of two shy strangers on a long train ride. No, shy this girl was not. I tried to find my spot again.

“Uh-oh, we weren’t supposed to read that, were we?” Mimi asked, suddenly anxious. “I didn’t see a reading list…or I don’t remember seeing one…”

“No, I just…decided to read it,” I answered reluctantly. Here it came. Day one of my Hogwarts career, and I was already labeling myself as a hopeless bookworm.

“Oh, phew,” said Mimi, relieved. “I thought I’d forgotten something.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “Here I am, day one of my Hogwarts career, already labeling myself as a hopeless protagonater.” She sighed dramatically.

Wait, what? “Don’t you mean procrastinator?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” I jumped as a loud yowling sound issued from a wicker basked left unnoticed on the floor. “Case in point,” said Mimi, jumping up. “Sorry, James! I’ll let you out.”

I got up and quickly shut the compartment door. A small black-and-white cat shot out of the basket and, finding no escape route, settled primly into a corner, licking his paws.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” I squealed. Mimi grinned at me approvingly.

“That’s the most volume I’ve heard from you this whole trip. You can pet him if you want.”

I extended my hand cautiously towards James. He sniffed it curiously and allowed me to stroke his head. “He likes you,” said Mimi as a matter of fact. “So, what’s this ‘History of Hogwarts’ about?”

“’Hogwarts, A History,’” I corrected her. “It’s basically just that, a history of Hogwarts. It’s full of interesting facts and things about the school.”

“Okay, so what’s the latest interesting fact?” asked Mimi, sitting down next to me and peeking at the book.

“Um, well…” I searched the page and found one I guessed would interest her. “’In 1880 Hogwarts appointed the youngest player ever to play on a House Quidditch team. Abram Bashar played Seeker for Hufflepuff in his first year.’”

“What’s Quidditch?” asked Mimi blankly.

“Uh…it’s a Wizarding sport played on broomsticks. I think the Seeker has to catch the golden Snitch. Seekers have to be small and fast.”

“Broomsticks? Wicked! I’ve got to try that. I don’t think Seeker would work too well for me, though.”

“Why not?” I asked, looking her up and down. She wasn’t too tall, only a little taller than me. She wasn’t slender, I supposed, but she wasn’t fat either. “You might do okay.”

“Nah, I’m too slow,” she said. “Look at you, though. You’re small enough—no offense.”

“None taken,” I said, shaking my head. “But I’d never be any good at Quidditch, or flying, period. I hate heights,” I explained.

Mimi shrugged and started another topic of conversation. We continued in this matter for the rest of the train ride.

I never did get back to my book.

[lullaby BANG]

Name: lullaby BANG
House: Hufflepuff
POV: Remus Lupin (first person)
OC: Dante
From: Of Blood, Gore, and Alibis (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/viewstory.php?sid=78125&warning=5)
Words: 686

I sit at the bar trying to forget all that has happened. In the past week, it has become my safe haven ever since... I can't even stomach to say it. However, like every other night I stay in this dismal setting, I find myself not consuming alcohol. I always buy it, yet I never do partake in it.

I look around the bar to find the same scenery: the usual drunken laughter, the raunchy lovers, and the beginning banter of a fight.

I sigh. It is all the same except for this one particular chap. It is disconcerting to see him. He is like me– utterly sober. He is tucked away in a shadowy corner. It is as though he doesn't want to be spotted, yet he ironically stands out.

He is eyeing the bar with caution. Is he expecting someone? He picks up his bottle, looks at it, and then puts it down on the table.

A blonde woman stumbles her way to him. She is giggling and evidently hit the bottle quite hard. He scoots down the booth and lets her clamber in with him. He immediately nuzzles his head into her neck, and she laughs in drunken splendour.

I eye him in disgust. One should never take a girl who is so vulnerable. It is outrageous to watch him indulge.

I turn away from him and look at all of the bottles that are lined behind the bar. I am always impressed at how the bartender knows each one.

I look back at him, wondering if he has come to his senses. No. He is still engorging himself. He pulls back, though, and immediately looks at me in disgust as though I had ruined such an intimate moment. The bar was no place to be intimate.

The girl whispers something in his ear, and he pushes her away. How could he disrespectful to this girl? Could she mean so little to him?

He continues to push his way so he can get out of the booth. His eyes are set for me, and I already feel the beginnings of a fight pulse through him. For what, though? Because I watched him?

He walks over to the bar, and although I am ready for a punch, he instead sits himself across from me and asks for another beer. He turns his head away from me so all I could see is a mass of black hair.

“What would a married man be doing in a bar?” he asks, anger rising in his voice.

“And why should you care?” I retort, anger also rising in my voice.

“Then why were you bothering to look at me?” He drinks from the bottle. Alcohol in his system could be a sticky predicament.

“How could you take a girl that is vulnerable?”

He laughs bitterly. “Are you going to condemn me and rant about moral values? I would not advise it good sir. You sit at the bar, abandoning a wife and most likely kids, for leisure. So why would it matter if I take a girl tonight?”

“How dare you…” I growl.

“Or is it because the full moon approaches? You fear for their safety?”

I falter towards him. “How could you guess?” I ask weakly. My face grows faintly pale.

“You all smell the same,” he replies bitterly. “So instead of taking it out on your family, you will take it out on the bar? What high moral values!” He spreads his arms out and displays the entire bar to me. “These are your victims. How beautiful,” he silently mocks, his mouth barely moving. He then swiftly moves to look at his victim.

“Marsha!” he barks, and she quickly comes to his side. He drags her by the arm, leading her out of the bar. He laughs full heartily, bitterly. He looks directly at me as he laughed. “What poor unfortunate soul!” he proclaims.

I try not to gap, but I fail. I see those white fangs glint in the dim light, and as I look at Marsha, I see two neat puncture wounds and blood seeping down her neck.

[TyrannoLaurus]

I'm closing this thread now. Thank you to everyone who has entered and I am looking forward to reading your drabbles. This week's challenge will be posted later on today and the results will be posted in a couple of days.

---

In the meantime, I wrote an entry myself :p

Name: Tyrannolaurus
House: Ravenclaw
PoV: Neville Longbottom
OC: Niamh Williams
Words: 621


The clouds had closed in overhead, dousing the streets of Diagon Alley with a horrible drizzle of rain that did little to break the mounting tension in the air. Everyone hurried to and fro, their cloaks wrapped tightly around their bodies, and too concerned with their own well being to notice others.The sun had decided to take a vacation, and nobody wished to spend money or stay outside in such humidity for a second longer than they needed to.

Neville Longbottom was stood on the porch of Flourish and Blotts, where he had just spent the past hour negotiating a discount price for all his first-year Herbology students. Taking a moment to privately congratule himself on this small victory, he was vaguely aware of footsteps scurrying across the street. When he lifted his eyes, he was arrested by the bright colour of a young woman's summer dress. She'd clearly not thought her outfitthrough, as so many careless girls didn't on summer mornings; by the way she allowed the hem to fly up above her knees, Neville deduced that she hadn't been taught a proper lesson in modesty.

The young woman turned sharply on her heel, her unruly hair flashing across the grey backdrop like a flame surrounded by smoke. The look on her face was one of gleeful surprise. Her eyes darted from the cauldrons hung in the entrance of the apocathepy to the wands that sat in their open cases in Ollivander's window. She let out a girlish shreik when an owl swooped over her head, and she was too absorbed in her surroundings to notice the mud stains that were creeping up her bare legs. Witches her age didn't look upon Diagon Alley with such fresh enthusiasm, especially on such a grim day; Neville decided that she had to be a Muggle.

Then her eyes met his, and her face coloured a little with embaressment. But it was a flirty embaressment, if anything, and it soon faded. She walked up to him with spirit in her stride and a dazzling grin on her face.

"Do you know where I can find Gringoats?" she asked.

Neville furrowed his brow, unsure whether to tell this Muggle about one of the most important Wizarding banks in the world. If she didn't know how to pronounce its name, she'd clearly not been told much about it. Her warm smile weakened his resolve, though, until he finally murmured, "It's over there."

"Over where?" she asked, turning her head sharply in the direction she had just come from.

Neville felt a pang of heartache; her curious but spacey expression reminded him of Luna. How could he have accused her of being immodest, when Luna would have worn exactly the same dress on a sultry day?

"Why are you here, if you don't mind my asking?" he asked nervously.

The young woman gave him a sheepish smile. "I'm just exploring the place, that is all."

Neville knew he should have warned her against stepping into this strange new world with too much curiosity, and that he really should have reported her to a Ministry official, but instead he allowed her the indulgence.

"My name is Neville," he said.

The woman was in a deep reverie, however, as her eyes flitted between each and every detail of her surroundings. After a while, she jerked her head back towards him and replied, "I'm Niamh, pleased to meet you."

"Pretty name," he replied, holding out his hand for her to shake.

But she was already wandering down the street. On the verge of pointing out that she was walking in the wrong direction, he decided instead to let her be. She clearly wished to discover everything on her own.

[TyrannoLaurus]

Welcome to:

Week Two: Confrontation

Every Original Character runs into some type of conflict with another character at some point during the story, even if it is only over a small matter. This week I want you to examine the way that your OC would handle a confrontation. Do they get easily angry, or do they bite their tongue and avoid an argument at all costs? Once again, I'm leaving this challenge open so that you can pick the scenario and characters, so long as it involves at least one OC and is set in the Potterverse. There must be either an argument or disagreement of sorts, whether it be about a big issue or something small, and you must explore the way your OC feels about it. This drabble can be written from either your OC's POV, or another character's.

Entries must be no more than 700 words and you may enter two drabbles each.

Deadline: 15th August

10 points to the winner, and five for runner-up

[Mistletoe]

OC: Lucy Bliss
Word Count: 699
Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations, AU

“Draco, we shouldn’t be meeting like this,” I whispered.

It was dark outside—too dark. I felt it pressing on my eyeballs from every direction, effectively making me feel blind. Draco was within arms reach, but I was unable to make out his features. There was no sound to hide our secret rendezvous; it seemed as if all had gone silent for us. Even my whisper seemed to echo into the night.

This had happened too many times before, but it never would again. It was morally ambiguous to marry one man and desire his son. I had been raised differently—to do what I needed to be on top, and marrying Lucius would be just that. Gallivanting off with his son would put me just where I didn’t want to be, back in the rags of my former home. I was so close to having the riches, that I felt a sudden pang of insanity ring through my head. What was I doing here?

“We have done nothing wrong, Lucy,” he retorted, the smirk evident in his sweet voice.

In response to my silence, he slid his body closer to mine, wrapping his hand around my lower back and pulling me to him. Desire rushed through my veins, shunting my good intentions away and replacing them with raw need to touch him. He grasped my face too firmly between his fingers and thumb, pulling my mouth to his. It was too easy to forget everything when he did this to me. I felt his cold fingers creep under my blouse in the back, and I was suddenly pulled back to reality.

Knowing with every fiber of my being that I had to do this, I pulled myself away from him. “I’m sorry, Draco, this is wrong. I am to marry your father, and I will do just that. He loves me—”

“Father loves nothing but power,” Draco spat, his arm recoiling from around me. “He will not give you anything I can.”

I could see the mad gleam in his eyes. Apparently, his face was still only inches from mine.

“How can you do this?” he whispered, his fierce façade suddenly dropping away as quickly as it had come. I choked back the rising cry from my throat and shut my eyes. It should be so easy to throw away simple lust.

“Like this,” I replied as I turned and walked away.

The dehydrated grass crunched under my feet as I stepped lightly back to the house. There was still no sound as I came around the bend of trees and saw light glowing from the windows. Just as I was about to open the back door, I heard commotion inside. It sounded like someone had dropped a plate and let it clatter to the ground. Needing to avoid any sort of confrontation, I shrunk away from the alight door into the shadows of a nearby tree. Hidden from the world, I rested my head against the rough bark and finally stopped to think.

I had come here as a prize. My parents had heard Mr. Malfoy had recently lost his wife. Being the conspirators they were, a plan was concocted and I was shipped to the Malfoy Mansion after an agreement had been reached. I would be the new Mrs. Malfoy, but I was young enough to be the man’s daughter.

He was charming and suave, I must admit, but so was his son, the boy who was my age and still had hopes and dreams and desires, who still wanted to grow. Instead, I was stuck with the man who was stuck in his life, and not in need of growth and change. I was more than happy to oblige my parents’ wishes, this would bring my family more wealth and power than ever imagined, even if Lucius had hit rough times.

That was exactly why I must stay away from Draco, the one who could grow with me, who was still passionate about life. If I were to run away with him, I would have been auctioned off for no reason besides simple love. I would stay with Lucius, even if it meant throwing away my dreams.
--Kat

[fg_weasley]

OC: Honor Turcotte
Word Count: 666 :eek:
Warning: D/A, I guess, implied sexual situations... blood? ha.

Two hours he’d been waiting. Normally, he was a fairly deep sleeper. Tonight, however, something had awakened him and he’d opened eyes to an empty bed. Now he sat here in the living room they shared, in the armchair by the fire. And he watched the door, simply watched it like a hawk, obviously waiting for something.

Waiting for her.

Finally, he heard her scrambling on the doorstep and he tipped his wand so that the light went out and he was bathed in a sudden, pitch black darkness. He heard the door creak open and the familiar click of stilettos on hardwood. Eyes adjusted to the darkness now, he watched her outline close the door quietly behind her, but it wasn’t until she turned around again that he lit his wand once more.

The surprise was evident across her features for only a nanosecond before it was gone, to be replaced by amused pleasure. As she stepped closer he could see her dirty-blonde hair hastily pulled up in into a messy ponytail, whips of long, flyaway locks framing her face. Her eyes had lost their momentary shock and had quickly settled into calm contentment, as though she were happy to see him. The dark brown was still incredibly alluring, as it always was, despite his anger. Her robes did not look out of place but for the rumbled look of them, the way garments that have been tossed and forgotten on the floor never lose their wrinkles. Yet still he felt himself aroused by her, and he wondered why she never seemed to want him.

She smiled at him then as if their meeting in the half-dark at three in the morning was a regular routine. “What are you doing, sitting here in the dark? I didn’t think you’d be up at this hour.” She spoke with an air of nonchalance and confidence, again as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.

“Clearly,” Rabastan Lestrange answered roughly. “Care to tell me where you were?”

Without missing a beat she answered in a sure and steady tone, “I went out for walk. I wasn’t gone long, half an hour at most.”

Rabastan laughed softly, she was so good at lying. He would give her that. He stood up swiftly and was right in front of her, so close he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. “Do not lie to me, Honor,” he hissed in her ear. “Two hours you were gone. Who is he?”

She turned her head up to look at him, a maddening smile playing across her lips. “Was it really two hours? I must have lost track of the time.”

Roughly, Rabastan shoved his wand underneath her chin, tilting her head back though her eyes never left his. Still, she never flinched and the smile never faltered. “You are my wife, Honor, and it is not for you to be out with another man.”

Finally, the smile faded, but it was only to be replaced by a smirk. Her brown eyes sparked with electricity as she replied, “I am not your wife. You get ahead of yourself, Rabastan. Not yet.”

In one swift moment, without removing the wand, Rabastan pulled out a knife, sharp and glistening. He put the cold side of it to her cheek as he whispered roughly, “You’re as good as. The arrangement has been set and you are my prize and my toy, not for the filthy hands of another.” He turned the blade so that the sharp edge rested on her skin, and then slowly he pulled his hand down. A trail of bright red blood followed the progress of the knife, staining her porcelain white skin. A thin cut, not deep, but still enough. “You will let me touch you, and you will tell me who he is. This will not go unpunished, for either of you.”

She looked defiantly into his dark eyes, again so arousing. “Not tonight, Rabastan.”

xox
nikki :D

[xOxLyDzxOx]

OC: Mikhailae Connelly
Words: 523
Warning: Language, maybe.

Mikhailae stormed back towards the Gryffindor dormitory. Her hands were shaking in silent fury, and hot tears prickled behind her eyes, but she refused to cry. Mikhailae couldn’t believe it. How dare she?

More importantly, how could he?

Oh how she hoped they were all following her, so she could give them a real piece of her mind. She wasn’t going to roll over and watch as Melissa did her vicious thing, yet again. Melissa had picked the wrong girl to try and screw over this time.

Someone grabbed her arm and in an instant Mikhailae had turned, her wand at the person’s throat.

“Mikhailae, wait!” Sirius cried, throwing up his arms.

Mikhailae’s eyes narrowed but she lowered the wand. Sirius looked relieved – until Mikhailae’s hand connected with his face, with and extremely satisfying smack.

“Bastard,” she hissed. Over his shoulder, three people had appeared; James, Lily and Melissa ‘Please slap me!’ Thompson.

Oh how dearly Mikhailae would love to wipe that smug smile of Melissa’s face! But she controlled herself...barely. Nevertheless, her hands were still shaking. A small swell of satisfaction rose in her chest at the sight of Sirius’ red cheek.

“Look,” Melissa said, sauntering forward, “I’m sorry about that Mikhailae,”

“You,” Mikhailae snarled, starting forward, “I’ll give you something to be sorry about!”

Melissa took a step back and Sirius flung an arm out. Melissa’s smile returned.

“Like I said, Mikhailae, I really am sorry for the way this turned out. It’s not my fault I’m just so desirable.”

“You are the opposite of desirable,” Mikhailae snarled, “You vile, awful – You know what? You can have him.”

And she turned and stormed in the opposite direction. Melissa looked taken aback by her sudden back-flip.

Lily, too, was furious. “I knew you had no standards, but I didn’t know that you’d stoop so low,” she said scornfully. Mikhailae felt a vindictive pleasure – Lily would never betray her.

For the second time, however, Sirius caught her arm before she could escape.

“Get off me,” she snarled through clenched teeth.

“Mikhailae, please, I’m sorry,” he pleaded.

“Yeah, well, it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” Mikhailae said bitterly. “How could you? I knew – I knew this would happen.” She’d been so reluctant to give in to the, admittedly, irrepressible feelings they both apparently had for each other. “I thought I meant more to you. I guess I thought wrong.”

“Just let me tell you my version. Are you really going to throw away our friendship, without even giving me a chance to tell you what happened?”

“I saw what happened.”

One minute she’d been dancing with James. She’d looked over her shoulder to see where Sirius was, only to spot him dancing with Melissa. She’d said something and he’d leaned down and the next thing Mikhailae knew, she was watching their lips meet.

She looked up at Sirius’s beautiful face. Was she willing to throw away five years of friendship? Look what he did to you. He’s hurt you. More than you’ll ever admit.

“I’ll talk to you alone. Without the audience,” she said, glaring at Melissa. Then, she turned and walked away.

[LilyLunaPotter]

Drabble One:
OC: Mimi Stewart
POV: Lily Evans
Words: 681

I woke up early Monday morning, like I always do. It was raining. I lay in bed for a moment listening to the pitter patter of the raindrops on the roof. I sat up and glanced around the room. Mary and Alice were still asleep, but Mimi’s bed was empty. That’s right; she said she would wake up early to write that essay she forgot about. Always the procrastinator. The thought reminded me of an insight I had had the other night, and I wanted to add it into my essay. I slid out of bed and reached for my essay where I had left it in my bag the night before. That’s odd. Did I leave it downstairs?

In the common room I found Mimi writing feverishly. “Mimi, did I leave my essay down here?” Mimi glanced up sharply.

“Um…yes, here it is. You left it on our table last night.” She handed me my essay and bent over her work again, her face hidden.

“Thanks. How’s yours coming? Here, let me see it.” I sat down across from her and slid her essay across the table. As I scanned it my stomach lurched. I glanced from her essay on the table to mine in my hand and back again. “Mimi…” I looked at her. She was staring at the table guiltily. I felt my face getting hot. “Did you copy my essay?”

“I’m sorry, Lily!” Mimi burst out. “I only meant to look at it; I didn’t—”

“Mimi, how could you have been so thoughtless?” I demanded, standing up. “What, you didn’t think McGonagall would notice two identical essays? You’re lucky I caught you before you got us both expelled!”

“She wouldn’t expel us just for—”

“Don’t change the subject! What were you thinking?” The only logical conclusion I could come to was that her brain took several hours longer to wake up in the morning than the rest of her.

“Stop it, Lily!” Mimi jumped up so quickly that her chair fell backwards, hitting the stone floor with a clatter. I flinched, startled at her sudden anger. “You don’t need to make me feel any more stupid than I really am.”

“I have the right to make you feel as stupid as I please,” I corrected her. “And anyway, it’s not that you’re stupid; you’re not. You’re just thoughtless and distracted. You’re actually really smart—”

“Don’t give me that, Lily!” she interrupted angrily. “I’m not really smart; you’re really smart. You tell everyone they’re smart. We can’t all be smart. Some of us are just stupid, all right?”

She’s changing the subject again, I thought. “Mimi, what are you talking about?”

“You tell everyone they’re smart, and it’s just not true, Lily! You told Peter he was smart the other day. I mean, it’s not that Peter’s not smart, he is, but—now I’m doing it too. You know what?” she shouted as I stared, taken aback. “I don’t care! Peter’s stupid, all right? Peter’s stupid, I’m stupid, every—”

“Who’s stupid?” Mimi spun around. I looked toward the voice and came face to face with none other than Peter Pettigrew, looking slightly groggy and quite a bit affronted. Oh, dear Lord. I sighed and put a hand to my head.

Mimi gave a frustrated sort of roar and grabbed her bag. She stormed out of the portrait hole. As she stalked past I heard her mutter something about “letting perfect Lily finish her perfect essay.” I rolled my eyes and glared after her.

“What was that about?” asked Peter bemusedly.

“Don’t look at me,” I answered irritably. “I will not attempt to make excuses for her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an essay to finish.” I plopped myself down at the nearest table and whipped a quill out of my bag. I didn’t look up as I heard Peter shuffling back up the stairs. When he was gone I looked up and stared out of the window at the gray world outside. What a glorious Monday morning this is, I thought gloomily.





Drabble Two:
OC: Mimi Stewart
POV: Mimi Stewart
Words: 654
Warnings: Mild Language

“Mimi, you’ve made us late again!” Lily grabbed my hand and ran down the hall toward the Charms classroom. I trotted along behind her, trying to keep up.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I began, before Lily skidded to a halt at a corner and I almost ran into her. “What--” I started to ask, but Lily shushed me. It was then that I heard a familiar voice.

“You really ought to watch where you’re going, Mudblood.” At first I thought we were the ones being addressed, and I opened my mouth to retaliate. Lily shook her head and peeked around the corner. I stood on tiptoe and looked over her.

I felt a flash of anger at what I saw. A tiny Hufflepuff first-year girl was sprawled on the floor surrounded by the contents of her book bag. Lucius Malfoy was leaning against the wall behind her, his foot jutting out into the corridor. He smirked at her as she sat up and began hurriedly collecting her things. His friends snickered. The girl kept her head down, but I heard her choke and knew she was crying.

“I said, you ought to watch where you’re going,” Malfoy repeated with a sneer. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

Apologize, my arse! I thought angrily, pushing past Lily into Malfoy’s line of sight. “You’re the one who ought to apologize, Malfoy!” I said as Lily gasped and winced. “Can’t you find someone your own size to aggravate?”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in amusement. I glared. “Can’t you pick a fight with someone your own size?” he said mockingly, stepping closer so that he towered over me. “Otherwise, it can only turn out worse for you.”

“Is that a threat?” I replied loudly. The Hufflepuff girl was watching us worriedly. Lily stepped forward.

“Leave it, Mimi. We’ll be in trouble for being late as it is. Here, sweetheart, let me help you.” Lily stooped and helped the girl gather her things. I continued to stare at Malfoy. He no longer looked amused.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mudblood?” he asked coldly, motioning to his cronies. My eyes flickered to them for a moment as they moved to surround me, but I was too angry to care.

“I don’t want be here, no,” I spat. “And if you and your snakey little friends would mind your own business, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Mimi, let’s just go,” said Lily as the Hufflepuff girl ran off with a murmured “thank you” to Lily.

“Yeah, go, Stewart, if you know what’s good for you,” said another boy whose name I didn’t know.

“Don’t you talk to me that way,” I snapped, my voice rising. “You think you can do whatever you please just because you’re a big, bad Slytherin. And if no one else will show you your place, then I will!”

“You?” Lucius scoffed, as Lily winced and shut her eyes. “You’re nothing but a shrimpy, dirty little Mudblood.”

I would have punched him, I just know it. As it happened, however, we were interrupted by a very angry Professor McGonagall. “Miss Stewart! Mr. Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?” Lily sighed in relief. I scowled and was silent.

“Stewart threatened me, Professor,” said Malfoy smoothly. I laughed.

“Threatened you, my—”

“Enough, Miss Stewart, thank you,” said the professor sternly. “If the both of you cannot restrain yourselves by virtue of your own maturity—” She glared fiercely at Malfoy, who was four years older than me and a Prefect. “—then perhaps a detention and five house points each will serve to restrain you in the future. Now, don’t you have classes to get to?”

I continued to fume at Malfoy’s back as he and his goons slithered away down the corridor. Lily tugged my arm. “Come on, Mimi!” I let her lead me away as Professor McGonagall’s stern eyes followed us out of sight.

[Phia Phoenix]

My OC(s): Aidan and Nadia, created especially for this challenge, and as of yet lacking a surname. POV is Aidan.
Warnings: Violence, swearing, racism, implied sexual situations. Wow, I've never written a drabble that needed any of those before... All warnings are slight, though. Please, the views expressed by my character as far as Asians go is totally the opposite of my own. They were chosen BECAUSE they were horrible, that's the whole point.
Word Count: 700

My twin sister is... temperamental. Nadia can fly off the broomhandle at the slightest excuse, as I know only too well. I do try not to provoke her, honestly I do, but the amount of times I’ve heard “Aidan! Stop winding up your sister!” is astronomical, though you wouldn’t think it, what with her always being the one throwing the punches... I suppose our mother knows us only too well, too.

Oh, that’s my name, by the way. Aidan. Nadia in reverse, you may notice. Cute, huh? Well, that’s what my parents thought. Guess they didn’t know how prophetic that was... Most people comment we look nothing alike, her being fair-skinned and blonde and me olive and chocolate-haired, but that’s only scratching the surface.

We do love each other, I guess, but we’re just so different, and there’ve been sparks flying ever since I remember. Sometimes literally. Nothing, though, as serious as yesterday’s events.

Nadia had a friend over. A girl she’s known seven years, since our first day at Hogwarts in fact, and who shares her dorm in the Gryffindor Tower. I don’t know what they were doing all morning, probably gossipping up in Nad’s room, but at around midday they deigned to descend and invite me out to play Quidditch with them and the girl from next door – to ‘make up the numbers’. Usually I’d bow out of anything involving physical activity – not my forte – but I’m a fair Keeper, so I agreed.

It was embarrassing. Like I said, I like to think I’m not a bad Keeper – but this friend of Nadia’s scored goal after goal after goal single-handedly, even managing to appear bored about the whole thing. Contrary to my sister’s beliefs, I do have some pride, and managed to battle it out until the girl announced it was time for her to take the Floo home.

She had already said her goodbyes and disappeared inside to use the fireplace by the time I’d clambered off my broomstick. Laughing, Nadia came over and punched me playfully on the arm.

‘I think that was three hundred and twenty nil, our way, wasn’t it?’ she chuckled, not noticing my clenched fists. ‘Forget Yong’s the star Gryffindor Chaser, did you?’

I had, in fact, but managed to pull my face into wide-eyed surprise. ‘Oh, that was Yong Lee? Gee, I’d always thought the famous Lee was a guy. She should grow her hair long – how else are you meant to tell Chinese males from females?’ Nadia hissed furiously, and I smiled inwardly that my taunts had such an effect. ‘Or did you make the same mistake, Nads? Think you had a boyfriend, did you? What exactly were you up to all morning, huh?’

She snapped. ‘Firstly, she’s Korean, and secondly, Aidan, you are such a prick!’ she yelled, launching herself at me. I grabbed for my wand, deflecting her fists with ease. ‘You – racist – dirty-minded – horrible – ’ she paused for breath, golden curls flopping from her messy ponytail. I lowered my wand, grinning unashamedly. ‘PRICK!’

Her punch caught me on the nose before I had time to raise my wand again. The blow stung; not only because my sister has a mean right hook, but also because I hadn’t let her actually land one on me for years. So far, I’d always been able to avoid them with words, dodges, and since coming of age, magic.

We stared at each other, me dazedly touching the blood as it streamed from my nostrils, her still panting but now gazing at me with something akin to hopelessness in her eyes.

‘You know what?’ she whispered, hands by her sides, ‘There are other people in Gryffindor with siblings in your House. They always say, ‘they weren’t as cruel before joining Slytherin’, but I can’t use that excuse. You’ve always been like this – I’m not talking about just this, you’re always – ruthless and just plain cunning.’

I smirked. ‘Cunning. A Slytherin. You don’t say? C’mon Nadia, you blow up at me every week.’

I walked away, chuckling outwardly but grimacing on the inside. Because Nadia is temperamental, but she’s never – ever – said a bad word to me in anything less than a yell.

[Kcharles]

OC: Ami (no last name as of now)
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 696 words

Ami looked around the fifth year girl’s dormitory. The four other Gryffindor girls were sound asleep. She took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the window. It opened silently. She put her wand back into her robe pocket and put her leg out the window. She felt the ledge of the common room window below her. She grabbed her broomstick and slithered the rest of the way out of the window.

Once she was on the windowsill, she took her wand out again. She mounted her broomstick and pointed her wand at the window as it closed just as silently as it opened. Ami bent low over her broomstick and shot off. She smiled as she felt the familiar feeling of the wind on her face and messing up her hair. She slowed down as she came nearer to the Quidditch Pitch. It looked like there was already someone at the stadium, flying around and doing complicated tricks. Ami landed her broom on one side of the pitch under the goal posts.

“Oi!” she yelled to the person flying above her. She could now see that it was a boy, most likely the same age as her. He dropped the Quaffle and Ami caught it skilfully.

The boy landed. “Yes.” he said, clearly irritated that he had been interrupted. “Oh, it’s you.” he realized, looking at Ami. “What are you doing out here?”

“What are you doing out here?” Ami asked him back.

“That’s for me to know.” The boy said to her, smiling. He ran a hand through his already messy hair. “Now, if you’ll give me my Quaffle back, I can continue practicing.” Not waiting for an invitation, he took the Quaffle and took off again. Ami mounted her broom and followed him.

Ami took a small, white, snitch-sized ball out of her pocket. She let go out of it, but instead of dropping, it hovered in mid-air. Ami reached out for it, and it darted a little bit farther away from her. She shot after it, laughing.

“Ami! We have to leave!” The boy yelled to her as she shot past him.

Ami didn’t hear him; she had spotted the ball near the ground. She dived, and stuck her right hand out. Flawlessly, she grabbed the small ball.

“Wonderful catch, Miss Song.” A new voice said. Ami looked up, knowing who would be there.

“Hello sir.” she mumbled, looking down.

The boy landed beside her. “Good morning Professor Doros.”

“Potter, Song, come with me please.” Professor Doros told them.

“It’s your fault, you came out here!” James hissed to Ami as they followed behind Professor Doros.

“My fault? How was I supposed to know he would come?” Ami hissed back.

“If you had listened to me, I was trying to tell you that he was coming.” James spat out at her.

“You could’ve said something before that!” Ami whispered, wishing she could yell at him. “But no! Mr James Fatheaded Potter thought he’d get me in trouble!”

James shook his head, smiling.

“Oh, Jamesie can’t even fight back because he knows I’m right.” Ami taunted James loudly.

Professor Doros turned around and looked at Ami.

“Sorry Professor.” Ami said, looking down again.

Professor Doros opened the doors to the castle and led James and Ami into his office.

“You will both serve a week of detentions with me. 100 points will also be taken from Gryffindor.”

“Yes sir.” James and Ami chanted together.

“You two can go up to your dormitories. Don’t let me see you out after hours again.”

“Yes sir. Come on James.” Ami said, taking James by the arm and leaving the office.

“Look what you’ve done! You just lost us the House Cup AND the Quidditch Cup! You realise that the last Quidditch game of the season is the day after tomorrow!”

“It’s not like I was the only one out there.” Ami shot at him. “You were out there too!”

“But at least I knew Professor Doros would be coming!” James shouted at her. “The whole house will hate us! Not to mention most of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too! At least the Slytherins will like us.”



This was fun, I haven't written anything in a while.

[lullaby BANG]

Title: For the Damned
Word Count: 700 -phew!-
Warnings: Mild Violence
POV: Dante, Original Character


The full moon is shining brightly in the September skies tonight. This is the night for the damned.

For me, it is a cursed night because this is the only true light I receive in my immortal bounded soul. The wolves dance tonight; killers stalk their prey; the nocturnal awake.

This night is reserved for us, not them. This night is reserved for the monsters, the monsters that stalk your nightmares. How dare mere mortals disrupt our night with their nefarious plans!

They all apparate except for one mere soul. He’s mine.

I slowly manoeuvre out of the brush. I can hear every step that he makes: crunch, crunch. Darkness doesn’t hide you; you’re still vulnerable.

I grab my wand in my back pocket. It slides easily out of my pocket and into my hand. Ah, my good old friend.

I mutter, “Confringo,” but at that moment, the Death Eater halts and my spell narrowly misses him.

I shoot another spell at him, but he shouts, “Protego!”

And now the fight begins.

The dazzling colours flash by too quickly, and I dodge them efficiently. I simply take one step to the right, to the left, up, or down, and I dodge his attacks.

It’s amazing the energy wizards waste while duelling. They flail their arms; they run; they exert more power than needed. Perhaps, though, why the wizard wastes energy is because he needs to survive. I’m dressed for the kill.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” he calls out. I disengage his last spell, and the world creeps into eerie silence.

I see him in the distance, His face is gleaming with sweat, and he smiles crookedly at me.

“Who are you?” I call back.

He chuckles silently. “Why? So you can claim revenge after you lose tonight?”

“Perhaps,” I scoff. Does he not realise that I, a five hundred plus vampire, has had plenty of duelling experience?

“Well then, you have the honour of duelling Antonin Dolohov. And you would be?”

“A monster,” I respond, and I shoot a spell towards him that he deflects. The duel restarts once more.

More shattering pieces of light unfold as Latin words are disregarded. I falter in my step, and I realise that it is too late. I see his wand raised and the green light that comes hurtling towards me. I am defenceless.

It hits me and pummels me to the ground, my wand slipping out of my grip. First numbness consumes me, but then I contort in pain. The spell tries to kill me when I cannot be killed.

The pain recedes, and I manage to get to my feet, and he looks stunned, scared. “Who are you?” he frantically asks.

“I told you already. I’m a monster,” I repeat, revealing a malicious smile and a set of razor sharp fangs. As I stand there, though, I realise I am without a wand. I look quickly behind me to retrieve it, but as I turn around, Dolohov is in front of me, his wand alit.

I yelp in pain and immediately drop to the dirt ground, searching for my wand. I hear him kick it, and I am truly defenceless. The light burns!

“So you’re a vampire freak, huh?” he shouts at me. “Well, I’m going to make you enjoy this.”

He then sets my back on fire as a loud crack echoes in the background. I scream, but no one can hear me nor save me.

Who is my saviour? Aid me! I see my life flash by in clips. It’s ending. I’m dying, dying…

I clear my mind from the pain, trying to save myself. I know there is a lake by, and I muster the strength to get there. But I’m fading, fading…

I manage to get to the lake, and I plunge into it. Relief rushes through my body as the fire quickly dies down. I go back to being an animated corpse as I sink. I look up to see the full moon shining down brightly through the water as though an angel is with me.

But an angel is not here. This is the night for the damned. It is time to celebrate.

<321 jessica

[dragonchilde]

OC: Holly Runcorn
Word count: 686
Warnings: N/A

“Holly, darling,” a poisonous voice drawled behind me. “I’m not used to seeing you not surrounded by your precious firsties.”

"Well, Daphne, they need me. Someone needs to teach them to survive Slytherin House.”

“If they were worthy enough to be Sorted here, they should be able to handle it themselves. And if not, pity on them.”

“They need to be prepared for people like you.” I hadn’t even bothered to turn around. She wasn’t worth my time, and I didn’t see why she insisted on starting something with such a large audience.

“Ooh, that hurt, dear. I see now – and here I thought it was because you were on the children’s level, but they’re really above you.” I hadn’t reacted to her liking, so she came around to face me herself. “Must be why you gallivant with the other Houses. Could swear I saw you with a Gryffindor the other night. They just about dumb enough for you?”

Merlin, this was why I didn’t bother with my classmates. “That Gryffindor was my little sister.”

“Really? Poor Louisa. I’d have never guessed. Perhaps her sister has been a negative influence on her. Why couldn’t you two take after your uncle Albert? He’s climbing up in the Ministry, you know. I can see it now: ‘Albert Runcorn New Minister for Magic – Vows to Strengthen Pureblood Movement, Disown Blood-traitor Mongrel Nieces.’ Sound about right, dear?”

“He can go right ahead. I made the smarter move, so I’ll have more people on my side anyhow. Haven’t you noticed the trend of Slytherin versus the rest of the world? I happen to be allied with the rest of the world.” Usually I loved arguing, but Daphne Greengrass was an idiot in that regard. I finally stood up, so we were eye to eye. “By the way, what possessed you to talk to me, after six years of forgetting I existed? I don’t seem to be worthy, apparently, and you were the one to decide we should go our separate ways upon starting Hogwarts. Why is that?”

She tried to gesture for backup from her precious current ‘second,’ Tracey Davis, who seemed wrapped up in something else entirely. When that didn’t work, she just rolled her eyes. “Well, your childishness is reminding me why we split up.”

“Why, because I wasn’t taking your orders anymore? Because I wanted a name, and not just ‘Daphne’s second’? Because I finally figured out that I was a person and deserved to be treated like one?” She attempted to butt in, but there was no way I was letting her get a word in edgewise now. “Not that it matters. You’d agree with me that purebloods shouldn’t be second to anyone anyhow, so it should be good that I got out, right? I mean, you took on Tracey, and Pansy’s got Millicent – perhaps that was part of the split too, wasn’t it? Why bother with me when you could have a halfblood do your dirty work? And your boy-toys don’t do things themselves either – they’ve got dumb kids to manipulate, haven’t they? And that’s why I play mother hen for the new arrivals – there are halfbloods coming in, and dumb kids, and even just normal people who don’t understand the social ladder, and they need to learn that they are worth more than you make them out to be, and that they can count for something without having to lick the designer dragonskin boots of people like you.”

The common room went silent. Tracey was enthralled. Millicent furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Even Crabbe and Goyle were impressed. Malfoy and Pansy looked sour, and Zabini rolled his eyes. Nott smiled, almost poised to applaud.

