The Eternal Glory Thread!

[MithrilQuill]

No, the theme is not The Scheme, I got an idea judging the Scrapbook challenge so your drabble challenge is a bit different this time around. Don't worry we'll get back to the normal routine after this, but this time there is no theme!


For this challenge I want everyone to either pick a theme of their choice to drabble about or even fish up an old Drabble that they're really fond of. I want to see your best drabbling here.


Also, if there's a drabble by someone else that you really, really enjoyed reading make a new post with a link to the thread it's in and it's title etc so I can find it(old challenges can be found in Hermione's corner). Everybody, authors, mods, and newbies are all encouraged to post.


Please use the same form as usual:

Author:
House:
Warnings:
Words:
and

Title


I'll let you know what this is for later on :D

[Loralie]

I will post one of my own drabbles later, but I had to put this link in here ASAP!

It is called Love, I (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=2238&page=5) by mugglemathdork,(about the 6th post down) and it makes me cry no matter how many times I read it!

edit 2: I had to add some more nominations.....
He cannot see and Who will lift them up (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=3841) by coppercurls (3rd post down)



Edit:

Ok, I picked a few to share:
This first one seems wierd, but it's written in the POV of the Womping Willow in PoA. This was part of the pairing up drabble challenge several months ago, and the only one to have ever won anything. (the other drabble was Ron's POV written by mugglemathdork.)
Author: Loralie
House:Hufflepuff
Warnings: none
Words: 323
Title:
I am so bored. Maybe that’s because I am a board! HAHAHA. I crack my self up. No, I don’t want any cracks, but I do laugh myself silly! That’s it, I laugh myself silly. Oh Merlin, I am bored. I was put here to guard the entrance to that old shack, but I’m so good that no one has dared come near me in ages. That flying car got me some attention, but that HURT.

I’m bored.

What’s this? Someone’s coming? Oh, it’s that big black dog again! And he’s dragging something with bright red fur (or is it hair?) with him. I haven’t seen him in years! He used to get past me all the time, him and his friends...but not this time!

SWOOSH

Shoot! I missed! And now I’m frozen. I hate being frozen.

But here come some more! That smart girl and the boy who crashed the car into me…I’ll get them!

TWACK!

I got them! I got th-

I’m frozen again. That stupid cat, how’d he know what buttons to push? It must’ve been that dog who told it! And now those kids are in the passage too. I am in so much trouble! I’ll be lucky if I’m not kindling after this!

OOO, Another chance. It’s that new teacher from the school. Wait- I recognize him! He was the boy they planted me for. Long time no see!!

And I’m frozen again. I hate this. Three times in one night?! I wish I could just go on vacation. But NO, I’m rooted to the spot!!

Another teacher? What, are they having a party or something? You know- if I was allowed to let people in today, I wish someone would have let me know! Swinging all these branches around gets tiring. That’s one good thing about that car hitting me last year- I got a good trim and lost a few pounds!

I’m frozen. Again. I hate this job.

ok, and the next two are darker, have no titles, and are my personal favorites. word count 287 and 383 respectively.
Tears filled her sparkling green eyes, as she looked at him incredulously.
“What did you just say to me?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me, mudblood. I said I don’t want to see you anymore.”
Where did this come from? They had been so happy! He had never cared about her blood before, and now all of a sudden she was a mudblood? He turned and started to walk away.

“Severus, please. What happened? Why are you angry with me? And since when do you call me a mudblood?” She was getting angry now. “And who are YOU to call ME a mudblood? Your blood is just as dirty as mine!”

He whirled around and grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t you ever say that again, do you hear me?” he growled at her, his black eyes hard, without the sparkle they normally had when he was with her. He had never treated her like this. She finally let those tears fall.

“It’s those new friends of yours isn’t it? They convinced you I wasn’t good enough. Did you tell them about your father? Do they know about him?” she yelled at him through her tears.

“I told you to shut up about that. No, they don’t know, and they aren’t going to either. Because they’re right. My Muggle father and my Muggle grandparents, do you know what they did? They disowned me and my mother. We were on our own. When my father died, I got nothing from him, NOTHING! So yes, my new friends helped me realize that Muggles are weak, and I don’t ever want to be weak. Face it Lily, we are over.”

Severus Snape walked off, leaving a broken heart behind him.

Evera Watkins saw it all happen, but no one ever asked her about it. She saw them come at him with wands blazing, but no one wanted her opinion. She saw the looks of betrayal in their eyes. They had followed him; they had done his bidding, only to realize everything he had them fight for was a lie.
He told them that to be a true wizard you had to be Pure. Pure of blood, pure in magic. Anyone else was a traitor, a stain on their society and had to be destroyed. So they did. They killed, and tortured, and all because he said so. Some did it for the power, which was true. Some did it for the joy they found in causing pain to others, and that was true too. But most did it because they believed in him. They thought he was right, that he would make their world better, more pure. That was the lie.
Evera Watkins saw it all, and no one paid any attention. Evera Watkins was a Mudblood. A half-breed. But, she was half witch. And that half gave her enormous power. She had the power to see the past, present, and future at will. She was the most powerful Seer in ten generations. She told them about the lies, but they didn’t care. They didn’t want the likes of her soiling their clothes. So she let the realization that their precious Dark Lord was a mudblood come to them slowly.
She told the few who were not in his inner circle first. They were farthest from him, thus easier to sway. She dropped hints in magazines and newspapers. Eventually, one of them came to stop her from spreading those awful lies about his master, and that is when she showed him. She showed him her vision, forced him to see for himself, and then gave it to him and made him show the others.
Evera Watkins saw it. She made the Deatheaters turn against Lord Voldemort, and no one ever knew her part in it. She went on, teaching at the school, consulting on a magical case or two. But she was mudblood, and no one who ever saw her vision would ever admit her help. After all, they were better than she was.

[Sly Severus]

This is a cool idea, MithrilQuill.

Here are a few of mine:

Author: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Warnings: None
Words: 264
Title: Survival

Coldness and dampness seeped through her thin and tattered robes. It didn’t matter. She had grown accustomed to the cold. After only a few months in Azkaban, she had grown accustomed to almost everything. She was used to vile treatment; it was nothing new to her.

Dementors, however, were a different story. They were the one thing in her prison that she could not bear. She knew she would never grow accustomed to them. And she could feel them coming.

Her cell became even colder. She began to tremble. Soon her thoughts were no longer coherent.

There she was on the floor, at the end of her master’s torture curse.

There she was locked in the basement of Lestrange manor.

There she was watching her sister leave Black Manor forever.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She cried out in pain and grief. But her cries went unanswered, they always did. Her worst memories continued to dance before her eyes as the monster outside her cell took away the tiny bit of happiness she managed to cling to.

After what seemed like a century her thoughts began to return to her. She felt as though she was in charge of her mind again. Cautiously, she opened her eyes only to see the black robed creature walking away.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She has survived another attack and she still knew who she was. The Dementors had failed to destroy her, yet again.

They can torture me forever, she thought. I won’t be destroyed. I can’t be destroyed. I am Bellatrix Black.

Author: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Warnings: None
Words: 450
Title: Mouse

Shame filled him as he led her into the small dilapidated home. She deserved better. She was used to better. How would he ever be able to provide her with the lifestyle she was accustomed to? He would never have the power and money that her family had.

She looked around the house as they entered. Her face conveyed no emotion, but he was certain that she was sickened, at the very least disappointed. This was not the life she was meant to lead and he was certain that, deep down, she knew it.

Finally, Andromeda smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “Our house,” she exclaimed, “I’m so excited.”

Glancing at the moth eaten curtains, uneven floors and chipped walls, Ted could not imagine what she was excited about. Anyone in her family would have run screaming from this house. Of course, Andromeda had little in common with anyone in her family.

All the sudden Andromeda gasped and jumped about a mile.

“What’s wrong?”

She pointed a shaky finger towards the kitchen door. “I saw a mouse.”

Ted backed away from her and let out an aggravated sigh.

“I’m sorry, Andy,” he began. “I know this isn’t the life you’re used to. You deserve so much better than this. If you want to go back to your family, I’ll understand, hell, I’ll take you to their doorstep. I don’t deserve you. I can’t take care of you. They can.”

Again, Andromeda wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. “You can take care of me. We have a home, Ted. It might not be the mansion that I grew up in, but it’s already more of a home to me than that place was. Why can’t you see that you can offer me things that my family never could? Ted you can give me love and that’s something my parents never managed. I want to stay here, with you.”

Ted hugged her tightly.

“I wish you would stop acting like I made a mistake by choosing to be with you. I got enough of that from Bella. I love you, and that’s all that matters.”

“I love you, too,” he replied as he kissed her softly on the forehead.

He lowered his lips to hers before she spoke again. “Uh...Ted?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Could you kill the mouse first? It’s making me a tad uneasy.”

Relief flooded Ted’s body as he laughed. He kissed Andromeda once more and wondered into the kitchen to attack the offending rodent. He might not be able to give Andromeda the life she was used to, but damn it, he would do whatever he could for her, which started with killing the mouse.

Author: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Warnings: None
Words: 303
Title: What Was Expected

It was long past midnight and she sat alone in the Slytherin Common Room, staring at the parchment. Tears burned her eyes. She could finally release the grief she had been feeling since the owl arrived at her table during breakfast that morning.

She was just about to take a sip of pumpkin juice when it was confirmed that her life was over. Her dreams were over; they had simply been discarded. Her chance to do anything with her life was gone. There was nothing left for her, but to do as she was told and marry the man her parents had selected.

The tears streamed freely down her face. Why was she acting so foolish? She knew this day was coming. She knew her parents would never consent to her having a career instead of a marriage. It just wasn’t the way things were done in her family. She was born into life that was already designed for her. She was given a role to play and she was never to step outside the role.

“You are being ungrateful,” she said aloud.

It was true. Her life came with hardships, but there were many advantages. She had the best of everything. Her blood was pure, money was no obstacle and it never would be. What more could she want?

A life. She wanted a life. She wanted to make a decision for herself. She wanted to have a career. She didn’t want to be locked away in a gloomy old mansion, only to be put on display at dinner parties.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. In a few days she would leave Hogwarts forever. She would begin her life as Mrs. Lucius Malfoy because that was what was expected of her. Narcissa Black always did what was expected of her.

Author: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Warnings: None
Words: 371
Title: A Simple Dream

Bellatrix Black sat alone in the Slytherin common room, flipping through the various leaflets that had been left regarding future careers. It was late, but this was the only chance she would have to read without prying eyes. If her friends saw her reading these they wouldn’t understand. She was a Black. She was not meant to work. She was meant to do nothing more than take the Mark and shoot out pureblood babies. No one saw her as good enough to do anything better.

She wanted the Mark. She knew it was her destiny. But sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if she could be more. She wanted to serve the Dark Lord, but did that mean she could have nothing else in her life, besides a snotty pureblood husband. Why couldn’t she have a career? She was smart enough. She had been at the top of her year for the last five years.

She was reading through a leaflet with a crossed bone-and-emblem symbol on it, the sign of St. Mungo’s. Healing had its appeal. It required intelligence, which she clearly demonstrated. It also required discipline, which she had in spades. And she knew it would increase her usefulness to the Dark Lord. Surely, he would appreciate having some around who could nurse his servants back to health after a battle.

She was still immersed in the leaflet when she heard footsteps on the dormitory stairs. She glanced up just in time to see Rodolphus Lestrange enter the room.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, plopping down beside her, as she hid the leaflets from view.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she told him.

He rested his hand on her leg. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she told him. She could never confide her thoughts in Rodolphus Lestrange. He was polite enough, but she knew he thought women were good for nothing but keeping a clean house and raising children. He would never understand.

“It’s late,” he told her. “You should try to sleep.” He extended his hand. “Let me walk you back upstairs.”

She nodded and accepted his hand, but not before she slipped the leaflet into her robes. She was going to have future. She was sure of it.

And...My recomendations:

Small Green Dress by AstroFire (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=6250)

Relief by Cheslin (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=5036&page=2)

Tea and Approval by Masked One (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=5370)

and

Master of Puppets by Eponine (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=5564)

*grins* I hope there wasn't a limit on this. Sorry, if I have gone over it.

[Ron x Hermione]

This is a great idea!

Here's a few of mine as well...

Name: Ron x Hermione
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: None, but there is hilarity ahead on the last.