They were thinking.

Finally, Daphne sneered at me. “Go ahead and say that now, but just wait until people like me are in charge. We’ll even let those of inferior blood off for a while, because people like you will be the first to go.” She turned on her heel and took Zabini’s hand, motioning for Tracey to follow.

Tracey hesitated.

I smiled. “Sure we will, Daphne.” My job was done.


~t.d.c

[Enneirda]

OC: Artemis Nyxlin
Warnings: A bit of language
Word Count: 672

"It seems we have something to talk about, Queen."

"Say 'discuss', Mr. Malfoy, it's a better word," Artemis stated calmly, nursing her Firewhiskey. He had seated himself next to her, as if he was a businessman. She internally scoffed.

"I have no need for your English lessons," he said angrily. She grinned to herself. And so he had figured it out.

"That's a bit odd, considering that you can't string a sentence together without the anger," she insulted. He didn't notice.

"I want him dead - did you forget our deal?" he said venomously. She took another sip from her drink, silently laughing to herself.

"Do you realize," she said finally, turning on her barstool to face him, "that the man you want dead is in line to be promoted to Minister of Magic?"

"I very well realize that," he said, clenching his teeth.

"Ah, then you know that Mr. Potter is a very hard man to get to," she answered, finishing her liquor. The satisfying aftertaste of alcohol was welcomed and she savored it as she lit a cigarette.

He stared at her, fuming. His hand so calmly placed on the counter had become a fist. She felt the pistol in its holster on her leg, wondering if she needed to use it. "You told me you could kill him," he said, leaning closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. She ordered another Firewhiskey and it was delivered hastily.

"I never told you that, Mr. Malfoy - I don't brag," she stated coldly, grasping the equally freezing glass. "You simply assumed I could extinguish his life."

"I didn't assume a bloody thing!" he spewed, spittle flying from his mouth. She quickly covered her drink with her hand, saving it from being ruined.

"Mr. Malfoy, is there any real reason you're bothering me as I slowly become intoxicated?" she said, tired of his trivial conversation.

"I want Harry Potter dead!" he nearly shouted. "Go back on the deal, and you'll see what happens!"

This caught her attention rather quickly as her gun was instantly pressed against his chest. He grasped her wrist instinctively, but he wasn't strong enough to pry her hand away from his heart. "Do not threaten me, Mr. Malfoy," she said, turning to him as the bartender and patrons keep their eyes down. "I will not murder the Minister of Magic. I am not going to risk execution for your petty request."

"Give me back my money then," he sneered. "Maybe I could find a better person to do the job."

Her ego quivered, unused to the insult. "There is no one better than myself, Mr. Malfoy. If you want some incompetent thief or murderer like yourself, go ahead and hire them. But if you don’t want to get caught, I’m your best chance," she said, holstering the gun and turning back to her drink. She took a long drag on her cigarette before blowing smoke from her mouth. The poisonous gas drifted into the air.

"Oh, surely there can be... maybe someone who isn't afraid of anything."

He had found her weakest point. Her ego was suddenly bruised, anger boiling in her. “I am not afraid of anything, Mr. Malfoy,” she returned harshly. She took another deep breath off of her cigarette. "I will kill Harry Potter," she stated after a moment. "And tomorrow, you'll find the Prophet full of sorrow at the death of the Boy who Lived."

"That's better."

He moved to leave, but she called him back. Grabbing his collar, she pulled him closer. "Mr. Malfoy, if you ever threaten me again, I promise that I will torture you - mentally and physically. Your family won't miss you, hell, the world won't miss you. So I'm advising you to avoid the coercing for now."

She released him, and he staggered back. "J-Just get the job done," he said, hurrying out of the tavern. Artemis watched him exit before returning to her Firewhiskey. Damn Hogwarts graduates never let her have a day off.

[luinrina]

Name: luinrina
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Savaric Orwell
POV: Isla Black
Words: 628
Warnings: Shining Through Blackness spoiler
Note: I left a cliffhanger at the end to not go over the word mark, and it therefore leaves some questions open. Those are going to be answered in the last chapter of my story.


‘May I ask what you’re doing?’

I looked up from where I sat on the floor and saw Savaric standing in the door. ‘Hello,’ I greeted him and slowly stood up. ‘I’m packing.’ Smiling I showed him the bundle of clothes I carried in my arms, but upon seeing his expression darken, I let my arms sink down again.

‘What for?’ he asked, his voice strained yet still carrying a curious tone, and entered my bedroom, looking around. He hadn’t been in my room since we started Hogwarts, and in the last seven years much had happened.

I gulped when I remembered that I hadn’t yet told anybody of my plans. Trying to look away – I was sure that he wouldn’t like what I would have to tell him – I pondered over what to answer, but nothing came to my mind, and I wasn’t able to look away. His eyes held mine captured. And I felt exposed to his staring, questioning gaze.

‘Isla?’ he asked when I still hadn’t given him a response after several moments.

I braced myself to what was to come, and took a deep breath before saying, ‘I’m leaving.’

‘Where to?’ His words came as quickly as the shot of a gun, and were spoken harshly.

Nervously wringing my hands, I whispered, ‘For Bob’s home.’

Silence fell like a velvet veil covering everything under its thick cloth. I felt his stare burn through me, meeting the core of my soul.

‘Bob’s… home…’ It was neither a question nor statement, just a simple repetition of my words, yet spoken in a manner that I knew only too well. Savaric’s eyes then grew hard and unreadable, and just as I had known what would happen, the words he then spoke felt icy. ‘What do you want at a Mudblood’s house?’

Savaric was taller than me, has always been, by nearly a head, and the way he currently stood made me slowly back away from him. Yes, he had learned to be more patient and remain calm, but I should never have believed that he would simply accept me leaving for someone else than him.

Especially since we were betrothed and knew each other since the age of four. And even more so because the person we were speaking about was a Muggle-born, someone my family detested – as did Savaric with a passion that was frightening sometimes.

‘Explain!’ he coolly demanded and I told him that I hereby was cancelling our betrothal.

‘No wedding is going to take place between you and me, Savaric.’ I gathered all my courage and added, ‘I love him.’ I was proud that my voice was strong.

There was no explosion, just silence which in my opinion was worse than him getting angry at things he didn’t like. The way he slowly neared me indicated that he was furious.

‘I won’t allow you to go anywhere,’ he said quietly but it was well audible in the room’s silence. ‘You are mine; not only by oath but physical bounding as well.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Remember your sixteenth birthday?’

He needn’t say more, I remembered that night clearly. Heat crawled into my cheeks, and I’m sure I blushed right there, but I didn’t care at the moment. And since I hadn’t to lose anything, I contradicted. ‘I’m not your possession; that’s where you are mistaken. I’m owned only by myself and my conscience. You have no right to command over who I shall love, and I have fallen in love with Robert Hitchens.’

His hand painfully colliding with my left cheek I expected, but I never saw the blow coming. The slap echoed through my room, and I staggered backwards. When looking back at him, I noticed he had taken out his wand.

Thanks to Terri (mudbloodproud) for betaing.

~Bine

[Hufflepuff at Heart]

OC: Beth Williams
Warnings: None
Word count: 699

"Williams, Bethany!"

Beth Williams had eyes only for the high table as she strode towards it, not allowing anyone to look into her eyes at the uncertainty that swum just above the surface. She sat down gingerly, and closed her eyes as the sorting hat was placed ceremoniously on her carefully styled raven hair; the giant, moth-eaten hat falling far past her ears.

In the darkness, Beth folded the arms in her mind and sat there.

"And what's this?"

Beth jumped in fright, and then cleared her throat quickly to regain her composure.

From somewhere nearby, Beth heard an amused chuckle.

"Ah, so it is you."

Beth didn't like jokes at her expense. Especially coming from someone she couldn't see.

"So?"

"So, my dear, we have to decide where to put you, don't we?"

Beth sniffed. "Yeah, that's just what Daddy said would happen."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I wanted to go to Beauxbatons; I didn't want to get stuck in this crumbling old place."

The hat seemed genuinely stumped with this information.

"Beauxbatons? No, my dear; there are only four houses; I'm afraid I can't sort you into this Beauxbatons-"

"I don't want you to sort me into Beauxbatons, you stupid old hat! You can't. It's a different school."

Beth could almost hear the hat raising an eyebrow.

"Now, now; you won't get far with a mouth - or should I say a mind - like that here," it tutted, more in amusement than anger.

Beth blinked hard. There was something caught in her eye.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to go far here. This was all Daddy's idea. Just because this was his old school, I have to come here too. Sometimes, I wonder just how much he and Mummy care-"

Beth stopped herself just in time. She didn't talk about things like that. There was a slight wobble in her voice when she continued.

"If I had my way then-"

"If everyone had their way, then things would be a lot different. Yes, I know this. Believe me; I've been around long enough," The voice sighed heavily. "Look at it this way, my dear; Perhaps you cannot be in the school of your choice, but I am presenting you with a chance to choose your own future. Have it your own way; help me decide which house will shape your destiny."

Beth was silent.

The hat hummed for a minute.

"Ravenclaw, perhaps? I can tell that there is brilliance fighting to break out of you in there somewhere, but I fear you will not be willing to work for it, will you? So, perhaps not Hufflepuff. Slytherin? You do have a wish to succeed, but lack the means to do it presently ..."

"The Black boy's house."

Beth had finally piped up.

There was silence.

"I want to be in Sirius' house." Beth's voice was decisive. "Gryffindor."

The voice finally managed to unstick its tongue.

"... You wish to base your choice solely on the premise of another? I must admit, it has been done before, but never with satisfactory conclusions ..." It pondered aloud.

"Well, I want to," Beth insisted defiantly.

"But, Miss Williams -"

"Gryffindor! Just put me in Gryffindor!" She had to stop herself from shouting this aloud. Nevertheless, the words reverberated around the hat for what seemed like minutes.

"You would throw away everything that could be you, to simply follow in the shadow of another?" It asked, the disappointment evident in its tone.

Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yes," she whispered.

Now the voice spoke with an urgency it had not before, "My dear girl, just think of what you could do! I would be happy to place you in Gryffindor if I could do so for the right reasons. Yes; I can see it now; you could be brave; if only you had a cause to fight for. Please, Miss Williams; if only you could try to see the proud Gryffindor that you could one day be!"

Beth inhaled a shuddering breath. "I can't. I'm sorry."

The hat let out a final resigned sigh. "As you wish. Beth Williams, you will go through this life as a-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

[XhayleeXblackX]

Name: Haylee/XhayleeXblackX
House: Slytherin
Original Character: Keighlyn Smith
Warnings: Abuse, Violence
Word Count: 648
She sat in the corner of a small, square room, resting her head on the cold stone wall. Her dark hair was matted with dried blood, her pale skin was hardly noticeable through the dust and dirt that covered it, her body was so frail that it looked one touch could break her in half, and the bright shine that her blue eyes once held had turned to little more than dull cobalt.

Her hand reached up to cradle her aching head, a deep look of sadness upon her face, but she was not crying. No, it had been long since she had last shed a tear; her eyes were dry and empty. Crying would only entice her captors, show weakness, and she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As though she had shouted for them to come, the lock on the door clicked open and three men in long dark robes entered the room.

“Still breathing?” taunted the taller one, but Keighlyn simply glared in response. “Not going to fight? Going to give up, are we?”

Keighlyn spat at his feet, earning a swift kick to the head. She fell over hard onto the stone floor, cradling her searing head with both arms now, fresh blood seeping into her hands.

“Get up, girl,” shouted one of the others, pulling her painfully to her feet. “Are you ready to tell us yet, or do you need some more persuasion?”

“I’ll never talk,” she said defiantly, her throat protesting against her vocal cords.

Once more she hit the stone, but she forced her face upward to stare into the eyes of the youngest Death Eater, the one standing off to the side, the one she knew to be her brother.

“Reed, please.”

“Quiet, girl! Rookwood, I think another round of the Cruciatus Curse would do her some good, don’t you?”

“Certainly. Crucio!” yelled Rookwood, and Keighlyn writhed and screamed in pain. After what seemed an eternity, he moved his wand upward and lifted the spell.

His companion laughed. “Well, girl, ready to talk yet? Where is the Zabini boy?”

“I don’t know,” she answered hoarsely.

“Give it up, Keighlyn. Just tell us what we want to know,” her brother ordered, walking forward to join his peers.

“You would do well to listen to your brother. Give us the information and we’ll let you live, right Avery?” asked Rookwood, motioning to the tallest of the three, who nodded.

“Go on, tell us, Keighlyn,” Reed insisted. Keighlyn glared at him darker still.

“You’re a coward, Reed.”

Slap.

“Stop resisting us! We haven’t got time for games, girl. Tell us where he is or die!”

It was Keighlyn’s turn to laugh now, however badly it hurt to do so. “You’d better just kill me then, because I’ll never tell you. But if you kill me, you’ll never find him, and I suppose your boss wouldn’t like that much, would he?”

Two more slaps and she was lying facedown again, her head threatening to burst open, but they were retreating toward the door. She had delayed them once more.

“We’ll be back soon to see if you’ve changed your mind,” said Rookwood as he and Avery departed, but Reed turned back to his sister.

“Just tell them what they want to know, Keighlyn, please,” he said quietly, staring down at her broken form.

“I’d rather die,” she replied.

“Well, that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t give in soon,” Reed said coldly. “Please, Keighlyn, I don’t want to watch my only sister die,” he added softly.

“The hell you don’t. I hate you.”

She turned away from him as he stood gaping at her, before he turned sharply and swept from the room. As she placed her hand to her throbbing head once more, she allowed the flood of tears that had been threatening to escape her eyes to break free at last.


-Haylee

[mudbloodproud]

Name: mudbloodproud
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Skylar (last name withheld to protect his secret)
Warnings: none
Word Count: 688

Skylar waited somewhat impatiently for Harry to contact him. It had been a week since he had given him the letters and still he had had no word from him. Pacing his room above The Leaky Cauldron, he wondered if he should try to contact him.

The knock on the door was unexpected. Skylar walked over and opened the door. Standing there was the man who had been with Harry that day. Skylar couldn’t remember his name.

“Something I can do for you?” Skylar asked. He knew this man didn’t trust him nor did he believe his story.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Skylar answered.

“I don’t think Harry told you my name when we were here. I’m Ron, Ron Weasley.”

“Why are you here? Did Harry send you?” Skylar asked.

“No, Harry doesn’t know I am here. I wanted to ask you what your game is,” Ron said.

“My game? I am not playing a game. I came here to find out about my father.” Skylar answered, his anger at being questioned evident in his voice.

“Look, there is no way you are who you say you are. Someone would have known about you or at least about your mother.” Ron’s own anger was building.

“Harry’s parents knew. His mother knew not only about my parents being married but about me too.” Skylar answered.

“How convenient for you they are dead and can’t confirm or deny your story. Who else may have known?”

“I don’t know. I guess my mother’s friend Sarah knew. She wrote to my mother about Harry’s parents dying.”

“How come that letter wasn’t in the ones you gave Harry? How do we know this Sarah even exists?”

Skylar looked at Ron. He took a deep breath. While he could understand Ron’s desire to protect his friend, Skylar always hated when someone questioned him. He knew he was close to losing his temper. He had a very wicked temper. His mom always told him that he inherited that from his father. Along with his penchant for finding trouble and for causing it.

Rather than get into a battle of words with Ron, Skylar walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Pulling out a small stack of letters, he took the top one and handed it to Ron.

“There read it. I may be a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them.” Skylar walked over to the window. He knew what was in that letter. It was that letter that made his mother decide to stay in America. It was because of that letter, his mother knew she couldn’t go back to England.

Skylar watched as Ron read the letter.

Putting the letter back in the envelope, Ron looked at the return address. “I think I better take this to Harry. I am going to find this Sarah and talk to her. If she confirms what you said, then we’ll take it from there.” Ron looked at Skylar.

“Look, I’m sorry if it seems as if I don’t believe you. I don’t know what to believe. After everything Harry has been through, I don’t want to see him hurt again.” Ron held his hand out to Skylar.

Looking down at the extended hand, Skylar debated on taking it. He understood loyalty. He never really had a friend like that himself, one who would go alone to confront a virtual stranger to protect him.

Shaking Ron’s hand, he said, “Look, if I was in your place, I would do the same thing. You don’t know me so why should you believe me? But, know this, no one is going to stop me from learning about my dad. Not you, not Harry, no one. It would be easier if the two of you helped me, but I will learn the truth. That I can promise you.”

As Skylar closed the door behind Ron, he looked around his room. What he said to Ron before he left was the truth. He would be damned if anyone would stop him learning the truth. All of the truth about his father.

[leahsm2]

Name: leahsm2
House: Slytherin
Character: Isla/Addison
Word Count:697
Isla sat in the comfortable, overstuffed chair in the Slytherin Commons, silently seething. She twirled her wand slightly, making the embers of the half dead fire in the immense fireplace emit wildly jumping flames, turning them bold shades of colour which just matched her mood. The chairs by the fireplace were usually the most sought after, but no one, not even Isla’s beloved Jonathon, was daft enough to attempt to claim one.

What is she thinking? Isla thought, a single, frustrated tear glittering in the low light as it snaked its way down her cheek, a flame of deepest crimson escaping its brick prison, falling menacingly onto the deep green carpet. She barely turned, effortlessly snuffing it out with a single flick of her wand, before resuming her sulking.

She returned her wand to its pocket within her robe and smiled slightly as she sadly reminisced about Addison, the seemingly guileless first year she had met three years earlier. Addison, with her foot long plaits and serious ways, should have been just another underclassman, noticed only when you needed them to do some unspeakably tedious task. But no, Addison had been special. Addison was still special. Addison would always be beastly special, claiming a huge chunk of her heart, and making Isla protective, no matter how much she longed to throttle her at the moment.

“Isla?” Addison asked, quietly, as she knelt beside the chair. “I’m back.”

Isla turned and saw the beaming face of the younger girl. Addison’s eyes, sparkling with happiness, made Isla’s mood even more murderous. Addison looked at her, expecting Isla to share in her happy moment. Isla retrieved her wand from the breast pocket of her robe and stirred up more flames. The colour of the flame this time glowed purple. She played with the flame, watching it twitch back and forth as she slowly moved her wand.

“So, Addison,” she said quietly, choosing her words carefully.

Addison pulled out her wand and changed the colour of the flame to deep green, laughing softly at her friend.

“Sirius Black is not a good choice,” Isla said finally, making the flame fall with a cloud of sparks back into the bed of embers.

“I have no choice, Isla,” Addison whispered tearfully, pulling a chair up to join her friend. “Oh, Isla! I know he can be horrid, but he’s also thoughtful and funny! He’s amazing at magic!”

Isla, who had spent more time than she cared to recall figuring out counterspells to undo the carnage Black and his cohorts had inflicted on her and their housemates, had to grudgingly agree with that last part. Five years of Double Potions with Black and Potter did not, however, make her agree that thinking was one of his stronger suits. She turned and met Addison’s eyes.

“He’ll break your heart, Addison,” she said, the tears welling up in her eyes. “End it now, before it’s too late! The two of you are too different to . . .”

Isla stopped talking, as Addison sank back into the overstuffed chair.

“He is my heart, Isla!” Addison retorted. “I know it sounds stupid, but you of all people must know what I mean!”

Isla too sank back in her chair. Yes, she knew. Jonathon and she had been engaged, practically since emerging from the womb, but both were pleased with the arrangement. Their mothers were best friends since earliest memory, and everyone rejoiced at their relationship.

“Oh, Addison!” Isla cried in frustration, refusing to admit defeat. “It’s not the same thing and you know it!”

“I spend all of my time with the two of you, Isla!” Addison sat up again, speaking forcefully. “I wouldn’t insult you with equating my relationship with yours if it wasn’t 'exactly' the same.”

Isla sat stewing over Addison’s words. She had watched, silently hoping the obvious signs of Addison’s growing attachment to Black was somehow not happening. It had seemed impossible. They were too different. Isla sat up, facing her friend.

“I won’t stop my crusade against those heathens from attacking the members of our house,” she said, finally admitting defeat. “But I won’t let anyone interfere with you and Black, either.”

[Kate Skeffington]

Name: Mila Z/Kate Skeffington.
House: Gryffindor
Original Character and POV: Tabitha Specks
Warnings: None, I think.
Word Count: 700 :eek:

Tabitha walked into the Gryffindor common room, exhausted, and was greeted by an unusual silence. She looked around for her friends, but they were not there. It was still early and most of the Gryffindors were having supper in the Great Hall. The few students that were scattered here and there, bent over the small tables, were either Fifth or Seventh years, and as Tabitha sunk into an armchair by the fireplace, she thought, gladly, she still had a year left before she needed to stress over the NEWTs.

Her stomach churned, unpleasantly, as she remembered Professor Grimsby’s words: if her performance in Defence against the dark arts didn’t improve by Christmas break, she would have to drop the subject. What would she do then? How would she explain to her parents she wasn’t allowed to sit her Defence against the dark arts NEWT exam? Her mother would, surely, send her a howler in the middle of breakfast. She groaned. And to make matters worse, she would have to see Sirius Black for an hour every week It was just her luck to get stuck in detention cleaning jars full of foul-smelling liquids and scrubbing cauldrons with him out of all people.

She heaved and irritated sigh, thinking of how sore she would be the following day (Saturday, thank goodness!)and of the two rolls of the Potions essay she still needed to start. “This is bloody brilliant.”

“What is?”

Tabitha let out a small yelp of fright. James had entered the common room, and was now standing behind the armchair, in which, she was currently sitting.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. She really hoped James would climb up the stairs, go up into the boys’s dormitories and leave her alone. She was too moody to bear any sort of joke, and with James and the rest of his friends, there were always jokes.

“Yeah, but you don’t need to sound so happy about it.”

Tabitha shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Bad day?”

“The worst,” she admitted, sinking deeper into the arm chair.

“Bummer.” He gave Tabitha a small pat on the shoulder, and much to Tabitha’s glee, began walking away, but suddenly, turned around again, “Oh, I almost forgot, there’s someone waiting for you outside.”

Tabitha faced James with a frown. “Is this another one of your pranks? Look, I’m not in the mood for– ”

“No, there’s this bloke from Hufflepuff waiting for you outside. I asked him if he wanted something and he asked for you, that’s it.”

Tabitha eyed James suspiciously. He had pranked her an uncountable amount of times, changing her hair colour from red to bright green. She knew she should ignore him and stay put, but she was curious. Who could it be? The thought of Patrick MacMillan waiting for her outside made Tabitha’s heart skip several beats. “Ok, thanks.”She stood up and crawled out the portrait hole to find...

Nobody. The corridor was deserted.

Tabitha swore under her breath and stomped back into the common room. James was sitting on a sofa, reading a Quidditch magazine, when he saw Tabitha come in, he smiled at her.“What did he want?”

Tabitha had to fight the urge to smack him across the face. “You think that was funny, do you?” she said, shrilly. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

James looked gob-smacked. “What?”

“You just wanted to have a laugh, didn’t you? Get me to go out there and then laugh at me ”

“What are you on about?”

Tabitha had taken a lot from James. She didn’t mind him turning her hair green, form time to time, or the fact that he did nothing when Black teased her, but fooling her like that, getting her hopes up...what was worse, she realised, it wasn’t entirely his fault. She had been gullible enough to believe him and stupid enough to think it could’ve been Patrick waiting for her outside. But James would never know that.

Tabitha’s body was shaking in anger, tears welling up in her eyes.“Thanks for making my day better,” she said coldly, before storming up the staircase.

A few seconds later, James heard a door slamming shut.

[coolh5000]

Name: Coolh5000/Hannah
House: Slytherin
Original Character: Charlotte Pearson
Warnings:Violence/Abuse
Word Count: 608

Charlotte was late for her next class. Professor Sprout had kept her behind to explain a bit more about that week’s homework and as a consequence, the corridors were almost deserted and the group of Gryfffindor first-years she usually travelled with were long gone. Even Myrtle, who had tried to wait for her, had been ushered away by Professor Sprout. Charlotte hated walking the corridors alone. There was always a danger of bumping into one of the Carrow Professors or possibly a Slytherin.

She walked as quickly as possible, clutching her overflowing school bag as she went. She rounded a corner at speed and suddenly tripped on a loose stone. Her bag went flying from her arms and her things were strewn everywhere. Hurriedly, she tried to gather them up again but her inkpot had rolled behind a suit of armour and she couldn’t reach it.

Just at she was attempting to stretch her arm a little bit further, she heard approaching footsteps. Looking up she saw Professor Carrow heading towards.

“Well, well, well,” he said, with a sneer on his face. “Shouldn’t you be in a class at the moment?”

“I…I…” she stuttered.

“Spit it out,” he commanded.

“I was with Professor Sprout. I have a note.” She looked down at her hands and realised, to her horror, the note was no longer there. She must have dropped it when her bag fell.

The Professors smile grew bigger. “So, a liar as well, are you? Well, that certainly deserves punishment.”

He sliced his wand through the air and she felt a sudden pain on her forehead. Blood began to trickle down her face and she had to bite her lip to stop herself screaming in pain; she was not going to let him see that she was hurt.

“So,” he said. “Is that not enough for you? Then you can come for detention this evening and every evening until I decide you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Her eyes widened in horror at this. She had heard of his detentions and she knew that the people who emerged from them usually required treatment in the Hospital Wing.

He seemed delighted at the reaction. “I’m glad to see you understand how badly behaved you’ve been. Now, I shall accompany you to class to ensure you don’t have any further detours on the way.”

She knew that this meant she was being stopped from going to the Hospital Wing to get treatment for the wound, which was still bleeding on her forehead.
“What lesson should you be in?” he asked.

“Transfiguration,” she said, her voice hardly audible.

As they walked, they passed another suit of armour and she was able to make out her reflection and see what he had done to her. The word `liar` had been scratched into her forehead. She felt tears building up behind her eyes but she struggled to hold them in until they had reached the Transfiguration room. Once there, Professor Carrow opened the door and pushed her inside.

“Professor McGonagall,” he said, in his slimy voice. “I found one of your students in the corridor. I suggest you keep better control of them in future.”

He slammed the door and immediately Charlotte burst into tears. Her friend, Myrtle, jumped up from her seat and ran to give her a hug. Professor McGonagall was looking at her, concern in her eyes.

“Miss Pearson, you really should go to the Hospital Wing.”

“He…He…wouldn’t l…let me,” she gasped between sobs.

“I see,” replied Professor McGonagall. “Then I shall take you myself. Follow me.” With that, she strode from the room, with Charlotte, feeling thoroughly shaken, following on.

[youaremylifenow]

Name: youaremylifenow/Alex
House: Gryffindor
Original Character: AnnaMarie Smith
Warnings:Mental Disorders (eating disorder)
Word Count: 698

I had always expected to get caught. I mean, how could I not? My lies and baggy uniform could only get me so far; somebody had to have realized I was shrinking at a rapid – and unhealthy- pace. Replying, “Diet and exercise”, as an explanation for how I lost twenty pounds in a little less than a month rarely ever worked as well as I would have liked it to.

So, yeah, I knew that somebody would get wise and try to stop me. I just didn’t expect La to be the one to do it. Beautiful, dreamy little Adele, who was naturally tiny and rarely noted that her socks didn’t match. How was I to foresee that my ditzy non-confrontational mate would notice when my own mum hadn’t?

“We need to talk.” Adele sat on my bed, and gestured for me to join her. I hesitantly walked over, confused. Definitely not expecting her problem to be my obsession.

“Talk about what?” I asked, taking an uncomfortable position as far away from her as possible.

“Your weight, Annie. We need to talk about your weight.” My weight? I flushed from my cheeks to my toes. Before, when I was hideously overweight, I had a fairly loud voice. Losing thirty pounds using the methods that I had made my voice raspy and quiet.

“There’s nothing wrong with my weight.” I tried to sound convincing, but I had always been a terrible liar. Adele, spacey and normally unaware of her surroundings, noticed.

She released a long breath, as I often did when I was stressed. “When you move your arms, I can see every bone under your skin moving as well. I can make a circle with my hands –”she made an ‘O’ shape with her thumbs and forefingers, “-and fit it around your waist. You haven’t consumed more than four-hundred calories in the last two days. You have had six fainting spells in the last two months! If I poke you, it would cause a week-long bruise. Annie, you have a problem.”

She reached out to touch my arm. I recoiled at her hot touch on my cold skin and shot up instantly. “You’re delusional.” I told her, desperation leaking into my pathetic voice.

If my mum had found out, and confronted me, I had a game plan. I’d cry and tell her that my boyfriend had broken with me and was too depressed to eat. I would have faked my “recovery” and happily lied my way through two or three sessions of therapy until it was time to go back to Hogwarts.

For Adele, with her status as my roommate for the next two years, I was not prepared. I couldn’t fake anything if she was paying attention. If she told on me, it would all be over. I couldn’t let that happen.

She rose with me. “Annie, you need help. I want to help you. Let me try to make you better.”

I glared at her. “I don’t need to get better! There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Adele raised her perfect eyebrows. “You throw up everything you eat. And you think there’s nothing wrong?”

She knew more than I ever thought she could. My heart sunk as I realized she had enough information to ruin me. I gathered up all my energy, frustration, resentment, and fear. With a silent apology to my best – and only – friend, I sucked in a breath.

“You’re just jealous.” The malice in my voice was marred by a slight shake.

“Excuse me?”

“Envy doesn’t become you, Adele! You’re just jealous because I’m thin and beautiful and you’re not. And everybody can see that you wish you weren’t so portly. Sirius Black didn’t even fancy you enough to shag you. I feel sorry for you.”

Adele’s bottom lip trembled. Her face became stark white. Her hands balled into tight fists and the tendons strained against her knuckles. She looked as if she wanted to cry. But my cruel words did their job.

“Screw you.” She spat at me, before stalking out, leaving me alone. When I couldn’t hear her angry footsteps any longer, I sunk down on my knees and started to sob.

[TyrannoLaurus]

This is the third challenge of the Character Gymnasium and the theme is:

Resolution!

Nicely following on from last week's theme about conflict, this week we will look at the ways our Original Characters resolve their differences. Is your character always the first to say sorry or too stubborn to admit his/her own faults? Do they feel guilty easily about harsh words that have been said? Are they the type to talk through their differences? Or are they the type to leave a teddy bear in someone's bed as a quiet apology? (okay, so this is something I did as a kid!)

I'm leaving this challenge open to interpretation. It must either involve an Original Character who wishes to resolve an issue with another character, or your OC's response to another character's wishes. This drabble can be a continuation of last week's, or entirely different.

Entries must be no more than 700 words and you may enter two drabbles each.

Deadline: 20th August

10 points to the winner, and five for runner-up

Also, I've had quite a few people asking, there's no 'sign-up' for these drabble challenges. You come and go from them as you please.

[andromeda_tonks]

Name: andromea_tonks
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Bethan Cotton
Warnings: Self harm, mental disorders, DH spoilers
Word Count: 685

I run upstairs to the empty dormitory, and sit down at my desk, working hard to keep every movement controlled. My steps are even, my movement fluid. This is the task I set myself daily: to be in control. To be perfectly normal. Nothing wrong with me. Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough, I block out the voice in my head. Worthless. Worthless. Failure. You think you can pass OWLs? A fool like you has no chance, forget it. You don’t belong in Ravenclaw. You’re no one. You’re nothing. Worthless. Sometimes I can’t block it out. Just now, downstairs in the Common Room, Rose was talking about OWLs. I couldn’t bear it; I had to get away.

My head is filled with thunder, and I have to fight not to shake with pain. My control is slipping. I know what I have to do. I raise my wand, and gently stroke it along my arm. A red line appears there, quickly spreading across my wrist. All my pain flows out through the cut, until all that I am is reduced to just that one stinging wound. I close my eyes and ride the tide of wonder sweeping over me. It feels like I am discovering the world for the first time. A tingling sensation sweeps over me, and I can feel every cell in my body. I am so very, very alive, every bad thought is gone. My control is back.

Bang!

I start as the door slams open behind me, smudging my blouse with blood. Rose is standing there, staring at me. He face spins through emotions: curiosity, disgust, fear, worry, anger. “Bethan!”

I turn away from her to carefully blot the wound I have made. “Bethan!” she exclaims again, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, sure. What happened to your arm, then?”

“I caught it on a nail.”

“What nail?”

I look around desperately for something sharp that I might have caught my arm on, but it’s too late. Rose dashes across the room and seizes my wand. “Priori Incantatem!” A ghostly hand with a damaged wrist flies out and hovers in mid air. “I knew it. Oh, Bethan, why?”

“I didn’t,” I deny uselessly, “I mean I did, but I... Oh, what’s it to you, anyway?” I feel my anger rising, “what do you know? You never worry about anything!”

“I worry about you. How could you, Bethan?” I expected her to shout, instead her voice is quiet. It is also shaking. “Come on, Bethan. Let’s go to the Hospital Wing.”

“No!”

“Bethan, you’ll give yourself blood poisoning!” Her control is failing now, I think she’s on the verge of shouting. She takes my arm and tries to pull me towards the door. Before I have time to think, I react instinctively, grabbing my wand. Rose jerks away from me, gasping, and I see that the palm of her hand is burnt. I cannot apologise. She shouldn’t have tried to take me to the Hospital Wing. I am in control of myself; I don’t need the Hospital Wing. That is for people who can’t look after themselves. People with no control.

“Get out, Rose.” I expect her to argue, but instead a tear slides down her cheek, followed by another. Then, she turns and leaves without a word. I made her go, so why do I feel disappointed?

Now you’ve upset her, jeers the voice in my head, How could you?

She shouldn’t have come barging in here, I argue back, but it is useless. The voice continues remorselessly.

You hurt her, when she was only trying to help you. She won’t want to be your friend now. You can’t be a friend. You can’t work. What are you good for, Bethan Cotton? I can’t bear it. I simply can’t.

The voice is right. I hurt her. I deserve punishment. I look at the cut on my arm. The fight with Bethan has destroyed my control. I need control. Control needs order. Order comes in patterns. Ordered patterns are symmetrical. I pick up my wand, and turn to my other, unmarked arm.

~Meda~

[Evester]

OC: Dandin Walcott
Word Count: 500
Warning: None


Dandin sneered one last time at Harry before turning on his heel and stalking off down the corridor, Branson directly behind him. Anger burned through him like a fire through dead leaves, and he marched furiously though the torch-lit halls until they reached the portrait to the common room.

“Merlin, Dandin, you know that Cedric doesn’t care for those badges one bit. Why do you have to keep tormenting Potter like that? Why do you have to be so immature?”

“I’m immature?” Dandin snarled, rounding on his friend. “Potter’s the bloody one who entered the Tournament just for a laugh... and you call me immature?”

“This really isn’t about Potter, Dann,” Branson started, frowning, but Dandin cut him off.

“You bet your life this isn’t about Potter, Brandy, this is about Cedric. This whole damned Tournament is about Cedric, Cedric Diggory – our best friend. I’m not going to let some Nargle like Potter take it away from him.”

“That’s not the point!” Branson shouted. “The point, Dann, is that Ced told you to lay off Potter. He’s sick of the jibes and the arguments. Can’t you respect Ced enough to do that? Just leave Potter alone.” Branson shook his head before turning to tap the portrait with his wand, and Dandin turned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

Left alone in the corridor outside the common room, Dandin had no desire whatsoever to follow Branson inside. He was angry, and more alarmingly, he was confused. He had always hung to the thread of chivalry that was defending his friends against all odds. Had he really, finally, gone too far? The confrontation with Branson certainly seemed to indicate that. But Potter deserved it, in Dandin’s opinion. This was supposed to be Cedric’s chance to shine, and instead, Potter had once again managed to steal the limelight.

And Dandin hated him for that. Potter was the enemy, and Dandin had never lost a fight when his friends’ well-beings were on the line. Hadn’t Dandin faced off against the obnoxious Weasley twins the very first day of school so long ago? Wasn’t that his role? The ferocious one who was fiercely loyal to his friends? Why, suddenly, was that not good enough? Why not?

“Dann?” Cedric’s voice cut across Dandin’s thoughts. “Branson told me what happened. What’s up, mate?”

Dandin, however, didn’t even turn to face his friend, he was too unsure of what might come out of his mouth when he was in such a volatile mood. And apparently, Dandin had had quite enough of his friends for the moment. “Don’t start, Cedric,” he snapped. “I know, right? I’ll leave bloody Potter well enough alone.”

“Dann, come on,” Cedric started, but Dandin cut him off.

“I’m going to the library,” he snapped, before marching off down the corridor.

Cedric turned to re-enter the common room, but the portrait was opened from the inside as Branson leaned out of the portrait hole, looking after Dandin’s retreating form. “Library, again?”

Cedric just sighed.

[Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it]

Name: Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it
House: Hufflepuff
OC and POV: Rose Raklynne
Warnings: Violence
Words: 450

I sat, tied up and shaking in Amycus Carrow’s office as I had been for hours, trying to ignore the continuous harsh insults he threw at me about my mother. This time it was my “cheek” that landed me in detention. I tried to block out the grating sound of his voice, but his words were like swords, sticking into me; slowly breaking my calm.

“She was hardly a witch! Dirty Mudblood lover!”

I struggled to keep a straight face, trying to dispel my anger, but my efforts remained futile. How dare he? Suddenly, the ropes that bound me started smoking, but he took no notice.

“Your mother was nothing but a weakling! She died begging at our feet!”

My calm shattered in that instant and fury such as I’d never felt before shot through me. He would pay for that. He would pay. Suddenly, my ropes snapped of their own accord as the rage coursed through me. I fell for a second and hit the floor. With a burst of energy born of anger, I snatched up my wand and leaped like a cat at Carrow. Blood pounded in my ears and I shook with barely contained fury, but my eyes didn't see him.

I was back in my parent’s bedroom on the night mum died. I saw, clear as day as Amycus raised his wand and cast the Cruciatus Curse over and over as my mum writhed and screamed. I heard his taunts and jeers as my mother dueled Bellatrix. And I heard his laughter as she fell.

“Take it back!” I snarled, face-to-face with him, “Take it back!”

He could taunt me, tie me up, torture me for my “cheek,” but he would not tell lies, he would not dirty my mother’s name and memory with insults like that. She died like a hero, and if that’s what it would take to defend her, so would I.

“Take it back!” I screamed again, placing my wand tip- quite steadily- at his throat. He smiled, opened his mouth to expel yet another insult, but I swung my arm up and knocked his wand out of his hand, sending it skittering to a corner.

His eyes widened in fear. He knew I would do it. He knew.

“Take it back,” I growled, my voice low and murderous, “She died a hero, but you will be nothing more than a coward! Take. It. Back.”

He didn’t know how much pain he and Bellatrix caused me, but that didn’t matter. For as I stood there with my wand against his throat, I vowed to make him feel every little bit of pain he had caused my mother. Every little bit.

“CRUCIO!”

[starkllr]

Name: starkllr/James
House: Slytherin
OC: Jane Barnaby
Words: 548

My brother is shouting at me. Screaming. “Are you crazy? Do you want to get yourself killed?”

He knows exactly what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, and he still can’t understand. “Gwen’s my friend. I have to go.” I have to go soon. It’s already after eleven, and I need to be in the Forest before midnight. I think I know how to get into the secret passage that leads out to the grounds, but I don’t want to cut things too close.

“I know she’s your friend, and I know how loyal you are, but this is just stupid! The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason! Did you not listen at all when Professor Potter told us about it?”

He’s scared to death. Even if I couldn’t feel what he’s feeling, I’d know. He gets all cold and distant when he’s angry. He only shouts when he’s afraid. “I listened. But it doesn’t matter. Gwen’s my friend. She needs me there.” That’s all there is to it, really. Nobody else is going to be there for her. She doesn’t have any other friends, just me. So I have to go.

“I’ll tell Professor Potter! I’ll tell the Headmaster!” His thoughts are as loud as his voice. He’s going out of his head, he’s so frightened. He really does think I’m going to get myself hurt.

“You’re not going to tell anybody. We’ve never tattled on each other, never. Not once. You’re not going to start now. And you know I have to go. Gwen’s my friend.” I turn my back on him, and I head for the door. We’re in an empty classroom just down the corridor from where we have Transfiguration. If I remember right, the passage I need is just one floor up from here. I’ll be able to get there in time.

“Jane, don’t do this!” His voice is so loud now it rattles the windows, and it’s even louder in my head. I don’t answer him. He knows I have to go, and nothing he says is going to change that. I’m through the door, and I slam it behind me. He’s still in my head, and he’s not shouting anymore.

He’s crying. He’s never done that before. Never. It takes every bit of willpower I’ve got not to turn around and go back. He’s imagining what it would be like to find my body, trampled by a centaur, or half-eaten by one of the giant spiders Professor Potter told us about, or ripped to shreds by a werewolf. It’s the worst thing…I can’t take it. It hurts. It’s tearing him up, and it’s tearing me up. .

I have to go. I can’t do this with George crying about how I might get killed in the Forest. I can’t listen to this. I shout at him like I’ve never shouted before, and I…push. And he’s gone. He’s out of my head, I can’t hear him, I can’t feel him. There’s silence in my mind for the first time since…ever. I don’t want to think how much it’s hurting him. I’ll worry about that later. Right now I have to get out of the castle and to the Forest. I’ve got to find Gwen and make sure she’s alright. Gwen’s my friend.

[Schmerg_The_Impaler]

Name: Schmerg_The_Impaler
House: Hufflepuff
OC and POV: Emma Weasley Thomas and Tyrone Thomas, from Emma's point of view.
Warnings: The b-l-o-o-d-y word.
Words: 687
Note: Emma and Tyrone's daughter is named Joey, short for Josephine. SHE IS NOT A BOY. Thank you. ^_^

I was washing the dishes with a vengeance, practically rubbing holes in the plates. Like a slave driver, I supervised fiercely, occasionally flicking my wand to amp up the progress of the sponge I’d enchanted to do the job. I was busy glaring at a red plastic bowl with cartoony hippogriffs on it when all of a sudden, a pair of arms seized me from behind. I screamed and dropped my wand, sending the levitating dishes smashing to the ground.

“Whoa, Em! Relax! It’s me!” laughed my husband of ten years, holding up his big, broad hands in mock-surrender.

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” I muttered, bending over to gather up my wand and clean up the pieces of the dishes before anyone stepped on them and sliced their feet into lunchmeat. Though honestly, letting Tyrone do just that wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Tyrone straddled a kitchen chair heavily, with that lazy, casual grace of his that always seemed to hover between being extremely attractive and extremely irritating. Right then, it wasn’t hovering. It was resting firmly on the second option. “Bad day at work?” he said sympathetically.

I let out a humourless bark of laughter. “You could say that. I got an interesting memo at the Auror office. Turns out you dropped Joey off at the wrong bus stop and she ended up at the wrong school.” I sighed. “Today was the first day of kindergarten, Tyrone. Could you try NOT to screw something up, just for once?”

Tyrone blinked slowly. “Whoa. I have no idea how that happened.”

“Of course!” shouted, dropping the plate I’d just mended. “You’re the most clueless person I’ve ever met—and I’ve met new Auror trainees, so that’s saying something. Look, this isn’t cute. If you’re going to be an idiot, at least save it for times when it isn’t going to affect other people. Joey is a witch, she’s going to have enough trouble fitting in as it is.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t always so busy at work, my hands wouldn’t always be so full!” snapped Tyrone. “You think because I’m between jobs, I have it easy. I do a lot more around the house than you’ve ever done.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, you never take out the trash. And you never leave the toilet seat down.”

“You never refill the ice trays.”

“And you buy sugary snacks for the kids whenever they ask for them.”

“And you buy them war games, Emma. They think grown-ups run around killing each other. Who’s that going to help?”

I narrowed my eyes. “It will teach them self-defence,” I snapped. “You’re too trusting. You let them run around wild in the street.”
“Well, you snore.”

“You talk about food in your sleep.”

“You talk about Star Wars in your sleep.”

“You steal the covers.”

“You have hair on your toes.”

“You’ve put on twenty pounds since we got married.”

Tyrone’s hands flew defensively to his belly. I could tell I’d brought up a sensitive subject—his eyebrows did that thing where they wrinkled up and made him look like a confused puppy. “So what?” he demanded, looking extremely offended. “Yeah, I put on a bit of weight since I stopped with Quidditch. Yeah, I eat a lot of junk food. Better than starving on your cooking.”

I stepped forward, my arms folded. “Well, if you don’t like it, you COULD help me out with cooking for once,” I said, poking him in the stomach.

“You slap my hand away every time I try to touch anything in the kitchen!” he protested.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cos I know you’d screw up anything you tried.”

“Well, you never have any faith in me.”

Our exciting argument was interrupted by a horrible crash from above. “We’ll talk about this later,” I snapped. “Right now, I have to check out whatever that was.”

Tyrone sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Don’t shout too much,” he said quietly.

“I’m saving all my shouting for you, buster,” I hissed, stalking upstairs and leaving him in the kitchen with a pile of dirty, broken dishes.

And my second drabble, a sequel to the first taking place about twenty minutes later the same day... This has a resolution in it, because I didn't see what the third challenge was. I'll put a different, more creative type of resolution in my resolutions challenge, but this drabble seems too open-ended without the resolution.

Name: Schmerg_The_Impaler
House: Hufflepuff
OC and POV: Emma Weasley Thomas and Tyrone Thomas, from Emma's point of view.
Warnings: Mushiness and fluff
Words: 699
I was in a thoroughly bad mood as I descended the stairs, a dark nimbus swirling around my head with the occasional lightning bolt shooting out of it. And it didn’t get any better as I reached the bottom of the stairs, because sitting there in the kitchen, looking up at me, was my husband Tyrone, wearing his Innocent Face.

“So,” he said. “What’s for dinner?”

“I thought you said you hated my cooking,” I countered.

He shrugged. “I do. Doesn’t mean I’m not hungry.”

I gave him a long, long look, the kind my dad would call ‘the old hairy eyeball.’ “Because that’s definitely encouragement,” I snorted. “You get yourself something, fat boy. I’m too tired—you kept me up all last night complaining about how hard it is to find a new job.”

Tyrone’s Innocent Face switched to his Dignified Face. “You were the one who made me take two years off to take care of Joey when she was first born. Then I couldn’t get back into the pro Quidditch league. So, technically, it’s your fault I need to find another job.”

“Well, you made me go to Disney World on our honeymoon.”

“Well, you pinched my bum at the altar!”

“Well, you got me pregnant THREE TIMES. Worst twenty-seven months of my life!”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t help with that!”

“Well, your feet always smell. And you leave your socks lying around.”

“Well, you swear in front of the kids!”

“Well, you play air-guitar in public!”

“Well, you peel off your lip skin and eat it!”

“Well, you’ve got a bald spot!”

Tyrone froze in his tracks. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. It was as though I had just poured a bucket of cold water over him. Silently, he turned on his heel and raced out of the room in search of a mirror. I cackled to myself. The man’s hair was thriving as always, and, apparently, so was his vanity.

A few minutes later, having thoroughly inspected every millimeter of his scalp, Tyrone returned, looking rather bashful and defeated. “Listen,” he said. “I’m really, really, really sorry about Joey. And stuff. I was an idiot.”

“You can say that again,” I snapped, then my expression softened slightly in spite of myself. He was doing that thing with his eyebrows again. “Yeah, I know you’re sorry,” I sighed. “Why does this happen every day? I never mean to start yelling at you. It just happens.”

Tyrone stepped a little closer. “We both need to calm down,” he mumbled. “You’re a freak, but I love you anyway. That’s the big thing, I guess. That’s what matters.”

“And you are a total moron,” I informed him softly. “But you know I love you, too.”

“Sometimes, I’m not so sure if you do,” muttered Tyrone, looking at the floor.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Stupid, stupid irresistible Tyrone, making it impossible to stand my ground, making it impossible ever since we were teenagers. I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed that man and gave him a great big hug. And after a split second’s hesitation, he returned it. Tyrone may have devoted the last several years to growing a substantial belly, but his arms were still as strong as they’d ever been, his embrace just as warm.

“Mr. Thomas,” I informed him, “You should know that I love you just as much as I did when I got arrested for carving our initials on the Tree of Life in the Animal Kingdom when we were on our honeymoon.”

“We’re so weird,” Tyrone said, kissing me. “I don’t know how we stand each other.”

He was about to kiss me again when a plaintive little voice from the doorway said, “Oh, no, don’t do that!” It was Joey, hands on hips and expression profoundly disgruntled. “I’ve had a hard enough day as it is.”

Tyrone and I exchanged glances, then burst out laughing.

“Hey,” said Tyrone, kneeling down at Joey’s eye level. “Want to go play Cowboys and Dark Wizards in the backyard?”

“Not so fast, mister,” I interrupted, placing my hand firmly on my husband’s shoulder. An evil smile crawled across my face. “You’re doing the dishes.”

[Enneirda]

Name: Enneirda/AJ
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Artemis Nyxlin
Word Count: 686
Warnings: None

The graveyard was silent. Not even the birds disturbed the dead. Artemis stared quietly at the top of the hill, where a single figure stood. Grinding her stub of a cigarette beneath her foot, she kept her hands in her pockets, protecting them from cold. The small wedding ring she had been holding for ten years pressed against her palm. It was incredibly freezing.

This had been on her to-do list for quite a while, right after "Murder Minister of Magic" and before "Buy puppy chow for Erebos". Making a mental note to buy that food after this, she trudged up the lonesome hill.

As expected, the man was standing at the foot of a headstone, solemnly staring at the once sparkling marble. The man's first name was unimportant - she had never wanted to learn it. However, she was familiar with the alias etched on the dirty stone before them: Emily Ahrens-Wood. It was Artemis' hardest murder. The victim was so keen on escaping with her life. It was the only time Artemis regretted her skills.

"She hated you," the burly man said, rubbing his eyes quickly. She recognized him: A Quidditch star for the Puddlemere United. She forced herself not recall his name.

"Mr. Wood, everyone hates me," Artemis returned, her pink orb glued to the grave marker.

"Then it's not a surprise that I hate you as well," he said. He took a deep breath and ripped his eyes away from the grave. "She was everything to me, and you killed her in cold blood." His voice shook, yet it never broke. She stood by in respectful silence, unmoving like a statue. "Do you enjoy it?" he snapped, "Do you enjoy taking other people's lives?"

She didn't respond at first. It was never in her nature to apologize, but it seemed incredibly appropriate right then. "I simply make a living, Mr. Wood," she explained carefully.

He scoffed. "The slaughtering of people because others pay you? No, that is not a job - that is not a living."

"I apologize for your loss," she said after a slight pause. "However, being alone is not the worst thing in the world, Mr. Wood."

He was looking over the hill of grave sites, as if trying to find something to say. "You took my love away," he finally said. He turned to her. "And you need to know I will never forgive you. In fact, I have an urge to push you down this hill."

She suppressed a laugh. He wouldn’t even be able to touch her if he tried. She composed herself once more, making sure he didn’t see her restraint. "You needn't forgive me," she said quietly. "I merely wanted to apologize. I... I'm sorry."

He wasn't speaking to her anymore. She had expected this. "Thank you for apologizing," he muttered, finally. "But saying sorry will not bring her back."

"I have dealt with death my entire life, Mr. Wood. It is never a pretty thing, nor is it well forgotten. Your wife will always live in my heart, strange as it seems. She was the first person I took that I actually cared for." The gray overcast was unnerving Artemis. She hated the rain. Breathing in the cool air after her short speech, she felt the dead woman's small ring in her pocket. It was getting late; the shop would be closed soon. "Good day, Mr. Wood."

She started down the hill, but she soon halted. "Why?" he called. She turned to stare at him. "Why did you take her?" he asked again, almost hysterical.

She climbed back to the top and handed him the ring. He took it in awe. Her guess was that he thought he would never see it again. Clapping him on the shoulder, she took the energy she had saved to produce a comforting smile. It was an odd irony - the murderer consoling the husband of the victim. The world was never simple.

She placed her hand back into her pocket and headed once more down the grassy knoll. "Goodbye, Mr. Wood. I will see you soon."

[MorganRay]

Name: MorganRay
House: Hufflepuff
Character: Bijorn Asketorp (his POV)
Story: Winter's Last Chill (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/viewstory.php?sid=50185)
Words: 602
Warnings: None


I ran through the rain as the rain began to beat upon me. It made blood colored splotches on my ruby cloak, and I pressed my bowler hat against my head to keep it from blowing off. I rushed through the doorway and slammed the door against the chill.

I coughed as I walked and stirred all the dust mites out of their sleep. I took off my cloak and draped it over my shoulder. I paused to straighten out my maroon suite and adjust the black, silk tie. I pulled a strand of wet, blond hair out of my face and put it back into place.

I was already late, and I didn’t want the reception to be any worse than the one I already knew was coming to me at the top of the stairs. I took a breath and fixed a pleasant smile, which charmed all my colleagues at the Ministry, upon my face. I wondered if it could win him over as I ascended the stairs.

I opened the door and stepped into his office. “Where have you been?”

The gruff voice rasped out the question before I had both feet on his frumpy, old carpet. “It was raining, Gregory,” I replied and laid my cloak over a chair. “I’m sorry for the delay.”

The old man scowled and squinted at me over his thick nose. He needed glasses, but his vanity would not permit it. “You’re a foolish boy, Bjiorn,” he growled and scrutinized every part of my body with those watery blue eyes. I swore he might be trying to look at the fibers in my suite.

“Why do you wear such bright colors?” he asked with a cutting edge in his voice. Then, in his next question, he let the knife slip into me. “It’s because you like men, isn’t it? You foolish boy. You’re no grandson of mine.”

I froze for a moment and stood perfectly still. I had been about to sit down, but the comment cut me. I didn’t know he knew. I pressed down the lump in my throat. “Well, grandfather, if you don’t want me here, just tell me to leave,” I replied in a soft, level voice. My good response restored pride in my self-control.

I snapped my head around when Gregory let out a harsh, rasping laugh. I’d never heard him laugh before in all my time working under him. “Why, boy, you can never leave me,” Gregory sneered as he continued to squint at me, “You can’t do anything with me! What are you without my influence?”

Something inside of my fluttered, and even though I tried to swallow that lump building in my throat, I could not do it again. I tried to blink back the tears. When he saw the tears, I heard him chuckle. “What a weak thing you are, Bijorn.”

“On that point, you would be wrong,” I told him even though my voice wavered. “I am a pleasant person, Gregory. Despite what you say, I have friends. I don’t need money to buy me everything in life. Maybe I don’t want your ‘influence.’”

Gregory only sneered at me over his desk piled with dusty, out-dated papers. “You’ve already dishonored our blood.”

“Then, I’m not needed hear any more,” I replied curtly as I picked up my cloak and turned towards the door.

“I’ll have you fired by tomorrow morning!” Gregory bellowed behind me.

This time, it was my turn to laugh. As I arrived at the top of the stairs, I hollered, without turning back, “People like me. I’ll get another job.”

[Celtic_Jewel]

Name: Celtic_Jewel
House: Slytherin
OC: AdriAnne Edwin (a girl)
Words: 674
Warnings: None

“Do we have to go? Sports are boring. Why don’t we just stay here?” Danielle’s whining was getting on my nerves. Can’t we do something she doesn’t want to do for a change? Or, better yet, she could do what she wanted, without getting including the rest of us. Kathleen hesitated.

“Come on, Kathleen. You do want to see your brother play, don’t you? Quidditch is great, and it’s the first match of the season! He’ll be really disappointed if you don’t come,” I implored. She nodded, came to stand next to me.

“But I don’t want to go!” Danielle had started shouting now. Merlin, she was so spoilt. I lost my temper, big time.

“Well, we do! And we’re going to do what WE want for a change, not you! If you’d just take ONE second to think about somebody OTHER than yourself, you’d realise that the world DOES NOT revolve around you! Who do you think you are? Your just a spoilt, ignorant baby who hasn’t even learnt to share yet!” I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. I haven’t got a bad temper, I’m usually quite easy-going, but there was something about her thin voice that just pushed my buttons.

But Miss. Perfect was not going to let me off that easy. Her normally pale complexion had gone a deep red, and her eyes were bulging. Oops.

“I’m spoilt!? I’m spoilt!? It may be news to you that your not exactly the most giving person of the year! You know, I’m the only one here who hasn’t grown up with magic, I’ve got a lot more to learn than any of you,” Danielle glared around the room, before carrying on. “I’ve had to deal with that all on my own, and you haven’t exactly been helping, showing off about Quidditch and all that other stupid stuff. So don’t blame me for not taking an interest! Half the time I’ve no idea what any of these things are! And it’s not like you could take the time to help me. Oh no, it’s ‘I’m so good at this’ and ‘That doesn’t matter because I haven’t managed to perfect it yet’.”

She stood in front of me, breathing heavily. Just daring me to say something. Half-way through that speech, I’d been willing to apologize, but then she’d turned it around, like she always does, and insulted me. Again. I was not going to put up with that.

“How dare you? This is what I mean! Things aren’t stupid JUST because you don’t know about them, they ARE NOT beneath you just because your not good at them! All of us have tried to help you, maybe it’s because your just to STUPID to understand!” At this point I realized the twins and Kathleen had all scarpered, probably hoping that we’d sort it out on our own. “Do you really think that blaming US will make you seem better? Because if so you are sorely mistaken!” I screamed at her.

But instead of screaming back she just stood there, speechless. I almost laughed. I’d managed to make that twittering, giggling, idiot shut up! Finally. I smiled, triumphant. But I’d underestimated the power of her pride.

“Don’t think I don’t know why your acting like this. You’re just scared of being girly. Even your parents wanted you to be a boy, AdriAnne - because they were disappointed in the first one.” She sneered, glad to have got in a parting shot.

But she’d insulted me to many times - even insulted my brother. My parents were not disappointed in me or in Cedric! Were they? No! I shouldn’t listen to her. So instead I took out my wand. I glint of fear appeared in her wide blue eyes.

“If I’m such a disappointment to my parents now, imagine what your mother will say when she discovers her perfect little girl isn’t so perfect anymore.”

But before I could do anything, Kathleen burst in, leading the Prefect, Lily or something. Slowly, I lowered my wand.

-Ema

[andromeda_tonks]

Name: andromeda_tonks
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Bethan Cotton
Word Count: 700 :eek:
Warnings: references to self harm, swearing, DH spoilers

This carries straight on where last week's left off.

I need to talk to Rose. I made her cry. Whatever crap is going on in my life, I shouldn’t be passing it on to Rose, that’s not fair. Rose, my wonderful, brave, loyal friend, does not deserve that. She deserves a better friend than me. What can I say to her, though? I cut myself because I needed to be in control... She would never understand. Rose’s life is a whirlwind of missed appointments, lost homework and all round confusion. She is a firm believer in the creed of muddling through, and somehow, she manages it.

I can’t tell her that I won’t cut myself again, because I know that I will. The next time that I lose control, what could I do if I had promised her not to hurt myself? I know the answer, even though it sickens me. I would break my promise. I can’t even really understand why I do this to myself, but I know that I can’t do without it. It is the only thing stopping me from... I don’t know. Going mad. Jumping off the Astronomy Tower. Running away forever.

I need to see Rose. I can’t just leave her like that, forced from my presence in tears. Or maybe I should. Maybe it would be better if I just broke friends with her. I’m an awful friend for Rose. She’s always so kind, always there for me, and I repay her with harsh words, and harsher actions. She’s better off without me. So why am I wishing that she would come and find me? Why am I longing to go and talk to her? Today I will be selfish. Today I will go and talk to her. Tomorrow I’ll be gone from her life, as though I had never been. That will be best.

I leave the dormitory, and set off to find Rose. I know instinctively where she will be. Sure enough, as I reach the Cedar of Lebanon by the lake, I can see distinct glints of red between the green leaves.

“Rose,” I call softly, “it’s me.” She doesn’t respond, but I know that she knows I’m here. I sit down with my back leaning against the tree trunk. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

“Oh, Bethan,” she say, her voice muffled, so that I know her head is resting on her arms. “Why?”

“I have decided,” I say, ignoring this, “that we shouldn’t be friends any more.” There is a swish and a crackle of leaves above me as Rose swings down to land on the ground in front of me.

“Do you hate me, Bethan?”

“What?”

“I said, do you hate me?”

“No! Of course not, how could I?”

“Well then, why do you want to break friends with me?”

“Because I hurt you,” I mumble, ashamed all over again of my actions in the dormitory.

Rose stares at me for a moment, then shouts so loudly I jump, “Hell, Bethan! Don’t you think it would hurt so much more if you abandoned me? Damn it, don’t be so bloody stupid!” This is so unlike Rose that I am shocked into silence. “What’s tears, a burn and a problem that we can work out together compared with you dumping me? I need you, you stupid cow, you’re my best friend!”

“Rose, I...” I pause, trying to form the difficult words. I know that to say them would be selfish, stupid, completely the wrong thing to do. But I don’t care, because the wrong words feel so right. “I need you, too.”

“Come on, then.” She flops down beside me. “What are we going to do?”

“Rose, can we just not worry about that, now?”

“OK.” She scrambles up again and pulls me to my feet. “How about we go and write to our parents?”

“No!”

Rose laughs so hard at my expression it’s hard to believe she was shouting only a minute ago. “Rose, you little toad, come back here!” She flees in mock terror away from me around the lake, and I chase after her, laughing hysterically. “Curse you, Rose!”

Nothing is solved, and I did the wrong thing. So why do I feel so much better?

~Meda~

[LilyLunaPotter]

Name: Lily Luna Potter
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Mimi Stewart

Drabble One follows my first drabble of Confrontations:
Words: 678

Mimi Stewart stormed out of the portrait hole. She stormed down seven flights of stairs from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall. She stormed to an empty bench at the end of the Gryffindor table and slammed her book bag on the floor. She plopped onto a seat and let out a deep breath. Deflated, Mimi put her head in her hands.

“How could you be so thoughtless?”

“Don’t give me that, Lily!...

“Peter’s stupid, all right?”

Mimi sighed heavily. She’d done it again. Her stomach, oblivious to her mind’s emotional turmoil, grumbled impatiently. Mimi obediently helped herself to a bowl of porridge and heaped brown sugar on it absent-mindedly. She took a bite and swallowed miserably.

Mimi didn’t know how long she sat there with her hardly-touched porridge, berating herself for her lack of self-control and forethought. A movement to her left stirred her from her thoughts. “’Morning, Mimi.”

Mimi glanced up at Peter Pettigrew, who gave her a friendly smile as he spread marmalade on a piece of toast. “Hi, Peter,” she said glumly, playing with her porridge some more. He ate in silence as if nothing had happened, torturing Mimi to no end (intentionally, she suspected.) Mimi took hold of her Gryffindor courage (after firmly squashing her Gryffindor pride) and spoke.

“I’m sorry, Peter! When I said that you were stupid, I didn’t mean that—well, that you were stupid, just—”

“—that I’m not very smart?” Peter finished, smiling wryly. Mimi flushed and stared at her hands in her lap. “That’s okay. My many other talents more than make up for it.”

Mimi grinned in relief. “You’ve got that right!” One down, one to go.

Peter seemed to read her mind. “So, what happened this morning to get you and Lily so worked up?”

“Oh…nothing,” Mimi said vaguely. “I got less than five hours of sleep, so you know…”