“Ouch!” Ron laughed at Hermione’s attempts to throw a snowball, but that one had hit its target--- his face.

Hermione aimed again, but missed. Ron ran over to her, grabbing her from behind and whipping her around to face him, dropping the snow out of her hand.

“I love you, Hermione,” he told her as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“I love you too, Ron,” she said right back.

He looked cautiously at her at first, then leant in for a kiss.

“Hey! Get back inside you two!” Harry laughed, “They're about to start the feast!” Ron and Hermione ignored him. He rolled his eyes and walked back inside. The two broke apart, grabbing each other by the hand, and ran inside.

~ * ~

After the feast, Hermione and Ron went up to the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Hermione, slow down!” he said incredulously, amazed at how fast she was pulling him up the steps to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Fi-Fizzing Whiz-Whizbee,” Hermione panted, pulling Ron through the portrait hole once the Fat Lady had opened it.

“What are you doing?” he asked slyly, grabbing her hand and pulling her back to him.

Hermione just put a finger to his lips.

“Shh… You’ll see,” she said, letting go of his hand and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Ron felt his ears going red at the two lone first-years sitting in a corner of the room, watching, but he didn’t care. He had to hurriedly get Hermione’s present out of his hiding place.

He ran up to his dorm and grabbed it out from under his bed. Okay, it wasn’t the best of hiding places, but it had worked, and no one had found it.

He shook the package as he fingered the delicate wrapping that had taken him nearly an hour to finish. He wanted it to be perfect; all of it perfect, and just for her.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” he told her as she unwrapped the beautiful gift.

“OH, RON!” Hermione squealed in delight, putting the book in the air. “It‘s beautiful! How did you come up with the idea for this?”

“I know you like S-P-E-W, so I thought that you would just need something to organize all of your stuff in.” he said sheepishly. It was a binder for holding all of her group membership badges, documents, and any rules to the organization.

She smiled at the thought of him not calling her club “spew,” and pushed her present towards him.

He picked it up the gift and opened it. It was a Broom Servicing Kit. He had been needing one for his old broom for a while now.

Ron thanked her and said, “Merry Christmas, Hermione.”

“Merry Christmas Ron.”

And they indulged in one final kiss under the lights of the Christmas tree in their common room. They had another week until the next term started, and they were going to spend it together.

"Sirius! It's good to see you, son!" cried Mr. Potter as the boy walked through the door.

"You too, Mr. Potter." Sirius told the man, smiling.

Mrs. Potter poked her out of the kitchen to see who had run. "Oh, hello, Sirius! James is upstairs. You'll stay for dinner, I presume?"

Sirius nodded and then proceeded on up the stairs to fins his best friend sitting upside down in a lounge chair, pushing his hair back into different styles, apparently trying to figure out which one was to his best taste.

"Having fun, Prongs?"

"Sirius!" he yelled, flipping off the chair in surprise.

"Boys! Dinner is ready!" James mother yelled from the kitchen.

The two laughed as they made their way down the stairs.

"Sirius, I need to talk to you. Would you come here a moment?" called Mr. Potter from his study.

James didn't even give Sirius a strange look. His parents and Sirius were as good as friends as Sirius and himself. This wasn't odd in the slightest to Sirius either; he loved to talk to a loving parent.

His parents... well, they weren’t exactly what you would call good parents. His Mum; she seemed like the type of evil woman that would plant herself in a portrait after her death and put a permanent sticking charm on the back, just so people would know that she had once wreaked havoc on other people’s lives.

His father. Well, he never really saw much of his father. Both of his parents were too busy brooding over Young Regulus to even remember to feed him, Sirius.

Sirius considered Mr. and Mrs. Potter as good as a mother and father, they loved him at least.

And they thought him a son.

He was there at their home as much as James, and they enjoyed sharing the home witht he boy.

“Yes, sir?” Sirius asked, walking into the next room.

“I want to thank you for being such a good friend to my James. I’m glad that you two found each other in school. Goodness knows where I’d be if you hadn’t.”

Sirius gave him an inquiring look before asking, “Why?”

Mr. Potter stared at him for moment before answering.

“Sirius. I consider you a son. You’re just a good of a kid as James, and you inspire me. You inspire me to go on with my life.

“How do I do that?” Sirius asked questioningly.

“Sirius- you don’t care about all of the terrible things - your family - has done, if I may say so. Half of them are in Azkaban, the other half are on the run, dead, or evil in their own way. You? You, Sirius, are… a light in the darkness. A light... in the Black.”

Sirius stood still for a moment, considering all of the things he had just said.

“Thank you, sir. I’m glad to have met you too. I...” he paused. “You’re more of a father to me in one day than my real father ever has been.” he looked up at him. He hadn’t realized that he had been staring at his shoes.

Mr. Potter smiled at him. “I’m glad that hear that.”

As the two men stood up to leave, Sirius embraced the man in a tight hug. It wasn’t a hig, as if between friends - it was a hug between father and son.

They stalked past each other every day, neither one having the courage to tell the other how they felt.

She had just finished sacking that hag, Trelawney. Trelawney had been worthless to the school, and had too much knowledge for the Ministry’s liking. She had been ordered to fire her from the beginning, but didn’t want to appear too suspicious towards Dumbledore.

Dumbledore.

She didn’t know what to think of him.

She knew that she had to hate him; it was basically her job to get rid of him. But when she got a look at that long, silvery hair, and heard that deep, soft voice, she had to scold herself.

”You’re supposed to be trying to get him sacked!” she screamed inwardly, walking past the stone gargoyle next to the opening to Dumbledore’s office.

She dreamed of that every night...going up there, his office, just one time...

“STOP IT!” she nagged again, closing her eyes.

She had to stop thinking of the old man that way.

She rounded the corner to go on to the staff’s dormitories when she almost ran into him.

“Dumbledore.” she said tartly, stepping back.

He stopped at the sight of her. “Dolores. You can call me Albus.”

“Well, Dumbledore,” she argued, “It’s not in the Ministry’s best interest for me to get friendly with this staff. I’m just here to keep you all up to standard in teaching here.”

“I don’t approve of you firing my teachers, Dolores.”

“Well, as you can see, Dumbledore-” she pulled out a handsome scroll of parchment with the Ministry’s seal. Dumbledore knew what it was.

“Please, I don’t need to hear this again-”

“Ministry of Magic’s Decree Number forty-seven.” she ignored him. Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor of Hogwarts- that’s me-” she added, “Now has the privilege of hiring or firing new and old staff for Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, signed Cornelius Fudge, yadda, yadda, yadda...” she sighed and looked up at him.

“Yes, I know, Dolores,” he replied harshly. “I’m tired of you harassing my students and staff.”

“Yes, well-”

“I wish that you’d harass me.” he said slyly.

She didn’t take the hint.

“Well, I’m not supposed to evaluate you until later in the year; not until after I’ve made all of the other arrangements with the rest of the...other teachers. It is my job to find out if the faculty here are up to standard.”

He took a step closer to her.

“I find you very...fiery, Dolores. I don’t think that you are living well among us here at Hogwarts. I want your stay to be pleasurable.”

”I would if I could spend it with you,” she told herself.

She scolded herself mentally again and replied, “Well, I can assure you, it’s quite fine.”

“Well, I can tell that most of my students, except for the Slytherins, I see; forgive me - dislike - you.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t care what the other people here at this place think of me! I will have order, Dumbledore!” she screamed at him.

“Oh, I’ll give you order...” he said, taking another step and leaning in to kiss the woman.

She kissed him back.

They broke apart at the sound of students coming around the corner, heading back to their own dormitories.

The two tried to look angry at each other, which was usually what others saw.

The kids walked on by, hardly even noticing them there.

Umbridge straightened her shirt, trying to look superior.

“Albus,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Dolores,” he said gruffly.

Silence followed for the longest time.

“So...six o’clock, my office?” he asked hopefully.

She turned to look at him slowly.

“Definitely.”

Anything of Viv's. Her drabbles are crazily good.
Small Green Dress, AstroFire. And anything else, for that matter.
Anything of Onbegrepen's.

~Lindsey :)

[GinnyPotter]

Here is 3 of mine:

Author: GinnyPotter
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: None
Words: 307
Title: The Secret Within

"Now Ginny, whatever you do, do not put on the ring." Mrs. Wealsey said sternly. She was going to Diagon Ally with Ron, Harry, Fred, George, Bill, and his pregnant wife, Fleur. They were picking out supplies for Fluer's baby Girl, and Ginny didn't want to go because she didn't want to spend the day with Baby diapers, when she could be playing with Arnold, her pink Pygmy Puff.

"But -"

"No buts’ young Lady. If you do, you will be sorry." Mrs. Weasley gathered everyone up to the fire, and they all grabbed some flew powder. As everyone started to spin in the Emerald flames one at a time, they said bye to Ginny. Mrs. Wealsey was the last to go, and quickly reminded her as she started to spin. "Remember" She said quickly with a wink. "Not a touch of skin on that ring."

"Yep." Ginny called, and started to play with Arnold. After a while, her thoughts shifted to the ring.

"Hmm....I wonder what would happen if I put it on." Ginny said out loud. Arnold squeaked. "Nothing really bad is going to happen, Arnold. Mum was probably just trying to scare me. Now, where is it? I must try it on."

After looking in her room, Harry and Ron’s Room, in the Kitchen, and in the Den, she finally found it sitting in a box sitting on a bench in the Garden. The box was ruby Red, and surprisingly, it had snakes on it.

Ginny took out the ring, and slipped it on her finger. Suddenly, she saw snakes coming out of the box! Strange, that wasn’t supposed to happen. The snakes started to slither up the arms, and soon she was choking.

“I guess I should have listened to Mum.” Ginny mumbled as the snakes got even closer.

Arnold squeaked even more.

Author: GinnyPotter
House Hufflepuff
Warnings: Well, Someone kills someone else.
Words: Uh...erm...621. Wendilen wanted them to be 100-800 words. I went a little higher than I usually do.
Title There's nothing I wouldn't do anymore.

“Lily! Come on! Give me a chance! I’m not a Conceited, Smart-Alec, Teasing git that you think I am-

“That’s an understatement.” Sirius smirked, watching James bounce on his toes to see where Lily went. He leaned over to Remus, and whispered, “I wonder when James will realize that Lily is going to the Yule Ball with Matt. You know, the guy from Hufflepuff. Do you think we should wack him on the head and tell him?”

Remus swallowed his bite of Mash Potatoes. “Well,” he said, taking another bite. “Maybe we should tell him in the Common Room. That way, if he gets mad, only the Gryffindors will think he’s a maniac. Actually, I think they already think that he is. What do you think Peter?”

“Think what?” Peter asked quizzically. Obviously, he hadn’t been listening.

“Moony, he doesn’t know how to think, or even, what to think. So, I will think for him.” Sirius said happily, and put his hands on Peter’s head.

“Ahh! Peter thinks, with me as his assistance, that we should not tell him. Peter thinks we shouldn’t tell him because James doesn’t wear deodorant, and his armpits sweat a lot, making them smell. If he raises his arms and waves them around because he is mad or upset, the smell will drift everywhere, and people would faint.” Sirius said proudly.

“So, lets tell him.”

~*~*~*~

“What?! He asked my girl, and she said yes? Oh, I am going to curse him into next week! Where is that wretch!?! I want to kill him!” James shouted the next day, after Sirius and Remus told him. As they had planned, James was very mad. He ran out of the Common Room in search of Matt, and Remus and Sirius fallowed.

“This isn’t good.” They said at the same time, as they heard voices shouting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

“How dare you ask Lily to the Ball! I was going to ask her first. She’s my girl!” They heard James say over the roar of noise.

“Oh gosh, it’s good Lily isn’t here, but I think something bad will happen.” They heard a Fifth Year tell her friend as they watched the fight.

“Oh yeah, she would go out with you? That’s hard to believe. One day, I saw her upset, because she didn’t have anyone to go to the Ball too. I was nice enough to ask her, and she agreed. So back off!” Matt retorted.

“I love her!” James said, his eyes blacking with rage. “I have asked her out many times before you! Why does she deny me, but not you? I love her!”

“She doesn’t love you back. In fact, she’s my Girlfriend! Not yours! She will never love you!” Matt screamed. Everyone went silent. James pointed his wand at Matt’s heart. “Say it again, I dare you. Say it again, and watch what happens.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, would you? Your too much of a loser to accomplish that.” Matt drawled at James.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get Lily to my girl.” James growled, and kept his wand steadier.