Peter nodded and left it at that.

~~~~~

Mimi didn’t get a chance to talk to Lily during breakfast. All through morning classes Mimi found it hard to concentrate (harder than usual, that is to say) and when she saw Lily sitting by herself at the lunch table, Mimi quickly snagged a spot next to her.

“Hi, Lily,” she said as cheerfully as possible, employing her first strategy. Lily gave her a look and took a large bite of her sandwich without answering.

Mimi wilted a bit but pressed on. “I got McGonagall to give me an extension on the essay,” she began. Lily made a small disparaging noise but declined to comment. “I’m sorry, Lily,” Mimi burst out. “I really didn’t mean to copy, it just sort of happened…I’m sorry,” she repeated, giving Lily her best “sad puppy-dog” eyes.

Lily, however, was familiar with this tactic and refused to look at her friend. “How does word-for-word copying of nearly an entire essay ‘just happen?’”

“You’re right,” said Mimi immediately. “I’m really sorry.”

“Is that all you can say?” asked Lily.

“What else do you want me to say?” Mimi huffed, but then caught herself. Puppy eyes being ineffective for the moment, she decided to try her next tactic. “I mean I really am really really sorry, and I promise it won’t happen again! I won’t even ask for a bit of help on the essay anymore; I’ll do it all on my own, and if it’s just covered in spelling mistakes (because you know I can’t spell) then it’ll be my own fault for betraying your trust and losing the privilege of Lily, the All-Powerful Spell-Checker’s help, but then again maybe I could ask Remus, but even though he’s pretty good too he’s got nothing on you, and—”

Lily stopped eating. “Okay, okay! Take a breath before you implode!” She looked at Mimi in alarm. This proved to be a mistake, as Mimi seized the opportunity and turned on the puppy eyes again. Lily smiled despite herself. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “You’re forgiven. But don’t let it happen again,” she added sternly.

Mimi squealed and hugged her. “You’re the best, Lily!”


Drabble Two is new:
Words: 648
PoV: Mimi Stewart

I sat with Mary, Alice and Lily at our usual table in the Gryffindor common room, trying to focus on the Charms essay I was working on. It didn’t help matters that the three of them, who should have been working on their own homework—yes, I know I’m a hopper…whatsit…hyper…no…hippocricket? I’d like to see one of those…oh, well, you know what I mean…I hope…anyway, they were too busy watching the Marauders, as they liked to call themselves, who were sitting in a bunch of armchairs closer to the fire.

“What’s he doing now?” Alice asked eagerly, craning her neck.

“He’s still just sitting there, but he keeps glancing over here…quick, duck! Don’t let him see us looking!” Mary whispered, bending over her essay.

“If you don’t want him to see you, then stop looking and start working!” I grumbled irritably.

“Oh, don’t be such a hypocrite, Mimi,” said Lily. Hypocrite, that’s the word. I knew it was a hippo-something. I sighed and tried once again to concentrate. I’d have been a lot less concerned about this if I weren’t still on the introductory paragraph of an essay that was due in exactly...twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes. Plus that fact that I would have rather liked to catch up on some much-needed sleep that night, as well.

“Yeah, he’s definitely looking over here…he looks almost guilty!” Mary exclaimed.

“No way!” Lily gasped in mock horror. “Sirius Black looks guilty? There’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience for you.”

Mary smacked her lightly. “Are you sure you don’t want to go and talk to him, Mimi?”

“I repeat,” I said firmly. “I have done nothing wrong. He’s the one who got all worked up over me beating him out in the Quidditch tryouts for once in my life. He called me a sneaky little leprechaun who stole his spot, remember? A leprechaun. It would be highly amusing if it weren’t obviously meant to insult me. No; if he has something to say about it, he’ll come to me.”

Mary shrugged and looked over again. Suddenly she grinned mischievously. “Actually, he does look like he wants to come over here. Maybe we had better give him the chance.” Immediately, all three of my supposedly loyal roommates gathered their things and moved as one to an empty table at the other end of the common room. I noticed that they still had a clear view of my table, however. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

I snuck a peek at the Marauders just in time to see Sirius seem to steel himself for something before vaulting over the arm of his chair and heading straight for me. I turned back quickly and pretended to be intensely focused on my work. (As if anyone who knew me would believe it.)

Sirius approached my table and cleared his throat. I looked up at him with what I hoped was a surprised and innocent expression. “Hey, Stewart,” he said casually.

I narrowed my eyes; I used that “oh, nothing’s wrong” tactic too often myself to fall for it. “Black,” I said, nodding.

“Beautiful day out, isn’t it?” he joked, gesturing to the drizzling sky outside the window.

“Almost as beautiful as Friday,” I replied smoothly. He nodded, fidgeting slightly at my not-so-subtle reference to the day of the Quidditch tryouts that had started this whole thing.

“Right, speaking of that…congratulations. You flew well; you deserve the spot.”

I considered this for a moment, decided this was his way of apologizing and the best I could hope for, and smiled. “Thanks. Honestly, though, it was probably pretty arbitrary. We both flew well.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think it was arbitrary. But hey, did I tell you they’ve put me on as an alternate Beater?”

I grinned wider. “That’s great, Sirius! So I’ll see you at practice, then?”

He grinned back. “Yeah. See you there, Mimi.”

[Mistletoe]

Name: Mistletoe
House: teh Slyths
OC: Lucy Bliss, once again
Word Count: 697
Warnings: None
A/N: I hope this is enough of a resolution >.< It's more of a conflict that ends in resolution. Hope that's all right . . .
The day had started quietly. The shine from the morning sun had woken me up earlier than usual, and I had eaten breakfast alone—Lucius had already left to attend to some problem with an acquaintance. The house-elf whom I had yet to be introduced to had laid out my meal for me. Solitude was something I was definitely used to, but in a house so large with hardly any movement, it irked me. When breakfast was finished, I had made to open the door that would lead me to my quarters of the house, only to have it pulled open from the other side.

Across from me stood Draco. I had not seen nor spoken to him since the night so many weeks ago when I had run from him.

I froze, even with my head screaming for me to walk past him as if he were not there, I could not move my feet. He cleared his throat, his lips forming the familiar sneer, and I could feel that he knew I was his for the moment. Dropping his hand to his side, he let the door bang shut.

“Walk with me.”

I felt my head rise in fall in a nod. Following him as he turned, we walked together, master and his follower, down the narrow hall. I don’t know what had gotten into me, this was not who I was. No man or boy had ever pulled such a submissive reaction from me.

“Will you excuse me? I need to run up to my room,” I stated, my voice coated with nonchalant sugar at my sudden attempt at escape. It seemed like my head had done the talking, not my mouth.

Draco turned to me, his smirk still in place, but his eyes were shadowed with worry: something I had never seen there before. He had always been so confident in this scandalous affair, but now it seemed as if maybe he had begun to doubt the solidity of it as much as I had.

“You can wait,” he said firmly; there were no other options. “There’s something I must say.”

I stayed quiet, patiently waiting whatever it was he was about to announce. What could he possibly say that I didn’t already know? What we had done was stupid? He never wanted to see me again? It was all over?

“Lucy, stay with me. Run away with me. We can leave my father behind.” His eyes were now pleading instead of worried. I couldn’t believe my ears—this was the last thing I had expected to hear. “We can go somewhere he would never find us.”

“Oh, come off it, Draco. You know Lucius would find us, and either way—” I straightened my shoulders “—I want to stay here with him.”

I felt my voice waiver on the last word, but I held my ground. Feeling the pain in his eyes, I simply looked away, focusing on something just above his right eyebrow. Before I could even begin to understand what the little brown spot there was, he straightened up, his pained demeanor dropped for a strong one.

“If that’s how it is,” he sneered, his words slicing through my already raw chest, “then this never happened. You are nothing to me.”

I nodded once, my lips pressed firmly together—I was doing anything I could to keep my lip from trembling. This was ridiculous. I had never loved anyone, so I didn’t even know what it felt like. There is no way that love could hurt this way. It felt as if I were detaching a part of my soul that was very unwilling to go.

“Good, we can just forget everything then.” I felt my façade breaking down rapidly. “I’m sorry that I even gave you a second glance.”

With that, I pushed myself past him, sure to keep my head as high as I could as my vision began to blur with tears. Never once in my life had I cried for a boy. Never once would I again. It was over; the most passion I had ever felt had just screeched to a halt and would never begin again. Done.

<33Kat

[mudbloodproud]

Name: mudbloodproud aka Terri
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Skylar
Word Count: 617
Warnings: None
A/N: I had to create a flashback for this drabble. I started with the conflict that led to the resolution.


Eleven year old Skylar looked at his mother. He could not believe what she had just told him about his father. How could she have kept this from him? She always maintained his father was a brilliant wizard, a wonderful man and everything else that made him the perfect person in Skylar’s eyes.

Now Skylar understood the reason why he had never met his father. His mother lied to him all these years.

As rage poured through Skylar, he shouted, “You lied to me. All these years. Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

“Skylar, please, understand, I didn’t say your father did these things. I said that is what they say about him.” His mother tried to reason with him.

“You don’t really think he didn’t do this, do you? If you didn’t really believe the stories, then why didn’t you go back to England? Why did you stay here instead of trying to help him?” Skylar felt like breaking something.

“I can’t believe you lied to me. I thought you always told the truth. I guess he is more important than I am to you.” With this Skylar stormed out of the kitchen. Racing up to his room, he slammed the door behind him and threw himself onto the bed.

Now that he was alone, he gave into the tears that were threatening. He couldn’t believe his mother had lied to him. The shattering of the illusion of his father’s greatness was nothing compared to that fact.

He heard his mother knock on his door and call his name softly. “Go away!’ he shouted, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Several hours later, Skylar had calmed down. He was still upset his mother lied to him, but he was beginning to see why she did it. As a result, he was now feeling very guilty over the way he yelled at her.

Slowly he walked down to the kitchen. She wasn’t there. He slipped outside and went to the garden. Carefully he picked a few of the roses growing there. He went back into the kitchen and putting the flowers in a glass of water, he made his mother a cup of tea.

Placing the flowers, tea and a few cookies on a tray, he carried it carefully up to her room. Knocking on the door with his elbow, he waited for her to open it. When she didn’t, Skylar became worried.

He set the tray down and carefully opened the door, then bent a picked up the tray. Walking into the room, he saw his mother lying on the bed. He could tell from her face, she had been crying before she fell asleep.

Setting the tray down on the nightstand, he climbed into bed with her and curled up next to her. Her arms came around him immediately and pulled him close.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” he said simply. “I am still kinda mad at you, but I guess you had a reason for not telling me sooner and for staying here.”

“Skylar, I wanted nothing more than to rush back to England. But, I made a promise to your father when I left. I promised him I would stay here until he came for me or he sent someone for me.” Abby glanced at her son.

“I knew he didn’t do what they said he did. But, I feared what would happen if I returned. There is more to the story and if you are willing to listen, I will tell you.”

“I want to know everything,” Skylar told her. He snuggled closer to his mother and waited to hear about things he was sure were important about his father.

[luinrina]

Name: luinrina aka Bine
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Savaric Orwell
Word Count: 573 (without the *-note at the end)
Warnings: None
A/N: This continues right from where last week left off. Again, Shining Through Blackness spoiler.


‘You’re apologising this instant.’

Gulping, I backed away from him until I hit my wardrobe with my back. The old wooden furniture was cool against my heated skin; heated because anger crawled up inside me as well. ‘I don’t have to apologise to you. I can choose for my own. It’s my life –’

‘– laden with responsibilities,’ Savaric interrupted. I gulped again; he had used the exact words I once had spoken to Bob. It seemed like centuries ago already, the night I had noticed I felt for a youth who had caught my soul with words wiser than his age had been.

‘I won’t let you marry him,’ Savaric growled, and thus brought my thoughts back to him. He dangerously towered in the middle of my bedroom. And the way he still held his wand told me that he wouldn’t give in and acknowledge that he was mistaken.

He was an Orwell after all. Orwells didn’t give in. They considered it being weak. And Orwells just weren’t weak.

‘If you part with me, Isla, you’re going to die,’ he said in a tone that held some pleading – as if he worried for me. ‘The betrothal oath will kill you.’

‘They can be broken,’ I assured, me more than him. ‘You can neutralise them.’

‘What?’ he asked, astounded. ‘How do you –?’

‘– know that the oaths can be neutralised? I’ve looked into lots of books and found that there is a counter oath. You can free me from my promise.’

His look said earlier than his words what he was intending to do about it. ‘You cannot really expect me to free you.’ Although it was intended as a question, he phrased it as a statement. Savaric might worry about me, but he would never admit it openly. He therefore acted superior again.

I sighed inwardly before saying, ‘Yes, I can. In fact, that’s what I do. All you need to do is say a few simple words, and I’ll be free.’ I knew I was pleading with him, but I hoped he would consent.

The glittering in his dark brown eyes combined with the slow raise of his wand arm let me flinch. Maybe I had been hoping too early.

‘You. Are. Mine. How often do I have to repeat it?’ he growled.

But I wasn’t going to back away now. ‘And how often do I have to tell you that I’m not your possession?’ I held up my hand to stop him from replying anything. ‘I had feelings for you, feelings that I defined as love. But they have changed. I no longer see you as my betrothed but a friend.’

‘A friend…’ he repeated.

‘Yes. And we can stay friends.’

He laughed artificially. The sound sent cold shivers down my spine, but it contained something else also, something of the complete opposite: something warm.

Something that was still indefinable, not really graspable. Slowly, I got excited.

‘When you’re gone and married to a Mudblood?’ he asked.

‘Don’t use this word –’
‘But that’s what he is,’ he hissed, interrupting me. His eyes sparkled dangerously again, but this time they held something else, too. If I read it correctly, it was a mixture of sorrow and grief. The excitement soared. Would he…?

Suddenly, his face became unreadable; he closed his eyes and remained silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, his voice shook.

He whispered, ‘Ic pē fríoge.’ *

---

* Old English for “I free you”

Once again many thanks to my amazing beta Terri (mudbloodproud).

~Bine

[Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it]

Name: Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it
House:Proud Hufflepuff!
OC: Rose
Word Count: 580
Warnings: Mention of a character death...

I am angry. Angry beyond belief at my father. It’s not a month after my mother’s death and he’s got a girlfriend. And not just any girlfriend: a Muggle girlfriend. He hates me now, and I know it. He hates that I look so much like my mother; long black hair and winter blue eyes. He hates that I am a daily reminder that he is a coward and that he did not step in to save my mother when he could. He hates me, and I hate him.

And yet our anger at each other gnaws at me. I know our argument is partly my fault because I refuse to see things from his perspective. But I will never, ever forgive him for just standing by while my mother was killed. He told the Death Eaters where I was, just to save his own sorry life. I am stubborn and I know it, but his ‘mistake’ was inexcusable. And yet our anger still gnaws at me.

I know that I should explain how I feel, just lay it down on the table so he will know what I intend to do; what I intend to be. So I lay on my bed, counting the cracks on my ceiling, fingering my black shirt. I can hear my mother’s voice, singing softly to me, encouraging me. I know what to do.

I pull myself off my bed and stagger over to my desk where I grab a piece of parchment and a quill. Sitting back on my bed, I begin to write.

Dad,
I know you hate me. I hate you too. But we should be united in the face of Mum’s death, rather than being angry at each other like this. But that takes a two person effort, and that is not why I write this note.

I know you are turning your back on the magical world, Mum, and therefore me. But I want you to know that I am not giving up the magical world or my chance at belonging there. I will not run. I will not hide. And I will honor Mum’s memory by becoming what she wanted me to be. If you desert me and if you still hate me, that is fine, but as long as you know that from this moment on we take different paths, I am content.

If you chose to give up your girlfriend and face the magical world, then I will welcome you back with open arms, but if you do not, then this is goodbye. I had hoped that you would find the courage to face this; instead you run and hide. But it isn’t too late to turn back.

Do what you will with your life, but I am not going to waste mine.

Rose

I walk into my father’s room and put my note on his dressing table. I feel a sort of closure; I am at peace. My father now knows what I intend to do. There are no more secrets. He is no longer my father; he is no longer my family. I have no one except myself.
Me. Rose Bria Raklynne with eyes the blue of winter shadows and hair the black of a raven’s wing. I can almost see my mother smiling and nodding at me, telling me I did right. I blow her a kiss and turn my back.

For now, I can let go of the dead and begin living.

[Hufflepuff at Heart]

A huge thanks to mudbloodproud/Terri for stepping in to do some last-minute beta work!

Name: Hufflepuff at heart
House: Gryffindor
OC: Beth Williams
Word Count: 500
Warnings: None

"Would you mind telling me what you're playing at?" Lily's teeth gnashed as she slammed the dormitory door behind her.

Beth looked on innocently, fighting to ignore the warm anger that was slowly spreading through her whole body.

"What do you mean?" she asked casually. Bored, even.

"You know very well what I mean. Do not pretend you don't."

Beth could have sworn she saw tears welling up at the edges of Lily's green eyes. But she blinked and they were gone. Now Lily adopted a high-pitched voice, in what Beth imagined was meant to be an imitation of her own.

"'Oh, Lily, why don't you go out with him? Lily, don't you like him, really? Just kiss him, Lily!' Why, Beth?" she continued, her voice only a whisper. There was no anger in her voice now. She was simply begging for mercy. "Why are you always on my back about him?"

Beth swallowed. Isn't it obvious he loves you? And how much you love him back? Don't you realise how jealous I am?

She gave a derisive laugh "Well, obviously, it's because you both love each other so much. I guess I'm just really jealous."

She stared at the broken girl in front of her, wondering if she would ever know how much she hated her. What could she say to the girl who had everything Beth ever wanted, and yet did nothing about it?

What was she supposed to say? I do it because you have all that you could ever want at your fingertips, yet never do anything about it? Because I know I will never have what you have the nerve to scorn? Because Sirius will never look at me the same way James looks at you?

"Well, what am I supposed to say?" Beth knew that a flat refusal wouldn't get her out of this. She would have to feign indifference. Keep down the flames of anger that threatened to engulf her.

"I want you to stop. Please. Just stop. I - I hate him. I don't like him."

Beth sighed smugly. "Well, if it's really that big a deal to you I'll stop. I mean, I'm only joking, you know. You don't have to get so upset about it."

"Oh." Lily was clearly surprised to have come to an agreement so quickly. "Well ... well, okay then. Th - thanks. I mean, I knew you were only joking; it's just ... well, thanks."

It was over. As if it was somehow okay.

Lily left the room; this time the door was allowed to swing back into place naturally.

Beth could have allowed the anger to take hold of her in the deserted room. She could have wondered why she felt the way she did. She could have considered truly forgiving Lily for what she had done.

But she heard laughter downstairs. She didn't like being alone. So she smiled loudly, because she knew she was so popular, and went down to join her friends.

[starkllr]

Name: starkllr/James
House: Slytherin
OC: Jane Barnaby
Word Count: 490
Warnings: None

I open my eyes. Everything is so bright, I can barely stand it. The last things I remember are pain and darkness.

And silence.

I try to sit up. It’s hard; every part of my body hurts. It feels like I have bruises everywhere, and every muscle is sore. And there’s still silence.

I look around; I’m in a bed, with curtains drawn all around me. It has to be the Hospital Wing. I can hear voices just outside the curtain. It’sjust inside my head that there is nothing.

“She’s awake,” I hear a man say. He must be Doctor – no, that’s wrong, he’s called a Healer, not a Doctor - Healer Pye. The Headmaster introduced him our first night here. “You can see her now,” Healer Pye says.

And in walks George. I still can’t hear him.

“I was so worried about you!” I hear his voice, but only with my ears. “You have no idea!”

“You’re right, I don’t.” That was cruel. I shouldn’t have said that. But it was his fault. He made me push him out of my head, he made me break…

“No, I didn’t!”

He can hear me. But I still don’t hear him. Why can’t I hear him?

Because I was the one who pushed him out, I was the one who closed the door (“Slammed it shut and bolted it tight, Jane,” he says, out loud), and I have to be the one to let him back in. Except I don’t know how…

“Yes, you do. You just did,” George says, but this time I hear him properly, this time he’s back in my head.

And it hits me. “I’m not much of a Gryffindor, am I?”

Healer Pye pokes his head in. “You walked into the Forbidden Forest. Alone. At midnight. That’s brave to the point of madness, Miss Barnaby. I believe that fits Gryffindor quite well. You know, you lot end up in here more than the other three Houses put together.” He doesn’t get it, but George understands right away.

I wasn’t brave enough to face his fears, to feel his terror at the idea of losing me. I pushed him away and ran, as far and as fast as I could, because I couldn’t stand knowing that I was hurting him.

He tells me it’s alright, it’s over now, he understands.

“I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry.” He knows. I don’t have to say anything more because he feels it. We’re connected again, together again.

He forgives me. “But don’t you ever do that again,” he says, and Healer Pye nods his head in agreement.

“Please listen to your brother, Miss Barnaby. You were very lucky last night. You ought not tempt fate again.”

George smiles at me. He knows I can’t promise that. But I can promise him that I won’t push him away again, I won’t shut the door on him again. We’re a team.

“Always?”

Always.

[XhayleeXblackX]

Name: XhayleeXblackX - Haylee
House: Slytherin
Original Character: Maverick Crawford (with Luke Vector)
Word Count: 568
Warnings: Mild Violence

I stalked through the castle, heading for the Gryffindor common room. I had been sitting in an empty classroom on the fourth floor, seething. I’d tried to calm myself, but it was a task that seemed nearly impossible. I’ve got every reason to be angry, though. Luke shouldn’t have done that.

I mean, before, I wouldn’t have cared. Now, though, it’s different, Lily’s different, and he knows that. Besides, girls are always throwing themselves at his feet, so he has his pick, but she’s taken. She’s mine. He shouldn’t have done that.

As I reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, I shouted the password and tore through the opening into the common room. I looked around searching for the familiar head of blond hair, but I found nothing but fiery red in front of me.

“Maverick, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not worth it,” Lily said, trying to block my view and usher me back toward the portrait hole.

“No, Lily, it is worth it,” I replied, not budging. Lily stopped trying to move me with a huff of impatience.

“Look, we already talked about it and I told you that it doesn’t matter,” she insisted, but all I could do was laugh.

“Doesn’t matter? It doesn’t matter that my supposed best mate thought he could take a pass at my girlfriend?” I asked, staring down at her with blazing eyes. “Come off it, Lily.”

“Please, let it go,” Lily pleaded.

The desperation in her voice was tempting, but I ignored her plea and walked past her. I went straight over to the boy sitting on the arm of a chair by the fire, and punched him as hard as I possibly could in the face. He doubled over, blindsided, and began shouting.

“Oi! What the devil was that for?” Luke shouted, nursing the lump forming on his head.

“That, was for coming on to Lily. This-” I hit him again “-is for betraying my trust, and that-” I punched him one more time “-was because I felt like it.”

For a few seconds, all Luke did was stare at me, and I began to feel guilty. His eye was slowly turning purple, there was a small cut on his cheek, and he was still holding onto the back of his head. I’d acted irrationally. I’d attacked him in a nonsensical fashion, but I had always had a short fuse, he knew that. Add in the igniting fuel of Lily Potter, and I was bound to erupt in flames.

“Luke, I’m-” I began, but he cut me off quickly.

“Don’t worry about it, Crawford,” he said.

Flabbergasted, I asked stupidly, “What?”

“I made a pass at Potter. I didn’t realise that you were that serious about her. I’ll back off, but I want you to know that I was only joking,” Luke answered, laughing slightly.

Lily walked up beside us and grabbed my hand. “You are both idiots. Complete, total idiots, you know that? I told you he was joking, Maverick. Maybe next time, you’ll believe me.”

“Sorry, both of you.”

“I forgive you, Crawford, but mind you won’t be getting anything for Christmas, now,” said Luke, grinning broadly. “That’s one good right hook you’ve got, though.”

I laughed again. “Thanks.”

“Come on, Luke, I’ll get you some murtlap essence to put on that cut,” Lily said, and we followed her over to a table.


-Haylee

[Evester]

Name: Evester
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Dandin Walcott
Word Count: 698
Warnings: None

After being evicted from the library that night, Dandin wandered through the dark corridors, having no intention of going back to the Hufflepuff common room so quickly. He was not at all sure of his emotions, and as much as getting into fights was a part of his personality, he was unsure this time about his previous actions. He stopped and stared at a suit of armor, cobwebs stretched from its helmet and arms to the walls of the alcove in which it stood. Flickering light glinted on the tarnished metal, and reflected back in Dandin’s eyes as he tried to think of what he could possibly do.

“I really messed things up this time, didn’t I?” he mutttered, not even bothering to look around him to see if anyone was witnessing his conversation with a suit of armor. He knew no one was there, and suddenly, Dandin felt incredibly sad. “I just don’t know what to do anymore,” he said loudly, kicking at the plinth on which the suit stood, before turning around to sit upon it, his head in his hands. He was confused, so very confused because he was so used to being right, and his best mate had made it quite plain that Dandin was in the wrong.

“Dann?”

Dandin hesitated for a second before raising his head to regard the owner of the familiar voice which had cut across his miserable thoughts. Cedric was standing a few feet from him, his arms hanging loosely at his sides and a curious look on his face.

“Dann, I thought we should talk...” Cedric started, but Dandin looked away.

“Don’t start, Ced, really don’t. I know I was out of line, I don’t need you to bloody tell me again,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the little badge to examine it.

“Well, if that’s all you have to say, let’s go back to the common room before Filch or someone puts us in –”

“It’s just that I feel like I don’t even know you anymore,” Dandin interrupted suddenly, rising to his feet, and vaguely pleased to see the shocked look on Cedric’s face. “We used to be best mates, you and I, and Brandy, but it’s this... this Tournament, it’s changing you, or it’s changing me, or it’s changing all of us. I’ve always stood up for you, and for Gage and for Brandy, and you all never had a problem with it. And this afternoon, I, I bloody despise that Potter, and I’ve always sported this badge, and I don’t know why it’s suddenly taboo to stand up for your best mate?”

“Dann –”

“And I thought I knew you, I thought I could always count on you, and on Brandy and Gage, just like I’ve always demonstrated that you could count on me to be there...” Dandin paused, pursing his lips before rushing on. “And Merlin, but it makes me feel like I don’t know myself when I feel like I don’t know my best mate.”

“Dandin! You do know me, and I know you too, better than you know yourself. I know how much it means to you to be there for us, and how much you think that Potter is the enemy, but I need to tell you that he doesn’t deserve it. He helped me out on the First Task – he was the one who told me it was dragons. And I helped him with the Second Task. He’s a good guy, and I just felt sorry for him, that everyone was jibing him.” Cedric watched Dandin’s face closely.

“He was the one who told you it was dragons?” Dandin said in a low voice.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” Cedric and Dandin said at the same time.

“I should have been more open with you guys, and not just snapped at you to leave Potter alone,” finished Cedric, but Dandin chucked the badge still in his fist on the floor.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, mate. I should have listened to you when you told us to leave him alone. Bloody Potter.”

“The nerve of him, straining our friendship.” Cedric smiled.

Dandin just laughed.

[Azhure]

Name: Azhure
House: Ravenclaw
OC: Cassandra Deakin, with mentions of Rachel and Rosanna Solmey. They are all part of one of the many chaptered stoires I am writing - I'm not putting it up for validation as yet.
Word Count: 699 not including the '***' things. I just realised that they, too, count as words...
Warnings: Character Death.

“Avada Kedavra!” The words left my lips before I could even think. And I watched, shocked, as the green light shot straight out of my wand and into her chest. No! I thought in desperation. How could I have done this? My heart stopped. What had I done? We had been fighting, and she had just made me so angry… I just didn’t think… I didn’t know I had enough power to even cast that spell… What had I done?

Her body fell backwards and landed on the dirt with a sickening thump. What had I done?

“Rosanna!” came a shriek from behind me, and I came face-to-face with her sister Rachel, at least, I think that’s what her name was. Rachel ran past me and fell to her knees next to her sister’s body. Yet I remained standing, my wand burning red hot in my hand.

“How could you?” asked Rachel in a strangled voice. I looked down at her in an unreal state. How could I? That’s a good question.

Suddenly, I was knocked to the ground. I looked up with surprise at Rachel.

“Say you’re sorry, or I will kill you.” Rachel’s blue eyes were blood-shot, her brown hair a mess, but I knew she meant business. She didn’t care that her sister, Rosanna, had attacked me first. She didn’t care that I had had to survive seven years of hearing Rosanna’s taunts about my blood status. She only cared about who had lived and who had died.

It didn’t even occur to me that Rachel’s request was rather unusual ‘say you’re sorry or I’ll kill you’? It would normally be pretty obvious on what I had to do. But I didn’t. For starters, I didn’t even think an apology was an option. Secondly, how could I apologise? Slytherins didn’t apologise, even ones that had two filthy Muggles as parents. And, finally, I didn’t want to apologise. Why should I apologise when Rosanna had made my life a complete hell?

This thought filled my mind and I stuck out my chin at Rachel. Shock washed over her face; she had been sure that I would apologise, and now she was scared. Rachel wasn’t like me, she couldn’t kill a human. She took a step back and I jumped up. With one last glance at her, I turned and ran.

***

I walked slowly between the graves, searching for that single one that had changed my life. It was ten years after I had killed Rosanna, and I had finally come back. After I had run from Rachel, I had lived as an outcast. I knew that if I came close to civilisation, I would be taken straight to Azkaban. But I had to come this night. When I say it was ten years after I had killed her, I mean exactly ten years after. I just needed some closure. Rosanna’s death tore at me like nothing else could. It haunted my steps, whispered in my ears… I just couldn’t escape that guilt!

That was when I saw it, her grave. It was pretty much identical to all the others, but it was so different… for I was the one that had put her there. Me.

Sitting down in front of the gravestone, I touched the cold marble with my fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” I had whispered. “So sorry.” But, of course, there was no reply. I don’t know what I had expected. Maybe some sense of relief, freedom from my greatest burden. But there was nothing. Still the same emptiness that had filled my since that day.

So, with a sigh, I stood up and turned away from the grave. That was all I could do. But just as I was about to walk away, I heard a crunch of gravel. Whipping around, my heart pumped in excitement. Maybe, somehow, Rosanna had come back to life!

I came face-to-face with the tip of a wand.

“Cassandra Deakins, you are under arrest.”

***

I don’t think I need to tell you the rest. I was convicted and sent to Azkaban where I still remain. My life ended when I was twenty seven years old. There’s just nothing else to say…


This is actually sort of like a prologue for the third story of my series (the one I haven't validated as yet) and an epilogue for my second story... Yay!

~~Azhure~~

[magyk001]

Name: Magyk001
House: Gryffindor
OC: Jason Wallace
Word Count:707
Warnings: None

Jason was eating alone in the Great Hall. He had made sure he was at the end of the long Gryffindor table that was now littered with delicious food.

He felt weird not sitting next to Albus and Rose but he couldn’t bring himself to sit next to them after the argument that they had earlier. Jason knew that lashing out at Rose and Albus was not the best way to answer their questions, but what was he supposed to do? Did they not understand how much pressure he was under right now? Obviously not.

Jason dropped his fork and left the Great Hall. Since most people were still eating, the staircases of Hogwarts were mostly empty. Jason climbed the ancient staircase and thought of what he was going to do next. He knew that he had to apologize to Rose and Albus but, he was trying to put it off as long as possible. He only had one chance to do it right and what if he made a mistake? He continued along the staircase and eventually reached the Gryffindor common room. He muttered the password to the Fat Lady and walked into the the common room, not noticing anyone that was in the room. He walked to one of the chairs in front of the fire and stared into it’s depths. How long he sat there, Jason did not know. All of a sudden, Jason felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around and found Albus and Rose staring at him with concern in their eyes.

‘I brought you some dessert mate,’ Albus said ‘Just in case-’

‘I’m not hungry’ Jason replied.

There was an awkward silence at these words. Jason wasn't in any rush to break this silence and he continued to watch their concerned faces. Finally, Rose broke the silence that was haunting the deserted common room.

‘Jason, can we talk to you-’

‘Actually I wanted to talk to you. Listen, I’m sorry for the things I said earlier. I’m just kind of stressed out-’

‘It’s ok Jason-’ Albus began but Jason could not let him interrupt right now. He wanted to get everything off his chest and this was the perfect time to do it.

‘I’m just kinda stressed, you know? And when you guys asked me that question, I just kinda poured out my rage, you know? And I’m really sorry if I said some mean things to you, I just couldn’t help it. I’m really sorry and I will completely understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore, I mean who can blame you? I was stupid and- and foolish- and inconsiderate-

Rose put her hand over Jason’s mouth and smiled at him.

‘We know you were under pressure. We forgive you for the things that you said. We knew you obviously didn’t mean it.’

Jason didn’t know why but, he couldn’t talk. He just shook his head in appreciation. He was surprised that his friends were still standing by his side despite the horrible things he said.

‘And mate, I hope you don’t really think we are only your friends because we pity you.’ Albus was looking at Jason as he was saying this, but Jason refused to look back.

‘Jason, we’re you’re friends because we LIKE you. That’s the only reason.’ Rose said.

Jason smiled.

‘Yah, I guess I was being stupid.’ He said.

‘No, you WERE being stupid. Now have some of this food before you pass out’ Albus said.

Jason laughed and took the dessert from Albus’ hands.

[leahsm2]

Name: leahsm2
House:*hissss* Slytherin
OC: Annie Grimm
Word Count: 436
Warnings: None

Minerva McGonagall watched nervously as the small boats began arriving. She wondered if she'd be able to recognize by sight, the girl who'd been the subject of so many heated discussions. She remembered her parents clearly. Strange bedfellows, she thought idly, did not begin to describe those two.

The children began carefully clambering off of the boats, stepping gingerly onto the small dock as Hagrid carefully ushered them into some semblance of a line. She saw her straight off, at least a foot taller than the other first years, standing slightly apart from them. Please, make her a Gryffindor.
~~Severus sat at the end of the Slytherin table, watching the new arrivals. He sat impassively listening to his mates as they talked the same old talk, until she walked in. All talk stopped, as they watched this child walk into the hall. She was luminous. All the Gods had come together and blessed her, he thought. With everything, and nothing. Please, make her a Gryffindor. ~~

The child walked up to be sorted amidst much whispered speculation. Used to being the topic of impolite talk, she walked up to the sorting hat, unabashed. She stood in front of the stool, looking back at those collected in the Great Hall, black eyes impassive, but silently challenging. She took her seat on the sorting stool with an unnerving grace.

"Slytherin", the hat rang out.
~~

Severus spent that night not sleeping. He had vowed long ago to devote himself to this new path. It suited him. It allowed him to indulge himself in the things he liked best. Let the world settle itself, Severus, He thought. He smiled, as he dropped into a dreamless sleep, knowing there was something about this new one that was worth saving.

~~

Minerva silently lay in her bed, mourning her loss. She would have been a right challenge, she thought. Had she been sorted into your House. Slytherin, however, made her virtually unsalvageable.
~~

Severus lurked in the shadows, waiting. He had had more than a belly full of the joking innuendo. She faced the world bravely, challenging things best left alone. She needed to be armed. Severus could help her. Severus would arm her.
~~

“So,” Severus said, appearing out of nowhere. “Annie Grimm, meet you tutor.”

The hallway had suddenly turned narrow and brightly lit. Annie held out her wand, ready to fight. Both ends of the hall were mysteriously missing. The only part remaining was the middle.

Annie sighed and pointed her wand to the ground. She stood, unarmed and believing.

“So,” she said, head cocked, and slightly defiant. “Teach.”

[TyrannoLaurus]

This week we are going to be ...

Solving a Mystery.

You have a scenario to play with. One day, your Original Character receives a mysterious parcel through the post. Either they do not know what the object they have received is, or they do not know who sent it. You must explore how they go about solving the mystery behind this strange parcel. They do not have to come to a solution, but you must show how they react to the mystery. Once again, I am leaving this very broad and open for you to explore in different ways. Please don't PM me unless you're completely stumped because my inbox is 95% full.

Entries must be no more than 700 words and you may enter two drabbles each.

Deadline: 29th August

10 points to the winner, and five for runner-up

All drabbles must be rated 3rd-5th years or under.

Kudos goes to Vindictus Viridian for this week's theme

[luinrina]

Name: luinrina aka Bine
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Savaric Orwell
Word Count: 684
Warnings: None other than Shining Through Blackness spoiler, kind of
A/N: the POV changes between Savaric's and Heela's (house-elf) with each part

‘Heela! Quit sneaking around.’

The house-elf stopped in her tracks. ‘I is not sneaking, sir,’ she said, but one look from him made her fall silent. He had always been good at that, silencing others with a short look of his dark brown eyes.

‘What do you have there?’ He leaned back in his chair and pointed at the parcel Heela had in her hands.

‘This is noth—’ she started, but tightening his eyes, scolding her silently, he summoned the parcel out of her hands. She couldn’t do anything about it; her master was the wizard, she was only a loyal house-elf. His word was her law.

Heela bowed and left the dining room when he dismissed her with a move of his hand.

~*~

This was strange. He didn’t expect any post at all. Maybe it was delivered to the wrong address, he mused. But no, it clearly stated that he, Savaric Leofwin Orwell, was the addressee. Who would send him a parcel?

Intending to solve the mystery, he slowly opened it until he held a little box in its hands. It was artfully carved, and before he looked into what the small chest contained, he turned it around, carefully examining it from each angle. It was beautiful, he had to admit, but who had sent it?

Savaric set the chest onto the table and took up his wand. He needed to be prepared; after all, he didn’t know what the content was. It could be something dangerous.

In slow motion he lifted the lid until he could see what lay inside. He relaxed again. Nothing of the content was to be feared.

~*~

Heela was cleaning the floor when she heard a bell ringing. Its soft sound echoed around the kitchen, and the elf seemed to petrify. Horror crept into Heela’s face. What should she do? There was someone coming up the path to the servants’ entrance. Never before has anyone neared the manor from this side.

The cloth she had held in her hand fell to the floor with a splash, and she lost all her nerve. Clasping her hands above her head, she started running around in circles. I is lost, I is lost, she chanted in her thoughts.

When a knock at the servants’ door resounded in the kitchen, she fainted.

~*~

Growling at the stupidity of the house-elves, Savaric went into the kitchen. His father had told the elves to disable the bell charm for the servants’ entrance for years, but they still hadn’t done anything about it.

Upon entering the huge room, the first Savaric noticed was Heela lying on the floor, breathing raggedly. Before he could walk over to her and try to figure out what had happened, a slightly impatient knock came from the servants’ door. Tightening his eyes, he left Heela where she was and stepped into the small hallway that connected the kitchens to the servants’ door. Hiding his wand behind his back, he wrenched open the door with the still free hand.

Savaric hadn’t been prepared. Whoever he had expected to knock on the door, it wasn’t who was standing in front of him right then.

‘Excuse the disturbance, sir,’ the man said, smiling tentatively. He held out his hand. ‘This letter is for you.’

Eyeing the envelope suspiciously, Savaric read the address written on it. Again, it clearly stated his name.

Taking the letter out of the man’s hand, Savaric dismissed the man with a stare. He then shut the door.

Heela was still unconscious as he opened the letter. It was a single piece of parchment, written by the same hand that had put his name onto the parcel and envelope. And more important: he now recognised the handwriting.

It was Isla’s.

Savaric,

I know this letter will arrive some days too early. But nonetheless I wish you a happy birthday. I hope you’re well.

I have never before sent anything by Muggle post, so I hope the parcel I sent you arrived as well. Consider the clock as my birthday present.

And I hope we can still be friends.

Isla Hitchens

Thanks and *huggles* to my beta Terri (mudbloodproud).

~Bine

[Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it]

Name: Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Rose Raklynne
Word Count: 564
Warnings: None

Rose looked down at the parcel in her hands. It contained a phoenix feather, a pen, and a morning glory. Who would send a thing like this, she thought confusedly, but then a slow grin spread across her face, and why in the name of Merlin did they send me a pen, a feather, and a flower? I guess I’ll just have to find out. I’m up for an adventure; it’s better than listening to my father talk all evening.

She grinned recklessly, excited for a chance to defy her father. He wouldn’t look for her for hours, so she could complete her mission. Pulling open the window, she threw her legs out and found the familiar footholds, gripping the trimming on the corner of the house and shimmying down the side as she’d been doing since she was eight. Landing on her feet, she quickly moved into the cover of the shadows.

These three objects looked like…clues. So the sender probably wanted her investigate this parcel, but Rose wanted to find out who sent it. In any case, perhaps the clues would lead to the sender. This made her more determined than ever. First question: What was the street name? The feather had been on the top of the pile in the parcel, so perhaps she had to start with that first. She racked her brains for any mention of a phoenix’s history or any streets with the word phoenix.