“James, No!” Remus and Sirius shouted, as Matt said, almost daringly, “Lily…is…my…girl. My Girlfriend. She doesn’t love you. Get it through you think skull, would you. Maybe if you weren’t such a-” But he never got to finish.

“Avada Kadavra!”

A green light shot out of James wand, and hit Matt in the Chest. A surprised look passed over him, and Matt finally fell to the ground, dead.

“Lily is mine, forever.” James growled, and ran away. He was going to ask her to the Ball.

Sirius and Remus stared at each other. “So.” said the Fifth Year. “Think we should tell Lily?”

Author: GinnyPotter
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: None
Words: I think 437
Title: A snowball Fight with a twist

"Alright girls....and guys...who wants to play an old fashion snowball fight?" I heard Oliver say happily as we ran outside, and into the freezing, cold air. Everyone agreed, even the adults, and we all started to pick our teams. Oh wait, I think that I'm going to fast for you. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Now, as you can tell so far, Oliver Wood has asked for a snowball fight, we all agreed, and we decided to pick our teams. Pretty amazing, huh? Yeah, I think so too.

You may ask, why would me, Lavender Brown, Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin, Loony Lovegood, Oliver Wood, and Andromeda Tonks be playing a snowball fight on Christmas Eve? Well, we were just really bored, of course! Plus, you may not know, but Adults actually love to play with snow! Anyways, now you have to still listen to the story you know, so pay attention!

"Ok, me and Loony are Captains. Loony, please do not use your Crumpled-Horned Snorcacks on the other team please." I said proudly, and watched Luna, or whatever her name is, walk up to where I was standing.

"Oh, don't worry Lavender." Loony said dreamily, not even looking at me, "I left them with Daddy, they are sick, you know. And they don't fancy snow very much. It makes them cold." I just looked at her, and snickered.

“I pick Professor Lupin!” I say triumphantly, and Professor Lupin comes up to where I’m standing, looks at me, and walks to the right side of the field. That must mean our team is going to be there.

“Professor McGonagall?” Luna says quietly, and McGonagall walks to the left side of the field. I was sure that I heard her grown.

“Oliver, come up here!” I say next. Oliver stands next to Lupin.

“Andromeda, since you are the last one, will you be on my team?” she nods, and walk over near McGonagall.

“Ok guys, lets start the game!” Oliver yelled, put on a smirk like Bellatrix Lestrange would be proud of, and threw a pile of snow at my head. Of course, it hit me, and when it did, I thought of a great idea.

I ran inside the house that we were visiting, and brought out a broomstick. Quickly, so the other team wouldn’t see, my team piled snow onto the broom, and spun it around like a pinwheel. The snow went flying to the other team, and my team laughed as McGonagall swallowed some of the snow.

That game just got weirder and weirder.

Recommendations:

Keribar's "I'll get rid of You." (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=6217)
Onbegrepen's "The last goodbye" (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=5780)

-Gin

PS: Will edit with more soon!

[Cheshlin]

Recommendations:

Small Green Dress by Astrofire http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=6250
Christmas Surprise by Cwiddy http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=5549
Not Another Black Housewife by Sly Severus http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=4080
Christmas without Him By Sly Severus http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=4080
The Grey Lady by Gmariam http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=3812


And Drabbles by myself:

Author: Cheshlin
House: Slytherin
Warnings: none
Words: 354
Title: Relief

Andromeda looked into the eyes of the toddler in front of her. The healers had finally figured out why her daughter’s eyes and hair kept changing color. Her daughter was an Animagi. Relief swept through her as she realized there was nothing wrong with her beautiful little girl.

Ted walked over and wrapped his arms around both his girls. Andromeda saw relief in his eyes also. “Everything is ok, Andi! All our worry was for nothing. Our little girl just has some rare abilities. I am so thankful!”

Little Nymphdora looked at her parents in confusion. Her hair turned blue and her eyes pink. She started making funny faces in an obvious show to make her parents laugh. They both looked at each other and broke out in full laughs.

Gathering her daughter up off the exam table, Andromeda thanked the Healer and followed Ted from the room.

“I guess we will just have to get used to a daughter that has a flare for outrageous hair colors. I hope she gets bored of changing her eyes to such bright colors. It just isn’t natural!” Andromeda hugged her daughter close before letting her down to walk.

“She will definitely keep others guessing. Just imagine what your parents and sister’s would say to such a display. Sometimes I think we are better off since they won’t have anything to do with you. They would try to tame her dramatic flare, since it is not something your family would normally do. I think we should encourage it,” Ted said in a thoughtful manner.

“Nymphadora will be a hit when she finally goes off to school. The other kids will be asking for all sorts of faces and colors. Knowing the way she likes to be the center of attention, she will show off every time,” answered Andromeda.

“I’m sure she will. I just hope she grows out of the tripping stage. I know that she is still young, but she’s been walking for over a year and she still trips over her own feet all the time,” Ted laughed

“I’m sure she will,” Andromeda laughed back.


Author: Cheshlin
House: Slytherin
Warnings: none
Words: 457
Title: Father and Son Day (This was written for my Myth class, but is one of my all times favorites. :) )

Sirius was creeping around the corner, trying to keep his eyes and ears open for the sound of someone else moving. When he was sure that no one was in the adjoining hallway, he started backing towards one of his favorite hiding places. There was a cabinet that had just enough space in it for the six year old boy to climb into and close the door. The doors didn’t have a latch, and the gap between the doors were just enough for him to watch what was going on in the room if he put his eye right up against it.

Because he was backing up, he didn’t see the tall dark figure come out of the shadows. Just as he was about to turn and quickly climb into his hiding spot, hands reached out and grabbed him, pulling him off his feet.

Screaming in fright, Sirius started to kick and punch, but the strong hands managed to block most of blows. Then Sirius started to laugh as the fingers started to tickle him.

“Gotcha that time! I bet you didn’t think I knew where you were headed, did you?” The man’s deep voice laughed at the young boy.

Sirius was finally able to turn and hug the man that held him. “How did you figure out where I have been hiding? Mother hasn’t been able to figure out and she is home much more often then you. It comes in handy when she wants me to clean my room. You won’t tell her will you? Even Regulus hasn’t figured that spot out!”

“I am a mighty hunter! You can’t hide from me.” Orion Black smiled at his son and then swung him up to his shoulders. “I won’t share your hiding place with your mother, but you need to keep your room clean.”

After spinning his son around a few times, they both ended up on the floor. “Want to fly into town with me? Your mother is taking a nap since Regulus kept her up most the night with his fever. I have a few things to pick up from Diagon Alley.”

“I would love to go with you! Can we stop by Florean Fortesque’s for some ice cream? Please!” Sirius begged.

“If you behave yourself while I’m getting my errands done, I’ll take you for ice cream, deal?” Orion held his hand out for Sirius to shake.

“Deal!” Sirius shook his father’s hand.

“Go grab your cloak while I grab my broomstick. Maybe we can even stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies and check out the newest brooms.” Orion winked at his son.

“Could we?? That would be awesome! Thanks father.” Sirius scampered up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.

[Gmariam]

I wrote this one for Halloween, but did not enter it so I'm glad I can enter it now!

Author: Gmariam
House: Ravenclaw
Warnings: None
Words: 500
Title: Original, Indeed
Remus Lupin gazed at the two fifth year students standing in front of him. He was trying very hard not to laugh; it had been a great prank, after all. Yet he was a teacher now, and needed to enforce school discipline. He was suddenly reminded of his days as a prefect, and how difficult it had been to keep his friends in line.

“Fred. George.” Remus cleared his throat in an effort to hide his smile. “While I appreciate the intricate planning that went into this prank - ” he ran his hands through his hair, now a violent shade of electric blue, “ - you realize that I must still give you a detention.”

The twins shrugged, obviously not caring about detention after the hilarious uproar that had ensued in the Great Hall when dozens of students and teachers had begun spontaneously sporting a new hair color.

“And take ten points from Gryffindor,” added Lupin. The twins looked at him in disbelief.

“That’s all?” asked George incredulously.

“A detention and ten points?” repeated Fred.

“I must admit that while blue isn’t my color,” began Remus, “I thought Professor Snape looked lovely in that particular shade of green.”

Fred snorted, and George kicked him silent.

“I assume you had planned on delivering the antidote as well?” asked Lupin, watching their reaction.

“How do you know about the antidote?” asked George, narrowing his eyes.

Remus reached into his desk and pulled a small vial from the top drawer. It was filled with a clear amber liquid. Without answering, he unstopped the vial and swallowed the contents. Within moments his hair returned to its more traditional brown color, and he smiled at the look of surprise on the twins’ faces.

“It was not as original as you think, gentlemen,” he announced. “That wasn’t the first time Hogwarts has found itself on the wrong end of a Shading Solution in the Great Hall on Halloween.” He waited for the impact of his words to sink in.

The twins’ eyes went wide.

“You didn’t - ” breathed Fred.

“No way!” chortled George.

Remus stepped around the desk and led them toward the door with a smile. “I don’t think Professor Snape liked his green hair back then, either,” he replied with a wink.

“Wicked,” said Fred.

“Off with the antidote now, please,” ordered Lupin. “We had to deliver it to each Head of House with a full apology, so I would suggest you do the same. Immediately. You will serve your detention this weekend.”

“Yes, sir!” they replied, and dashed off, grinning. Remus shook his head; it was remarkable how much the Weasley twins reminded him of James and Sirius. He was suddenly struck by an amusing thought, and before they turned the corner, Remus raised his wand and sent a quick Color Change Charm down the corridor toward the twins.

Remus laughed to himself as Fred and George walked away, their red hair now a deep shade of purple. Original, indeed.

I wrote this one for the October Quibbler in Ravenclaw, also about Halloween:

Name: Gmariam
House: Ravenclaw
Warnings: None
Words: 470
Title: Hang Halloween!
Dear Editor –
I’ve had it. I am tired of becoming an object of ridicule once a year. I am tired of seeing Muggles decorate their homes with spider webs and graves, of watching them dress up as witches and wizards, ghosts and goblins. I am offended, and I wholeheartedly move for the immediate cessation of that abominable holiday known as Halloween.

The Muggles have it all wrong: Halloween isn’t about dressing up and eating candy and playing tricks. It used to be a solemn holiday, a day marking the thinning of the veil between our world and the next. It used to be a time for reinforcing the boundaries and protections that separated our worlds, and for setting store for the coming winter months. It was a time of quiet celebration, not of debauchery and mockery.

When did we become such laughing stocks? Why do Muggles delight in their pointed hats and warts? Why do they insist on black cloaks and wispy brooms? I myself am free of warts, prefer a beret as my head covering of choice, wear colorful robes and wouldn’t be caught dead with a Comet 260. Wizarding folk have become a source of amusement and merriment for the Muggles, and it is high time we stood up for our image.

The Ministry of Magic must end its shameless encouragement of this disgusting Muggle holiday. Every witch and wizard knows the Ministry has promoted Halloween as a cover-up for the truth, going so far as to invest thousands in costume shops and haunted houses across the country in an effort to steer the Muggles away from the wizarding community. The Ministry sits back year after year as horrible pranks are played each October on unsuspecting witches and wizards; last year my lovely home was debased with a combination of rotten eggs and toilet paper. As the Minister for Magic sits on his throne, counting the Galleons raked in from the Muggle obsession with candy, pumpkins, and something called silly string, the ordinary witch or wizard is left struggling with an image of themselves that is embarrassing and unhealthy.

I believe the Ministry should end its support of this baseless holiday. If the Ministry will not relent, then they must allow us to at least protect ourselves on this dark night and cast spells that will keep the Muggles and their insulting costumes away from our homes. We must not allow the Muggles to continue dressing as our most famous witches and wizards. We must not allow them to deface our history and our traditions. We must reclaim our image, our magic.

I once again move for the immediate end to the holiday known as Halloween, and hope all good witches and wizards will join me in calling for a restoration of wizarding values.

Sincerely,
Ima Pickletoad

I hope to add some recommendations as well, I just have to track them down! :)

[helgaandgodric]

Here's one of mine!

Author: helgaandgodric
House: Ravenclaw
Warnings: Dramione shipping :)
Words: 498
Title: Crisis Averted

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes, making the amber flecks shine. “You insufferable prat!” she screamed. Locks of bushy brown hair framed her face, falling out of their place in her messy bun. The tears began to fall, cascading down her face and onto navy blue robes. Her hands, one clenched into a fist, the other tightly holding a piece of parchment, shook as if an earthquake had taken hold of them.

Draco stood in the doorway of the well furnished study, looking in with grey, troubled eyes. “Hermione, I don’t understand-” he began as he tried to walk into the study. But his progress and his sentence were cut off by a warding spell coming from Hermione’s outstretched and trembling hands. Apparently her anger was enough to counter the shaking hands.

“Don’t you come near me,” she cried. Now her hands were steady, but her voice was not. The tears were still coming, thick as ever, and it was obvious that her vision was impaired by the tears. “You cheat, you cheating,” but her tirade was cut off as she broke into sobs. Collapsing on the floor, her wards were broken down as she was too emotional to continue holding up her hands.

In an instant Draco was by her side trying to make clear of her comments and distress. “Cheating? Why would I cheat on you?” he asked, incredulous. “You were the brightest student in our class, you’re educating the minds of tomorrow, every year you earn hundreds of galleons for charities, and you can trick me into telling you what’s bothering me.” He lent in to kiss a tear but she swatted him away. Unfazed, Draco finished his explanation. “To top it all of, you’re gorgeous, Hermione. You’re gorgeous without having to put a ton of goop on your face or having what Mother called ‘Procedures.’ You, my dear, are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Finally, Hermione’s sobs subsided as she looked up at Draco with soft brown eyes. “Really, Draco?” she asked with more than a hint of mistrust. At his careful nod, she asked another question. “Then why is this receipt for a room at the new resort Fusion?”

Now it was Draco’s turn to have a hint of mistrust in his voice. “You seriously don’t understand, Hermione?” Her sorrowful eyes were enough to answer the question, and he hurried to answer. “It’s your surprise birthday present!”

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, and her mouth formed an ‘oh.’ She let Draco help her up, and was just about to apologize when, from the doorway came a small voice. “Mummy? Daddy? What’s going on?”

Smiling first at Draco and then at the little girl with boisterous blond curls and brown eyes, Hermione said, “Daddy and I just had a little tiff, Charlotte. Why don’t you go back to bed? We’ll be in to say goodnight in a few minutes.” Crisis averted, Hermione thought to herself before stealing a kiss from her husband.

Kate

[Cwiddy]

Author: Cwiddy
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: small amount of violence
Words: 496
Title: The Bite


Here is a drabble I wrote on Fenrir Greyback:

The Bite

He remembered when it first occurred. It was difficult to forget receiving the bite of a werewolf. Because of those circumstances, Fenrir Greyback was the monster he had become.

Fenrir’s nightmare began after his ninth birthday. At school all the boys had been discussing how haunted graveyards were and Fenrir kept denying that ghosts stayed around the graves. He and his friends decided to go to the graveyard that Saturday night and spend the night there. If they saw none, then they would believe Fenrir. That is what the boys told him. They had no intention of showing up until morning to laugh at him alone in the graveyard. Fenrir had always been different and the boys often laughed behind his back. Little did they know that he was half wizard, but his muggle father insisted that he attend muggle school until he could start Hogwarts after his 11th birthday.

Saturday night came and Fenrir headed out to the graveyard by sneaking out his window to the roof and down the drain pipe to the back porch. He had done this many times, even though his mother had warned him about going out after dark, especially on the full moon. He was actually glad to see the full moon shining out into the night, knowing there would be plenty of light to see any potential ghosts.

He arrived at the graveyard and waited. The boys in his class never did show up. Right before dawn, he heard a noise in the forest next to the cemetery. He jumped up from his seat next to the gate. The next thing he knew a giant wolf jumped out of the woods and ran straight at him. He bit Fenrir’s leg tossing him to the ground, then moved up to rip out his throat. Just then a car sped by and the noise scared the monster back to the woods. Fenrir sat there bleeding from his leg and neck. The pain that ran through is body was excruciating. He felt himself transforming, realizing only then that the monster was a werewolf. The boys from school showed up an hour latter to be devoured by a wolf that was standing at the gate.

When he transformed back to human form he found himself covered in blood and recognized some of the shreds of clothing laying around him as what the boys had worn the day before. He ran towards home, but met his mother on the front porch. She took one look at him and said “Monster get away from here and never return!” Then she turned back towards the house slamming the door shut. Not knowing what to do, he turned towards the forest, where he met up with the werewolf who had bit him. Swearing vengeance on all children for the life he was forced to lead because of their cruelty towards those who were different, he embraced his differences and the life style of a feral werewolf.


Author: Cwiddy
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: none
Words: 489
Title: Christmas Surprise

Here is one I wrote around Christmas time:

Christmas Surprise

Nymphadora Tonks was walking down Diagon Alley, contemplating what she had already bought for Christmas and what else or who else she needed to shop for when she ran into Remus Lupin who was hurrying out of a Jewelry store.

“Wotcher Remus!” said Tonks with a smile once she caught her balance.

Remus helped her right herself and hid a package up his sleeve.

“Hello!! I was not expecting to meet you today,” he said!

“Well, It’s 2 days until Christmas and I’d better get the rest of my Christmas shopping done. Sometimes I wish I was more organized like Mom always was, having most the shopping done before Thanksgiving!”

“Andromeda was very organized, Sirius was always talking about how she bragged to him about having her shopping done before Thanksgiving every year,” said Remus. “Hello Minerva!” said Remus turning towards the next store.

“Hello Remus. Out finishing your Christmas shopping today, too?” said Minerva McGonagall?

“Why yes, I just bought my final gift,” stated Remus.

“Really Remus? May I ask what you were doing in the jewelry store just now?” asked Tonks.

“Never mind young lady! All will be revealed in good time!” said Remus laughing.

Just then a young man and lady walked past and shouted out “Merry Christmas!” as they stood in the gently falling snow.

“Merry Christmas Oliver and Lavender” said Minerva McGonagall as she waved goodbye to Remus and Tonks.

“Who was that Remus?” asked Tonks.

“Oliver Wood and Lavender Brown, they were students of mine at Hogwarts. I believe the student I will always remember most is Luna Lovegood though.” Said Remus.

“Any relation to the editor of the Quibbler?” asked Tonks.

“She is his daughter. He’s shared his love of myths, legends, and unbelievable truths with her, too!” said Remus.

“Ok, enough about the Lovegoods, what do you have up your sleeve?” asked Tonks?

“Nothing!! I have to get going though, have one more stop at Knockturn Alley, a mission for the Order, someone was there claiming to have a few personal possessions of Bellatrix Lestrange. I need to investigate and found out if there is any truth to the claims…and make sure that none of the possessions are of any danger to anyone who may buy them,” said Remus.

“Ok, I’ll join you, I know more about my cousin then most people,” said Tonks.

“Oh no you don’t, go finish shopping, this is my mission and you don’t need to be going to Knockturn Alley!” said Remus.

“I’m an Auror Remus! I go there frequently for work! You don’t have to treat me like I’m a child!” said Tonks as she stomped off towards the ice-cream parlor.

“I’ll make it up to you Nymphadora come Christmas morning, for now, I have to get to work,” mumbled Remus to himself as he pulled the ring box out of his pocket and placed it in a more secure location, close to his heart.

[Masked One]

Author: Masked One
House: Slytherin
Title: Ambition
Word Count: 202
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Notes: This was written for a Slytherin in-house challenge ages and ages ago. The prompt was “A Thirst To Prove Yourself.”

Luna is not ambitious.

She doesn’t thirst for power, hunger for recognition, strive for glory. Luna doesn’t care if she’s ever rich, and she hates the very thought of politics. Brown-nosing isn’t her thing, nor is secret revenge. She doesn’t plot her advances.

No, Luna is not ambitious, but she has an ambition.

Luna will beat Bellatrix.

Not because she wants her name in the papers tomorrow. Not because Bellatrix is the fiercest of the Death Eaters. No. Luna will beat her because Bellatrix killed Neville, and now he’s not here to do it. She’ll beat her because Tonks is in the hospital, and Hermione’s fighting Nott, and Ron’s down. She’ll beat her because Bellatrix is raising her wand, and it’s pointing at Harry.

Luna doesn’t want to be the-woman-who-saved-the-boy-who-lived. Luna just wants Harry to be home tomorrow, pacing in front of the infirmary and ranting quietly that healing takes so long, and won’t his friends be ok?

Luna is not ambitious. But it doesn’t take ambition to say a single spell, and satisfaction isn’t any less for being unlooked for.

Luna is not ambitious, but in a moment she outshines many who are.

Author: Masked One
House: Slytherin
Title: Dragon Crazy
Word Count: 400
Warnings: None
Notes: This was for a Slytherin in-house writing relay. The prompt was Charlie’s first day on the job.

“You’ll be sleepin’ up there.” Roger jerked his head at the stairs. “Second door on the right. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Hot water’s first come, first serve. Food’s in the kitchen – hot and plentiful earlier, colder and scarcer later. We got a cook. Housecleaning’s our problem, so keep your stuff neat.”

I nodded and headed towards the stairs, thinking I was going to drop off my stuff, but- “Where’re you going? Levitate them up, quick, and let’s be on our way.”

Shrugging, I complied and followed him out the door. The dragons were kept in pens – smaller than a natural habitat, but big enough for comfort. Not, I soon learned, big enough for the natural decomposition of manure.

“You worked with dragons before?” Roger asked me, standing at the edge of a pale blue wall of magic.

“Not while they weren’t restrained.” And that was pushing it. I’d run errands for a team once and been allowed to watch, when they had a dragon at Hogwarts. ‘Dragon-crazy’, they’d called me, with amused smiles. I got the impression they’d been that way themselves once.

“Right,” he said. “Then listen up. Don’t go through the magic – it stops them from sensing you as much as keeps them from coming out. Pile’s up that way. Summon the manure out, then banish it up there. We turn the pile every few days. I’ll put you on that tomorrow.”

He waited a beat, presumably to see if I had questions, and strode off. “I’ll be treating the scale rot on the Welsh Green female if you need me.”

…and of course, I know just where that is, I thought, sarcastic.

Trying different variations of Accio Dragon Poop kept me amused for half an hour, but the repetitive spell casting quickly grew tiresome. By the third pen, I’d started casting silently – and wondering why I’d gotten myself into this.

‘Dragon crazy.’ I’d always put the emphasis on the first word – ‘dragon’ always stood out in my mind under any circumstances. Now, ‘crazy’ seemed the more apt. Crazy to be up here practicing basic magic moving piles of manure for almost no pay. Crazy to be wandering around between blue magical walls, unable to see the dragons.

Crazy to be contemplating just peeping inside.

Ok, I admitted to myself with a wry smile, banishing a particularly fresh batch with haste, dragon crazy it is.

[hansolohpfrk]

Author: hansolohpfrk
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: Character Death
Words: 477
Title: Her Eyes



I was twenty when I first met Narcissa Malfoy. We spoke through the bars in cell block twenty-three, on floor two. She was an interesting person, to say the least. Our conversation was limited; there was supposed to be no talk among the Azkaban prisoners and the guards.

She was very submissive and did whatever we (the Azkaban guards) asked of her. I guess that she must’ve gotten used to being told what to do. From what I hear, her parents were very traditional, and she grew up around that garbage. She was the exact opposite of outspoken, actually. Her head was always bowed when someone she didn’t know made eye contact with her, and she always was grateful to every tiny thing a person did.

She spoke of her husband, who, from what I hear, treated her well and they both lived comfortably. More than comfortable, in my opinion. They were wealthy; anyone could see that. She did not care for him much, and having met the man, I can’t say any different.

She also spoke of a son, and she loved him very much. He was the subject of many of our conversations. She would always talk about how handsome his eyes were. “They are the palest blue. He has my eyes,” she would say. One time I asked where he was now. She said he was in hiding and that was all she could say. I asked why. At that comment she stared at me as if I had three heads. She replied, “He is in danger. There are few who would bother to help him, much less me. I entrusted him to a safe person who provided a legitimate place to hide. I am not at liberty to say any more.” I sensed that she was unhappy and decided to leave.