Rose inspected every millimeter of the fiery feather, but to no avail. As she balanced it on her palm, it blew off with the wind, sending a puff of ash into the air. She grabbed it quickly, then she turned to the pen. Phoenix…flower…morning…ash…pen. Aspen! That was it! There was an Aspen Lane not too far from here! Rose thought for a moment and then began to run through the bit of forest, coming out on a road and taking a left. Since she had figured out how to get out of the house, she had been exploring, so she knew the layout of the area well as well as all of its shortcuts. Twenty minutes later, she arrived, panting at Aspen Lane.

Sitting down on the curb, she watched the sunset for a moment before turning back to her clues. She turned to the flower, pulling a petal off, looking in the center, looking for patterns in the coloring for five minutes. Then she opened the pen cap and shrieked as ink poured out. It was a strange white color…she rubbed it along the feather, simply making it fizz weirdly as it was burned off. Then she rubbed it all over the flower. Nothing happened. Then she flipped the flower over, starting as a tiny “357” appeared, gouged in the flower. Yes!

Rose walked calmly down the street, trying to look like she belonged there, feeling a touch of longing as a mother and daughter walked by, laughing and talking as their dog ambled beside them.

354….355…356….357! Rose stopped in front of a small, whitewashed, crimson-shuttered house, caution overtaking excitement for the first time. She fingered her wand in her pocket. What’s the worst that could happen? Taking a deep breath, she walked up the steps and knocked on the door. It opened after a moment, and a woman stepped out of the shadows.

Rose gasped and took a step backward. “Y-you?”

Ooodles of thanks to my lovely beta, Angela_Prongs!

[Hufflepuff at Heart]

Name: Hufflepuff at heart
House: Gryffindor
OC: Beth Williams
Word Count: 639
Warnings: None
The owl came early, before the breakfast run. And it didn't come to the great hall either. It came straight to my room in Gryffindor tower.

I wondered how he had managed to deliver it. The package must have weighed twice what the strangely familiar, tawny black owl did.

My hands shook with the trepidation that I was careful to hide from my friends as I reached over to untie the string from its leg. I was just thankful they were still asleep.

Inside the packaging was a large, heart-shaped box wrapped in brown paper. Delivered on February the fourteenth. Two guesses as to what it was.

I didn't stop to register the colour of the box as I ripped the paper off savagely. I doubt if I even paused to look at the chocolates as I scrounged around inside the box, desperately looking for a card, a note, a howler - anything that would tell me who my admirer was.

There wasn't a piece of paper in sight.

I had looked everywhere; I was sure of it. There was no note with the box.

For a moment I was stuck. Who would send me a Valentine's gift without a word of greeting? No "from your secret admirer," no "meet me behind the greenhouse," no "I love you?"

Sirius Black, whispered a voice inside my head. A dangerous, seductive, persuasive voice.

The kind of voice I liked best.

I put two and two together. I knew that owl from somewhere, I was certain of it. It was Sirius Black's; how could I have been so stupid and not realised it before?

And then I smiled the kind of smile that I never let anyone see. The one that is full of hope and nervousness and promise. The kind that other people don't understand.

Because now I knew what I had been afraid to know all along. That Sirius Black really did love me the way I loved him. That everything I had dreamed for was real.

I dived back under the covers as I heard the sounds of my room-mates rousing. I fought to keep down the stupidly girlish squeals of delight that threatened to escape from me. I was so much more than a stupid little girl now. I would tell them when I was ready, in my own way.

There were the usual groans and yawns as the girls readied themselves for the day ahead, lazily pulling robes on and clumsily yanking brushes through their hair. I wondered if they realised how mundane their boring little lives were compared to mine.

Life seemed so easy in that instant. Sirius loved me. Everything else would work itself out somehow. It seemed too good to be true, and yet it was true.

Except it wasn't.

My world was shattered the moment Ella picked up my discarded paper off the floor.

"Beth?" she asked, still bleary-eyed, her hair a tangled mess. "Is this yours? This card was stuck to the paper."

I stared at the red envelope. I must have missed it in my haste.

Happy Valentine's Day, Dear. Sorry we missed your birthday.

~Mummy and Daddy

I continued to stare.

That was nice of them, I tried to tell myself. Daddy's owl was normally too busy to send me messages.

My chest felt like it was constricting in on itself but I kept breathing normally. No one was dead. Nothing had changed. The sickness in my stomach would subside with time. I was sure to get many more Valentine gifts from my schoolmates later that day. I always did.

So I ignored the tightness in my chest and the feelings that were not mine to have. The feelings of loneliness and smallness and disappointment, and above all, the wish that I was someone else.

[LilyLunaPotter]

Name: LilyLunaPotter
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Mimi Stewart
Words: 692

Fifteen-year-old Mimi Stewart plopped into a seat at the Gryffindor table one gloomy Monday morning. “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” said her friend Lily, glancing up from her porridge.

Mimi gave Lily a look that said, ‘No, really?’ and grabbed the coffee pot. Before she could pour herself a cup, a tawny brown owl landed in front of her and stuck out his leg. Mimi removed the attached note. The owl fluffed his feathers importantly (he was a school owl) and flew off.

“What’s that?” Mary said curiously.

“‘Want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? RSVP ASAP,’” Mimi read.

“Who’s it from?” asked Mary eagerly.

Mimi frowned and looked the parchment up and down. She turned it over to see that the back side was blank. “I don’t know…” she said slowly.

“Well that’s helpful,” said Lily. “How are you supposed to ‘RSVP ASAP’ if you don’t know who it’s from?”

“What’s ‘RSVP ASAP’ supposed to mean anyway?” asked Alice Smalls from across the table.

“Reply if you please (from the French Réspondez Si Vous Plait) As Soon As Possible,” Lily responded promptly.

“Yeah, what she said.” Mimi waved a hand in Lily’s direction. “Back to the problem at hand.”

“Well, it was obviously a boy,” Alice began.

“Obviously,” Mimi agreed.

“I sure hope so,” Mary muttured.

Alice rolled her eyes. “I’m just starting with the basics. And he has to be third year or above.”

“It’s someone who doesn’t have an owl, because he used a school owl,” said Lily.

“Unless he wanted to be anonymous,” Mary suggested. Alice shook her head.

“If he wanted to be anonymous, he would have come up with a way for her to reply.”

“Unless she was meant to send a reply back with the owl,” said Lily.

“But then wouldn’t the owl have stuck around?”

“Guys? Hey, guys?” Mimi waved her hand between the girls as the discussion became more involved. “Why don’t we ask the Marauders for starters? They might know who sent it.”

“You can’t ask the Marauders, Mimi!” Mary stared at Mimi as if she were crazy.

“Why not?” Mimi asked, confused.

“Because, what if one of them sent it?”

“Then they would know, right?”

Mary sighed in exasperation. “But Mimi,” she began, as if talking to a rather slow three-year-old. “The entire point of sending a letter was probably because he was too shy to talk to you face to face. You have to consider his feelings.”

“But what about his feelings when I don’t respond right away?” Mimi answered impatiently.

“You have to be more subtle, Mimi,” said Mary. “Here, like this.” She stood up and approached the other end of the table where the Marauders sat with Frank Longbottom and Matthew Donohue, a friend of theirs from Hufflepuff.

“Hello, Mary,” said Remus, smiling at her. The other boys looked up.

“Hello, boys,” said Mary innocently. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much,” said Sirius. “How about you girls?”

“Oh…we were just reading some interesting mail,” said Mary vaguely. She glanced between the Marauders carefully.

“O...kay…” Sirius nodded uncertainly.

“Well, just popped over to say hi,” said Mary cheerfully. “Talk to you later.” She hurried back to the other girls. “Well that was productive,” she whispered. “I was sure it was one of them. What?” Alice and Lily were grinning at her.

“It’s Matthew, Mary!” said Alice triumphantly. “His eyes widened and he looked right at Mimi!”

Mary gasped. “Of course! Okay, but we have to be positive. We don’t want this information to get into the wrong hands. The boys’ gossip mill is just brutal.” Lily snorted faintly. “Mimi, now you have to very carefully hint at him that—“

“Oh, sweet Merlin!” Mimi exclaimed. “Enough of this.” She stood and marched purposefully right up to Matthew, the troublesome note in her hand. “Did you write this?” she asked him, holding the note under his nose.

Matthew blinked and turned pink. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Then my answer is yes,” said Mimi simply. Without further ado, she walked calmly back to her seat and poured herself a cup of coffee.



~Lily Luna <3

[Enneirda]

Name: Enneirda / AJ
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Artemis Nyxlin
Word Count: 700
Warnings: None, really.
Artemis stared at the package with disdain, narrowing her eyes. A small note was attached to the box, but she simply ripped that in half. It had come in the post, along with her bills and notices. They sat on the back burner for now.

"Go outside," she repeated from the parchment. She scoffed, finishing her drink with a quick swig and putting out her cigarette. She sighed, wondering what the person who sent this wanted. A plan to get her captured? More than likely.

This was a lure. She was sure of it. [i]'Go outside' only meant that someone was watching her, someone knew where she was hidden.

There were too many people who wanted her dead and she wasn't about to go risking her life on a little parcel that pleaded for her to head out into the nearby woods. Clearly the person who sent this didn't know her well.

Grasping the box off the table, she unwrapped it from the brown paper prison. Reaching inside, she felt a familiar object graze her fingertips. Her hand was shaking as she held up the picture to the light, the silver frame shining perfectly. With an infuriated scream she threw the object across the room, the glass shattering as it connected with the stone wall. The icicles of past memories scattered on the floor.

She quickly retrieved the photo from the broken frame and tucked it inside her pocket. Grabbing the most menacing weapon from the table, she headed outside.

Carefully scanning the area for any rookie Aurors yearning for respect, she aimed the crossbow at a nearby tree. This has never happened before; no one had even come close to finding out where she was located. "So, what do you want?" she called, taking cover behind one of the massive pillars of her manor. "Money? Glory?" she screamed. Her yell echoed amongst the trees as she manically laughed.

This was insane. No one was watching her. She straightened herself, taking a deep breath as she headed back inside. This was all just a sick joke. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the photo, studying it. The young couple smiled up at her, two faces that seemed too ecstatic. It was painful to look at.

She recognized herself in the picture, back when she had both eyes and the scar on her cheek was still fresh. The other face she knew haunted her dreams; was the reason why she hadn’t slept in three days. He was kissing her cheek in the memory, making the present-day Artemis's face fill with warmth.

"What do you want?" she shouted, circling to study every part of the surrounding woods. Something whizzed past her and dug itself into the wooden door she had come from. She countered with an arrow of her own, but stopped when she noticed a small piece of paper tied around the shaft of the door arrow.

Unraveling it, she read the simple words aloud: "Go east." What a little trickster, trying to get her to follow him. She smirked at the message and figured might as well go well equipped.

Quickly heading inside, she exited into the forest a few minutes later with extra guns and ammo strapped to her person. She strolled up the gentle slope of the land and walked a little into the trees. She instantly regretted not taking Geist, her Grim along. The sun was setting quickly, the canopy already blocking out most of the light. He would have at least sniffed out the person by now -

Her heart stopped beneath her slender ribs as he embraced her. The warmth of his skin against hers was melting her icy exterior. She resisted the urge to hug him in return. She hastily recovered her emotions and shoved them back down inside her. She pressed a gun barrel against his chest. "Lorcan, ten steps back or I’ll blow a hole right through your heart."

"Is that how you greet past lovers nowadays?" he retorted, not releasing her.

She fired the gun, barely missing him, and pressed the barrel against his skin, making him flinch back from the burn. "It's how I greet annoying trespassers nowadays."

[Evester]

Name: Evester
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Dandin Walcott
Word Count: 603
Rating: 3rd-5th years
Warnings: Abuse

The summer had gotten off to a bad start, as usual, and Dandin Walcott once again found himself wandering the streets of Carrleigh – his industrial and polluted hometown. It was his usual routine, but that didn’t mean that he liked it any better than in previous years. As he meandered aimlessly past block houses, one crammed after another, and abandoned playgrounds, benches broken and brick wall fences vandalized by the gangs who liked to roam the area as well, he stared grimly in front of him, bored and very much alone.

Suddenly, an owl swooped down from nowhere to land on the chain-link fence that ran along the sidewalk, seeming to glare at Dandin as he turned in half-surprise. Dandin was confused because he did not recognize the owl (it was not Cedric’s long-eared, or Brandy’s tawny, and certainly was not Gage’s magnificent eagle owl), and he didn’t know who else would be sending mail to him. Except that it wasn’t just mail, he realized. It was a package about the size of his fist. He untied the parcel but before he could do anything else, the owl took wing and flew away into the sky.

“Come back!” Dandin shouted. “Who is this from?” There were no markings of any sort on the wrapping, and Dandin tried to open it. However, it was sealed shut – he’d need his wand and his wand had been confiscated by his parents, as they did at the beginning of every summer.

“Damn...” Dandin muttered, staring at the little package. He tried shaking it close to his ear, but heard nothing aside from a faint rattling noise. Frustrated, he stuffed the box in his pocket before turning to head home. He’d need to get his wand back, somehow.

Back inside the house a half hour later, Dandin treaded carefully down the hall. He wasn’t sure where his father was, but he was so eager to find out what was in the package that at the moment he didn’t bother to look. He crept into his parents’ bedroom and made directly for the dresser, where he knew his mum stored his wand every summer, but just as he had lifted the rod from the bottom drawer, someone grabbed his shoulder from behind, causing him to lose his grip on the wand as he whirled around.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” his father shouted, looking very red in the face. Dandin could smell the alcohol on his breath. He tried to duck the inevitable blow as his father raised his fist, but it was useless.

"Leave me alone!" Dandin yelled, but his father drowned him out.

“Haven’t I told you to stay out of here?” Dandin endured another smack rigidly, his head spinning. “And what are you doing with that stupid wand?”

But Dandin had had enough. Making use of his father's momentary shock on seeing the wand on the floor, he twisted out of his father’s grip, and shoved away from him, trying to hold his wild emotions in check.

"Get back here, you-"

But Dandin wasn't listening as he stormed out of the house, his lip trembling as he pressed his hand over his bloodied nose. He tried to stifle the hot tears from trickling down his cheeks, but they came anyway, as they did every time this happened. Enraged at his father, but more essentially enraged at himself for having been caught, and for having allowed himself to be beaten up over such a trifling, unimportant mystery, he squeezed the little package tightly, before throwing it violently as far across the street as he could.

[mudbloodproud]

Name: mudbloodproud
House: Hufflepuff
OC: Skylar
Word Count: 470
Rating: 1st - 2nd year
Warnings: mention of death

Skylar sat on the couch in the living room of the house he had grown up in. He had buried his mother just over a week ago. This was the first time he had been in this house since his mother had died. He had been staying with his friend Rick. He knew he would spend the rest of the summer there. He only came back today to get some clothes.

Skylar was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. Standing, he went and swung the front door open.

“I have a letter for an Abigail-”

“I’ll take it,” Skylar said cutting the postman off before he could finish his sentence. “I am her son.” The pain, never far from the surface, reared its ugly head stealing his breath away.

Taking the thick envelope, Skylar turned and closed the door without another word to the postman.

Skylar noticed the postmark was from England. He did not recognize the handwriting. Curious, Skylar carefully opened the large envelope and slid the contents out. There was no letter inside, just a newspaper. He looked at the date, June twenty-first.

It was obvious this paper was a Wizard’s paper. He glanced at the name, The Daily Prophet. Sitting back down in the same spot on the couch, Skylar finally looked at the headlines.

The entire front page was dedicated to proclaiming someone called, You Know Who was back. Skylar thought quickly about the stories his mother had told him regarding why she had moved here. He knew this was not a good thing.

But the question remained. Who had sent this to him and why? Or rather, who had sent this to his mother and why? Skylar looked inside the envelope again for a note. Nothing.

He sat back and began to read each story. There had to be something in this paper that explained why this was sent here.

As Skylar turned to the second page, a name jumped off the page and registered instantly. His father was mentioned. Before he could read the story however, there was another knock on the front door.

Impatiently, Skylar rushed to the door and once he opened it, he realized it was the same postman standing there.

“What?” Skylar demanded.

“I have another letter,” the postman said timidly.

Skylar ripped the small envelope out of the man’s hands. As before, he slammed the door looking down at the postmark and handwriting. This letter was postmarked Scotland and Skylar recognized the handwriting as that of Albus Dumbledore. Ripping it open, Skylar began to read.

As he read, Skylar slumped to the floor. He knew now why some mysterious person had sent the newspaper. He knew now why his mother died when she did. Skylar’s world already shaky, crashed down around him once again.


I know this is short. I was going to sit this round out, but at the last minute thought of something I could write without giving anything away. Well, hopefully not giving too much away.

[leahsm2]

Name: leahsm2
House: Slytherin!
OC: Addison Pidge
Word Count: 577
Rating: 1st - 2nd year
Warnings: None

Addison stared through the stained glass window. She was in her Seventh Year, and had finally been able to claim this room. It sat slightly off the side of a hill, with a marvelous view of the lake. But it wasn’t the view she had coveted. It was the window. The glass in the window had an intricate picture of a snake, coiled and ready to strike. At certain times of the day, the snake threw off an emerald impression of itself, as though it was made of a glowing green bit of sunlight, covering the contents of the room with what appeared to be one massive serpent. But that wasn’t what drew Addison to this room. It was the window. It opened.

Addison had spent the better part of the preceding few years fighting off enchantments aimed at her owl. He was small and ungainly, nothing like the fine owls that normally graced the Slytherin table as they breakfasted. His beak was sort of splotchy, and his wingspan wasn’t terribly large. Isla always complained that his eyes were misshapen, and sloped “funny” off the sides of his face.

“Like the bloke that bought him,” Jonathon had joked.

Even though they hated Edgar, they had helped to keep him safe. Sadly, “they” had graduated two years ago, as had “the bloke.” When he was at Hogwarts, Edgar was kept busy, bringing Addison flowers and notes. Silly notes, to some perhaps, but important to Addison, because she and the purchaser of the owl were kept apart, most of the time, by forces only the young could understand. Both of them hated it. Edgar bridged the gap. It felt as though they went through their lives apart, but their lives only made sense when they had shared what happened separately with each other.

She had managed to keep Edgar alive for the past year, but was now eager to see him fly free, through the bright blue of this fine September morning. She was not disappointed.
She saw him, loping through the sky, obviously burdened by an oversized parcel.

Addison opened the window and scooped the poor, exhausted owl into her room. She patted his head and sat him down by a bowl full of cold water and another one filled with disgusting things that owls like to eat, then untied the parcel from his foot. She carefully unwrapped what appeared to be an obelisk. Puzzled, Addison found the parchment, hidden underneath it.

Find this object my beloved one, sent to keep you safe.
Keep this object, oh my only one, near to thee always.
I send this object, to my favorite one, because it is a treasure.
I know that as my secret one, you will know that I need you.
Lips as sweet as candy floss awaiting me forever.

Addison read the note three times before she understood. She carefully hid the obelisk under her robes. She went down to breakfast, and went to her classes. When she felt the time was right, and no one was looking, she made her move.

Addison stood in front of the oppressive looking stone gargoyles. She had never before been to the Head’s office. She cleared her throat and whispered. “Candy Floss.”

The gargoyles moved aside, revealing a spiral staircase. Addison sped up the stairs.

“Miss Pidge,” Dumbledore said, smiling, but somehow not surprised.

“Sir,” Addison said, as she handed him the obelisk, “ I believe this belongs to you.”

Thanks to Ashley/botheringsnape for the brainstorming!

[TyrannoLaurus]

*returns from lurkdom*

I'm really sorry for getting behind with the CG. I was ill, then I visited a friend, then I was ill again and now I'm just uber busy catching up with real life.

/excuses

I shall put this on the top of my to-do list :)

[TyrannoLaurus]

The Character Gymnasium!
Swapping OCs - Part II

Now that you have become fully acquainted with your other half's OC, it is time to write a drabble from their Point of View! As always, the drabble cannot exceed 700 words and you must keep it below 3rd-4th years rating.

Your theme will be: Sport and Leisure!

You must decide on a sport (e.g football) or a hobby (e.g chess) that your adopted OC would enjoy partaking in and explore how they handle either a match, building up their skills, or a failure in this activity. However, you must not use Quidditch or a sport/leisure activity that you already know your adopted OC partakes in.

Also - and very important! - you must not consult your partner on information about their OC. You've had a week to do this, so now you're going solo!

5 points will be awarded for each drabble
10 points for runner-up
15 points for winner!

Your deadline will be a week today, 16th October!

Post all entries here, and if you have any questions post them in the Part I thread so as to not clutter my inbox!

Have fun :)

[Tim the Enchanter]

HA HA!

Name: Tim the Enchanter
Partner: OliveOil_Med
Partner's OC: Nate Rivers (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=25490)

An Explosive Acquaintance

700 words!

"Team captains, pick your team members..." the coach ordered, but Nate only half listened. He hated Physical Education class - Nate couldn't think of a more pointless way to waste his precious time. At least he could scheme and cause discrete pandemonium in Algebra or English...

Nate wasn’t the last kid picked, but his heavily (pun!) un-athletic friend Graham was. Luckily, they were on the same team, but since there was an excess of players, the two friends sat on a hot bench, lazily watching the game unfold.

"This is stupid," Nate muttered for the tenth time.

"Yes, we know that already," said Graham, annoyed at Nate's tantalizing conversation skills.

Nate tried distracting himself by watching a certain Alaia Grace, who was sitting on the bench as an alternate at the opposite side of the concrete court. He admired her shiny hair, dazzling smile, and other body features that were situated a bit lower than her face. Unfortunately, she was to busy talking to her giggling friends to notice the smirking, dirty-haired teenager watching her in a very indiscreet manner.

"Hey, Earth to Planet Nate? You there?" Graham's voice entered his ears, as if from afar. "She's still ignoring you, just like for the last seven years... hello?"

Finally, Nate's brain returned to the real world from his depraved adolescent fantasies, and he was back to being bored again, watching the game.

Quodpot is a lot like basketball, except it's played on brooms. Oh, and there's an exploding ball too...

His mind had wandered and somehow managed to dig up something his older brother Carter had said about wizarding sports several years ago. He was just as uninterested in magic games now as he was then.

Or not.

...and there's an exploding ball too...

He grinned evilly, which genuinely worried Graham. "Nate? Nate?" he asked.

The opportunity arrived at halftime, and the instructor told the class that the alternates would swap places with the tired, sweaty students who had been playing for the last half hour. While they collapsed onto the concrete and benches and the alternates enjoyed their last few minutes of rest and relaxation, Nate went to action.

He deftly grabbed the forgotten basketball and returned with it to his bench. Once seated next to Graham again, Nate retrieved a match, a paperclip, and a half-eaten pack of Mentos from the depths of his pockets.

"Christ, Nate... you're not doing agic-mei like I think you're doing?"

"Don't let Lorelei here you say that, sinner!" Nate accosted jokingly as he worked with the basketball, and conveniently avoided answering Graham's question.

Soon enough, the two of them were on the court in the thick of the second half. "Gimme' the ball, punk!" a bigger kid on the other team yelled.

"Sure - take it!" Nate said after he dribbled the tampered basketball twice and simply passed it to him, much to the anger of Nate's teammates. He stood there for a few moments, watching the ball's progress coolly, then...

Nothing happened - it remained stubbornly intact. He swore softly and just stood there, trying to figure out what had gone wrong-

"NATE!" a voice shouted.

His head jerked in the direction of the voice, and he barely caught the basketball aimed dangerously close to his face. "I'm supposed to run with this thing, ri-"

The paperclip trigger that Nate had mysteriously inserted into the basketball through the pump hole activated, striking the match and detonating the volatile mixture of air and powdered Mentos - never mind that the whole reaction was scientifically impossible, but magic could do funny things.

KAPLOW!

When Nate woke up, he found himself sprawled on his back on the concrete basketball court, surrounded by a circle of apprehensive students. "Are you all right, Nate?" an enticing female voice asked.

Nate was greeted by the wonderful sight of Alaia Grace standing by his head - never mind that she appeared to be upside-down. That was the first time she had even talked to him...

He hadn't even planned it, but he had gotten her attention. Ignoring his aching body and the blood on his face from his nose, Nate managed a smile.

"Sure. I'm fine."

END

TAA DAA!

Oh yes, TyrannoLaurus... now that I'm done with the drabble, can I get back to asking questions in Nate Rivers' OC thread? I'd like to continue the interview, since it's been rather fun.

Tim the Enchanter

[luinrina]

Name: luinrina
House: Hufflepuff
Partner: Terri/mudbloodproud
Partner’s Character: Skylar Black
Title: Check Mate
Warnings: none
Word Count: 619


Salem Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, October 1994

‘What’s this?’ Skylar asked curiously when his best friend entered the dormitory, a wooden box tucked under his arm.

His friend Rick grinned, the smile stretching from one ear to the other. ‘This is Wizard’s Chess,’ he said in a tone that suggested Skylar had never before heard of it – although Rick knew his friend had. ‘Kiera taught me how to play it, just ten minutes ago. I’m now a master at this game.’

Skylar snorted. ‘And you think one small lesson is enough to learn how to play chess like a master?’

‘Well, can you play it?’ Rick asked defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest after having put the box onto the room’s table.

‘Of course.’ Skylar quickly shut his books and put away the parchment rolls to make a place. He was eager to show how Rick was wrong believing one explanation about chess’ rules would let him play like a master. Rick needed help to come back to reality.

‘Then I guess you won’t mind showing me in a match?’ Rick asked, sounding a little confused at Skylar’s eagerness.

‘Why should I?’ Now it was Skylar grinning from one ear to the other. ‘Come on, let’s play.’

~*~

Two hours later, both boys still sat across from each other, not speaking. Both were deep in thought, planning their moves, trying to outplay their opponent. At first it hadn’t looked good for Skylar; it had seemed that Rick really had learned how to play the game. But somehow, at some miraculous point, the tide had turned: Skylar suddenly took the lead, repelling Rick’s figures until –

‘Check mate.’

Upon seeing Rick’s incredulous gaze, Skylar felt more than just elated. He had never before played the game, and had just won.

~*~

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, July 1999

Looking around the room curiously while waiting for Harry, Skylar noticed several strange objects. Some were already quite old, but nothing was covered with dust. Someone obviously cared for the house’s cleanliness.

‘So, you want to know about Sirius?’ a voice said from behind, and Skylar turned around. A red-haired young man stood in the doorway, looking at him with an expression that carried both curiosity and mistrust.

‘Yes, I do, Mr Weasley,’ Skylar responded calmly. He had long lost the nervousness about meeting with his father’s godson and his friends.

‘Well,’ the redhead said, ‘Harry just got an owl. He has to take care of an urgent matter at the Ministry first.’

Skylar’s hope sank. ‘I see,’ he responded friendly, but where his voice stayed even, his eyes betrayed his true feelings. He had come close to learning more about his father; now he would have to wait again. ‘I’ll come back another day then.’

‘It shouldn’t take too long, however,’ the young man interrupted. ‘Harry said he’d be back soon.’ He shrugged.

‘So I can wait?’

‘Do you know how to play chess?’ Skylar was asked in return. He nodded, and Ron broke into a grin.

~*~

Half an hour later, Skylar had only three figures left. His opponent, on the other hand, hadn’t lost one single one of his own figures. Skylar made his next move, all hope gone to ever win this match. And as soon as he took his fingers off the Queen, his opponent lazily said, ‘Check mate.’

Blinking and then realising his mistake, Skylar hung his head. He had lost – for the fifth time in only thirty minutes.

‘You’re a real master at Wizard’s Chess, Mr Weasley.’

The redhead grinned, but didn’t say anything.

‘Well, your father wasn’t brilliant at chess either,’ a new voice said. Skylar looked over his shoulder and saw Harry Potter entering.

~Bine

[mudbloodproud]

Name: mudbloodproud
House: Hufflepuff
Partner: Bine/luinrina
Partner’s Character: Savaric Orwell
Title: Only a Girl
Warnings: mild violence
Word Count: 700 (after I chopped 200 words)

Patience was not something Savaric was good at. It was one trait he had never learned.

Pacing around the drawing room of the Black mansion, waiting for Isla, was getting on his nerves. His gaze then came to rest on a chess board. He knew how to play, of course, but he thought the game slow and boring. It took enormous patience to sit, sometimes for hours, and wait for the outcome.

No, he preferred Quidditch. He liked the speed as well as the challenge of getting the Quaffle through the small hoops. He enjoyed the feel of scoring.

Absent-mindedly, he began arranging the pieces on the board. Perhaps, Isla would like to play. He knew she enjoyed the strategy of chess. Yes, a game would please her.

Hearing a noise from behind him, he turned to see Isla walking into the room. He stood next to the table on which the chess board was set up and waited for her. He could tell she was puzzled by the look on her face.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said as she approached him.

Reaching out to take her hand, he pulled her into his embrace. He leaned down and kissed her softly. Sighing, Savaric pulled back.

“Fancy a game?” he asked.

“A game?” she asked confused. Glancing down at the table, Isla looked back at him startled. “I didn’t know you played.”

“Of course I play,” he said tersely. “All pure-blood wizards know how to play.”

“I would love to play,” she said as she sat down.

Savaric sat down opposite her. He wanted her relaxed.

Isla carefully made her first move. Savaric could tell she was nervous. He smiled and made his move. At first, Isla played cautiously, but as the game progressed, she took more chances. Within fifteen minutes, Savaric realized Isla was a master player. Though she took some chances, she always had a backup plan if her chance didn’t work out.

Savaric surveyed the board. He knew he was only one move from losing. That was unacceptable. An Orwell didn’t lose. He could feel his temper rising. He couldn’t be beat by anyone, especially not a girl.

No, he needed to calm down. He didn’t want Isla upset over his temper. He carefully made his move. If luck was with him, she would move her rook and open it up for him to possible salvage a win –

But luck wasn’t with him. With a slight smile on her face, Isla made her move and said, “Checkmate.”

He would have been able to control his temper if he hadn’t seen her smile of triumph. “We play again. I went easy on you because you are just a girl,” he said as he set the board again.

Isla looked at him startled. Savaric could see a hint of fear in her face but his temper was flowing too strong through his veins for him to acknowledge it. He would not lose again. He countered each of her moves. It was only when they were within a few moves of ending the game, he realized she was not playing as she had before.

He reached out and flipped the board. “I will not be condescended to. How dare you not play your best?” He stood and gripped her shoulders, shaking her. “Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me?”

Isla looked directly into his eyes. “It is hard not to hear you when you are shouting,” she said calmly. She took advantage of his momentary shock at her words and with every bit of strength she could muster, flipped the table back into him. As he let go of her, she stood.

“I will be upstairs. If you would like to play again, without the attitude, I would love to do so. I enjoyed playing... the first game.” She turned and walked out the door.

Savaric stared after her. How did his perfect plan go wrong? He looked at the mess on the floor. He needed to practise. Yes, that was the problem, he was out of practise.

Smiling, Savaric knew the next time, he would have no problem beating her. She was only a girl.

[eternalangel]

Name- Eternalangel
House-Ravenclaw
Partner-Starkllr
Partner's Character- Jane Barnaby
Title-Of Yankees and Bothersome Brothers
Word Count-698
Warnings-None



Jane Barnaby trudged down the hill. The day was bright and the autumn air crisp, tinted with the frosty cold to come. But Jane didn’t pay attention to her surroundings. She was scowling inside because she was missing the World Series and the Yankees, her team, was in it. It had been a tradition that every year her father would cook up some Yankee stadium style hotdogs and they would watch the games together.

Oh, it could be worse, Jane. You could be cramming your head like me for an exam, not that you cram your head with any USEFUL information anyway. Baseball facts and what not are not…

SHUT IT, GEORGE! Jane responded in her head.

Her twin brother could be a real nuisance sometimes. Not only was he a know-it-all Ravenclaw, but he was constantly in her head. Their connection went beyond similar looks and same birthdays; they could talk to each other (and in this case, listen in) from long distances in their heads. Right now, George was probably in his Common room or at the library studying his little heart out and she was marching down towards the lake and Gewn, her closest friend. She had promised to meet Gewn during the free period she had.

Jane knew something was up with her friend, so she tried to push her crazed Yankee obsession away. That was easier said than done. It was bad enough that her dorm mates thought she was crazy with the millions of pendants that she had for her team on her wall and how she just couldn’t stop herself from mentioning them or the World Series. Almost no one, except her brother, had any idea what she was talking about, nor cared. It was a Muggle sport. Not even Muggle-born witches and wizards from England could truly understand her obsession.

As Jane neared Gewn, she noticed her friend’s dirty blond head was lying desolately on her drawn up knees as she stared blankly out at the lake. Jane immediately knew that something was wrong; Gewn hardly ever begged to have a moment to talk in private. Jane tried her best to shove her crazy obsession from her mind and succeeded to keep all, but the occasional thoughts out.

Ah, that’s much better! George responded as the change took over.

Jane scowled, but continued on over to Gewn. As she had predicted something was wrong because she saw tears in her friend’s eyes. It must be Jacob Prince, the Slytherin who was nasty to all those who were not like him, pureblood. He picked on Gewn because she was a pureblood who was friends with a Muggle-born.

Jane sat down, waiting for her friend to say something. She knew better than to push Gewn, but she was also not the most patient person in the world. Finally, after sitting ten minutes without saying a word, Jane broke the silence.

“Was it Jacob Prince again?”

Without breaking her gaze from the lake, Gewn nodded, tears on the edge of her eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Gewn shook her head. Jane had predicted such an answer and knew that Gewn just wanted a friend near her.

Well, she’s a talkative one. Maybe you should bombard her with some useless baseball statistics like you do everyone else!

George, I swear if you don’t stay out my head, I will hurt you!

Though Jane had to admit, her brother may have a point; some useless information may be the distraction Gewn needed to get her mind off of Jacob Prince.

“Have you ever heard of the legendary team called the Yankees and their glorious reign of victories in a game called baseball?”

George snorted in her head and she could almost see him rolling his eyes.

Gewn, on the other hand, lifted her head and cocked it to the side. Her tears had, at least, stopped flowing and she was curious to know more, if only to forget the Slytherin named Prince.

Gewn nodded her head and Jane, with a triumphant smile on her face, began to tell the story of the first time she had ever set foot in Yankee Stadium.

[Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it]

Name: Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it
House: Proud Hufflepuff!!
Partner: Hufflepuff at Heart
Partner’s Character: Beth Williams
Title: The Idiocy of it All
Word Count: 700 (Phew! I had to cut so much!)
“Lily!” Beth Williams whined, “I can’t get the steps straight and we’ve been at this for hours!”

“Look, Beth, you asked me to teach you how to dance. But if you don’t want to enter the competition on Saturday, I’m not stopping you.” Lily snapped.

The thought of staying out of Hogwarts’s first-ever dance competition made Beth shudder. She wouldn’t sit out if Sirius Black was competing. She would learn this stupid dance if it killed her, so she might be able to partner with Sirius and win the competition. Maybe he’d see her as something then.

But…why did dancing have to be so sweaty? Her hair was all over the place, and there was actually sweat on her forehead! Ew!! She would have to do some serious grooming before she went downstairs again.

“Okay.” Lily said grumpily, “Let’s try this again.”

Beth would usually never stoop so low that she would ask Lily Evans to help her, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Lily was the only one who knew the dance. Beth just had to partner with Sirius. She had to.

“One, two, three, four.” Lily counted out loud, watching Beth’s feet carefully. “No! You step left on four, Beth. Left!”

“Ugh,” Beth whined, pushing her sweaty hair back from her face, “Why do we have to work so hard?”

“Again, Beth, this is up to you.” Lily said, struggling to keep her temper in check. “Let’s go again.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, turn, step, two, move right. You got it!” Lily exclaimed, looking up at Beth happily.

“I did?” Beth said, surprised. “Maybe I can partner with Sirius!”

Lily nodded, stepping back from Beth and surveying her for a second.

“Would you explain to me why you always do everything for Sirius?” she asked.

Beth’s glower returned. “I do not, Lily Evans. Just because you’re so high and mighty with James Potter drooling on your robes-”

“You know what, Beth?” Lily snapped, “You’ll never learn, will you?”
******Beth pushed a stray hair back into place, looking for Sirius. He was halfway across the dance floor, talking with James. Pasting a fawning smile on her lips, Beth marched over to the pair.

“Hey, Sirius,” she called, voice slightly high-pitched with nerves. Why was she nervous? How could he not like her, anyway? “Do you want to be partners for this thing?”

Sirius paused a moment, almost sizing her up. Beth fought a blush, and surreptitiously straightened her skirt. But once Sirius opened his mouth, she thought of nothing else.

“Er…sure, I guess.”

The instant he said that, the music started up, and everyone squared off. Heart racing, Beth put her small hand into Sirius’s warm one. Then Beth heard the cue to start, and she moved with Sirius, stepping forward as he stepped backward. Her face was hot as she fought to keep count and get her steps right, looking down at her feet.

And then, on Beth’s mental “eight,” it happened. Sirius moved his foot forward just as she did, and they kicked each other. Hard. Beth yelped frantic thoughts of rejection rocketing through her head.

“Whoops. Sorry.” Sirius said, flashing her a grin. Beth hardly reacted, trying to find the beat again. One, two, three, spin, move, turn, seven. And this time she stepped on his foot.

“Sorry, sorry!” Beth gasped. What if he thought she was a bad dancer? What if he thought she was a clumsy bumbling idiot?

“It’s okay,” he said, laughing.

So they stumbled through the rest of the dance, kicking and stepping on each other’s feet, Beth’s face growing redder each time.

“We are so pathetic,” Sirius guffawed as he whacked her on the last turn. Beth froze. Was he calling her pathetic? What had she done? Did he hate her, now? Was he laughing at her?

“Beth!” he chortled, “Relax! You know, sometimes you’ve just gotta laugh at yourself.”

Beth thought over the ridiculousness of the last five minutes, them bumbling over the floor like idiots. And suddenly, something inside her cracked. That thing that craved perfection and was confined by fear cracked, and she laughed and laughed at the idiocy of it all.

[starkllr]

Name- starkllr
House-Slytherin
Partner-Eternalangel
Partner's Character- Johnny Wolfbane
Title-The Right Tree
Word Count-688
Warnings-None


Johnny sat in the rickety chair, sweltering in the midday heat. The air was think and heavy, and filled with the buzz of mosquitoes; it was taking all his self-control to keep from slapping at the tiny insects as they flew all around him.

Concentrate on the tree. Let everything else pass out of your mind, Albus had said. Johnny was trying; he had been staring at the ridiculous little tree for over an hour now. He could close his eyes and see every branch and leaf of the stupid thing. A charming Muggle gentleman from Okinawa introduced me to this excellent pastime, Albus had explained. I find it very relaxing.

Johnny snorted. Relaxing? His hand ached from gripping the miniature clippers so tightly, and the sweat dripping off his brow had nothing to do with the sultry weather. It wasn’t even an especially pretty little tree; on the tiny trunk, one branch stuck out at the wrong angle, and another was much too long. It was quite ugly, really, the more he thought about it.

No magic. Use only your eyes and your hands. Shape the tree into what it should be. Johnny felt his anger rising. This was a colossal waste of time and energy; he began to wonder if this was Albus’ idea of a joke, telling him some pack of lies about an ancient Japanese hobby, just to see if the ignorant American who lived in a swamp would fall for it.

You can use clippers, to prune the tree. And string, to train the branches into the shape you wish them to be. Nothing more. Those are the only tools you need, along with a clear mind and an open soul. Nonsense. Just nonsense. Okay, he could shorten that branch – there, that did look a bit better, Johnny had to admit. And if he tied this one on top so it would bend back towards the trunk, it wouldn’t throw off the pattern of the other branches on top. And maybe cutting off some of the leaves – just a few – about midway down on that short branch, that would help for sure.

When you are looking only at the tree, only thinking about the tree, you will know what it should look like. What it should be, and what you think it should be, and what it is, will all be the same thing. Albus could talk and talk, and his words didn’t even mean anything. Johnny could feel his temper rising; he imagined Albus Dumbledore laughing at him from thousands of miles away, he could feel the beginnings of transformation stirring in his bones. No! He’d be damned if he lost control over a stupid, ugly miniature tree.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, and every detail of the worthless thing was visible to him. He could see a branch with just a handful of leaves on it that would look right if only it twisted upwards instead of downwards, and another that was a quarter of an inch too long, and another with just one leaf too many. It was ugly, but it didn’t have to be, a snip here and a twist there, and another snip or two or three, and it wouldn’t be entirely worthless…

…Johnny opened his eyes to darkness. The sun was gone, long gone, a thin sliver of moonlight in its place. He stood, fumbled around the room for a candle, lit it. There, on the table, was the tree. It wasn’t ugly at all. It was perfect. Every branch, every leaf, was exactly right. It wasn’t worthless, but instead a thing of beauty.

The Muggle who showed it to me said that “The tree is a teacher. Listen to it.” I think you’ll find it very valuable, John. Listen to it, Albus had said, even as Johnny was rolling his eyes.