That was one of the last sane sentences that came out of her mouth. The Dementors were getting inside her brain. She had lasted a long time, for we had our civilized conversations for months after she was imprisoned. But from that last day on, whenever I saw her, she was either babbling on and on about the most random subjects or was in hysterics. Once, I passed by her cell and she called me over. “I’m losing my mind aren’t I?” She asked. I was silent; I did not want to say what was truly on my mind. A single tear slid down her cheek and she turned away from me. I continued my patrol.

She died the next day. Some say she committed suicide; others say her brain couldn’t take it. I attended her burial. Afterwards, I saw a young man, about my age, standing at her gravestone. I stepped up behind him and he turned to me. There was one thing I noticed about him. He had her eyes.

[crazy_purple_hp_freak]

Okay, here are two of mine:

Author: crazy_purple_hp_freak
House: Slytherin
Warnings: Violence
Words: 486

We Are Not Afraid
“Protego!” The curses bounce harmlessly off our shields.

We are not afraid to fight.

We are not afraid to die.

We understand that it may be for a greater good if ever we were to perish in battle; it may be for the greater good if our deaths could help save the wizarding world.

“Stupefy!” The curse finds its mark, and a Death Eater falls.

It’s part of our job. Part of being an Auror. You have to accept that life isn’t always easy, that not everyone is ‘good’. It is up to you to defend the population from evil, it is down to you to defend the world. It’s a huge task. And everyone looks up to you, everyone trusts you.

It can be daunting sometimes, can seem hopeless, but we always have to try. We are never afraid to try.

“Petrificus Totalus!” A Death Eater falls.

“Protego!” But more keep on coming.

We have to fight. Fight together, for together we can be strong. Always fight. This war seems endless; we never know when another attack is coming. It may be today, maybe tomorrow, it may be next week; but we are always prepared. We set the alarms and lay out the spells, always on our guard. Always ready to fight.

“Duck!” Green light flashes over our heads, hitting the wizard behind us.

One more down, but more are arriving.

We know we might not make it in this war. We know it, our families know it; and yet as tragic as it seems, when – if the time comes, they know what we must do. We know what we have to do. We are prepared for the losing situation, prepared to take on the enemy, drag them down with us if all hope is lost. And we are not afraid to try, not afraid to attack.

“Crucio.” The pain is unbearable and yet time is still short.

“Stupefy!” … So we must struggle on.

There are five of them now. They surround the two of us completely. We have no escape and we know their orders, know what they have to do. Voldemort takes no prisoners.

We must be prepared to fight.

Though they surround us we might still break the circle. Can still rid the world of a tiny bit more evil; our side can still win the war even if we ourselves have lost.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

“Stupefy!”

It is no use. Though we are trying, too many of them surround us. There is no hope left, but we continue to fire our spells. We attack in the hope that one jet of light will penetrate their shields.

But it is no use.

And yet we stand on our feet. Together. Stand together, stand tall. Proud. Determined. Brave.

We are not afraid.

We are not afraid to fight.

We are not afraid to –

“Avada Kedavra.”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!!”

We are not afraid to die.


Name: crazy_purple_hp_freak
House: Slytherin
Warnings: None
Words: 495

A Spotlight Shines on the Stage
Bright yellow streetlamps glow in the street. It is dark beyond them. It is night. And the lamps shine down like spotlights.

When I was little, I used to dream that I was famous – a star. I’d dream that I was beautiful, that people cared about me, that somewhere, someone actually loved me. I’d dream that my home was a palace, and the dusty cobwebs were chandeliers that glistened with every thread of light, the cold stone walls were covered with expensive wallpaper, the soiled floor lined with marble. I’d dream that one day, my handsome prince would come in his elegant carriage and take me away. I’d dream that we’d be married, have adorable children; the home that I hated and the family that hated me would be long forgotten, no longer tarnishing my perfect life.

It was like a fairytale. A blissful story where I could finally take centre stage.

But that was an impossible world. They said.
A Muggle world. Father told me.

And Father hated Muggles.

The lamps dim slightly to glow orange – a dimmer light at the side of the stage.

I used to play that fantasy over and over in my head – from beginning to end, the dream never changing. It lessened the pain slightly, made it a bit easier to breathe…sometimes.

Whenever Father and Brother talked about their blood purity, our heritage, I’d slip away in my mind, and dream of a world where blood wasn’t important, where you could live anywhere, reach anywhere – reach the heights, regardless of where you were born.

A car rushes past, splashing the pavement in a puddle of grey water. Slowly, the grit sinks to the bottom of the pool, leaving the water crystal clear. Yet tainted.

There were times when I thought that my dream had come true, that everything had changed. Maybe Tom really did love me. Maybe I had suffered enough, and somewhere, somebody had taken pity on me and given me what I had always wanted and dreamed of.

I was so naïve, so foolish to believe in such things. It was never meant to be, I should have known. I should have guessed that nothing good would ever last.

The rain starts to fall, splashing into the puddles in fat droplets. My tears fall with them. What am I going to do?

I am cold, frightened, alone again save for the child I know is inside me. Perhaps one day his dreams will come true, and he’ll be happy, feel loved. Perhaps all my dreams will be born in him, and they will be fulfilled…

I hope so, though I may not be there to see it, or be there with him to experience it. I hope with all my heart that my final dream will come true.

She steps away and the rain follows her down the dreary street. The spotlight lies behind her and she has exited the stage.

The spotlight flickers, and goes out.


And my recommendations: :D These are *awesome*!

Leaving the Door Open (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=4850&page=2) by Kumydabookworm

A Seducer (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=3506&highlight=seducer) by Pure

Why (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=4080) by Sly Severus

and Naming the Twins (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=3972) by Gmariam

[SiriuslyMental]

Author: SiriuslyMental
House: GRYFFINDOR
Warnings: Might be a bit graphic at the end, but should not offend anyone.
Words: 467
and

Di Vetro

They had been living this way since before he could remember. Small house, no windows, candlelight to bright the rooms in their dim, flickering fashion. The doors were tall and narrow - intimidating, some might say. Everything was covered in a fine film of dust; the dishes were always grimy.

The boy could not recall a time when his mother had not looked exhausted. He supposed she had been pretty at one time, but that time was far-gone now. The only memories he had of his father were of the loud, boastful man who drank too much and liked to sing verses of the Unicorn Song after he'd drained a few bottles of Irish whiskey. He could see the kitchen as it was, the scrubbed wooden table - dirty, as always - crumbs of bread on the spindly chairs, an upturned glass resting in the middle, a puddle of what he reckoned was milk once seeping slowly out and onto the scarred wood.

Mama sat always to the left of Papa, who was at the head. The boy sat across from his mother, never daring to glance up from his plate, lest he see her dead eyes, icy blue in the gathering dark. Their house was always dark, for as long as he had lived there.

'Ghosts do not need light, eh?' Papa said, ruffling his hair with a clumsy hand.

Ghosts never needed the light. Ghosts thrived in darkness. When he was younger, Papa would stand him before the mirror on the western wall and make him stare.

'Look at yourself, boy.' He would glance at the cieling, brown eyes raised to the heavens. 'This is my punishment, eh? I think I am repented and get myself a wife, a nice house, and this is what you give me? A ghost? Why do you punish me still? Why do you give me this useless lump for a wife? Why must I be the one afflicted with this vile creature for a son?'

The boy would listen, and stare into the glass, and hate what he saw. He hated the pale flesh and the black eyes. Why could he not have been blue-eyed like his mother? His father would clap a great meaty hand onto the boy's shoulder, and he would stiffen, flinch away. After a few years, the boy knew to come to the glass, even without his father. Every Monday after dinner he would stumble over, stare into his reflection, and loathe every inch of the waif-like creature that glared back. Skinny, bony, crooked teeth. Inky eyes, greasy hair, and milky skin.

'I am a ghost,' he would hiss. 'I am a ghost.'

Afterward, he would sit by the stove, testing the hot coals with slender fingers until the skin burned blood red.

Author: SiriuslyMental
House: GRYFFINDOR
Warnings:
Words: 478
and

Mestor

Dad promised the strikes would be over by noon.

'We're a shoo-in,' he had grinned, seemingly, for the first time in weeks. Mum scoffed and cooked and slammed round pots, but I knew she was secretly hoping, as we all were, for noontime to bring a bigger paycheque and a promotion. Junior manager, perhaps, if all really did go well.

The strikes did not end at noon. Nor did they end at one, two, three, or four. Mum called me in for dinner. Five passed slowly, tediously.

16th November, 1975. Strikes worse than ever.

At seven I heard the key in the lock. I heard his boots, his heavy breathing. I heard the tuneless humming and the tapping feet and I could see his eyes, glazed and red. His cheek was bruised, and he was bleeding from the mouth. I thought of police truncheons and angry riots on the television. 1975, a glorious year. Dad lost his job and the Union. We lost the paycheque. Mum lost the baby. A glorious year.

He sat in front of the television with his cider and glazed eyes. Dr Who's face twisted on the screen.

'Watch it, mestor!'

Dad thought this was hilarious. 'Watch it, mestor!' Over and over. 'Watch it, mestor!' He laughed through the swelling cheek and the greasy hair and the cut on his lip. He laughed through his cider, and Mum's whinging about paycheques. 'Watch it, mestor!'

I felt my stomach clench with each laugh. I felt my face twisting, contorting.

'BELT UP!'

Dad wasn't laughing anymore. 'Wha' d'you thinkyersayin' tomme?'

'BELT UP!' I felt the truncheons and the anger of the Union-men. I saw Mum's face by the door, with her belly swollen and that look in her eyes. 'It's not bloody funny!'

'Wha' d'yersay?'

'It's not bloody funny! It's pathetic! You're pathetic! I hate you! I hope you die in those stupid, bloody strikes! It's not bleeding FUNNY!'

He followed me upstairs, and I pushed him away. I pushed with my entire body, my skinny arms and crooked fingers, my bared teeth, my oily hair.

'You're pathetic, Dad.'

And the last I heard was the dull thump of him hitting the ground floor, and the grating whinge in his voice as he said, 'Bloo'r'hell, Sev, 'msorray. Din' knowyerhated't.'

Next day he overslept and lost his job. He lost the Union, and the promotion, and me. He was still asleep by dinner, and breakfast the next day. Silent, white. His eye didn't move. We left him by the stairs until he started to smell, and then Mum called the rubbish collector.

You're not supposed to kill your dad. I didn't mean to kill him.

Still, it doesn't mean I've got to miss him.

Author: SiriuslyMental
House: GRYFFINDOR
Warnings: Violence, Ethnic slurs (against gypsy)
Words: 857
and

Breed

Breed, they called him. Mongrel. Traveller.

He stared hard into Hightowler's icy eyes, his best Death Glare. It was like school again, but different people, different place, different reasons.

'All right, then, breed?'

This was the rubbish they always fed him. All right, breed? You startin', then, filth? Your kind eat dogs, do they? They eat cats? You going to eat my cat, breed?

He imagined himself in a mirror, with the skinny neck and too-large nose. Greasy black hair and eyes to match. A Traveller's eyes. Not his mother's blue. He thought of Uncle Henry and Aunt Aggie in their flat. Cold soup and stale bread. Milk far past its expiring date. Travellers settled in a town that didn't want them. He thought of Father roaming France, of Mother dying. He thought of punching out Hightowler's crystal eyes.

'You talk, breed? C'mere, I've heard you talking. You like flowers, breed? I've seen you sneaking flowers into that filthy place your lot have got the gall to call a fl - '

His fist had moved faster than he imagined. Flying, hitting, pulling back and reeling up for another blow. Hightowler grinned, clutching his cheek. 'You going to fight me, breed? Your kind, they fight dirty, do they? Like pigs and dogs. Filthy, nasty little mon - '

Again, he surprised himself. Hightowler only showed him that horrible, cold grin. He could see everything in that grin. His life meant nothing to them, the boys around them, their mothers, their fathers. He swung again, this time blocked by a strong hand, not Hightowler's. Woolcroft smirked, and then Hightowler smirked, and soon the lot of them were smirking at him, eyes narrowed, lips thin.

He knew each punch thrown earned him another in his face, his chest, anywhere they could get at him. They pinned him down, a boy on each knee, Hightowler pushing into his elbows as Woolcroft kicked with heavy black school shoes.

'That - breed - is for coming to - my - town and stink - ing it up - and - THAT - is for looking at - my - bloody sister - you disgusting - pafectic - little - pikey!'

Ah, pikey. That was his favourite of all the names, better even than breed.

'Give it to him, Woolcroft!'

'Kick his head in!'

'Kill him! Kill him!'

They had worked up a nice chant now - kill him! kill him! kill him!

Time passed in a daze of heavy blows and mocking laughter. He no longer felt the punches to his face, his stomach. Somewhere, very far off, he knew it hurt. Somewhere below the numbness, the wanting to cry and holding it back, he knew he ought to be feeling pain. A sharp sting in his gut, a deep, ingrained throbbing beneath his eye. Just like school.

Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!

'All right, then, breed?'

They strode off, laughing, joking. Did you see his face? Did you see his bloody face? Crying! Poor ickle Pikey crying for his mum!

He hasn't got a mum.

That's the better! Ickle Pikey's got no mummy. Poor fing.

Did you hear him whimpering? Like a soddin' baby.

Prop-ah pafect'ic.

Got that right.

He picked himself up, like he always did, smiling. What difference did a smile make? What difference was it if he lie on the ground forever, moaning and feeling sorry for himself and trying - oh, sweet Merlin - trying not to cry.

And the thing was, it made no difference at all. No one else cared if he smiled or not, but they didn't like it. They liked tears and pleas and muffled cries. He smiled with swollen lips and thanked Hightowler. Always thanked them afterwards. It confused them. It gave him the power and made him feel, for a brief moment, that a smile and a mumbled thanks could tip the world on its side. The tables turned. He smiled because he could.

He thanked them and headed home to the flat that smelled of cats and celery and millwork, to the uncle who waited by the door and the aunt who wanted to know why anyone would want to hurt a boy like him. Her sweet nephew, her angel. He smiled at her, too, when she asked where he had been, who had been bothering him this time.

Who's been beating you up, then? What have you been doing? Look at the state of your clothes! Those were new trousers! I'm not a millionaire, you know, and - oh, my - are you all right? What have they done to you? Are you hurt badly? Bring the ice, Henry. I don't care if we haven't got any ice, bring the pork for tomorrow's dinner! What's happened to your shoes? Who's been taking your shoes? Who would want to hurt a boy like you, hm? What have you been doing?

'Nothing, Auntie. Nothing, I'm fine. Just normal things.'

And that was that.

[sayiansirius]

Author: sayiansirius
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 345

Secrets

“Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

Peter’s gaze dropped down to the floor. There was so much that he could have told him. There was so much that he had to tell him, for it concerned Dumbledore, and his best friends. He couldn’t tell Dumbledore because he would surely inform James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily. If that happened, they were sure to desert him; well, after Sirius murdered him.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He had gone too far. He had gone where only few people had gone. He had given his mind and life up to the most dangerous person in the world. He had given it to the one who could turn on him and kill him at any instant, the one who everyone feared: The Dark Lord.

Peter sighed and looked up and met Dumbledore’s gaze. Dumbledore sat quietly while Peter pondered. He hadn’t moved nor said a word. But Peter had the feeling that Dumbledore knew everything that was going through his head. He should tell him and he knew it. It would be better hearing it from him instead of finding out from another source like Severus Snape. He should just show him the mark on his arm. He should divulge every one of the Dark Lord’s secrets to him.

What would they think of you, Peter. They’d still take you as a betrayer. You are plotting against your best friend and his wife. There is no turning back from the Dark Lord once you’re in. You agreed.

He can hide me though. He knows charms that none of us has yet to master and he can hide me effectively.

The Dark Lord shall find you wherever you are. You cannot hide!

Peter sighed once more, took a deep breath, and looked up. He had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to betray the Dark Lord.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but Dumbledore held up his hand to silence him.

Dumbledore slightly shook his head and sadness filled his bright blue eyes. “I see.”

Author: sayiansirius
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 499

Old Love

Snow lightly drifted down from the starry sky and onto the darkened Hogwarts ground. The lights looked like golden, glittering gems decorating the castle, but one was noticeably dimmer and flickered ever so often.

In her office, Minerva McGonagall sat on a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, a large, brown, leather book open in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. Her stern face was focused as she concentrated on the book. She took a sip out of her mug, placed it on a table, and flipped the page.

At that instant, a loud knock woke her from her reverie. She sighed, closed the book and carefully stood. She pulled her robes over her nightgown, walked to the door, and opened it carefully. A tall, handsome, boy with jet black, untidy, hair and square spectacles stood in the doorway.

“James…why are you calling so late?” she asked sternly.

“I am, after all, the head boy, Professor,” said James laughing. “Anyway, Professor Dumbledore wanted me to give this to you.” He passed her a note, bade goodbye, and went to join a red-haired girl at the end of the corridor.

McGonagall closed her door and read the note, her cheeks slowly turning pink. Upon finishing, she smiled, and pulled out her wand. She tapped herself with her wand and a white gown appeared in place of her nightgown.

Minutes later, she found herself knocking on Dumbledore’s door, her grey hair flowing down past her shoulders.

“Come in,” said a voice behind the door. She slowly opened the door and stepped in. The room was dimly lit with candles which smelled of a very sweet elf-made wine. She looked around and saw Dumbledore sitting at a small round mahogany table, wearing a set of magnificent red robes.

“Ah, my dear Minerva,” he said standing up and walking towards her. She raised her hand, which he took and kissed gently. “Glad you could make it.”

“Anything for you, Albus,” she said sweetly and he walked her over to the table. He pulled out her chair and she sat down, blushing profusely. He sat across from her and smiled.

“Wine?” he offered, taking out his wand and waving it across the table. Two wine glasses appeared.

“Thank you, Albus,” she said smiling at him. She took a sip of her wine and when she brought the wine glass down, she saw him gazing at her intently. “Anything wrong?”

“Nothing at all, my dear,” he said smiling. “You look absolutely magnificent tonight.”

She smiled and as they looked into each other’s eyes, she noticed their faces drifting closer. They were a few inches apart when a loud knock broke them from their trance.

Professor McGonagall jerked awake and looked around wildly. Another knock sounded on her office door. She stood up, placing her book and mug on her table, and opened the door. A tall boy with jet black hair stood on the other side smiling at her.

[Madame Marauder]

Author: Madame Marauder
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: I am a tad angsty. :D
Words: 390 (I wish I could expand it to a one-shot.)

Black Christmas

You see the man, the mass murderer, the traitor. Sirius Black. He looks dolefully at you. His grey eyes are not soulless, but rather, intelligent and remorseful. Shivers go up and down your spine.

“Merlin,” he says, running a filthy hand through his matted hair. “You’re stuck here on Christmas too?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You have worked in Azkaban for years, thirteen years exactly, and never have you seen an inmate act so calmly around a warden or guard. No. Usually, they’re curled in a corner, sobbing, clutching their chests and babbling nonsense. Not Black. He’s talking to you, as though you two were waiting together in the dentist’s office. He’s acting as if there are no bars between you.

Black laughs bitterly. “But you’ll go home tonight, see your wife… your kids… You know, I have a godson. His name is Harry.”

You tilt your head. He’s opening up to you as though you were a friend, now. As though perhaps you two know each other. Well, you suppose that since you’ve been watching his particular cell now for nearly two months, that it’s somewhat logical that he recognizes you. You feel uncomfortable as he opens up to you, telling you all this, so calmly… so sanely. You begin to wonder which of you is losing their mind.

“He’s in an orphanage now, I ‘spect,” Black continues, his voice cracks. “Merlin, would I have liked to have adopted him…”

“Black,” you say, finally. “You really shouldn’t be telling me this.”

“But I want to,” Black says softly. “I need to.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you wander to check on a woman, two cells down, shrieking like a lunatic. You try to sedate her, to calm her. But it is difficult when you feel Black’s eyes on you the entire time. When you return to his cell, his grey eyes are gazing at you intently. They haven’t left you.

“I’m not like her, you know,” he says, nodding towards the cell of the woman. “I’m not crazy. I am innocent.”

And for a moment, you want to believe him. You open your mouth to say something to him. But then your shift ends, and, like Black had said, your family awaits your return. The next morning, you are reassigned to a different set of prisoners.

Author: Madame Marauder
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: I am a tad angsty. :D
Words: 358

The Guilty Walked Free

Two Azkaban guards thrust Severus Snape backwards into a cell before slamming the metal and stone door. Snape stumbled, but fell to the ground with a “thud”. The man in the corner snickered.
“Snivellus? I knew they’d catch you one day…” he said hoarsely.
Snape stood up and looked to the sitting man—Sirius Black. Snape groaned. Black had been Snape’s worst enemy at Hogwarts. Black would torture Snape, embarrass Snape, and Snape resented him for that. In fact, he loathed the man. Now, they were tossed into the same Azkaban cell.
“If you must know, Black,” Snape said acidly. “Dumbledore himself is vouching for my innocence.”
Black’s bony jaw dropped. Snape, innocent? Black couldn’t imagine that. Snape had always hung out with the wrong crowd and done the wrong things in school. And it was a fact he’d become a Death Eater after Hogwarts. There was no way that Snape could be innocent. No way that Dumbledore would believe that. No reason that the Ministry should even give him a trial.
“You got a trial?” Black asked, seething. “Isn’t it ironic that the guilty are the ones who will walk free?”
Snape made a sound like a hissing cat and drew himself to full height. He strode towards Black.
“You dare you call me guilty? You, who helped murder your best friends?” Snape spat at the sitting man.
Black leapt to his feet and stood up straight. He was a great deal taller than Snape.
“I would never betray my friends!” Black shouted. Someone in another cell shrieked with manic laughter.
Snape laughed coldly, “It seems you have and you’ve been caught. Why deny it?”
Black glared. “I didn’t betray the Potters. Peter Pettigrew—“
“Was also killed at your hand,” Snape finished boredly. “Black, will you stop denying the truth? It’s rather tiresome.”
Black opened his mouth to say something, when the cell door opened.
“Mister Snape, you’re free to go,” said a short and stocky man, accompanied by two Dementors.
Snape smiled and Black’s already open mouth dropped considerably lower as he watched Snape leave. The guilty walked free while the innocent remained behind bars.

[BloodRayne]

Author: BloodRayne
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: Nope, none
Words: 332

I'm With You

Andromeda coughed. She pulled the covers tighter around her freezing body. She sniffed, and blew her nose loudly into a tissue. Ted walked in, a mug of steaming peppermint tea in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

“Lousy,” Andromeda answered with a small chuckle that quickly turned into a cough. Ted handed her the mug.

“Drink it. It’ll make your throat feel better.” Andromeda took the mug from his hands, and blew in it to cool it.

Andromeda looked up from her tea. Ted was staring at her with a smile on his face.

“What?” Andromeda asked. Ted’s smile widened and he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you staring at me?” Andromeda insisted.

Ted chuckled. “I was just thinking of you on our wedding day. I remember thinking you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.”

“But now, with my puffy nose, watery eyes, and dry skin, you think you made a mistake, right?” Andromeda joked.

Ted remained serious. “No. I still think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers caressed her cheek.

“Oh, Ted.” Andromeda closed her eyes and leaned her face against his hand. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said suddenly.

“What’s that?”

“I wasn’t sure when to tell you, but I think now is as good a time as any.”

Ted looked at his wife with interest. “Is something wrong?” he asked anxiously.

Andromeda grinned. “Everything’s wonderful. I’m pregnant.”

At first Ted didn’t react, but then his mouth was shaped into a wide smile, and he was laughing happily. “For how long have you been pregnant?” he said happily.

“Almost three months now,” replied Andromeda, taking his hand into her own. “In six months I’m going to have a baby. It seems so hard to comprehend,” Andromeda said breathlessly.

Ted squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you all the way.”

Author: BloodRayne
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None here either
Words: 413

Forsaken

Wandering. Harry had no idea where he had Apparated to or how long he had been walking or where he was going. But he wanted to go far away. He wanted to leave. “Leave it all,” he whispered. He wanted to leave the pain, leave the magic, leave the evil, and leave the good.

Harry didn’t want the whole Wizarding world depending on him to free them and to save their families. It was too much, wasn’t it? Yes, it was. It was too much for an eighteen year old boy to have gone through all that Harry had gone through.