“Son of a gun, you were right,” Johnny laughed to himself. It was a wonderful little tree.. Maybe he would give it to his mother. Pass it on. After all, wasn’t that the best thing to do with a gift?

[Hufflepuff at Heart]

Name: Hufflepuff at Heart
House: Gryffindor
Partner: Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it
OC: Rose Bria Raklynne
Word Count: 621

I stared down at the garish package in my hands. The shiny green paper was tied with a pink ribbon, and trussed up so tight with sellotape I could hardly open it. The package was for me. My present. My brand new tennis racket, bought for me by my elderly great-aunt. For me. For my birthday.

Happy Birthday, dear.

And I hope you have many more as wonderful.

Many more what? I thought. Tennis rackets?

It was true after all; I only had one. I would need another if I was to play.

"And where do you think I'll get the money for one?" Scoffed my father, the stench of beer on his breath overwhelming. "Think tennis rackets grow on trees? Think I can just magic one here? Well, tell you what. You become a world-class tennis player, then I'll think about buying you another one."

Mildred's high-pitched squeal of derisive laughter pierced the smoky, television-filled atmosphere of the living room.

"Tennis trees? Stop teasing the stupid child, Dave."

A world-class tennis player.

That's all that stood in my way.

I could already hear the crowd cheering as I smashed the ball across the net at earth shattering speeds. The nods of approval from my respectful competition. The glare from the golden cup as I raised it high above my head in triumph, knowing that my second tennis raquet would soon be on its way.

And so I practiced whenever I could.

Every day I could be spotted outside our squat bungalow, furiously thumping an off-white tennis ball against the grubby side of the house. The wall never shouted. It gently encouraged me to try harder and was always gracious in defeat.

Soon I was at it whenever I could. I arms ached with the constant effort. The rhythmical bounce of the tennis ball pounded through my head day and night. And I loved it.

The walls whispered the encouragement to me that my father never had. I now had the goal in life that I had been denied before. I was going to be somebody.

And that's what scared them so much. They could see that they didn't hold the same power over me that they once did. Mildred screamed at me for forgetting to do the washing up. I laughed. The slap she gave me could never be as hard as I could hit a tennis ball. My father reminded me of what a constant disappointment I was in his life. I conceded that he was probably right. I no longer had to hide my tears or hang my head in shame. They could no longer get to me.

Too bad I also had to learn that pride comes before the fall.

I woke up one morning to find my pride and joy smashed to pieces on the floor. Mildred informed me that I must have been careless with it, as it had got run over by a car during the night. I wondered how many cars drove through our living room.

I stared down at the splintered pieces of the only hope I had ever known at my feet, feeling more alone and friendless than I had in a long time. I couldn't believe how stupid I had been - what was I ever going to accomplish with a stupid piece of wood? I realised now how small and inferior I was. I was nobody.

Mildred called me from the kitchen. I had dishes to clean. Taking one last look at my fallen comrade, I swallowed the lump in my throat, wiped my eyes, and imagined what a tennis tree would look like.

[dancingwithneville]

Name: dancingwithneville aka Caroline
House: Ravenclaw
Partner: JOHN91043353 aka Johan
Partner’s Character: Jim Fafner
Title: Knight
Warnings: None
Word Count: 700
Note: I guess I should just let you know that some of the terms I used I found on Wikipedia.

Jim looked at the foil in his hand. It wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be. Why couldn’t he just use a jewel incrusted sword like they did in the pirate books he had read?

“So you ready for your first lesson?” Eric asked as he dumped a pile of gear in front of Jim.

“I need all of this?” Jim asked looking at the pile of equipment.

“This isn’t like wizard dueling. It’s more like physical chess.”

“You suck at chess, Eric.” Jim said as he pushed his arms through the protective jacket, Eric started to laugh.

“Wrong way mate.”

“What do you mean, wrong way?” Eric asked, looking down at the jacket.

“The zipper goes is supposed to be on the back.”

“Why?”

“So it doesn’t get in the way.”

Jim fixed his jacket and pulled on his gloves and heavy mask.

“How about we try a free style bout first,” Eric suggested. Jim gave an elaborate bow with a flourish of his foil. “One. Two. Three. En garde!”

Jim rushed towards Eric slashing the air with his foil. Eric parried his attempt and stabbed him in the chest. Jim spun on his heel going for Eric’s right arm but he was forced back as Eric advanced forward with some fancy footwork. The bout took five minutes before Jim gave up and Eric declared himself the winner.

“How come your so good.” Jim panted as he threw his heavy foil to the ground and pulled off his mask. His hair stuck up in all directions and his face covered in sweat.

“Lots of practice.”

“Hey Eric! Jim! I see someone’s curiosity finally got the better of him? Let me guess Borgin & Burkes just bought a Smaurai sword off of some poor pure-blood.”

“No!”

“Jim, you are a horrible liar. I have an idea, Eric, go get my gear and we will see who the true knight is!” Vilda challenged. Eric eyed her but went off to collect Vilda’s gear. He was back in less than three minutes holding a black bag. Vilda pulled out a silver jacket from the bag and pulled it over her head. Her gloved hand gripped a shiny silver foil “Eric? Mask?”

He handed the mask over. Vilda put it on and moved to the ready position.

“Are you both ready?” Eric asked. The two masked fencers gave a nod. “One. Two. Three. En garde!”

Eric took a tentative step towards Vilda but he was to slow. She quickly advanced he steps were small and quick. Her knees were bent at all times. Their foils clashed but she blocked his every move. Soon she had Jim backed into a corner. She lunged and her foil met the left side of his vest right below the heart. “I win,” she whispered and with that she left the Salle.

Jim watched Vilda as she left. How could such a small person beat him? She had been like an agile cat. “How did she do that?” And with that question his intensive training began.

For three weeks Jim trained with Eric. “Advance, Advance, Lunge, Recover!”
Eric would yell as Jim preformed the foot work. At times it would get repetitive but Eric would always throw in a, “Retreat, Advance! Lunge, Recover!”

At the end of the three weeks Eric was ready for his first match. He saluted the referee and his opponent. The referee gave the signal and the bout began. To win he needed two hits. Like Eric had said it was like a game of physical chess.

Each advance he made his opponent would retreat and vice versa. With each parry he blocked and lunge he executed he got closer to his first- hit! He had managed to block his opponents move and while they were retreating he struck. “Hit!” The referee announced. The second hit came easily. He knew his opponent now and he quickly gained another hit winning the bout.

Jim pulled his mask off and offered his hand to his adversary who took off her mask.
“Vilda?”

“You have really improved. I congratulate you.” She shook his hand.

“I suppose I get the title of Knight now?”

“For now…”

[leahsm2]

Name: leahsm2
House: Slytherin
Partner: XhayleeXblackX
Partner's OOC: Maverick Eugene Crawford
Title: Only Lily
Word Count: 622


Lily remained on the Quidditch field long after everyone else had gone. She remained. Her robes soiled. Her heart defeated. Her mind was unable to fathom the loss. She lay on the grass and looked up at the pitch, trying to figure out how the perfect game had ended so wrong.

“Fore!” a familiar voice bellowed.

Lily remained motionless. She knew who it was and decided she didn’t care. Life, as she had known it, had ceased to exist. Gone were smiles and happiness, replaced forever by bitterness and broken dreams. So be it. A small white ball rolled slowly by her head, spinning back and stopping flush up against the top of her head.

“Brilliant, M.C.!” Luke Vector laughed. “Perfect shot!”

Lily felt the vibrations of heavy feet as the boys ran towards her. She shut her eyes and made a silent vow to remain on this spot forever, as a penance. She would pay for her stupidity, which had cost her team everything, by never leaving this place. Eventually, she would meld into the ground, sanctifying it with her sacrifice.

Maverick reached Lily first. He gazed down at the small, muddy girl, marveling at how anyone could be so dirty, and yet look so charming at the same time. She stayed motionless, eyes tightly shut, willing herself to become a bit of sod clinging to the worn grass on the field.

“Oh, buck up would you, Lily?” Geoff laughed breathlessly when he and Luke finally caught up to their friend. “I mean, sure, you cost Gryffindor the cup, but really. In ten years time, most people will have forgiven you.”

Maverick silently reached into his bag and produced another small white ball. He wordlessly handed it to Luke and motioned them to go ahead.

“Right,” Luke said. “We’ll just play through. C’mon Geoff.”

Maverick watched as Luke hit the ball with such force that it went halfway back towards the castle. When he was sure his friends were far enough away, he plopped down beside Lily, wordlessly joining her in her misery. The two lay silently for quite some time.

“What on earth were you doing?” Lily asked, finally, the silence having overwhelmed her.

“It’s a Muggle game called ‘golf,’” Maverick explained, reaching over and grabbing the small ball that still lay by Lily’s head. “Luke discovered it last summer and we’ve been playing it on the grounds. It’s sort of stupid, but the gear is fun.”

Maverick began telling her, in his quiet deep voice, about the intricacies of the game. “Of course, here on the grounds of Hogwarts we don’t have small holes, so we improvise,” he said, ending the explanation suddenly. “Lily, you can’t blame yourself for that loss, you know. You were bleeding brilliant until that final penalty.”

Lily sat up. Maverick followed suit and the pair looked at one another, as the daylight rapidly faded. Maverick reached out and rubbed a smudge off of her nose, looking intently into the most vibrant shaded brown eyes he’d ever seen.

Only Lily, he thought, smiling at the thought of the distraught form he had spent the last hour lying by.

“Teach me golf,” she said finally, standing up and grabbing one of the strange sticks from his bag.

Maverick put the ball on the ground and placed her hands properly around the club. He stood behind her, holding her gently and showing her how to swing her body, while keeping her knees in the proper stance. He let her go, and she swung, and the ball flew effortlessly through the air.

This will be a great story for the grandkids, Maverick thought, watching Lily run to retrieve the ball and hit it again, all the trauma forgotten.

[XhayleeXblackX]

Name: XhayleeXblackX
House: Slytherin
Partner: leahsm2
Partner's OOC: Addison Pidge
Title: Her Freedom, Her Happiness
Word Count: 468
Addison ran along the lake at a leisurely pace. She wasn’t in a hurry, she had nowhere to go, she just wanted to run . . .

It had been a recent obsession; her haven taken it up after a particularly frustrating letter from Isla. Then, she’d been running to escape her problems, her reality. Now, she ran to clear her head, her soul. She’d found it was extremely calming, and the quiet control she experienced helped to relieve her tension and stress. Running made her feel alive, free.

After pondering why running made her feel this way the previous night, she concluded that it was because running reminded her of Sirius . . . or more the way he made her feel. It was a feeling she missed dearly.

Ever since Sirius had left last year she had felt alone, what with Isla and Jonathan gone as well, but his absence had affected her more so. He’d not even written her, not once. She missed his touch, his voice, his eyes, his laugh . . . she just missed him. She missed the feeling he gave her, that freedom to be who she was, to be happy, to love.

So, she ran to feel.

She was halfway around the lake when something moved off to her left and she lost her focus. She turned and saw a glimpse of a head of long dark hair before running straight into a tree. She feel to the ground hard, and prayed that her nose wasn’t broke. How stupid could she be? Thinking she had seen him? The clean air must have been getting to her head . . .

“Are you all right?”

Sirius? No, it couldn’t be. She was imagining it. She’d been so lost in running and the feeling of freedom that she was hearing him.

“Addison, talk to me. Are you all right?” he asked again, taking her hand and brushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Sirius? Is that you?” she asked groggily.

He let out a relieved sigh. “Yes, are you okay? You ran right into that tree.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You know how clumsy I am,” she answered, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” he said. He stared at her for a moment before bringing her to him and embracing her in a tight, loving hug. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed this.”

She couldn’t believe it. He was here. Sirius was standing right there, with his arms around her. She didn’t need to run anymore. She didn’t need the rush of the cold night air to make her feel alive. He was here; her freedom, her happiness, it was here. There would be no more running.

“Me too, Sirius, me too.”


Not the greatest, but at least I tried. *Sorry Leah, please don't curse me*

-Haylee

[JOHN91043353]

Name: Johan or JOHN91043353
House: Ra Ra Ravenclaw!!!
Partner: Caroline or dancingwithneville
OC: Claire DeRush
Title: Pride Will Never Make You Fall
Word Count: 699

”He’s wonderful,” Claire exclaimed as she laid eyes on the magnificent creature. “I can’t believe you actually own a horse like that.” She gently patted the winged stallion’s neck. It was a truly amazing animal. Although a powerful and noble Abraxan, this horse didn’t have the Abraxans’ usual palomino colour, but a shining snow white shade similar to the one found on unicorns. His gigantic wings looked like those of an angel and there was something mysterious in his dark eyes.

Domenic gave her a confident smile. “His name is Pride,” he explained. “He was raised by Laurentia Fletwock herself...”

Clair was impressed. Laurentia Fletwock was the wizarding world’s most famous breeder of winged horses and just buying a simple Aethonon that she bred would ruin most wizards. Claire didn’t even want to know how many galleons this extra ordinary stallion had cost the Grey family.

Pride seemed to become restless next to them, snorting and neighing impatiently, wings twitching, as he stamped the ground with his hovers.

“I think he want to fly,” said Claire.

“Well, of course. He’s not made for standing here on the ground looking foolish like some simple donkey. Why don’t you take him for a ride?”

“What? But I’ve never sat on a horse in my life.” For a second, Claire’s voice sounded nervous and insecure, but then her gaze found Domenic’s wonderful bright grey eyes. Smiling his always so confident smile, he grabbed her hand. As their hands met, Claire felt the heart take a skip inside of her. Almost as fast as it had come, the insecurity left Claire. A single glance at Pride next to her was enough to convince her. She wanted to fly. “You know, I’ve always thought I would make an excellent horseman though.”

Dom tenderly removed one of the golden curls from Claire’s face. “I would bet you, but I’m afraid I would loose.”

Twenty minutes later, when Pride was properly saddled and Claire was sitting comfortably on his back, Domenic was giving her the last instructions before take off.

“… and to make him go higher, you lean slightly backwards while pressing your heals very gently to his sides. When you want him to fly lower or land, just bend forward and push your left wrist to his neck. All clear?”

“It’s clearer than water, Dom. Just let me go already.”

“Fine! Don’t fly too high, though. I’ll be using the Sonorus Charm to give you instructions. Ready?”

As Pride spread his wings, Claire grabbed the reins tightly and leaned back. Before she knew it, they were gliding through the air. It was almost like flying a broom stick, but for some reason, this made her feel much freer. Well you can’t play Quidditch with a horse, Claire though to herself while Pride swept down over the huge meadow where Domenic watched them quietly.

The wind blowing through her long gold blonde hair, the white Abraxan moving beneath her, and the attractive smell of stable and leather; it all summed up to one of the greatest feelings Claire had ever experienced. She was at the mercy of this huge magical creature. Claire knew that it would only take an unexpected and dangerous move from Pride, and she would fall helplessly to the ground, although she was sure this would never occur. Only two hours ago she had never even heard that the Grey’s owned a winged horse, but yet she had already gained complete trust in Pride.

Without realising it, Claire for once seemed to forget everything about the dark shadow laying over her family. For a short period of time, Claire had no problems what so ever. From the ground Dom was shouting instructions and as the afternoon passed by Claire became a better and better rider. Never had she found so much joy in something before besides writing.

She leaned forward, pressing her wrist against Pride’s neck, which caused the white stallion to dive. Fearlessly rider and horse threw themselves towards the ground. Only seconds before crashing, Pride elegantly straightened up and landed beside Dominic.

“I told you I was a great rider,” Claire declared as her feet once again touched solid earth.


Special thanks to Alyssa who helped with the beta work.

MvH Johan

[Evester]

Name: Evester
House: Hufflepuff
Partner: wildchild
OC: Ariana Mason
Title: Drinking Game
Word Count: 657
Warnings: Substance Abuse

“Ariana, over here!” I heard Sirius call through a tipsy fog. I turned and beamed at him, weaving my way through the crowd of end-of-exam partiers to join him, James, Remus, Peter, and Bridget, who were all grouped around a table in the corner of the common room.

“’Sup, Sirius?” I asked, focusing on the handsome boy in front of me. I had already had a few firewhiskeys, but I saw more bottles on the table.

“Beer Pong. You in?” James said, taking a swig from a bottle before glancing casually over at Lily Evans, who was watching from across the room. She had a distinctly scornful look on her face, but I waved her over to us anyway and she wandered over reluctantly to join me and Bridget.

“What’s beer pong?” I asked, turning back to the boys and cursing myself inwardly for being so ignorant-sounding in front of Sirius. But he just laughed.

“It’s an American Muggle game. You’re part American, right?”

“Yes, part American, part Native American, part French, and part Irish!” I giggled, reaching for another firewhiskey, but James slapped my hand away.

“Not yet. First we fill up these plastic cups with firewhiskey, since we don’t have any Muggle beer, and then we divide into teams and try to throw a ball into the other team’s cups.”

“Okay!” laughed Bridget, grabbing my hand and pulling me to one side of the table. “It’ll be me and Ariana against you boys. Do you want to play, Lily?” she asked skeptically, receiving a frown from Lily.

“Perfect,” James grinned. “If we throw a ball into one of your cups, then you have to drink that cup. Last team with full cups of firewhiskey wins!”

I shrugged, not really caring about the rules, and watched as James and Sirius high-fived before pouring out the firewhiskey. I had never heard of this game, but if James and Sirius were involved, I had to be as well. It would never do for the Marauders to be one up on me. We were all best friends, and I had to show them I was just as good as them. That included drinking.

But the game wasn’t quite as easy as it sounded. When my turn came, I swayed a little before tossing the ball – it managed to hit one of the cups, but instead of going in, it knocked it over, spilling firewhiskey all over the table. Sirius retaliated by making a perfect shot, and the crowd of Gryffindors gathered around us cheered as I downed yet another cup of the alcohol. But when it was my turn again, I shrieked with laughter when the ball went straight into a cup. I wheeled around drunkenly, throwing my arms around Leo, who was cheering behind me.

A few minutes later into the game, I pulled Bridget aside.

“Only two more good throws, and we’ll win, Bridge!” I whispered excitedly, gripping her arm to keep from falling over.

“And then perhaps you can have a good post-match snog with Sirius!”

“What? I don’t like Siri, where did you hear that I liked Siri?”

“So you do!” She grinned triumphantly.

“Well, then you can have a good snog with Leo, then!” I retaliated, but she had already moved back to the table. We squared up (as best we could considering the amount of firewhiskey we had consumed since the game started), and James grinned wickedly as he aimed.

SPLASH. His ball hit one of our cups so hard, the firewhiskey splashed all over my shirt. I screeched and stepped back hastily, running straight into Leo.

“Ouch! You stepped on my toes!” he gasped, but I grabbed his arm.

“Sorry, Leo!” I choked out before turning and throwing up all over the floor.

The other Gryffindors made noises of protest and jumped back, but I guessed I had finally had a bit too much.

“Well,” Sirius remarked casually, “I guess we win!”

O.o

[OliveOil_Med]

Name: OliveOil_Med
House: Ravenclaw
Partner: Tim the Enchanter
OC: Dieter Heydrich
Title: That's the Durmstrang Battle Cry
Word Count: 700
Warnings: None


Slowly, Dieter scooted down the staircase. Ernst moved just ahead of him, and Konrad ahead of Ernst, both of them with their wands at the ready. Dieter’s fingers clentched tightly around his wand, though his remained in his pocket. The feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach was beginning to climb high and higher into his throat. He worried that he might not be able to breathe soon.

________________________________________________


"So what is it that Muggles do for fun, Dieter?” Konrad asked the day during History of Magic. “No Quidditch, no wizard chess, no nothing has anything to do with magic. What does that leave; playing with stones and twigs in the dirt?”

“No!” Dieter answered, extremely offended. “Deutsches Jungvolk has more important things for us to do than play in the dirt!”

“Yes, yes; Deutsches Jungvolk,” Konrad replied as he swayed his head from side to side. Dieter bit his lip to keep from answering back, for fear that their teacher may hear them and blame HIM for the entire incident. Konrad didn’t seem to understand the importance of the Deutsches Jungvolk, and neither did any of his teachers.

Then, Dieter thought of something that even Konrad might appreciate as being fun. “Sometimes, when the Deutsches Jungvolk takes us on camping trips, we sneak down to the girls camp and throw snowballs at them!” Dieter felt his heart begin to race as he himself got caught up in the excitement of his former life among Muggles. “It’s like a real war!”

Slowly, a smile began to creep over Konrad’s face, though Dieter would not know the reasoning behind it for several more hours.

______________________________________________


The faint sounds of the girls’ giggles could finally be heard as they neared the bottom of the steps. Ernst and Konrad kept their heads ducked low, so that the stone rail could protect them from any retaliation.

Slowly, under the severe gazes of his roommates, Dieter finally pulled his wand from his pocket and stood beside them, waiting for the order to attack.

But Dieter still could not shake himself of the crawling feeling going up and down his stomach. Snowball fight were one thing, but he had seen what magic was capable of doing. The girls could easily be seriously hurt. And if not them, it would be Dieter and his two roommates when the girls retaliated. The girls at Durmstrang didn’t seem to share the Reich’s opinion that a woman’s place was at home, caring for her husband and her children, and the girls in Dieter’s Defensive Magic class took the practice of combat spells very seriously.

Sille Lind, the Aryan Dane, laughed in that slight cackle of hers that could have made anyone think she was a witch, even before they saw her do magic. Fortunately, it was enough to shake Dieter out of his thoughtful state, and even to help him realize what the problem was. The dread his was feeling was coming from the fact that he was about to attack his fellow Aryans! It was so simple! Maybe back with the <i>Deutsches Jungvolk</i>, fighting the girls was just a game, but things were different at Durmstrang. He should have been the one uniting all Aryan witches and wizards together, not driving them away from him. He could not believe he did not think of it before.

But thinking was getting him into a lot of trouble lately, because Konrad and Ernst had given the signal and had already begun to open fire with their wands. Curses flew across the room and sent the girls screaming and cowering behind the chairs. It also didn’t take very long for curses to be fired back at them.

“Densaugeo!”

“Confundo!”

Well, so much for uniting with Aryans at his side. The girls, at least.

"Expelliarmus!”

“Locomotor Mortis!”

“Petrificus Totalus!”

The only thing Dieter could possibly see himself doing now was to take part in the fight, and try his best not to hit any of the Aryans. And with perfect timing, Bozena Wysocki, a Polish Slav, backed out from behind the safety of the couch and in perfect alignment with Dieter’s wand; as though she were just asking him to hex her.

“Tarantallegra!"

Well, here is my Dieter drabble, at long last. Unfortunatly, I fearI am not as skilled as Tim in capturing the disturbing little Nazi boy we all love to hate. Although I hope he will believe this sounds like him, and giving Dieter the emotion of guilt did not make him seem to human.

[luinrina]

Welcome back to the Character Gymnasium. I noticed a lot of you liked to participate when it was run in August and September 2008, and I want to bring it back. I’m not going to run it weekly, but the intervals may range from every two weeks to once a month, so keep your eyes peeled. :)

In light of “celebrating” this challenge’s return, the topic for this week is

Resurrection

Your Original Character meets someone from their past. But here’s the catch: The person they meet is already dead. How is that possible?

I leave that open for your interpretation.

All MNFF standards apply. All entries must be in drabble forms and be 700 words or less. When rating your drabble, please keep it to 3rd-5th years and below.

When submitting, please fill out this form:

Name:
House:
Original Character:
Title:
Ratings and Warnings:
Word Count:
Author Notes:

The highest achieving character will win ten points, the runner-up will be awarded five points.

Please post your entries here by 16th January.

This thread is for submissions only. Please PM any questions to me.

Have fun,
~Bine

[weasleywannabe47]

Name: Wes
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Brenna Lawrence (see thread)
Title: Baby Girl
Ratings and Warnings: None, mentioned death
Word Count: 176
Author Notes: Fluffy....!


I walked into the Veil Room at the Department of Mysteries. Here, I would truly find the answers of my father's past. I stood in front of the lightly fluttering veil, and called his name. "Sirius Orion Black." There was a shrieking trill and my dad, whom I hadn't seen since I was two years old, stepped through the archway in ghost form. "Brenna." he said softly, studying me with those dark eyes.
My eyes.
"Why did you go after him, Dad? You knew you'd be caught."
"I did what I did for you and your mother, Brenna. Wormtail would've gone after us next! I had to stop him before he....."
Dad paused.
Before he hurt my Baby Girl."
Baby Girl.
This stirred up memories of my toddler days. Dad called me Baby Girl.
And I always had been, always would be.
My dad had given up his whole life for his Baby Girl.
The price of his great love overwhelmed me, and I cried.
Cried because I hadn't experienced even a taste of his love.

[Enneirda]

Yay! It's back! :]
Name: Enneirda / AJ
House: Hufflepuff!
Original Character: "Chaos" Earle
Title: Little Brother
Ratings and Warnings: Mention of character death
Word Count: 700 exactly.
Author Notes: A little dark and I had to chop a lot out.

Chaos never had time to grieve the loss of her brother. For four years the thought pestered her mind, but she banished it to the back of her brain with feeble excuses. She was too busy with her job; too distracted with the present. She didn't need another thing to worry about.

It was not until she was to rob a castle in Japan did she think of her brother again. She sat quietly in the boat as her partner, Ashes, rowed. Wand at the ready, she kept a keen watch for any threats on the shore. The lake was calm as they sailed to the castle on the small island; nothing had impeded their progress. This Dark wizard they were to steal from was not someone to be taken lightly. Chaos had dealt with danger before, but this man had been known to use the darkest defenses for his precious home.

They beached the boat and the two rushed with quiet steps. First, however, they needed to cut their way through a thick forest of golden grass.

“Why is there always a forest?” Ashes muttered as they unsheathed twin blades and began the process of creating a path.

“To impede our progress,” Chaos answered quietly. The pair made swift work of the plants and found themselves at the base of a tall hill.

“This man better have some important things; I'm getting tired,” he complained as the pair climbed to the top. The sight sickened Chaos to her core and silenced Ashes.

The valley before them was filled with mindless Inferi; their uncontrolled bodies bumping against each other to form a barrier between the two agents and the castle. “Good God,” Chaos whispered, nearly retching.

“We need that sword,” Ashes said, placing a hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

Hesitantly, she followed him down the hill and into the sea of Inferi, carefully whispering “Incendio” every once in a while to protect herself against the animated corpses.

“We’ve got to hurry,” she said to Ashes nearby, who was moving more quickly than her. The Inferi were slow, but moaned like the damned.

“We’re nearly there,” he answered, nimbly sidestepping a male Inferius. Chaos was not as fast and her heart stopped as the Inferius grasped her arm. She stifled a scream.

“Ashes,” she croaked, alarmed while burning the hand off of her arm. He couldn’t hear her; he was already too far ahead. Chaos tried not to panic as she moved through the crowd, her heart beating uncomfortably again. It was incredibly fast.

Chaos was nearly through the sea of the dead when someone caught her eye. A boy Inferius was dumbly knocking into another person, his black hair mussed, his pale skin tinged blue. “Kentaro?” she breathed. Her younger brother did not answer to his name. He did not even pause.

“Kentaro,” she said, louder this time. He still did not answer, but noticed her. His eyes were glowing with terrible lights of the dead. “KENTARO!”

“Chaos!” Ashes’s voice echoed somewhere. She did not notice as she moved through the crowd to her brother. “Don't!”

“Kentaro,” she said, meeting him and crouching to eye level. Her heart snapped in two. Her little brother could not speak as she pulled him into an embrace. He did not return the hug; he simply could not. She felt tears spill over onto her cheeks. “I am sorry,” she said in their native language, trying to make him understand.

“Chaos,” Ashes said, close to her ear. She gazed up at him.

“Ashes, this is my brother,” she whispered hysterically. She stroked the young boy’s messed hair, smoothing it down. “This is my brother.”

“He is not your brother,” Ashes said harshly. “He is dead, Chaos!”

“SHUT UP!” she exploded, holding her brother closer. The little Inferius grasped her hair, dragging her to the ground with inhuman force.

“Incendio!” cried Ashes as he hoisted Chaos up with his free arm.

“Let me go!” she shouted wildly, as he placed her on his shoulder. Her little brother did nothing as she was carried off towards the hill. The small Inferius resumed his bumping into the others as she cried out his name one last time.

[Sly Severus]

Name: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Original Character: Elysia Malfoy
Title: She Came Back
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th, Character Death, Mild Sexual Situations
Word Count: 700 :D
Author Notes: Thanks to cm, Haylee, and Abbi for making this readable. None of you want to see the original version.


Elysia sat on the sofa, rocking Isabella in her arms. The baby slept soundly. In her waking hours, she cried a lot. Even after all these months, Isabella still missed her mother.

Elysia missed her, too. She’d always miss Bella. No matter the reason for her friend’s absence—regardless of how selfish or stupid Bella was being. Bella had been her best friend since she was five years old. She’d never fully turn away from her.

Elysia left. At seventeen, she’d had enough. Her boyfriend had disappointed her. Her best friend was becoming a Death Eater. All signs indicated that her baby brother would be joining the forces of evil. So she’d left.

That time, she was the selfish one. She’d left everyone she loved. Maybe if she’d stayed things could’ve been different, but she’d never know.

As she rocked the baby in her arms, she remembered how Isabella came into her life. It was only a few months after the death of Sirius Black. Bella arrived at her quaint Muggle home. She’d been scared, desperate and pregnant.

Little Isabella had been conceived in a fit of something resembling passion. In an attempt to feel connected to the world, Bella had been with Severus Snape after making an Unbreakable Vow that could’ve easily killed him.

Voldemort had learned of the child before the Vow. Finding Bella useless to him at the time, he sent her away to have the baby. He couldn’t have a baby distracting Severus from his duties.

And so Bella landed on Elysia’s doorstep, never doubting that her friend would come through for her. She’d been right. Elysia welcomed her with open arms. She loved Isabella like her own.

And then, suddenly Isabella was hers. Voldemort summoned Bella back, and she left. With nothing more than a hug for her friend and a kiss for her daughter, she was gone. Her master would always come first.

At first, Elysia had been mad, but it passed. With Bella, the anger always passed quickly. It had been like that since they were children. No matter what one did the other would forgive them.

Bella had been gone nearly a year. Back in Britain the war was in full rage. New deaths were reported every day, if you knew where to look. Each day that Elysia didn’t hear her friend’s name, she cried with relief. She still believed that one day, Bella would come back. She’d be her friend. She’d be a mother to her daughter.

She was dozing on the sofa, Isabella still in her arms, when a sound came from the floo. Looking up, Elysia gasped. She was there. Bella had come back. She stood there, smiling down at them.

“You’re here,” Elysia said, smiling. “Izzy’s missed you so much. Is it over?”

“It’s over,” Bella replied her voice sounded distant—sad.

“You’re staying then?” Elysia asked. “Bella, I love Izzy, but she needs her mother. You can’t run in and out of a child’s life.”

“I love her,” Bella said, sadness filling her voice now. “I love you, too. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with her. I know you’ll do what’s right. You’ll keep her safe.”

“You’ll keep her safe,” Elysia insisted. “I’ll always be here for you—both of you, but she’s your daughter. Get away from that monster. You can’t be his slave now. You need to be a mother. We can disappear. He won’t find you.”

Bella looked at her. Her face held none of the anger that it usually did when Elysia spoke ill of Voldemort.

“He’s dead,” Bella told her.

Elysia wasn’t sure how to respond. She was happy. It really was over. Bella was free. Everyone was free. Her brother wouldn’t be a slave anymore. But she couldn’t show that joy to Bella. Her friend would be mourning her evil master.

“Elysia, I have to go,” Bella told her. “I don’t have much more time. I love you.”

“You’re leaving again,” Elysia cried, real anger seeping through. “You’re not even going to hold your daughter.”

Tears came to Bella’s eyes. “I can’t. I’m dead, too. I love you.” She began to fade. “Tell Izzy I love her. Take care of her.”

[Azhure]

Name: Azhure
House: Ravenclaw
Original Character: Cassandra Deakin
Title: Forgive Me
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th; Implied Character Death, Dark/Angst. Mental Disorders (this wasn't intentional, but some people might see it that way). Oh, and slight mention of religion.
Word Count: 557
Author Notes: I couldn't resist entering this challenge, although it contains spoilers for the sequel of a story I'm currently working on.

This drabble is dark, so be warned.

“Forgive me,” she whispered into the darkness, her heart pounding as terror ripped through her. But there was no answer, no calming words that released her from all that she had done – there was no forgiveness. “Please.”

Cassandra desperately grasped at the nape of her neck, searching for that one thing that would show her she still had a chance, that she could make it right.

There was nothing.

The simple cross was gone, lost in the darkness around her.

“You are not forgiven,” came a soft voice from a few metres away. Cassandra squinted and tried to see who was standing there, but no light penetrated the room. “Cassandra,” continued the voice, elongating the last syllable of her name, and it was at that moment that Cassandra realised who it was.

“Alexander,” she breathed, panic starting to cloud her senses. He shouldn’t be here, she thought desperately. It’s wrong that he’s here."I-I’m sorry.” What else was she supposed to say? He was dead because of her stupidity; he was gone because she had turned her back.

“You’re not.” The words were spoken with in a whisper, as if the darkness had emitted it, not Alexander who stood mere metres away. Cassandra could feel a cold chill emanating off of his body, not the warmth one would usually feel from the living.

“I’m sorry,” she spluttered out again, shakily pushing herself off the stone floor, wincing as she put weight on her sore ankle.

“You’re not.”

Cassandra felt herself get slightly frustrated; she was doing all she could, yet Alexander still refused to listen to her? In death, he hadn’t changed all that much – he was still stubborn, determined to prove himself right...

As quickly as her frustration had appeared, it was squashed down again. She shouldn’t let her emotions get the better of her. Wasn’t that what her parents had always said? High emotions led only to trouble.

A fact that she only knew too well.

Everything seemed to swirl together, moving like a flow of silk, twisting and writhing until stretched taut. She was suffocating in it. Reaching out, Cassandra tried to grasp it, pull it away from her, but it was just darkness. There was nothing to grasp.

The darkness plunged into a slow dance, melding into her form, until she was almost stuck in a shell – no way to move. Distinctly, Cassandra heard Alexander mutter something, and she instantly felt her panic intensify. She had killed him, and he was back to get his revenge.

Alexander was walking forwards; she could hear the faint rustling of robes... unless that was just the cloak of darkness around her.

Pinpricks of green light pierced the darkness, and Cassandra tensed up. Avada Kedavra? she wondered, waiting for the force of the spell to hit her. It was no less than she deserved.

A few moments passed, until finally, she cracked open her eyelids. She was still in the darkness – it still surrounded her and throbbed against her eyes, but there was no sign of Alexander.

Had she been dreaming? Had it all been a figment of her imagination?

No. Alexander would return, Cassandra knew it. He had just amused himself briefly with her panic and despair. She knew that he would not leave her alone; he would want his death avenged.

She was sure of it.

[Tim the Enchanter]

Name: Tim the Enchanter
House: Ravenclaw!
Original Character: Wat Tyler
Title: Second Time's a Charm
Ratings and Warnings: Substance abuse, mentioned character death, weirdness, conspiracy, pirate talk, violence
Word Count: 693
Author Notes: Wat Tyler is from my humour fic, The Absurd Fanfic Revolution - however, please note that there are no spoilers in this drabble, since this is just a hypothetical scenario (as is everyone's, probably). Consider it an AU of an AU.

Second Time's a Charm

"Argh! Fill me up a pint o' Fyrewhiskey, m'lady!"

The old, wizened barman rolled his eyes and topped off Wat's filthy mug. "A sickle fer yer service, matey!" Wat said, and clumsily tossed a silver coin onto the floor.

Wat Tyler had been a hero once - the leader of The Absurd Fanfic Revolution, who had valiantly fought and sacrificed eye, limb, and sanity in the Great Tim War.

But it was to no avail. Tim the Enchanter had won, and the author had imposed humiliating terms on the surviving revolutionaries. Wat Tyler used to be handsome, strong, and assertive - he had an unshakable sense of justice, and could motivate the masses to rise up against the author to overthrow their shackles of underdeveloped characterisation!

With the revolution’s failure, the author had turned Wat into man who looked like a pirate, and talked like a pirate, and drank like a pirate. It was a cruel, cruel departure from the great young man he use to be. Wat had gotten so used to his new personality that it just came naturally, and he no longer fought it.

"BbLaAarrRpPP!" he burped.

Just as he wiped his saliva-strewn lips with a filthy sleeve, he saw something very, very strange. And the saw that he saw somehow cut one of the tables in half (sending bewildered patrons to the floor), and when the two halves of the table were put back together again, it formed a whole, and through the hole emerged a tall, skinny figure with untidy black hair, a thin face, and spectacles.

It was John Evans.

Wat blinked a few times, unable to believe his eyes. It was probably the Firewhiskey…

POW!

John kicked Wat in the head, and his shout of pain was more of an alcoholic gurgle. But the force of John's foot had knocked a piece of parchment out of Wat’s ear, and written on it in messy handwriting were instructions:

1. Talk like a pirate.
2. Get drunk a lot.
3. Don’t cause trouble!

~ Tim the Enchanter

John lit the parchment on fire with his wand, and suddenly Wat had an enormous headache – it wasn’t the Firewhiskey, or the blow to the head. It felt like his brains had been scooped out. But ignoring the pain in his skull, he gasped, "John? Is that you?"

"No, I'm the friggin' tooth fairy... Of course I'm John, you heroic prat! C'mon, up you get!"

John helped Wat up and seated him in a chair, proving (a second time) that the visitor was indeed solid and not a ghost. "B-but... you're dead!" Wat managed to stammer. "Tim ran you flat with his cement mixer; I-I saw it! You're sup-pp-posed to be dead!"

"Well, apparently I'm not," John answered irritably, for death hadn't improved his personality. "It was only implied that I died. It wasn't explicitly stated that I was killed, but mind you, it hasn't been easy secretly rewriting myself so I can cross over into this drabble - it's a long story. But the fact is, I am not dead."

Wat's suddenly clear mind was racing - his thoughts were amazingly void of "Arghs!" and "Mateys!" He wrapped his brain around the impossible concept that his dead friend and former revolutionary was alive in the flesh, and sitting right across from him.

Then something amazing happened - a swelling of passion in his heart, a roaring fire that consumed every fibre of his being; one that called him to act.

"Tim..." he spat venomously and forcefully, for the old Wat Tyler was back. "He needs to pay for what he's done to all of us!"

John smiled. "Yep. Second time's a charm."

Wat smiled too. “So, how many people we’ve got?” he asked.

“Three, if we count in the narrator,” John answered, pointing casually at me.

The leader of the newly resurrected Absurd Fanfic Revolution looked in my direction. “So, can we count you in?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m dictating all this to the reader for nothing...” I said. John and I offered our hands, and Wat shook them.

And then started Tim War II...

Hurrah for surrealism!

Tim the Enchanter

[Merlynne]

Name: Merlynne
House: Slytherin
Original Character: Meleia Varias
Title: Collisions
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th yrs for some moderately graphic injuries and (naturally) implied character death.
Word Count: 700
Author Notes: Meleia Varias from my complete fic Skeletons in the Closet, and my upcoming WIP.

Meleia Varias made the great mistake of stopping suddenly after stepping out onto the street. Oncoming traffic squealed as a dozen drivers fought to miss her, a yellow cab swerving erratically to avoid crushing the young woman as she stood, transfixed, in the middle of the Moscow street.

Heart leaping into her throat, Meleia hurried across, eyes still fixed on what had distracted her.

The little girl in the red cloak. Meleia’s first thought was that she knew the child, but the rational portion of her mind told her to throw this notion away. Just because the girl resembled her late sister, it did not mean that she was. After all, little Maria had died nearly five years ago, and a long way from Moscow at that.

But the child was so blatantly magical, dressed in her cloak with its long, peaked hood. Parents ought to monitor that sort of clothing, especially in areas so very non-magical, such as the downtown business core of Moscow, Russia.

Weaving in between Muggles on mobile phones, Meleia pursued the red figure ahead of her. The child was walking at random, leading her up the sidewalk, down a back alley, and then finally into an underground parking lot.

There, the little girl stood waiting in the weak fluorescent light. Her green eyes were searching, shaded by a fringe of ginger hair exactly like Meleia’s…exactly like Maria’s had been.

“What are you doing?” Meleia called softly in Russian.

The child replied in Meleia’s mother-tongue, Romanian. “Finally,” she huffed. “I need to speak to you.”

Meleia’s heart continued to hammer. There could be no mistake. It was Maria. She had the same childish lisp, the same dancing green eyes that promised she was much cleverer than her age. Indeed she had been, but Maria was dead. Her life blood had been spilt to break the curse their father had stumbled into, almost costing his life, Meleia’s life, and doubtlessly the lives of many others. Logic said that this could not be Maria.

And yet it was.

“Do you speak English?” Maria asked. She was too still. Meleia’s memory of Maria was of a child who was always busy, always fiddling with something; a pet centipede, a flower stolen from mama’s garden, or a tear in her dress.

“No,” Meleia replied simply. “Of course not. Maria?”

The child smiled with impish pleasure. “Mama said you ought to learn.”

The smell of gasoline from the parking lot was giving her a slowly spreading headache that began at the back of her head and slowly worked its way down her back and into her right arm. “Mama’s crazy, Maria,” Meleia protested, taking a step forward, arms outstretched to touch the fabric of Maria’s cloak, to see if she were real.

Maria took a step back. “Learn English,” she told Meleia, glancing behind her with a smile. “And travel West, not East,” she instructed. “What is most important to you may be in the East, but you are most important to the West. You have to go.”

“Okay,” Meleia agreed for the moment, frowning deeply as she glanced around the parking lot. “But why? What are you doing here, my Maria? I thought you’re dead?”