Harry’s parents were dead – and then everyone close to him had died as well. Sirius was dead, Remus was dead, Dumbledore was dead, Neville was dead, George was dead, and now Ron was dead too. Harry had never imagined Ron would die. Always in his head, as if it was some fantasy, Hermione and Ron were on either side of him, encouraging, helping, laughing through the pain. But now Ron was gone. And Hermione was broken. Would she become a shell, like Fred? Fred, who could go through an ordeal better than anyone Harry knew, had become deeply secluded and depressed after his twin had been killed. Would Hermione be like that? Would she mourn the death of her fiancé for the rest of her life? Would she never recover, and become the incredible witch and mother Harry knew she was meant to be?

Had he ruined these people? Had he ruined the Weasley and Granger family? If he had never gotten involved with Ron, would George and Charlie and Ron be dead? Would Fred be miserable? Would Percy be a stranger to his own family? Was it his fault Hermione wouldn’t be getting married to the love of her life? He shook his head. He shouldn’t have agreed that they come with him, that they help him with the Horcruxes; he should have kept it all to himself, spared them the danger and spared their families the pain.

Whether it was his fault or not, Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to go back. He couldn’t go back to the Wizarding world and continue without Ron. He wouldn’t be able to face Mr. or Mrs. Weasely. He couldn’t face Hermione again. And he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to lose anyone else and feel the unbearable pain and guilt again. Maybe he would keep wandering until he died.

[Gonz]

Here are three of my favorites:

Author: Gonz
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: None
Words: 367
Title: Family
Cedric Diggory was walking toward the Great Hall when he heard an exasperated Gryffindor sigh that she should have been in Hufflepuff, after telling her friends about the mistake she’d made in class.

Cedric froze as he heard the reply, “Don’t say that, you’re not that dumb.” His hands clutched into fists as he continued walking, the group’s laughter ringing in his ears.

He was sick of it. Cedric was sick of walking down the train and listening to the first-years talk about houses and say how horrible it would be to be, or that they would die if they were sorted in Hufflepuff. He was sick of having younger students come to him in tears, because others teased them about being in Hufflepuff.

Gryffindors thought they were cowards. Ravenclaws thought they were stupid. Slytherins thought they were lazy.

Enough was enough.

Hufflepuffs may not value courage, knowledge, or ambition like the other houses, but they valued something much more important.

Hufflepuffs value human life.

It is that value that makes Hufflepuffs so loyal.

If anyone entered the Hufflepuff Common Room that would not see a bunch of cowardly, stupid, lazy students; they would see a family. They would see a family that cared and supported each other, a family that felt each other’s pain, a family that would do anything for any member of that family.

It was because of that family that Cedric stood in front of the Triwizard Cup, a slip of parchment in his hand. He knew about the dangers and his heart leapt in fear, but that didn’t matter.

For Cedric had heard too many taunts, had seen too many tears, and comforted too many friends to back down now. He heard the whispers of people wondering whether, a Hufflepuff, had the courage, the intelligence, and the ambition to complete in this tournament. Cedric didn’t know if he did and didn’t really care. He had loyalty to his family and his family’s loyalty to him.

Cedric crossed the age line and dropped the parchment into the Cup. As he turned back to the crowd a smile crept onto his face.

The truth was, they didn’t understand. Cedric would die for his family.

Author: Gonz
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: None
Words: 499
Title: A True Gryffindor
Minerva sat head in her hands, staring out rain soaked window, tears running down her cheeks. For the first time in her life she was ashamed to be a Gryffindor.

How had a year that started so well, ended up disastrous?

It started back in October, the attacks. Two third-year students, both Muggleborns, had been found in a hallway, petrified. That was just the beginning. Today nine students were lying petrified in the Hospital Wing, four of them Gryffindors.

During that time Minerva felt great pride for her fellow Gryffindors. They showed great courage as continued schooling and supported each other, but then it happened.

A girl died.

She had just received word, that the person was responsible for the attacks, for the death of that girl, was one of Gryffindors’ own. That knowledge tore her heart in two. She was ashamed to be a Gryffindor, and she blamed herself as Head Girl.

“Minerva.”

She turned and looked into the weary lined face of Professor Dumbledore. “Yes, Professor.”

“Hagrid is in his room packing. Please assist and escort him to Entrance Hall within the hour.”

“Yes, Professor,” Minerva replied, looking at the ground. She respected Dumbledore beyond any other teacher, and hated for him to see her in this moment of weakness. Truth be told, she never wanted to see Hagrid again, let alone help him pack.

Dumbledore knew, he was could read better her better than she could read herself. With a kindly look on his face he stated, “Remember, things are not always as they seem. It is moments like these that make a true Gryffindor.”

Minerva slowly walked the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. As she pushed open the door she found Hagrid howling with grief, shoulders shaking, and an open trunk beside him.

As she closed the door before her, Hagrid looked up her. Though he was only thirteen years old, he towered over her. Minerva simply stared at his face.

That face, she would never forget it. It was full of grieve and sorrow, but at the same time, determination. He was waiting and ready to explode if she was here accuse and taunt him. It was the haunted look of a man who was being punished for something he didn’t understand.

Minerva walked over and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Hagrid. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Hagrid threw himself in her arms as she rocked and held a young boy twice her size, but an innocent boy. Minerva was sure of that innocence as soon as she had seen Hagrid’s face.

As she let him weep in her arms, Minerva thought about Dumbledore had said. A true Gryffindor was not simply brave in battle, but was one who had the courage to believe and stand up for what was right, even when it wasn’t easy. She would stand next to and support Hagrid even though it would be hard, because she believed in the true values of Gryffindor House.

Author: Gonz
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: None
Words: 229
Title: What to Do With Harry Potter?
Severus sighed as sat down after another worthless Occlumency lesson. What was he going to do with Harry Potter?

As much as Severus hated to admit it, the boy was talented enough, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was Potter had absolutely no ambition to speak of. He lacked the desire for greatness, for anything that remotely appeared to be self-serving. Curse Gryffindors, things would be so much easier if Potter was a Slytherin. Any decent Slytherin upon being told he needed to learn Occlumency, for his own good, would have no problem mastering the skill. Slytherins don’t try, they do it. They do it because they have to.

Gryffindors, however, won’t do a thing unless it’s for some high and noble cause. On the other hand, Slytherins understood one of the basic fundamentals of the universe; you can't help others when you refuse to help yourself. Yet, Potter was too stubborn and bull-headed to understand this.

And this is the man who is going to save the world.

Severus knows this, Dumbledore does, too. But the Headmaster is too blinded by love to see that, unless Potter changes his way of thinking, he is just going to be another body found beneath a Dark Mark.

It will fall to Severus to prod Potter unto the proper path. He just has to figure out how, before it’s too late.

[Annie]

Author: Annie
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: Slash
Words: 100
Title: Broken

Draco couldn’t remember how he had found it. But it didn’t matter now, because everything else was forgotten when he looked into the mirror.

He had read about such things in his books, had heard that they were charmed to reveal the looker’s deepest desire, but when he finally mustered up the courage to open his eyes…

He didn’t see himself, powerful, glorious, and renowned, commanding others to do his bidding. He saw himself sitting on the grass, a smile playing on his lips, fingers entwined with Harry Potter’s.

He turned and walked away bitterly. The mirror must be broken.

Author: Annie
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 150
Title: Perfect

He smiles as he gazes into the dusty mirror. Even in the dim light, it shines maliciously, taunting him. If he looks closely, it becomes a pale snake, twisting against his skin.

The scar.

He runs a long finger down the length of it, revelling in the coolness of his own touch, marvelling at time’s ability to preserve such disfigurements so absolutely.

Although, he realises, when everything’s made to be broken, nothing’s ever perfect.

And nothing ever is. His scar – the sole blemish on his previously faultless appearance, but the only sign of perfection he has – is itself flawed: one sin for each ridge on the jagged surface.

He digs a nail deep into the wound, tearing the surface. Bracing himself, he waits for the pain. It never comes.

Broken.

A droplet of blood, crimson against the white skin, appears.

Draco brushes the blood away brusquely.

No, he thinks. Perfect.

[stareyed_in_LA]

Author: stareyed_in_LA
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: Minor cursing
Words: 327
Title: Accomplishing the Impossible

Authors note: I credit this story to Jenn22291, who sugguested that I write a drabble about how James proposed to Lily. Thank you so much, Jenn! You really saved my neck today!
I stood near a statue of some great Muggle soldier guy named Horatio Nelson, leaning against the stone base. My hand rested on the lump that was in my pants pocket. My heart was beating frantically against my ribs. I scanned the park, trying to find Lily. After scrutinizing the time on my watch, I learned that it was 1:23. Seven more minutes.
Time passed, and there was no sign of the woman that I was supposed to meet.
“Excuse me, have you seen a woman with red hair and who was wearing a green dress,” I called out to a young woman with short, brown hair and who was walking her dog.
She shook her head and said,” Nope” before walking on.
So I waited. And waited. And waited. During that time, I kept on thinking, “where the hell are you, Lily?”
I checked my watch again. It was five minutes to two. She wasn’t coming.
“This was a fool’s errand,” I thought miserably. Lily didn’t want to come and see me. I was about to turn around and leave the park when I heard a high pitched female voice shout out, “James? Is that you?”
I turned my head around to see a woman standing near the park entrance. Her red hair was tied back in a pony tail and she was wearing a sleeveless apple green dress. It was Lily. She came. I could recognize her any where.
“Why are we meeting here,” she asked as she walked over to me, “Did something happen?”
I didn’t remember what happened next. Only that Lily said “yes.” Why was she saying yes? What did I ask of her that made her say “yes”? The rush of blood pounding in my ears made it almost impossible to hear anything. It wasn’t until then did I see the diamond ring on her finger. I had managed to accomplish the impossible. I had asked Lily Evans to marry me.

[coppercurls]

This is a great idea! I will try to get recs up later...

Author: coppercurls
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: reference to character deaths
Words: 463
Title: Who will pick them up

She began each day by scanning the obituaries, seeking familiar names and praying desperately that she wouldn’t find them. It had become a habit now, each time reawakening the pain she half thought would never disappear.

Eyes skimming down to the edge of the page, she allowed herself a sigh of relief. One more day eluding heartbreak, and yet there were still so many names, so many other people who would shed so many other tears.

A yell and a laugh from the other side of the room interrupted her reverie, and she glanced up to see the Slytherins toasting each other over some piece of news. Justin gave them a disgusted glance from his seat beside her, and shook his head as he wearily began pushing his breakfast about his plate again.

“How can you stand it?” he asked her at last. “How can you sit there so calmly while they cheer, knowing they killed your family?”

“It wasn’t them,” she began, in all fairness.

“It was their parents and their friends, Su. In a year or two it will be them, just wait.” The bitterness in his voice rose over the clatter of dishes and soft conversation.

“Perhaps,” she agreed with more tolerance than she thought she would ever collect, “but they have not chosen it yet.”

“Susan.”

She glanced at Justin, and knew he could see through that thin veneer of rationality, the mask she held to prove she was sane.

“Sometimes I can’t stand it,” she confessed quietly. “Sometimes I want to scream and yell, smash china, and then go bash that supercilious smirk off Malfoy’s face. Sometimes I feel like the world is spinning into a million little fragments and I can’t hold on for a moment longer.”

“But you do.”

“I do,” she agreed. “I don’t know how, but I do.”

For a moment, they sat side by side in a companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. At the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron began to have their daily row, while Harry sat in the middle shaking with suppressed laughter and waiting for it to blow over.

“I know they say that we are not the brightest,” Susan said at last, “but I can tell you this. Someday, this war will end, and they are going to need us to pick up the pieces. We won’t be able to hold grudges then. After the courageous fall, they will need someone to pick them up. And we are going to have to be there. And can you tell me now, even if it was them,” she said gesturing to the Slytherins, “that you could leave them there without guilt?”

Justin sat for a moment, struggling with his conscience. “No,” he admitted at last.

“Neither could I.”


Author: coppercurls
House: Hufflepuff
Warnings: mild D/Hr
Words: 476
Title: Madame Jailor

“Someone has to stay with him, Hermione. We can’t trust him here on his own.”

“But we can trust his information?”

“We have to; this is our best chance to find the last horcrux. It’s too good to pass up. We will be back soon I promise.” He cut off all her protestations. “Don’t worry, we will be fine.”
Hermione sighed. This was not how she had planned to spend her day. She was supposed to be out there with Harry and Ron, helping them find the missing horcrux, not sitting here babysitting the ferret. They were a trio, right? And trio meant three. So why were those two off gallivanting without her?