“I am,” Maria replied with childish simplicity and a smile. “And if you don’t go now, you will be too. Go!”

The pain at the back of Meleia’s head was spreading, and her arm beginning to throb. “Maria!” she cried. A disenchanting white light suddenly overcame Meleia’s sight, broken by dark forms and liquid clouds of red.

“Bloody tourists,” a sharp voice growled in Russian as they raised a scalpel over Meleia’s battered form. “Learn to cross a street! Honestly!”

“Maria,” Meleia spluttered witlessly, dizzied by the amount of blood she’d lost when the taxi had hit her, and the amount that the Muggle doctors were continuing to let run from her veins.

“Yes, pray,” a doctor sighed from a region near Meleia’s pained arm. “Okay, the bone is set. And the contusions?”

“She’ll live,” a voice muttered from elsewhere. “Morphine.”

In a flood of ecstasy Meleia went unconscious once more, but this time she stood alone in the parking lot, and felt no pain.

[eternalangel]

Name: eternalangel
House: Ravenclaw
Original Character: Jean Fulver
Title: Just Like Old Times
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th year, character death mentioned
Word Count:631
Author Notes: This is set during the Triwizard cup. SPOILER WARNING FOR THE TRAVELER'S SECRET. We all know that Viktor Krum's grandfather is killed, but this snippet gives away some spoilers for my fanfiction series with the first story called The Traveler's Secret. The spoilers come in the second story On the Road to Nuremgard, so I hope people will have forgotten this before the second part is put up.

A tired old man with a shock of white hair and startling blue eyes waded through the distracted and cheering crowd. For as large as he was, he was nimble and swift. Barely anybody realized he was near them before he was gone. The man snuck his way to the back of the elevated stands and sat down. His knees and hands ached from the bitter autumn cold. His body was not as young as it used to be anymore, and all the little pains in his limbs and back showed this, but he wouldn’t have missed this event for anything in the world. All round him, the different uniforms of the different schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, had melted into a sea of colors. The sea ebbed and rolled as everyone watched in sheer excitement and fear as the girl, Fleur Delacour, faced her dragon.

Jean Fulver was the only one who was sitting down. He had to rest his body until the champion he had come to see came into the arena. Jean pulled out a pair of old binoculars that he had once used so long ago in a similar event. He ran his hands over its scratched up black encasing, thinking back to the last time he had used them. It was one of the rare bright moments in his life, a golden teardrop falling into a pool of dark memories. He remembered he had been given these same binoculars, now sorely outdated, by a friend, the truest he had ever had. This same friend was just sitting down by his side now.

Jean turned to his new companion who had just arrived and smiled. His friend was a younger man, early thirties, with dark eyes and a grizzled face. He had on a large fur coat, which he wrapped tightly around him. He hadn’t aged a day since the last time Jean had seen him, but then that could be because he was dead.

“It’s good to see you again, Sergei,” Jean said.

He saw a wide smile cover Sergei’s face. This was a proud and happy moment for the man, who had had so few before he had been killed.

“I’m glad we could watch this together again as friends for old times sake. I can’t wait to see my grandson. I know Viktor will do well,” Sergei responded.

Jean’s face fell. All of this seemed wrong somehow. Jean couldn’t escape the throbbing ache he had felt inside.

“You should have been here as an old man. I should have had to help you up the stairs. Viktor should have known his grandfather for the brave man he is, but life sometimes isn’t fair. I wished I could have protected you when I should have,” Jean quietly responded. He watched as the muscles in Sergei’s face tightened.

“You did protect me, Fulver. By protecting my family, you protected me. And that is all that I wanted, remember? I told to go and save my wife and son. All these years I know you carried around guilt over my death, but I’m here to tell you to let it go. I am here in spirit and I’m happy. Viktor will always be watched over by me and by you and that’s all I ask for.”

Before Jean could respond, the crowd erupted into a loud cheer as Fleur got her egg and left the arena. Both men stood, Jean with his binoculars in hand.

“Our next champion is Viktor Krum from Durmstrang!”

Sergei and Jean cheered wildly as a young man walked proudly onto the field. He looked exactly like Sergei from his dark eyes and features to his stocky figure.

“Just like old times,” Jean said.

“Exactly like the old times,” Sergei responded.

[herm_own_ninny13]

Name: Maggie/ herm_own_ninny13
House: Gryffindor!
Original Character: Abbie Nolan!
Title: The Birthday Surprise
Ratings and Warnings: Slight Foul Language, and mentioned character(s) death.
Word Count: 700 exactly :)
Author Notes: Well, there are hefty spoiler alerts, but I won’t go into detail.



Ever since 6th year, I have hated birthdays. Today is no different. The rest of the Auror department had told me yesterday that if I didn’t take today off, they would throw a floor-wide party in my honor, complete with cake. Honestly? I think they’re trying to get rid of me. They think I haven’t been completely right since You-Know-Who fell. Well, they can take their speculation and shove it up their bums. I am perfectly alright. My only current problems are that I am 29, and there is someone horribly familiar in my kitchen.

He turns around and gives me a familiar smile. I drop my plate of bacon and swear, loudly. Regulus Black laughs at my expression.

“What the hell are you doing here? You’re dead. I hate you. Anyway, you’re dead.”

He cocks an eyebrow, and I want to punch him. I refrain myself, barely.

“It’s your birthday, Abbie darling. I wanted to come around and chat.”

“Sod off. I don’t want to chat with a dead guy who dumped me, even if it was 13 years ago.” I bend down and pick up the bacon on the floor. I can feel his burning gaze on my head. I straighten up again. “Honestly, why are you here?”

He sighs, and helps me clean up the shattered plate. “Well, I do want to apologize for everything that happened between us. I feel bad.”

I scowl. “You can’t feel. You’re dead,” I say.

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize.” We’re silent for a minute as I open the dustbin and he drops the pieces into it.

“I died trying to save the wizarding world, you know.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s news to me.”

He sighs. “Voldemort had this huge plan to stay alive even if he got killed. That’s why I’m here, as a warning. The signs are all pointing to his return.”

“You sound like Maisie,” I reply curtly. His face clouds up.

“I am sorry about that. You know we didn’t mean-”

“Didn’t mean what?” I ask, my voice scathing. “Didn’t mean for someone to get hurt? You knew about Remus, you planned the whole thing around the full moon. You knew something bad would happen, and you didn’t even try to stop it! You only ever think about yourself, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I-”

“That is what you meant, Regulus Black! You dumped me because you didn’t want to be seen with a blood traitor who was half a Gryffindor! Did you know, I was the one who investigated your death?” I am screaming at this point, and he looks ready to curl up and die. Again.

“Did you?” he asks meekly.

“I had to investigate it! I had to figure out what the hell happened to you! Do you know how much that hurts? To have to investigate your dead ex-boyfriend, who was apparently killed by the organization he loved so much?” I force myself to calm down and breathe. “And anyways, what the hell did happen to you? You washed up on a beach all bloody and mangled, and you were found by a pair of Muggle kids!”

“Inferi,” he states. My jaw drops.

“Oh. Well, that would explain it.”

He nods. “Part of the whole Voldemort plan thing. He had his secret guarded by a hundred Inferi, and they’re trained to tear apart whoever manages to find it.”

I shudder. “What was the secret?”

He stares at me, hard, like he used to stare at me in school when he was about to say something important. “He split his soul into a whole bunch of pieces, and hid them in various objects with dark magic.”

I turn away, a bit frightened. “Did you find them all?”

“Just one. I had my house-elf destroy it.” We sit in silence.

“So how have you been?” he asks after a while.

“Oh, you know. Surviving. My sister’s dead, my friends are dead or in jail or not talking to me, my ex-boyfriend’s dead, my boss is in St. Mungo’s permanent ward, everyone thinks I'm crazy… Life’s just peachy, you know?”

He hugs me. “Well if it’s any consolation, death is no better.”

[Ginny Weasley Potter]

Name: Ginny Weasley Potter
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character:Daisy Joe
Title:His Return
Ratings and Warnings:3rd-5th years, with mentioned death
Word Count: 685
Author Notes: Credit goes to fg_weasley (Nikki) for Betaing this. Thank you so much, Nikki! :)

This drabble isn't a spoiler, but it can be considered a missing link. Daisy is an OC from my WIP, Killer Instincts and if I were to place this drabble in the fic, then it would be in Chapter 8: Together Forever... or Maybe Not.

His Return

Blood. Blood was the first thing that Daisy noticed. The sight made her feel sick. His stomach had been struck and the wound had bled profusely. Then she noticed his blue-green eyes. They were open and distant. She could also see the pleading look on his face.

Andrew was dead. Her best mate in the world was gone. But this wasn’t supposed to happen! It wasn’t supposed to work this way! How could their plan have backfired so horribly?

***

Ryan, her brother, took care of her when she arrived home with a horrendous headache. Daisy had fainted at Andrew’s place, unable to bear the shock. Controlling her tears, Daisy lay down on her bed as Ryan got her medicine. It didn’t help; but she shut her eyes, begging for sleep to come.

“Daisy…”

She opened her eyes and couldn’t believe what she saw. It was him. He stood in the doorway, highlighted by the silvery moonlight. His hair rippled lightly in the wind that blew from the window. His eyes were shining with the same love and understanding that he’d always had for her. She sat up on her bed. “Andrew?”

“Hey,” he said, a sad smile appearing on his face as he stepped towards her. “I’m sorry, Daisy.”

Daisy was confused. What was this? What was happening? How could Andrew come back? Was this an imposter? She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and pointed it at him as she got off her bed. “Who are you?”

He took another step forward, still smiling sadly. “Are you going to curse me, Daisy? Can’t you recognise your best friend?”

“You cannot be Andrew. He is dead.”

“I will never be truly dead until you want to kill me, Daisy,” Andrew replied. “As long as I’m alive in your heart, you’ll always find me around you.”

The wand fell out of Daisy’s hand as the tears finally came. She sank back into her bed, breaking down, despite all the strength that she had willed into herself. Andrew’s smile vanished as he noticed the tears. He came over and sat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. It felt warm and solid on her trembling figure and she leaned in, resting her head on his chest.

“W-Why? Why h-have you l-left me alone l-like this?”

“I haven’t left you alone, Daisy,” Andrew replied. “I’ll always be there for you, okay? I’ll watch over you and make sure that you’re protected. Right now, I’ve only got a few minutes to talk to you. So let me tell you something.”

“You’re g-going b-back?”

Andrew nodded sadly. “I have to. They only gave me a few minutes to talk to you.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“You know… up there. I pleaded with them to give me a few minutes before I could go… on.”

Fresh tears made their way down Daisy’s cheeks and she looked up at Andrew helplessly. “Don’t go… please…”

He slid his arm around her and pulled her close once again. “You know it’s not possible, Daisy, but… I want you to promise me something.”

Daisy nodded, unable to speak anymore.

“Daisy, promise me that you’ll never cry for me. I don’t deserve your tears… not after this.” He paused and wiped away her tears. “Do you promise me?”

Daisy nodded again, gulping large amounts of air as Andrew continued. “Venus will deliver a letter at your place tomorrow. I want you to keep it away from everyone else, okay? Don’t even show it to Liz, Neil or Mike until the right time arrives… you’ll know when it does.”

“Okay,” Daisy said, sniffing. Andrew stood up.

“Daisy, my time is over. They are calling me back.”

Daisy nodded, swallowing her tears as she managed a wan smile, just for him. He took her hands and squeezed them once, finally hugging her. “Bye, Daisy… you’ve been the most wonderful friend.”

“So have you.”

Andrew’s figure began to distort as he dissolved into the air. As Daisy got into her bed, she could swear that the wind whispered to her.

“Tell Liz that I love her.”

[minnabird]

Name: minnabird
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Pandora Laird
Title: Ascendent
Ratings and Warnings:
Word Count: 684
Author Notes: I'm currently working on a fic with Pan in it...this probably won't really get added into Pan's life. This happens after my planned fic, and won't spoil anything.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pan hurried up to the Headmaster's office, wondering what she'd done this time. If she'd been in a good mood, she would have been intensely curious. As it was, it irked her to have to break her plans to spend the beautiful summer day lounging by the lake with her friends and boyfriend.

When she reached the office, Dumbledore admitted her smilingly, signaling her to precede him up the moving staircase. "What's this about, Professor?" she asked over her shoulder.

"You'll see soon enough," he said rather vaguely, eyes twinkling.

The door on the landing was ajar, and Pan stopped short just after stepping off the staircase. Inside the office sat a kindly-looking old woman with her silver hair pinned up at the back of her skinny neck. She smiled as she saw Pan, and rose to greet her.

"Oh, Pandora darling, do you remember me?" the lady asked, crossing the room to grab hold of her hands.

"Uh..." she looked awkwardly into the lady's smiling grey eyes and turned her head to shoot a confused glance at Dumbledore. "Not really, no." The lady did not seem at all like an old family friend, with her hair escaping in haphazard wisps, but Pan supposed she must be.

The lady looked slightly crestfallen, but rallied with, "Well, you were only about three the last time I saw you. I've been away from my granddaughters far too long. I hear Adelais is married, now." She shook her head wistfully.

Pan stared, her mouth hanging open at the force of her shock. "But...you're not my grandmother. You're not Grandmother Warren, and Grandmother Laird is dead." She shook her head, unable to tear her eyes from this madwoman. Did Dumbledore think she knew how to sort lunatics out?

"Dead?" the lady said sharply, drawing back and looking at Pan with disconcertingly astute-looking eyes. "Who told you that? Darling," she took a deep breath, as if trying to reign in the anger that had flashed in those sane eyes. "I am your Grandmother Laird. Although you used to call me Granny." She smiled wistfully at Pan, whose world had turned upside down.

"Grandmother...Granny? Are you really?" Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to figure out whether anyone had ever actually said that Grandmother Laird was dead. Come to think of it, they always said she was "gone." Maybe she had just misunderstood, all these years. But then where had her grandmother been?

"If you're my granny, how come you've been gone for thirteen years?" she blurted.

"Well, I was so mad...your father and I had the worst row. He'd gone down the absolute worst path--purebloods being superior to Muggleborns, I ask you--that boy always did have the silliest notions. Well, he got so angry he told me he never wanted me to darken his doorstep again and I said that was fine by me because I'd been offered a teaching job in France. I had, you know," she told Pan, as if she knew that Pan needed a moment's break to process things. "Been teaching there ever since, although I got caught up in some other projects, too, and...well, time passed, I got over it, but your father didn't. Refused to let me see you. I finally decided I'd just go through Dumbledore here," and she nodded Dumbledore's way, her smile widening. "And I've got a proposition for you. How'd you like to stay with me for the summer? You're seventeen now, aren't you, Pandora?"

Pan opened her mouth, but all that came out at first was, "Call me Pan." Then, she remembered the question. "Yeah, I'm seventeen. And...wow. Seriously? Spend the summer?"

Granny's only answer was to nod.

"Wow," Pan repeated. "Can I think a bit? I mean, I had made plans with a friend, but I'm not sure..."

"Bring your friend, if you like. Anything to get my youngest granddaughter to spend the summer with me."

"I...well, then...I guess I'll come," Pan said, still awestruck by finding her grandmother...a woman who Pan had a sneaking suspicion was like her in a lot of ways.

[Equinox Chick]

Name: Equinox Chick
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Martha Macdonald
Title: The Visit
Ratings and Warnings: Mention of Sexual Situations
Word Count: 693
Author Notes: I'm not sure if this is a huge spoiler or not. Martha keeps muscling in on my fics so maybe she needs one of her own.

I used to laugh a lot. Well, giggle really. It drove my sister crazy because I was always giggling at his jokes.

I don’t laugh much anymore.

At school I hadn’t been that bright, certainly not Ravenclaw material, but he, who had been amongst the most brilliant of his year, had not cared. He’d said he loved my smile, my sunny nature and the fact that I made him forget.

I had been good at Quidditch. I fly professionally for the Holyhead Harpies. I am now thirty-five. My days on the first team are numbered as they look to sign a younger woman. They have offered me a coaching position. I might accept.

Sirius Black is standing by my bed as I walk into the room. Sirius Black who had last been here sixteen years before. Back then, he had arrived, without invitation, but that had not worried me. I had smiled my usual smile and laughingly let him in. I accepted his gift of drooping roses with pleasure, and after sharing some wine, he took me to bed. It was glorious as always, but there was something different that time. Sirius was saying goodbye, as if he knew he would be sent to Azkaban.

A week later he’d been condemned. I had cried for James and Lily. I had cried for Peter Pettigrew. But I had cried most of all for myself.

And now, finally, Sirius is back. He puts his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. Then, and I know this is coming, he peeps at me through his absurdly long fringe and smiles. I’d never been able to resist his smile and I gasp at the memories it brings back.

This is impossible, I think. He cannot be here.

Because, according to The Daily Prophet, Sirius Black died yesterday evening at the Ministry of Magic.

“Why are you here?” I ask him. “Why now?”

“I need to talk to you,” he whispers, and his voice sounds like a caress. “I have been given this one chance before I go on. I don’t have much time, Martha,” he says. “Please.”

It is the use of the word ‘please’ that throws me. Sirius only pleads when it is truly important.

“You know, don’t you, that I did not betray James; that I did not murder Peter?” he begins.

I nod. Remus had visited me two years before and told me the truth. But the truth isn’t always what I want to hear.

“I went to Hogwarts, you know, when I first escaped. I saw Harry fly.” Sirius’ face is alive with joy at the memory. “It was like watching James again.” He pauses. “And then I noticed some girls in the crowd.”

I smile sardonically. “Trust you to notice the girls!”

“No!” he implores. “I don’t mean that. I saw a young girl; a first year. She had messy curls, a slightly wonky nose and a wide grin.”

I flinch but say nothing. All I can do is stare into his eyes.

“She looks just like you Martha, but her hair isn’t blonde; it’s black and her eyes are grey,” he murmurs.


“My cousin’s daughter,” I say desperately.

He smiles pityingly. “I have spent the last year holed up in the Black family home. I had time on my hands. And with that time, I read and re-read old Prophets. I looked you up, Martha. You started so well. A brilliant future ahead of you, and then...” He paused.

“I was injured,” I say quickly. “I lost form and went away to recuperate. It happens, Sirius.”

“And then,” he continued, “your cousin has a girl, who looks just like you with a little bit of me.” His voice is heavy with irony. “I never forgot your smile, Martha. Not even the Dementors could take that away from me.”

And suddenly, I’m crying. All the years of desperate longing, for the man I couldn’t have. All those years spent on regret as I watched my daughter grow up not knowing who I am to her. All those years bear down on me now.

“She’s called Demelza,” I say at last.

[leahsm2]

Name: leahsm2
House: Slytherin
Original Character: Rheasilvia Malfoy
Title: Beyond Reason
Ratings and Warnings:3rd/5th AU; Disturbing Content; Character Death
Word Count: 700
Author Notes:

“No more, Kreacher,” I said quietly, “please stop.”

I could tell that the house elf was eager to continue with his tale of his master’s heroism, but I was not ready to listen. Knowing Regulus was dead was enough information for me. I noticed the creature tilt his head and stare at me, probably shocked at the civil way in which I addressed him, but he quickly averted his eyes when he saw me look in his direction.

“Take me to him now, Kreacher,” I commanded.

The house elf looked at me, obviously uncertain. His master had begged him with his final breath to bring to me his last words. Anything else was beyond his comprehension.

“But, Missy Malfoy, Master Regulus has . . . ,” he stopped, gulping hard from both emotion and fear. “Master Regulus has departed from us.”

“Regulus is . . .” I too stopped speaking, not wanting to continue. “Oh, Kreacher, try to understand. I must see him. While I can.”

Kreacher breathed a shallow breath, as he knew full well what I wanted. We needed to return to the place of Regulus’ demise within the same revolution around the sun, or Regulus would sink forever into that pit, nameless and unclaimed. Wordlessly, the house elf took my hand. I could feel him shaking, but still he closed his eyes and took me back to my Regulus’ final resting place.

The bone chilling air assaulted my senses as we Reapparated. I unwillingly opened my eyes afraid of what would be before me. We stood on a small rock, enveloped in water, deep dark water, of a colour more chilling than the air that surrounded us.

“Well?” I asked my voice more forceful than was meant. “What do I do now, Kreacher?”

“Missy has only to . . . ,” he stopped again looking at me with eyes that begged for me to reconsider. “You only have to touch the water.”

The house elf’s voice was so full of fear that I momentarily hesitated. I knew from stories told of long ago battles that my hopes had a basis to them. The newly reanimated dead kept some small semblance of themselves for a time before becoming mindless, soulless soldiers of the Dark Power. I plunged my hand into the water.

The dark pool bubbled with activity as soon as my hand broke the plane of the surface. I held my wand as steady as possible, fighting my impulses of self preservation and keeping my other hand in the freezing cold water as I repeated the solemn summoning charm. The other corpses were repelled from the light the charm impelled my wand to emit and soon I saw my lovely Regulus. I heard Kreacher sob and move back from the sight of his beloved master, whose skin had already begun the transformation from the pink of youth to the dull hard yellow of those lost in eternal limbo.


I held my hand out to him and he grabbed it. I pulled Regulus out of the water and stood looking up at him for the final time. I thought I saw a glimmer of him still in there somewhere behind the glazed black eyes which had replaced the jovial brilliant blue ones I so cherished, but could not be sure. I put my wand into the pocket of my robes, silently took Kreacher’s hand and the three of us Disapparated.

The seasons will continue to change, and the earth will continue to turn, but for me life stopped that day. I managed to perform the necessary rites to release my Regulus from the curse, burning the remains and burying his ashes, with no one being the wiser. The secret which I had longed to tell him grows inside of me and will soon endanger my life, as the spawn of the traitor Regulus would not be allowed the treasure of a single breath. I pat the earth from my hands, and look around one final time, no longer a part of this world I have always taken for granted, like the time I spent with Regulus, I realized bitterly. I Disapparated, no thoughts left except for our unborn.

[Lexxyy]

Name: Lex
House: Hufflepuff :)
Original Character: CoughUNAMEDcough and Jacob.
Title: Magic Mirror
Ratings and Warnings: Eh... I would say 2nd-3rd. Character death?
Word Count: 625
Author Notes: Thank you Alice (TheBlackSister) for beta-ing :)

“Do you remember our tree house?” I whispered, subconsciously brushing a speck of dirt away from the golden frame of my mirror.

“No…” The boy I saw staring back at me shook his head miserably. “I don’t remember the tree house. But… But I remember our garden.”

“You remember- do you remember planting flowers with Mother? We did it every spring.” In my mind’s eye I could see the scene playing over and over again.

Jacob, Mother and I. Gardening every springtime.

“Planting? Yes… I think… I think I remember that!” the boy smiled happily, proud of having recalled this particular event.

“How about-”

Jacob held up his hand to silence me. I glanced at him curiously, but he shuffled uncomfortably under my gaze.

“How did I die?”

***

When I was younger - about ten or so - I had a brother. Had, in the past sense of the word, because of a terrible series of events, which befell our family.

I blame Father.

He was never a content man, my father. At his best, he would be sarcastic and rude. My mother however, was always a cheerful woman. A smile would be present on her face morning, noon and night, even on the worst of days. My brother and I were rather mixed. Some days we got on like a house on fire, others - we bickered and squabbled over the pettiest things.

All in all, we functioned well as a family. Father would go out to work early every morning, usually returning late at night, once my brother and I were already asleep. Mother would stay at home, cooking, cleaning and looking after my brother and I, like the blissfully satisfied housewife she was. Jacob, my brother, and I would often go to play outside if the weather was nice. Playing in our tree house was often the favourite. If it rained, then we would stay inside, reading books or playing board games.

The change in our steady flow of life came about unexpectedly sudden for Mother, Jacob and myself. It seemed that our good-for-nothing father, had taken it upon himself to anger Morgan.

Morgan being a famous witch of formidable power.

It was never explained to our family exactly what had happened. I guess no one thought the victims needed to know. All I remember was going to sleep one night, like I did all nights, with Jacob’s steady breathing sounding from the other side of the room. Just like normal, it was long before Father had come home. Just as I was falling asleep, I remember a loud knock, echoing throughout the house.

Mother, expecting to see the glare of her miserable husband the opposite side of the wood, emitted an ear-piercing scream, as she was thrown to the floor with a loud thump.

I can recollect little else after that, but I remember my brother jumping from his bed, desperate to reach me before anything happened. However, before he had even crossed halfway across the room, out bedroom door was flung open, and the silhouette of the angered witch could be seen.

There was a loud screeching noise, as she cast her spell, and a bright purple light filled the room.

Within seconds, I seemed to have found myself alone in my empty room.

My father never came home after the incident. Even if he had, I doubt Mother would have let him back in the house.

The two of us were left with but one consolation, a present from the witch.

***

“Jacob…” I crept closer, “You remember nothing?”

“I remember…nothing…”

Sighing, I used my sleeve to polish more dust from the mirror’s reflective surface. I don’t know how I had let something so precious get so soiled.

“Maybe… maybe another time.”

[Kate Skeffington]

Name: Kate Skeffignton
House: Gryffindor
Original Character: Tabitha Specks, Mrs Specks, Kate (temporal name for Tabitha's daughter)mentioned
Title: A particularly large fly.
Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd ; implied character death.
Word Count: 630
Author Notes: Tabitha's from my fic 'I solemnly Swear'...but this is set after the actual fic...no real spoilers, just hints. Thanks to Alyssa(harry4lif) for betaing :)

The first time Tabitha was contacted by one, it was a plain and ordinary day as any, nothing that struck her as odd, no clouds covering the sky and no birds squawking ominously. She was just sitting by herself in the living room, crossed-legged drinking tea so that she could proceed to read what was in store for her—a habit she had acquired of late, which was the only odd thing, since she had never really cared for Divination.

It started as a soft rumble, the kind that can be confused with the buzzing of some particularly large fly, but after a few seconds it grew louder and deeper, almost a strong and persisting vibration. Hummmm. Tabitha’s ears felt as though they were going to sprout their own legs and leave her head, the noise was nauseatingly annoying and soon enough she found herself cursing under her breath while pressing her palms firmly against her ears. She thought about shouting, calling her husband to sort this nuisance out, but since her daughter had left to Hogwarts, she wasn’t speaking to him. Tabitha huffed, much like a displeased cat. She was about to give up and call for her husband, to speak to him for the first time in three years, when with a ‘pop!’ the sound subsided as suddenly as it had started.

And then she saw it.

Her.

It couldn’t be her, she was dead, for Merlin’s sake!

Tabitha thought to herself calmly, I must be dreaming, this must be a nightmare. But her mother spoke and Tabitha dropped her cup of tea and saw how it smashed into a million pieces of white china on the floor. That didn’t happen in dreams; things didn’t break in dreams.

“Tabitha,” her mother said sharply. She was still the same woman she had been when she died. Not too young, not too old. Her hair barely touched by a few silvery shades...she hadn’t even get to see Kate take her first steps, after all.

“Mother,” stuttered Tabitha, feeling slightly unnerved talking to a ghost. “What are you– how?”

Her mother didn’t reply for a while. She looked around the room contemptuously. “This place’s a dumpster without me ordering the maids about.”

“We don’t have maids anymore,” Tabitha said with a sigh. Perfect, the first time she was talking to anybody in three years it was to her mother out of all people! “How, exactly did you...you know, come back?”

“I had to come back, Tabitha!” she barked. “And don’t use that tone with me!”

Tabitha left out a shaky breath. Even after dead, her mother held the same infuriating character Tabitha had loathed as a young girl. “Yeah, but how did you come back?” she asked again, slowly. “And I’m not using any tone.”

“How I came to be back here is not of any importance,” her mother said, flatly. “Now, where’s my granddaughter?”

“At school.”

“Why are you not with her!” she exclaimed. “You’re her mother, she could be sick, in danger, for all you know! Have you written to her?”

“Mum, it’s okay! Kate’s fine, she’s at Hogwarts, nothing’s going to happen to her at Hog—”

“Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban.” Her mother’s face had suddenly turned ashy. She smiled softly. She was starting to fade. “Write to her, and tell your father I said hello.”

“Mum, wait...what—Sirius...what?” The humming sound had started again, escalating into the strong, ear-splitting vibration. Her mother was fading quickly, her face less and less clear, her voice seemed to come from a faraway place when she said:

“And for heaven’s sake hire the maids back!”

And she was gone with a pop!and all sound died away, except for Tabitha’s erratic breathing and the buzzing of a particularly large fly.

[Celtic_Jewel]

Name: Ema / Celtic_Jewel
House: Slytherin!
Original Character: Kathleen Potter
Title: Sunrise
Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd Years, None
Word Count: 653
Author Notes: Kathleen is the AU sister of James Potter Snr. When she was seven, her mother and her best friend of the time, a Muggle, were murdered by Voldemort followers.

She was standing on the edge of the tallest tower, looking down. But instead of the familiar view of the lake and the Hogwarts grounds spreading out before her, there were the fresh green fields that had surrounded her childhood home. Now, of course, she lived with James and Lily, in the smart London flat that James so loved. But it had never felt like a proper home to her.

The view was changing, zooming in on one particular building. Kathleen squinted in the darkness. No - surely not? It had been burnt down! There should be nothing left. But there it was. It stood, tall and stately, and for some reason, sunlight began to stream down, lighting up the little stone path and hedge border. Kathleen glanced at the horizon. It was sunrise.

She was now leaning over the house, and it was almost as if she could reach out and touch the chimney and the cheerful red tiles of the roof. Before she could test this, the scene lurched again and now she was inside the house - in her old bedroom, to be exact. It wasn’t as she had left it. The last time she had seen it was before the funeral. It was as if someone had taken the years and pulled them away, until the house and the room were exactly as they had been on the first time someone had died inside this beautiful house. When her mum and Clare had died.

“Hello, Kathleen.”

Usually, she would have jumped, or even screamed, but for some reason, she felt reassurance. This person wouldn’t hurt her. The person who had spoken came to sit beside her on the window seat.

“Don’t you remember me?”

Kathleen stared, unable to speak. How could it possibly be? Clare had been dead for over six years. Somehow, though, she was sitting, as clear as the window pane next to Kathleen’s cold hand, not looking a day over seven. Her age when she had died.

“Of course I remember you, Clare. You were my first best friend.”

Seemingly satisfied by this, the little girl with the soft brown hair smiled and nodded happily. She clapped her little hands together.

“But how can you be a ghost? You’re a Muggle. Only Wizards and Witches can be ghosts. And you - you have colour. Ghost’s are transparent.”

Clare shook her head impatiently.

“Don’t be silly, K. Those are just the ones who chose to be ghosts. Coloured ones come back for a reason.” It sounded so strange, those solemn words of wisdom coming from such a small girl’s mouth.

“So… what’s your reason?” Kathleen asked. Usually she wouldn’t have been so abrupt, but in this weird dream world, everyone’s personality had changed.

Clare turned those clear blue eyes of hers upon her.

“To help you, of course. You have to stop grieving. So many that you love and loved have gone, but you need to know that we’re still here. We’re watching and waiting for you. You need to move on. Find someone else to love.”

Kathleen looked away, at the ground.

“Even… even my mother?”

The ghostly hand slipped into hers.

“Yes. You can take as long as you want. We’ll all still be waiting for you.”

Kathleen felt a sudden rush of lightness, of delicious freedom from the guilt that had always haunted her, for as long as she could remember.

The small hand squeezed hers, then faded along with it’s owner. Suddenly everything zoomed out again - the window, the bedroom, the house, the path, the fields, the countryside, and she was once again standing on the edge of the tallest tower. But the feeling of light was still there.

“Kathleen? Are you coming?”

She smiled at Adrian, then took his hand in hers and leant forward.

“Always.”

They kissed just as the first bright, orange rays of the sun began to show.

-Ema :)

[lupins_girl2006]

Name: lupins_girl2006
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Alexandra Kathleen Potter
Title: Hey Alex, Want To Know A Secret?
Ratings and Warnings: Uh, 1st-2nd years, mentioned murder
Word Count: 700
Author Notes: This is probably gonna be a part of ACLS in one of the far future chapters. I'm not sure yet though.


Alex just walked beside them, pretending to listen as if she was interested in what they were saying.

It was well pass curfew when they left the Hospital Wing. Why were they at the Hospital Wing, you ask?

Long story short; Ron ingested a love potion, Harry took him to Professor Slughorn for the antidote, Slughorn poured them a glass of mead, the mead was poisoned, and Harry shoved a bezoar down Ron's throat.

Hours passed as Hermione and Harry waited outside the Hospital Wing, finally allowed in at eight. Alex, on the other hand, only arrived right before Fred and George moments later.

While Harry and Hermione were dying to get in to see Ron, I was in the Headmasters’ office, Alex thought to herself, but she refused to go back to that memory; refused to remember the information she was given, information that was given by the least expected person ever.

It was only a few minutes after they left, that Alex started listening to the conversation.

“Dumbledore’s angry with Snape?”

No. Please don’t bring up the one thing I don’t want to hear.

“I never said tha’. Look at the time, it’s getting’ on fer midnight, I need ter ---”

“Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?”

As hard as she urged it not to, the memory came back to her.

“Shhhh! Don’ shout stuff like that, Harry, d’yeh wan’ me ter lose me job? Mind, I don’ suppose yeh’d care, would yeh, not now yeh’ve given up Care of Mag ---”

“Don’t try and make me feel guilty, it won’t work! What’s Snape done?”

“Ah, Miss Potter,” Dumbledore said. He was sitting behind his desk in the circular office.

“I dunno, Harry, I shouldn’ta heard it at all! I --- well, I was comin’ outta the forest the other evenin’ an’ I overheard ‘em talking --- well, arguin’. Didn’t like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an’ tried not ter listen, but it was a --- well, a heated discussion an’ it wasn’ easy ter lock it out.”

“Alex, is something the matter?”

“No sir, why do you ask?”

“You seem, troubled.” He took the ring off his finger.

“Well?”

“If there is anyone you would like to talk to, about what ever problem you have, because I know something is wrong, just toss this in the air three times while thinking about them.”

He gave her a wink and then left the room.

“Well --- I jus’ heard Snape sayin’ Dumbledore took too much fer granted an’ maybe he --- Snape --- didn’ wan’ ter do it anymore ---“

One.

Two.

On the third toss, Alex closed her eyes. When she opened them, she nearly screamed. Right in front of her was none other than Lily Potter.

“Mu-um?”

“Do what?”

“Hello, Alex.”

Lily walked towards the desk and sat in the headmasters’ empty seat. “So,” she began, “what is it that you called me for?”

Alex could just stare at her. If mum is really here, then that means that she would already know what is wrong. Plus, she thought, mum always knew what was going on in my head. Out loud, Alex said, “If you’re really here, then you already know.”

“True.”

“I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin’ a bit overworked, tha’s all
--- anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he’d agreed ter do it an’ that was all there was to it.”

“Look, honey, Severus has been through a lot since he was fifteen; he lost you, became a Death Eater, and gave his life to Albus, just to ensure that you and Harry stay alive. Now that Voldemort is back, he has to be a spy again, and he’s forced to do something he would rather not do.”

Silence.

“Draco was ordered to kill Albus, but Albus is making Severus do it instead.”

Alex’ mouth dropped in shock.

“Albus wants to make sure his wand doesn’t get in Voldemorts’ hands.”

“Oho! Out of bed so late, this’ll mean detention!”

“No it won’, Filch. I’m a teacher, aren’ I, yeh sneakin’ Squib!”

A whispered ‘get going’ and they were gone.


Once Josh gets back to me I'll come back and edit (if I get the chance :confused: )


~Allie

[Inverarity]

Name: Inverarity
House: Ravenclaw
Original Character: Alexandra Quick
Title: The Lands Beyond
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th year, I guess, for one slightly questionable word at the very end.
Word Count: 690
Author Notes: This is a rough draft of an excerpt from the third book in the Alexandra Quick series, so it's a little bit of a spoiler. (Not so much for the second book, if you're reading Alexandra Quick and the Lands Below right now, but it's definitely a spoiler for book one, Alexandra Quick and the Thorn Circle.)


Alexandra had a suspicion, now, about why all the teachers at Charmbridge Academy disparaged “doggerel verse.” Perhaps it wasn't as precise and predictable as spells cast with standard incantations and standard wand gestures, but none of the really powerful magic she'd read about was performed with a swish and a flick and a few words of Latin. The greatest wizards of the ages improvised. Abraham Thorn, she was quite certain, had not accomplished what he had by relying on a standard book of spells.

You're not Abraham Thorn, said a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Anna.

She could not resist replying: No? And why can't I be as good as him? Or better?

She knew what Anna would say to that, too. Anna, ever the sensible one. She wouldn't understand what Alexandra was trying to do now. Anna was wisdom and compassion – Alexandra was wit and passion. In her own wiser moments, Alexandra knew that she needed Anna as much as Anna needed her. But this wasn't one of her wiser moments. This was the culmination of months of studying and preparation. She was going to do the forbidden, in order to attempt the impossible. And Anna needed not to be here – physically, or in Alexandra's head. She banished the nagging voice, and raised her wand to speak the words she had prepared herself:

“Restless souls who aren't at peace,
where you wander without release,
to the Lands Beyond you're driven,
because you haven't been forgiven.
Now I'm opening the gate
you passed through when you met your fate;
I command you, through the veil,
to answer my summons without fail!”


She knew she wasn't much of a poet. She'd spent days just trying to get her spell to rhyme, with the meaning she wanted to convey. This kind of magic wasn't about the words you used so much as the force you put into them. You had to mean it.

A shadow passed across the painted stone, though there was nothing in the room that could have cast it – she was the only one here, and her lit wand the only source of illumination. Yet the shadow stretched and deepened, and then she felt that shiver again, as the painted figures scrambled out of the way, and darkness swallowed up the wall of rock.

Whispers issued forth from the darkness, a multitude of barely-audible voices, hissing and moaning, taunting and imploring. She had heard that sound before, and felt the unearthly cold now radiating from the lightless black void in front of her. The shivers became goosebumps, and her stomach roiled – she was afraid for a moment that she might be sick. It took all of her willpower to stand there and not flinch or back away.

At first, nothing else happened, and she gritted her teeth in frustration. Maybe she hadn't been demanding enough. Maybe “demanding” was not the right attitude to take.

Or maybe you're just not as great a witch as you thought you were, said the voice in her head, less kindly.

Then something emerged. Alexandra pointed her wand, ready to banish the spirit from the Lands Beyond if it proved hostile or uncooperative. But the being that came forth was glowing softly, a luminescent silvery-gray – a ghost, then, a true wizard-ghost. Which meant it was harmless.

She knew this was someone known to her before she recognized the face, and for one instant, she felt a pang of hope intermingled with grief that was so sharp and painful, her knees almost buckled.

Then she saw who it was.

Tall, handsome, and friendly-looking even in death, his once-blue eyes still seemed to possess a little of their twinkle as the ghost smiled gently at her.

“Hello, Starshine,” he said.

She stared at him. Of all the spirits who might have answered her summons, the ghost of Benedict Journey was the last one she expected to see.

Alexandra's throat had gone dry, but after several moments, she finally found her voice again. And her anger.

“Shouldn't you be in hell?” she demanded.

[bellaoc]

Name: Bellaoc/Bella
House: Gryffindor
OC's: Ella, Cora, Haven and Ella/Cora's mother
Title: Deepest Desires
Ratings and Warnings: 1st/2nd years - mention of death.
Word count: 678

Ella walked through the portrait hole in a daze. Her head was spinning with all that had happened tonight.

“Ella Carmichael!”

Ella froze, turning around to see her older sister Cora standing by the fire.

“Cora, what are you doing in here?” Ella asked, confused. “This isn’t your common room.”

“Haven came and got me,” Cora said, glaring at Ella.

“Oh,” Ella said, slowly backing away from her sister.

“She said that you went to the library,” Cora continued. “And she got concerned when you didn’t come back before curfew.”

“Yeah I just lost track of time,” Ella explained. “I should really get to sleep.”

“I don’t believe her,” Cora said, ignoring Ella’s statement. “Or you. Haven may be a good liar, but you aren’t. Tell me the truth or I’ll write to Dad and tell him that you’ve been missing curfew.”

“It’s a long story.” Ella warned, sitting in a chair by the fire.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cora replied, sitting down across from Ella.

“It started a few nights ago,” Ella began. “It was half an hour after curfew…”

***
“Ella, come on! Filch is right behind us!” Haven hissed as she sprinted past Ella.

“We have a better chance of getting away if we split up!” Ella whispered back, catching up to Haven. “Go find somewhere to hide; I’ll meet you back in the common room in a bit, okay?”

Haven nodded and sprinted away, disappearing in the darkness. Ella turned down another hallway, slowing down when she saw an old wooden door appear at the end of the hallway. She reached the door and hesitated before opening it. She had been in this hallway a hundred times and never seen this door before. Suddenly, she heard heavy footsteps and a quiet meow behind her.

Ella whimpered a little under her breath, opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. She was standing in a cavernous room, bare except for a large gold mirror that nearly reached the ceiling. She walked cautiously towards it, stopping when she was directly in front of it. She stared at the mirror for a moment, seeing only her reflection. Just as she was about to turn away, a blurry figure materialized in the mirror behind her. Gasping, Ella spun around but saw no one in the room. Her breath coming in short panicked bursts, Ella turned back to the mirror, peering closer at the mirror as the blurry figure became clearer.

The figure in the mirror was a tall woman, with pale blonde hair that flowed nearly to her waist. Her soft blue eyes were bright with tears and she was frowning at the panicked expression on Ella’s face. As Ella took a hesitant step towards the mirror, the woman smiled encouragingly.

“Mum?” Ella whispered, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

The woman nodded, beaming at Ella.

“Mum, what is this?” Ella asked.

Her mother frowned again and pointed to her mouth, shaking her head. Realization dawned on Ella. She could see her mother, but her mother could not speak to her. Ella stared at her mother, who she hadn’t seen since her mother’s death. As much as Ella wanted to stare at her mother forever, she knew she had to get back to the common room before she got caught. She placed her hand on the mirror, her eyes filling with tears as her mother reached up a hand to Ella’s. She couldn’t feel her touch, but knew she was there.

“I love you, Mum,” Ella whispered as she backed towards the door, her mother fading from the mirror.
***

Cora stared in disbelief at Ella, the fading fire reflecting in her dark blue eyes.

“That’s where I’ve been going,” Ella said, tears falling down her face. “I know it’s silly, but I like seeing her.”

“Ella,” Cora whispered, grabbing her sister’s hand. “She’s gone. That image in the mirror, it’s not really her.”

Ella nodded, wiping the tears off her face. Cora reached out and hugged Ella close, as the last embers of the fire died out.

[mudbloodproud]

Name: mudbloodproud/Terri
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Abigail Sampson
Title: Dying From Heartbreak
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th yr - character death
Word Count: 700
Author Notes: This is part of my story, Love Beyond Forever (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/viewstory.php?sid=82191). Though this drabble comes close to the end, and is a slight spoiler for this story, if you have read Skylar's story, you already know this ending.

“Mom, are you sure you are okay?” asked fourteen year old Skylar.

“I’m fine, honey. Just a little tired, that’s all,” replied Abby to her son’s repeated question. She couldn’t tell him she knew something was wrong with his father. At fourteen, her son didn’t understand about soulmates and true love.

“Would you mind doing the dishes for me, I think I am going to lay down for a little while,” she asked her son.

“Sure, Mom, go lay down,” Skylar answered her, worry etched on his face.

Abby walked slowly up the stairs. Her arms wrapped around her middle as if to hold herself together. She knew something was wrong with Sirius. She hadn’t felt anything like this since right after James and Lily died. Even then, this feeling wasn’t as strong as it was now.

Laying on her bed, Abby tried to calm herself. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the feeling of her heart shattering.

“Abby?” a quiet voice came from the dim shadows of the room.

She knew the voice instantly. Gasping, she sat up in bed, her hand going to her throat.

“Sirius?” she asked hesitantly.

She watched as Sirius came closer to the bed unable to believe what she was seeing. “You can’t be here, it’s not possible,” she whispered.

Sirius chuckled. “You are right, I shouldn’t be here, but I am.” He sat down on the bed next to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked looking towards the door.

Abby didn’t even question what he was talking about. She knew someday, they would have this conversation. “I still don’t understand, how you are here. Are you real?” she asked, hoping to put off answering the question he asked.

“Abby, I’m not really here,” he said sadly. “Well, I am, but…I’m not. Abby…” Sirius’ voice trailed off. “Abby, I’m dead.”

Abby shook her head. “No…no,” she said. “That’s not possible. No.”

“Yes, I, the wonderful indestructible, Sirius Black, have fallen victim to the human failing of dying.” He chuckled softly.

“How? When?” she asked. She still couldn’t believe what she was seeing, let alone, what she was hearing.

“He’s back,” Sirius said, anger lacing his voice, “I was fighting to protect Harry and his friends. My lovely cousin, Bellatrix, hit me with a stunning spell, and I fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries.” He shook his head.

Before she could even speak, he continued, “Harry is fine. Albus arrived in time to help save all of them. I watched long enough to know he was safe before coming here.” He reached out and took her hand.

“I came to say, goodbye.”

Abby shook her head. “No, you can’t go, you haven’t even seen your son,” she said.

“I’ve seen him,” Sirius said smiling. “You have done a wonderful job with him. I just don’t understand why? Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I found out right before James and Lily died. I was going to tell you, but then…”

“But then they were killed and I went to Azkaban,” he finished.

Abby nodded her head. “I never believed you had anything to do with that,” she said forcefully. “I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to come home, but then I wasn’t sure it was safe. I knew you would want me to stay safe, especially…”

Sirius nodded. “And when I got out?” he asked.

“I…I was scared. I know I was wrong. I have no excuse,” she said as she began to cry.

“I know, and I understand,” he said gently. Standing, he looked down at her. “I have to go. Be happy and don’t ever forget, I truly love you…and our son.”

Abby watched as Sirius faded from sight. Heartbreaking, she laid back down on the bed. She closed her eyes, knowing she could not live in a world without him. She thought of her son, downstairs washing the dishes.

She loved him more than he could ever know, but she just couldn’t go on knowing her soulmate was no longer part of this world. Tears sliding down her face, she drifted off to sleep.

During the night, her broken heart stopped beating.

[luinrina]

Thank you to everyone who has submitted. The entries are lovely, and I will have a hard time choosing a winner. Watch this place for the results which I hope to have in soon.


In the meantime, my own drabble:

Original Character: Savaric Orwell
Title: Mine For Forever
Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd years; Character Death
Word Count: 677
Author Notes: Not so much a spoiler. I simply played around a bit with my OC. ;)

Breathing in deeply with a rasping that was even for his ears too loud, Savaric turned the head slightly, looking at the young boy who stood next to his bed. His eyes were tired, and more than often he fell into a short but fitful sleep. A high fever racked his weak body, weakening him even more. The once young and strong Savaric was no more; in his stead, an old man waited for his death to strike.

Startling out of a dream, Savaric opened his eyes and blinked quickly. The sleepy mist that had fogged up his sight cleared, and he was able to clearly see his great-grandson again. The boy was only eight years old, but his pride. He was already more powerful than his father, and he would achieve what Savaric, his son and grandson hadn’t got.

He would marry a Black.

Suddenly, Savaric noticed a woman enter his room. The darkness in the room hindered him in recognising her, and this was how she could walk around his bed, quietly, and step at the bedside opposite of his grandson. Then he realised who it was he saw:

Isla.

His hand shook when he lifted it and softly touched her cheek. She didn’t back away, and it surprised him. Her skin was still as soft as he remembered it to have been. Her silken black hair went down to the middle of her back, and her misty grey eyes had still this special shining to them.

Isla had never lost anything of her beauty and grace.

‘Isla,’ he whispered, tears running down his cheeks. ‘You’ve come back to me. You’re here.’

‘Yes, I am.’ Her voice was still soft and melodic, and it warmed his weak heart to hear her speak again. To him.

‘You’ll never leave me again, will you?’

She smiled openly. ‘No. I’ll be with you, forever.’

A feeble smile stole itself onto his lips, and he closed his eyes, basking in bliss. It was what he had wished for, it was what he had dreamed of. Now it had come true. Isla Black would be with him, forever.

~*~

Leofwyn gulped while leaning closer to his great-grandfather. He saw him crying, his eyes closed. A peaceful expression was drawn into his face. And he didn’t breath anymore.

Bowing his head in silent respect and farewell, Leofwyn looked up at the opposite site of his great-grandfather’s bed. There was no one; there had never been anyone. And yet, he had definitely heard his great-grandfather speak to someone, someone named –

‘Isla Black.’

‘Excuse me? What did you say?’

Turning around towards his mother who had entered the bedroom, he repeated, ‘Isla Black. That’s the name he repeated more than once before he died.’

His mother’s eyes widened. She went towards him, looked him deep in the eyes, and then hurried around the bed. She, like Leofwyn, realised no one else had ever been in this room. But doubt was etched into her face. She gulped and opened the windows’ curtains with shaking hands. Afterwards, she opened the drawer and rummaged through the contents.

After a while, she stopped searching frantically, and beckoned her son to come over to her. Leofwyn did as he was asked, and while his mother sank onto the chair next to the bed, the boy walked around until he was at her side.

‘That’s her, Isla Lyrae Black. She was around half a year younger than your great-grandfather and his fiancée. They were as good as about to marry when she ran off with a Mudblood.’ The last word she spat out. ‘It has broken his heart. He had loved her dearly, and he loved her all the years, even through his marriage with your great-grandmother.’

‘But how could she have been in that room?’ Leofwyn asked curiously.

His mother sighed. ‘I doubt she was here. I believe that your great-grandfather,’ she turned around slightly, looking at the seemingly sleeping old man, ‘has seen her as a vision caused by the fever that burned his body from within.’

[luinrina]

February 14th comes closer, and everyone is (more or less) looking forward to the “day of love”.

This week’s prompt for the Character Gymnasium is

Valentine’s Day

Your OC wants to go out on a Valentine’s Day date with his/her love. Show how your OC tries to get a date, and how he/she in the end celebrates the holiday.


All MNFF standards apply. All entries must be in drabble forms and be 700 words or less. When rating your drabble, please keep it to 3rd-5th years and below.

When submitting, please fill out this form:

Name:
House:
Original Character:
Title:
Ratings and Warnings:
Word Count:

The winner will get 10 points, the runner-up 5.

Please post your entries here by 14th February.

This thread is for submissions only. Please PM any questions to me.

Happy writing,
~Bine

[luinrina]

Because there have been questions, some clarifying:

The Character Gymnasium challenges are in no way compulsory. If you would rather not do a certain week, like for example this one, you don't have to enter. Simply participate when you feel inspired.

Also, you don't have to always use the same OC. Let's say you have created two OCs, each for a different story. Week one inspires you to write for OC 1, then drabble about him/her. If week 2 provides a prompt fitting for OC 2, you use him/her this time. Though it would be better to use one OC in all challenges to explore this character's reactions and thoughts, you don't have to write about the same OC when you decide to participate.

I hope that clears some things. I'm sorry I didn't address these two points in the first post.

And like I already said, any other questions, feel free to PM me. This thread is for entries only.

~Bine

[Inverarity]

Name: Inverarity
House: Ravenclaw
Original Character: Violet Parkinson and Kai Chang
Title: Hogwarts Houses United (excerpt)
Ratings and Warnings: None
Word Count: 692
Author's Notes: Who, me, writing a romantic pairing?

This is an excerpt from Hogwarts Houses United, the (current) working title for the sequel to Hogwarts Houses Divided. Which will not really be written for quite a while yet, as I'm working on book three of Alexandra Quick first.

So anyway, the excerpt below suffers from being cut to fit within the allotted word count, and is probably a lot less interesting if you don't actually know the characters.


“So, do you have a date for Hogsmeade weekend?” Kai asked, as he walked alongside her down the dungeon corridor.

“No, but thank you so much for taking an interest in my personal life,” Violet replied sourly. “Being Nagaeena's pet project hasn't made this Valentine's Day nonsense excruciating enough. And no, I really don't want to hear about your plans, Kai.”

He coughed. “What makes you think I have plans?”

“You can't be serious.” They headed up the stairs, and Violet realized she wasn't actually sure where they were headed – she didn't have another class to go to today, and the Slytherin dorms were in the opposite direction. How had she gotten so distracted? “You're nearly as bad as Nagaeena, constantly talking about your 'admirers.'”

“You're exaggerating.” Kai sounded uncharacteristically abashed. “Vi –”

“I could recite your heroic tale of the Second Battle of Hogwarts by heart,” Violet retorted.

“Now come on...”

“Not that I can blame you – obviously it works, judging by the number of girls in the Kai Chang Ex-Fan Club...”

“The what?” Kai sputtered. “Vi, you're not being fair!”

“I hardly think you were fair to Deana, or Katie, or Judith, or Decima...”

“Decima?” he exclaimed. “Vi, I never dated Decima! She looks like a baby Dementor!”

“Charming.”

“Vi, would you –”

“So who's to be your victim for Valentine's Day? And stop calling me Vi!” she snapped.

“I don't have a date yet, actually...”

“Come now, surely there's still a girl left in Hogwarts beautiful enough to meet your exacting standards whom you haven't already alienated.”

Kai stepped rapidly in front of her and whirled around, to grab her shoulders and bring her to an abrupt halt.

“I don't want to date a beautiful girl!” he blurted out in a rush. “I want to date you!”

Frozen in her tracks, Violet stared at him, expressionlessly.

After a long moment of silence, the blush that was creeping up Kai's cheeks began to deepen. “Umm...” He coughed. “That, er, didn't come out quite the way I intended.”

Violet arched one eyebrow, very slightly, but other than that, didn't move.

Kai was now scarlet, and he even seemed to be sweating a bit. “Merlin, you're really not going to make this any easier on me, are you?”

Her brow arched a little more, and for one instant, the corner of her mouth twitched.

Kai looked as if he were trying desperately to think of the right words to say. Violet was amused in spite of herself. Then the Ravenclaw took a deep breath, and leaned forward to kiss her.

The surprise she was already feeling was replaced by unadulterated shock. Unexpectedly, she felt her heart pounding and her pulse racing, and every other impossible cliché she'd thought could never, ever happen to her. She was horrified to realize that she was even feeling a little weak at the knees, though she managed to remain standing as stiffly as before. It was only her lips that yielded, and her eyelids, which closed partway of their own volition.

Kai finally pulled away, and looked at her nervously.

She just stared back at him, and didn't say anything.

“Er, that was all right, wasn't it?” he mumbled.

“Yes,” she replied, after a moment. “I think you just need to practice a little more.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Well, no one's ever criticized me befor– I mean, not that I've kissed that many girls – you really are exaggerating, Vi. But, I...I've had plenty of practice...er, not plenty, just –” His face was getting redder and redder, and he became more flustered as Violet kept staring at him coolly.

“Kai,” she said.

He gulped. “Yes?”

“Learn to shut up.”

He opened his mouth, started to nod, seemed about to say something, and finally caught the faint trace of a smile on her lips. His eyes lit up with comprehension, and he smiled slowly in return, and then leaned forward again.

[Sly Severus]

Name: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Original Character: Elysia Malfoy
Title: Be My Valentine?
Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd Years / None
Word Count: 510

Elysia had a mouthful of pancake when Bellatrix shoved the small flyer into her hand. She was always doing that, showing up with early morning news that no one else yet knew. Bella had a knack for finding out—well everything. Even at thirteen, she knew how to get what she wanted.

“A ball,” Bella announced, setting beside her, and taking a bite of muffin. “Hogwarts is having a Valentine’s Day Ball.”

“For fourth years and up,” Elysia replied, glancing at the paper. “You do remember we’re in third year, right?”

“Fourth years and up, and their dates,” Bella told her, smiling widely. “Come on, we have to go to this. We’re both gorgeous. Our blood is pure. Of course, we can find a date. Admit it, you want to go.”

Glancing at the paper again, Elysia nodded. She wanted to go. Balls were so elegant. Being a Malfoy, everyone assumed she was used to that sort of thing. The truth, her parents never allowed her to attended fancy dinner parties. They thought she was too young.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I’d like to go. That doesn’t mean some fourth year is going to ask me or you.”

“Wait and see,” Bella replied with a mischievous smile.

They had one week to secure dates and Bella was ready for the challenge. The week passed agonizingly slow for Elysia. She wanted to go to the ball, but she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.

That whole week was spent running around Hogwarts wearing far too much make-up and showing off superior magic skills. It was true that she and Bella were beautiful and magically talented, but when they were flaunting people knew it. They also knew it was best to avoid a pureblooded Slytherin with ulterior motives.

By Friday night, the night of the ball, they had earned nothing more than glares from teachers. They were dateless. They were not going to the ball.

Elysia sighed as she entered the deserted Slytherin Common Room wearing her pajamas. Everyone was either at the ball, on a date, or sulking. She was avoiding Bella, who was most likely doing the latter.

When Bella burst into the room with a smile and handful of sweets Elysia was amazed. Her friend didn’t handle defeat well.

Flopping down beside her, Bella opened a bag of Every Flavor Beans and ate contently.

“What gives?” Elysia asked, helping herself to a chocolate frog. “I thought you wanted to go to the ball.”

“I did,” Bella admitted with a shrug, “but then I thought about it a bit more. There are worst things than spending Valentine’s Day with you stuffing our faces with chocolate.”

“Like what?” Elysia asked.

“Like being at the ball and ending up like our parents,” she replied. “I never want that to happen to us. I don’t want to hate the person I’m with.”

“You won’t,” Elysia replied, facing her friend. “You’re too smart for that.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Bella,” Elysia said, smiling like a fool, “will you be my valentine?”

“Absolutely,” Bella replied, laughing.

[harryginny4eva61]

Name: harryginny4eva61/ Lily6161
House: Gryffindor
Original Character: Zaire Riddle
Title: Tom's Daughter In Love?
Ratings and Warnings: 3-5 years/ none
Word Count: 601

Zaire rested her chin on her palm, looking out at the skating rink where many couples were holding hands. Tears were streaming thickly down her pale cheeks, causing her to look like a statue with rain on it. Was Ted out there with Victoire? On the other hand, had he dumped her for some other girl, as he had to Zaire a little over two years ago? Ted had been Zaire’s; he never would talk to Victoire even when she did try her schemes to get him to go out with her. Then, two months after the two had bought their flat, he had dumped her for Victoire. The worst part for Zaire was that she still was in love with Ted, even after that. Even after he left her for another, she still loved him. Moreover, she hated herself for it. Her lonely, broken-hearted thought train was halted with a knock on the door. “It’s open.” She choked out, and a worried Ginny Weasley rushed in.

“Hi.” Zaire attempted a smile at her.

“Oh, Zaire, look at you.” Ginny gazed at Zaire up and down and cocked an eyebrow. “Him?” Zaire nodded, and Ginny took her into her arms. She knew Zaire had loved Ted almost as much as she loved Harry. It had hurt Zaire to know she had cut off ties with everything she had ever known, and then Ted had left her for Victoire, who was two years younger. Ginny had watched Zaire suffer, and let her stay at the Potters until she found a new flat (it was decided Ted keep theirs). Ginny watched Zaire cry into her cereal every morning, and when Zaire had moved out six months later, Ginny made a point to check on her.

“I just don’t get it. How after that, could I still love him?” Zaire asked; face angry with her and impatience shining through the tears.

“I don’t know. I loved Harry for years till he stopped being thick. And then after he left I spent another year without him.” Ginny answered patiently.

“But Ted he... I don’t get it!” Zaire shook her head. “I should hate Ted! I should be over him! I should be dating other guys!” The door creaked open yet again.

“Why should I be hated?” Ted was carrying roses and had a look of bewilderment on his face. Zaire glanced up, and Ted handed her the roses.

“You think I want those?” Zaire stood up. “You left me, you ignored my letters, now, and you come back with flowers? What you dumped Victoire? When?” Zaire’s eyes were as hard as ice, yet had a fire in them, something she always did.

“I didn’t dump her; she broke up with me for someone else. And that allowed me to see what I needed!” Ted began to yell.

“Which was?” Zaire cocked an eyebrow.

“You.” Ted said simply.

“Oh. The little cliché, it makes everything better. Well it isn’t working!” The words whipped off Zaire’s tongue like a whip. Ted stared at her, sighing slowly. As her mouth puckered for an insult, Ted pulled her in for a kiss. When they broke apart, Zaire stared at him.

“Sorry.” He made a move to disentangle himself.

“No. I was kissing back, Ted, I... I... I still love you.” Zaire said.

“Yeah. I knew it.” Zaire glared at him like murder. “But you should hate me.” He smirked.

“I should.” Zaire nodded.

“But you don’t” He flashed that cocky smile again, and pulled Zaire back in. “Happy Valentine’s day, dear,” he whispered to her before their lips met.

[OliveOil_Med]

Name: Molly/OliveOil_Med
House: Ravenclaw
Original Character: Nate Rivers
Title: Date Date
Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd years, Mild Profanity
Word Count: 472

“One free birthday dessert,” the waiter scrolled on his notepad. “And how old are you going to be?”

Nate straightened his spin and tried to fake a truthful looking smile. “Fourteen.”

Truth be told, Nate Rivers wouldn’t be fourteen for another two weeks, but he didn’t have the money to afford an actual dinner at a restaurant where you had to wear a tie. Besides, it wasn’t that unbelievable of a lie. Lots of kids were born on Valentine’s Day.

Or was it conceived?

But Nate was too nervous to focus on any abstract subject right now. Alaia Grace would be walking through the front door at any moment and he had to do everything in his power to make sure this evening was absolutely perfect. He had gone through too much trouble to get Alaia to meet him at this restaurant without actually needing to ask her face to face to mess anything up now.

His spine was starting to hurt from holding it erect for so lone, but Nate sill could not find anything to make him want to stop sitting at that table in that jacket and tie and that stupid grin plastered across his face. Even after three hours when Alaia was supposed to meet him. Physically, he was still sitting perfect, but his spirits were just now starting to wane.

Suddenly, the door chimes rang out (doing so for the first time in an hour and a half) and when Nate looked over, he felt his heart skip. It was the exact shape of an eighth grade girl! She was wearing high heeled shoes, a sleek dressy skirt…

…shiny black hair…and a five-year-old following behind.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said, at the side of the table before he could even realize it. “It’s looks like you’ve been having a good time.”

“Hi, Lorelei,” Nate moaned, spinning his fork on the tabletop. “Hi, Rae.”

His best friend (who he was NOT romantically involved with) and her little sister pulled up their own chairs and made themselves comfortable. “What went wrong?” Lorelei asked in a way that really didn’t sound as though she could have cared less.

“What do you think? Nate snapped. “Alaia never showed up!”

“Did you remember to ask her?”

“Yes!” Nate said, dropping his fork. “I wrote her a note.”

“Did you actually give it to her?”

“Crap!” Nate muttered under his breath.

“Ah, I see you lady friend is finally here.” The waiter snuck up on the with a small slice of cake topped with a candle. “Make a wish.”

In one huff, Nate blew out the candle and threw his head over the back of the chair. “I wish I was dead.”

Lorelei shook her head and offered a surprisingly genuine-looking smile. “Nate, it won’t come true if you say it out loud.”

[Ginny Weasley Potter]

Name: Pooja/ Ginny Weasley Potter
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Chris Stevens (EDIT: I wasn't too sure, but since everyone has done this, I thought I'd mention Daisy Joe, my other OC. The main OC is Chris, though.)
Title: Reassurance
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th years, slight sexual situations
Word Count: 696

A/N: A type of hypothetical scene from Killer Instincts. I don't think this scene will ever take place in the fic. For all KI readers, neither does this imply that Daisy will die, nor does it imply that Chris and Ginny will survive in the fic. As I said, this is hypothetical! :D

Chris brought the syringe to eye level and tested it by squirting out a bit the potion. Gently pulling up Daisy’s sleeve, he pushed the needle through her skin slowly. She winced, but made no sound. Chris, though, threw away the used needle and cleared his throat. “Urm… today’s Valentine’s Day.”

She looked at him, amazed. “Gosh, have I really been in the hospital that long? Anyway, who’s your date?”

He blushed. “Um, actually… that’s what I wanted to ask you. Will you be my date?”

There was silence. Daisy raised an eyebrow. “And surely, even you would want a date who looks less like a vampire.”

Chris took a look at her. She was pale as chalk. He eyes were sunken and her black hair and pimples stood out starkly. Her lips were chapped and raw. Yet, she was beautiful.

“I still think you’re the prettiest girl on earth.”

“Sycophant.”

“I’m not lying. Could we start over? Again?”

She shook her head. “No, Chris, it isn’t going to help. I won’t live long. All you will get to do with me is to sit at my grave and cry. I think… you must find someone else. Someone who is not dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“Does it help to live in false hopes?”

“I love you. No one can replace you. And you won’t die.”

“You won’t give up, will you? Fine. I’ll be your date. But what will we do? Are you planning on getting a bit of IV therapy so that we can ‘hold hands and talk over drip?’”

Chris smiled. “No. Today, we’ll redefine a date.”

“Oh, we’ve redefined most things as a couple, if you ask me.”

He came close to her. “I’ll start with your gifts. Fourteen gifts for the fourteenth day of February.” He picked up her hand and kissed each finger. “One… two… three… four… five-” he kissed the centre of her palm, “-six.” Taking the other palm, he repeated the ritual by counting from seven to twelve. Finally, he got his face close to hers, and kissed her forehead. “Thirteen.” He waited for a moment, admiring her lovely eyes. Then he bent closer… far too close.

His lips found hers and he kissed her, slowly… gently. She kissed him softly, too, but suddenly, she seemed to grow more passionate. He felt his heart race, as the kiss grew deeper and deeper. Tears filled his eyes as he held her close. True; hopes that she would survive were low. Yet, he wanted her. Only her.

Her hand felt his hair, stroking it, moving right down his back… then she began to poke him.

He broke away abruptly. “Ow! That hurts, Daisy!”

“Chris?”

“Huh?” Chris flinched a bit and his eyes flew open. Ginny was right in front of him, eyeing him in bewilderment. He hastily wiped away a tear that had fallen down his cheek.

Ginny noticed the tear and ruffled his hair. “What happened?”

“I had a dream… it was Valentine ’s Day,” Chris replied, looking at Daisy. She lay on the bed… still… unmoved. “Daisy was awake. She spoke to me.”

Ginny put an arm around Chris. “Valentine’s Day is not in another twenty days or so. And Daisy will definitely be with you on that day.”

“Will she wake up, Ginny?” It was a childish, desperate question.

Ginny nodded. “She has all of us and all she has to do now is to believe in herself. You told me so, Chris. Then why are you losing hope?”

“She told me not to live in false hopes.”

“She is right. But we are not living in false hopes. She will wake up. I just know it.”

“Can- can I just talk to her…? Alone?”

“Okay.” Ginny got up and walked out of the ward, as Chris slipped his hand into Daisy’s. Her fingers were still as soft as always… but cold. He leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“I love you… beyond all rationality. This time, you will be my Valentine… Flower.You will wake up.”

Chris could have sworn then that he felt her hand twitch feebly… as if she had wanted to reassure him, too.

[Kate Skeffington]

Name: Mila Z/ Kate Skeffington
House: Gryffindor
Original Character: Tabitha Specks and Patrick MacMillan.
Title: Bitter sweet.
Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd years.
Word Count: 638

A/N: Characters are from my fic, I solemnly Swear. If anyone's reading it, this entry might have some sort of spoilers, although this scene might not be added to the fic in the end.

As she walked through the icy corridors of Hogwarts towards the library, Tabitha chewed on her lip, nervously. It had been proven impossible to keep her mind off anything related to St Valentine’s day because not only were there rosy decorations adorning every inch of the school but the portraits too, seemed to be immersed in the festive spirit: singing sentimental songs, and erupting into loud love declarations for their neighbours.

The library, she mused, was a very odd place to meet someone. Definitely not the most romantic of all places but, at least there she was bound to have some privacy; there weren’t any curious eyes to nose in on her business, except for Madam Pince, who, eyed her suspiciously, the minute she walked in.

Taking a look around, Tabitha confirmed that the library was, indeed, not the most concurred place on a Friday afternoon. There were only small clusters of students from Seventh, scattered here and there, which made her feel slightly less jumpy. She walked straight towards the Charms section, where she devised the top of a wispy- haired head

“Patrick,” she said, taking the owner of the wispy hair by surprise.

Patrick, spun around, his hands holding a beaten, leather-bound copy of 'Charm Your Own Cheese'. “Hi,” he stuttered.

“Did you have to wait too long?” Tabitha asked, anxiously, looking around for a clock. “I know I told you to meet me here at five-thirty, but I lost track of time and...”

“No, it’s okay, I haven’t been waiting that long, and this book is kind of interesting so, no problem.” He waved 'Charm Your Own Cheese' enthusiastically causing a few pages to fall off.

“Oh, good.” Tabitha’s heart suddenly begun to pound against her chest, as Patrick gathered the torn pages and they both fell into an uncomfortable silence. “Er, right. You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come.” Patrick stared at her, expectantly. Tabitha gulped. “I was wondering if you knew there was a Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow?”

Patrick looked at her strangely and nodded. “Yeah, it was announced last week.”

“Er, are we going together? Since it’s Valentine’s day and all...” she said, all in one breath. Tabitha saw Patrick cheeks turn slightly red and hurriedly added, “I mean, if you had other plans, that’s okay, I completely understand. I was just, you know...checking.”

Patrick chortled softly. “Well, we have been going out, haven’t we?” Tabitha nodded, sheepishly. “I guess that means we get to spend Valentine’s together.”

“Right.” Tabitha looked around, trying to avoid Patrick’s eyes. “Well, I guess I’ll see you there ” And with no more preamble, she stalked off.

The following day, February the fourteenth, Tabitha made her way downstairs with the rest of the school to where Filch was checking that those without permission to visit Hogsmeade didn’t slip out of the castle and Tabitha found herself wishing she had been one of those students. She wished she wasn’t expected to go to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s, she wished Patrick had said he had other plans, she wished things were simpler. It was strange how a few months could change things, how she could hate someone, who, she now undoubtedly didn’t—most definitely didn’t. And it was odd how time hadn’t changed other things, at all. Patrick was still her boyfriend. But as Patrick and her made their way to Hogsmeade, hand in hand, snow crunching beneath their feet, a little voice inside her head reminded her that could change, quite easily if she wanted.

She sighed and looked ahead of her, James and his friends were walking not far away. She kept her eyes on them as much as she could without making Patrick suspicious and then, for a brief moment, Sirius looked over his shoulder at her and Tabitha felt, guiltily, her heart skipping a beat.

[Equinox Chick]

Name: Equinox Chick
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Martha Macdonald
Title: Keeping him.
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th. Implied Sexual Situations
Word Count: 699


“Martha, Martha,” called Sally. “Where’s he taking you? I bet he has something totally cool planned.”

Martha giggled. “I have no idea, Sal. He said it would be a surprise. Lunch somewhere and then...” Martha was lost in her thoughts as she imagined her boyfriend (she still had to pinch herself at that term) treating her to a Valentine’s lunch, a drink somewhere, and then perhaps a romantic walk under tonight’s full moon.

“Will you help me with this?”she asked. She held out a necklace. The moonstone pendant seemed to dance under the light.

“That is so beautiful. Did Sirius buy you that for your birthday?”

Martha nodded.

“You are so lucky, Martha Macdonald,” stated Sally, with a note of envy in her voice. “A boyfriend who is not only gorgeous but generous too.”

Martha smiled but said nothing. She really didn’t know why Sirius was going out with her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t his type – Sirius Black didn’t seem to have a type. Her sister, Mary, had once said if someone was female and had a pulse then Sirius Black would be all over them like a rash. Sirius, who had been in the room at the time, had protested mildly that he could be discerning when he wanted to be, but Martha didn’t think he’d been too upset by Mary’s analysis.

It was easy to catch Sirius Black, but holding him was a completely different matter.
She pulled her hair out of the way and felt Sally’s cold fingers lightly place the chain around her neck.

“Do you have a plan to keep him?” asked Sally.

“Wh-what do you mean, keep him?” Martha stuttered.

It was Sally’s turn to smile. “Be realistic, Martha, he could have anyone.”

***

At noon, Martha met Sirius in the Common Room. He kissed her softly on the cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” Martha hoped he approved of the dress, the makeup and the new hairstyle. She was so used to the curls that flopped in her face that she felt strange with them all swept up into a chignon. Sally had told her she looked sophisticated but Martha wasn’t sure.

“You look lovely,” said Sirius, giving her hand a squeeze. “The necklace suits you.”

Martha stood on tip toes and kissed him. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

Hand in hand they walked into Hogsmeade.

“I’ve booked a table at the Three Broomsticks. Don’t worry; I’ve bribed the others to go to the Hog’s Head instead.”

She giggled and he laughed at her obvious relief.

Rosmerta had set aside part of the pub for couples that afternoon. Decorated with charmed roses that wafted Amortentia whenever they were touched, Martha was not surprised that the place was full. Over in the corner she could see Sonia, one of Sirius’ exes, casting amused looks at her. It won’t last, those looks appeared to say.

“Sirius,” Martha said, as she sipped her sparkling pixie juice. “Where are we going after this?”

“Oh... err... I don’t know,” Sirius replied. He appeared flustered. “I-I hadn’t really planned anything else. Just lunch and then a long walk back to the castle. Do you mind?”

“N-no, that’s fine. I was just wondering...” She blushed slightly. “Um, well you know it was my birthday last week?”

He nodded.

“I was sixteen.”

“Uh-huh, so?”

“Well,” she began, cursing Merlin for making this so hard. “I was wondering whether you wanted to... um... celebrate properly with me.” She paused. “Perhaps tonight?”

Sirius did a double take and for a second she saw a light flare up in his eyes. Then he touched her face very softly. “I can’t tonight, sweetheart.”

Martha stared at her uneaten plate of food. She felt his fingertips on her chin, as he lifted her face to his.

“I really do have something important I have to do tonight, Martha. I’m sorry, but...” he paused, and then smiled wickedly. “Another time, certainly.”

Feeling disappointed and ridiculous, Martha tried to concentrate on the rest of the date but her impulsive offer now hung between them. She really didn’t think she was ready for that type of relationship, yet now she’d made the first move she couldn’t possibly say no.

Carole (who's not sure she's followed the prompt properly :( )
xxx

[mzap]

Name: mzap
House: Hufflepuff
Original Character: Genevieve Weasley and Demetri Rosier
Title: A Hairy Heart
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th Years; some sexual situations
Word Count: 627

A/N: For those who haven't read Tales of Beedle the Bard, a "hairy heart" refers to "a cold or unfeeling witch or wizard." Also, this doesn't reflect my own views on love or how people spend their Valentine's Day; Genevieve is just bitter. Both characters are from my fic, A Mix of Alliances and Sentiments, though this is more reflective of earlier years in their relationship.

“I hate this holiday,” Genevieve grumbled. She was in the Slytherin common room, lying on the couch with her head on Demetri’s lap. He looked down at her, his fingers running across her abdomen, occasionally going under her shirt.

The common room was empty except for the couple. Everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade with their dates and even the younger years were outside the confinements of the dormitories. Demetri had snuck her in shortly after everyone had gone, but it didn’t matter since she knew the password already and about the entire House had seen her in the room before.

“Oh?” he said. He raised his eyebrow in question.

“Who was the moron who came up ‘St. Valentine’s Day’ anyways? Everywhere you look, there are snogging couples and people who think they’re ‘in love.’” She pulled a disgusted face. “Its always ‘Oh, I’m in love with you’ or ‘I can’t live without you.’”

“I’d say someone’s a bit bitter about not being in love,” he smirked, mocking her.

“Me? No. Never. Love is just an excuse people use to stay together. It doesn’t exist.” Genevieve sat up and rested her head on Demetri shoulder. He placed his arm around her and held her tightly.

“Then how do you explain all the people together today? They seem to be ‘in love.’” Demetri inquired.

She pulled away and gave an obvious look. “Please, have you seen the Gryffindor common room? I’ve never seen so many couples attached at the lips. It’s disgusting.”

“You know, a lot of people could say the same about us,” he argued.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Yes, but at least we have the decency of finding a broom closet first.”

The door to the common room suddenly opened, revealing a Slytherin third year. He looked at the couple and scowled when he saw Genevieve’s gold and red robes. “What is a Gryffindor doing in the Slytherin common room?” he sneered. “Wait, she’s that Weasley, isn’t she? Merlin, you’re standards have lowered, Rosier.”

“Get out,” Demetri commanded, frowning.

The boy didn’t budge, but instead, puffed out his chest and walked across the room to put down his books on a table. “I have every right to be in the common room, unlike your girlfriend.” He glowered at Genevieve.

“Get—” Demetri started but was cut off by Genevieve.

“I suggest you leave the room, unless you want to end up like that seventh year I cursed two weeks ago. Might I add that he’s still in the hospital wing in the shape of a worm.” She gave a cunning smile as the boy’s face went pale. Genevieve reached for her wand and the boy grabbed his items and rushed out the door.

“Genevieve Weasley, you have a hairy heart,” Demetri stated, watching the boy run out.

“I do not have a hairy heart!” she said, aghast. “I may be a bit harsh, but I do have feelings.”

“I’d like to see you prove that one,” he laughed.

“Fine then. How would you like me to prove it?” she challenged.

“Will you be my Valentine?” His face looked a little hopeful, but he still seemed to be mocking her.

“No.”

Demetri looked stunned. “What do you mean ‘no?’”

“Well, not when you ask me like some pathetic, lovesick teenager.” He looked a bit hurt and Genevieve began to feel guilty. Her face twisted into a halfhearted smile. “Oh, all right, I’ll be your Valentine,” she said in annoyed tone. She reclined against him again while he put his arm around her. “What do Valentines do, anyway?”

“How would I know?” He shrugged. He then gave a furtive smile as he slipped his hand under her shirt. “But I can think of one thing we can do.”

[Azhure]

Name: Azhure
House: Ravenclaw
Original Character: Timothy Jenkins and Patrick Corner (with a small appearance of Georgina Link ;))
Title: Georgina
Ratings and Warnings: None
Word Count: 651
Author's Notes: *sprints in* Woot! I'm not late!

“Georgina? Um, can I ask you something?”

Timothy Jenkins looked up in surprise to see his friend Patrick approaching Georgina, who sat by the window.

“Yeah, sure, Patrick. What’s up?”

Patrick seemed nervous. He was fiddling with his sleeve and it didn’t seem like he could stand still.

It was then that Timothy realised what his friend must have been doing. Merlin, he thought. Patrick is going to kill me.

Quickly, he rushed forwards, reaching out to grasp his friend’s robes to pull him back, and away from the humiliation of getting rejected.

“Umm,” said Patrick. “W-Will you be my Valentine – hey! What are you doing?”

Timothy yanked his friend backwards so they both went crashing to the floor in a heap. But it was too late, and as Timothy felt Patrick's elbow jabbing into his stomach, he knew that the damage had been done. Desperately, he looked up at Georgina, praying that she would realise what was going on, and that she’d kindly refuse Patrick’s request, and leave it at that.

“Oh, Patrick.” She laughed at the state both the boys were in – sprawled over each other, red-cheeked and glaring. “I’m sorry, but Timothy here... Well, he’s already asked me.” She giggled again.

Timothy felt Patrick tense up, and he desperately tried to untangle himself so he could somehow prevent what was to come...

Yet the explosion was imminent.

“I can’t believe you lied!” exclaimed Patrick angrily, picking himself up off of the ground, and unconsciously glancing around at the surrounding crowd of Ravenclaws.

“I didn’t know what to say, you git,” replied Timothy, also standing up. “Would you've rather known that I’d beaten you to the punch than think you’d have a chance with her?”

“But I asked her! How could you not think that I’d ask her?” Patrick took a step forwards, angrily kicking his bag out of the way. There was some muttering from the side, and Timothy looked over to see Georgina whispering with some friends. She looked thrilled that they were arguing over her.

Looking back at Patrick, Timothy blurted out, “Because I thought you’d chicken out. Seriously, Pat. When have you ever talked to a girl, let alone asked one out?”

Patrick blushed bright red and cast another look around at the onlookers. He seemed to struggle with himself for a minute until, suddenly, he picked up his book bag and stormed over to the staircase leading to the dormitories, disappearing up the stairs.

Timothy sighed angrily and glanced at Georgina. “I, err – I think our date is cancelled.”

Without waiting for a reaction, he followed Patrick up the stairs, hoping that he could convince his friend to stop moping.

“Hey, Patrick! Patrick! Come on – wait up!”

Patrick stopped halfway up the staircase and quickly turned around, his book bag banging against his leg, and his eyes flashing. “What?” he snapped.

Timothy skidded to a halt on the bottom step, eying his friend warily. “I’m sorry, okay? I was just curious...”

“Curious about whether I’d make a fool of myself in front of your girlfriend?” Patrick crossed his arms over his chest, dropping his bag in the process, which landed with a muffled flump on the stairs.

Timothy looked down at the bag, seeing the Ravenclaw crest that was stitched into it, and the frayed edges which Patrick always refused to mend for some unknown reason. “Well, yeah,” he replied, after a few minutes of staring at the bag. Looking back up at Patrick, Timothy could see that his friend was not pleased.

But it really wasn’t his fault. Patrick had been so excited about asking Georgina to be his Valentine... and Timothy couldn’t bear to ruin his friend’s happiness by saying that Georgina was actually his own girlfriend... It would just have been cruel.

Besides, he had never expected Patrick to pluck up the courage to ask her out!

That just wasn’t Patrick!


Gah, I had to cut so much out of this drabble... :rolleyes:

[eternalangel]

Name: eternalangel
House: Ravenclaw
Original Character: Sergei Krum
Title: The Last Dance
Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th year, none
Word Count: 682
Author Note: I just wanted to add that my character met his wife Elaina in 1920, so the social customs will be different than what we are used to. I also didn't mention Valentines day in this because I don't really think they would have celebrated this holiday in 1920's Russia. Also I hope I am not too late for this!


The young man nervously straightened his suit, his large fingers fumbling with the lapels. He wasn’t tall like some of the other gentleman and he had never been graceful. The young man was stout and solid. He walked roughly and looked more like a laborer than a suitor, but he was kind and gentle and he hoped that would be enough.

The young man watched as the couples swept across the worn, wooden floors like flower petals on a soft spring breeze. He barely noticed the nervous titters from the girls when their partners whispered something in their ears or the matronly chaperones who flitted in between the couples, their keen eyes on the lookout for any breach of social etiquette. He barely heard the frigid notes of the classical music as it rolled off the gramophone. All the young man could see and hear was her, the one girl he was madly in love with.

Her beauty sucked the very breath out of his chest. He loved how the sunlight that slanted through the glass windows set off a thousand shards of light in her blond ringlets. Her eyes were the color of a wide, blue sky on a summer day and her soft, pink lips were cherry blossom petals. He could hear nothing but her melodious laughter that lingered in the air around him.

The young man watched her as she made round after round with a new partner, for Elaina Milanovich was never without a partner. He clenched his dance card close to his chest, feeling his heart thud loudly. Every slot was empty, except one. The young man had finally gotten the courage to ask her to dance. The last dance was his and as it drew near, he felt his excitement and anxiety rise up in him.

If he could just hold her hand, it would be enough. If she would just smile at him and look into his eyes, he would be the happiest man forever. He wished she knew how he worshipped the ground she walked o