“You’re blocking the light again,” drawled a voice that had quickly come to set her teeth on edge.

“Shove it, Malfoy,” she snapped venomously to the languid youth sprawled in an armchair.

“Temper, temper.” He shut the book he had been reading, carefully inserting a marker between the pages before tossing it halfway across the room.

Hermione’s scowl deepened. From past experience, Ron could have warned Draco that no one ever, ever abused a book in her presence. It was tantamount to an unforgivable sin. “Don’t throw that!” Walking over, she picked it up and gently stroked the cover before reverently placing it upon a shelf. “Show a little respect, why don’t you?”

“It’s just a book,” he smiled disarmingly. “Besides,” he added, “you’re so amusing when you’ve got your dander up.”

“I’m not here to amuse you; I’m here to make sure you behave.”

“And an excellent job you are doing of it, madam jailer.”

“Do you ever stop?” Hermione asked with exasperation oozing from every word.

Flinching, Draco paused, his eyes holding a haunted look rarely seen outside of midnight terrors and prison walls. “I stopped once, but it didn’t make a difference. I still cost a man his life.”

Hermione swallowed, buried memories resurfacing; at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” she said at last, the inadequate idiom rolling off her tongue.

“So are you willing to trust me now with the lives of Potty and the Weasel?”

Hermione hesitated, guilt welling up in her throat. “I suppose, perhaps…”

“That’s too bad because I think I sent them to Outer Mongolia. I wouldn’t worry too much though. Scar-head should fit in just fine. It’s a pity you didn’t go Granger, I’m sure you’d be a valuable asset in communicating with the yaks…”

He broke of as Hermione, with a strangled shriek of utter frustration, grabbed the book off the shelf and launched it at his head.

When Harry and Ron returned triumphant an hour later they found a very cheerful Hermione practicing spells to make a pineapple dance across the table, while a subdued Draco read in the armchair, his book propped up to hide a rather glorious black eye.

[kumydabookworm]

My top three, as rec'd by Mask since I couldn't decide. :)

Name: Kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor

Title: Mundugus
Words: 488
Warnings: Death

Young and old members were gone, and the Order was decimated. Molly was one of the few left who knew the older members; most of the Order members around now were quick admissions to fill the ranks.

She never thought she would do this, but Mundungus deserved this final respect. He had fought and died honorably just like Arthur, Fred, and Bill. There was no one else but her to give him his final farewell. She took a deep breath.

“We all know that Mundungus Fletcher wasn’t an honorable man. In fact, he tried to attack my late husband when he was conducting a raid for Muggle artifacts. So you may ask, why am I speaking today?”

Molly swallowed, knowing she had to force these words out, knowing that they were true. “I am speaking today because despite his questionable morality, Mundungus fought for us and our children, and died for them, too.”

Several people sniffled. “I will be the first to admit I did not like Mundungus. He sold stolen goods to my sons, and he smoked these terrible cigars.” Molly heard a laugh, and even smiled herself. “However, he had a good side. He was always loyal to Dumbledore – he never wavered. He rescued my last remaining son, Ron, from some purple robes that were strangling him at 12 Grimmauld Place two years ago.”

Ron blushed in the front row. “Most people will look at Mundungus and see a thief. They will see a man imprisoned. They will not see what he stole – the final Horcrux that Harry Potter destroyed. They will not see why he was imprisoned – an Imperius curse made him act like an Inferi.”

Molly looked at the audience. “I once saw him this way, too. I never saw his loyalty or his wit – I saw a scruffy, belligerent no-good. I will never claim that Mundungus wasn’t scruffy, or belligerent, or even a no-good. He did some very criminal things in his life.”

Molly nodded firmly. “But we cannot lose sight of what he did do. He never wanted to die; in fact he tried to get out of it. When the dementors cornered him on the battlefield, he ran. But that’s not important. The fact that he came back, that he conquered his fear, that he died because of it – that makes him a hero.”

Molly blinked away unexpected tears. “I couldn’t see why Dumbledore trusted Mundungus Fletcher. Now, I think Mundungus, out of all of us, was the one to trust. Though he was not the best man, he was, in the end, strong enough to get the job done.”

Molly swallowed back the quivers in her throat. She watched his body slip into the ground next to the graves of the Order members – of six of her children and countless others. He had been an unaccountable fool, but he done what she could not. He had protected those he loved.

Title: Endless Game
Words: 325
Warnings: Violence

Crisp, blue skies stretched over the field. The sun shone brightly, light glinting on the blades of grass. The reflection of this light on the dew created a blinding mirage. Oliver Wood attempted to blame the glare for the tears building in his eyes.

Around the stadium, the seats were emptied and signs supporting each player were showing the trauma of battle. The Keeper’s hoops lay shattered on the field – it would take years to replace them. Broomsticks were broken around the field, and jerseys lay bloodied and ragged in the grass.

The Dark Mark floated up near the stadium lights, and the scoreboard had been twisted by a sadistic mind. Dark Lord: 1, Dumbledore: 0. A dead man stood for their side in a symbolic gesture. Oliver could feel a hysterical laugh building up – two years later, and the magical world still hadn’t stopped grieving for Albus Dumbledore.

Everything came down to the playoffs – the final game to decide who would win the World Cup, and who would win the War. Quidditch had been canceled.

The balls sat idle in their box, and Oliver picked up the Quaffle, running his hands over the familiar contours of the red ball. The people were gone, and so was every team. Tents stood empty and ravaged where they were.

There would be no World Cup winners this year – no trophy to hold, or cheering audiences. He had been so close to achieving his dream, of standing along the English Quidditch team as a world champion. He looked at the intact banner. Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup 1998.

Maybe in another four years. He would be older, and he would get less playing time, but maybe…in four years, maybe England would have another chance.

They said that the Quidditch games at Hogwarts had not been canceled – that the Death Eaters hadn’t been able to ever get inside the castle again, thanks to the added protections.

Tied match.

Title: Golden Eyes
Words: 495
Warnings: None

“Charlie!” called Mafalda, his supervisor. “Come watch! Paapet’s egg is cracking!”

Charlie dashed over to the bonfire and grabbed the leash of the anxious mother. The keepers had not allowed the mother to nest the egg because she was a first-time mother. Gently, Charlie urged her back. Paapet, a Common Welsh Green dragon, was one of his favorites on the reservation.

Suddenly, the bonfire turned green. Paapet reared back in confusion and rage. She was very protective of her eggs; anything she didn’t understand was subject to immediate hostility. Charlie struggled to contain the dragon.

He forced her head down and stared into her golden eyes. “Paapet, it’s alright. Your egg will be safe.”

The dragon bared her fangs in response to being forcibly held, but reluctantly stilled. “Good girl,” he murmured, stroking what he could reach of her gargantuan side.

Ludo Bagman, the head of the Department of Games and Sports at the Ministry back home, appeared in the fire, beaming. “Hello, Charlie. We’ve tracked you down to ask if you’ll consider being a member of the 1994 English Quidditch team.”

Charlie gaped. “We lost the Quidditch Cup last year! You’re asking me to practice with the team that will compete at the World Cup! Are you sure?”

Bagman nodded earnestly. “Your team was made of mostly second years, Weasley! You exhibited magnificent skill and leadership, and we believe you’d make a brilliant addition to the team!”

Charlie hesitated. “I was planning to take up a career in dragon-handling.”

Ludo laughed. “The Ministry would be happy to explain your situation to the reservation.”

Paapet jerked on the leash hard, effectively startling Charlie out of his dazed shock. He glanced at the edge of the bonfire to see what was happening. Mafalda had removed the egg from the fire with fire tongs. The tip of a snout was peeking out of the eggshell.

Paapet caught Charlie’s gaze. He looked deep into her protective, anxious eyes – they were as gold as the Snitch he once chased after in his glory days of Hogwarts. As the crumpled baby dragon lifted itself out of the eggshell, Paapet broke free of Charlie’s flaccid grip on the leash, and rushed toward the newborn. She engulfed it in a wreath of cool fire, and the baby crooned with pleasure.

Charlie felt butterflies float in his stomach that were identical to those he caught during the exhilaration of a game. His heart pounded in his veins. But another feeling accompanied that rush – pure love flowed through his body, filling him with a glow he had never felt.

He imagined the cheers of a Quidditch crowd, the sound of the wind rushing past his face, the smell of a Quidditch field, the smoothness of Quidditch robes…none of it compared to this.

Turning back to the fire, he smiled at Bagman. “I’m afraid not.”

Totally ignoring the man’s protests, he turned to gently stroke the new baby’s wings under its mother’s golden eyes.

[Mind Games]

Author: Mind Games
Title: Unaware
House: Ravenclaw
Warnings: None
Words: 385

Told from Sirius' point of view...

As I stand here, I am completely unaware that this is the last time I will consider you my family. I am completely unaware of my opinions, beliefs, and thoughts. I haven’t met myself yet. All I know is what you’ve shown me, which is a world of very small-minded thinking and beliefs. A world where everything is only black and white. Of course, as I stand here, I am completely unaware of this.

We’re moving rather quickly through the crowded station, not wasting any time, even though we’re plenty early. I push my cart along, the excitement building. I am ready to leave you for now. I am ready to please you and make you proud. I am completely unaware.

It’s coming down to the last few moments. We step through the barrier, and now the Hogwarts Express is in view. I gaze upon its shining beauty, something I haven’t quite been able to imagine, though I have certainly tried. I take in a breath, ready to experience everything. Though at this time I have a different idea of what I’ll be experiencing. I’m still thinking exactly the way you want me to, acting the way you want me to. Everything is going as planned. We’re both completely unaware of how I’m going to destroy this plan not long from now.

Students are starting to board the train, and I am eager to join them, but I stand by your side for just a little longer. I savour the last few moments of my time with you, but in my mind I know I’ll be seeing you not too long from now, which is comforting at this time. I am completely unaware of how different my mind will be once we reunite.

At last, it is time for the final goodbyes. You both wear very stern expressions on your faces as you gaze down upon me. “Make us proud,” you say. I simply nod, expecting to do just that. You see, I am still completely unaware.

You watch me board the train, reassured that I will do fine. You feel that you have taught me well up to this point, and now I can carry on by myself, following your plan for me exactly as you want me to. You too, are completely unaware.


I would recommend Ambition (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=5370) by Masked One. Mask really opens up a new side of Luna's character in just 200 words. It's amazingly written!

I would also recommend Glory is Nothing (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=1827) by WhittyLeah. It's a very insightful look at Percy's character, and it has inspired me in more than one way.

[kehribar]

Recommendation:

A series of four drabbles by SomberBallad (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=734) (the third post on the thread!)

Here are a few of mine - though I'm not sure why I'm posting in between all these wonderful drabbles...

Name: kehribar
House: Gryffindor
Title: From the eyes of a canon
Warning: The usage of the word "canon" may seem a bit confusing here; what I meant is the wooden models used in studios, which are named "canon". I hope it's not too confusing.
Words: 387

“Isabelle, I’m telling you for the last time: Stay straight, or I’ll lock you in the cupboard.”

“…again,” I complete the sentence under my breath, and return to the position Dean put me. The last time he locked me in the cupboard, I stayed there for a week. But I had deserved it. An incredibly talkative magical canon would only annoy the artist, especially if he’s running out of work.

As I sit on a non-existent broom in the appearance of the captain of that Quidditch team, Chudley Cannons, I watch his hand move in swift and sharp motions as he draws an outline. Yesterday, he received an owl from the Chudley Cannons, requesting a new crest for their team. Dean was thrilled. He’s always like this; always so excited for any new work he gets. Now, for the last seven hours or so, he’s been sketching endless crests. I can see pride and joy in his eyes; this is such a big honour for him, and so, he’s trying to do his very best… using me to death in the process.

I hear him sigh in frustration, and he ruffles his hair in despair. He looks at me.

“I can’t get it right,” he says simply. I smile and roll my eyes. He always says this.

“What about using a cannon?” I suggest. “It’d be really symbolic.”

This time it is him who rolls eyes.

“What a creative idea,” he mutters. I step down from the invisible broom and put my hands on my waist.

“Being creative is your job, Dean, not mine,” I remind him. “Use the usual in an unusual way. That’s what you always do.”

He looks at me for a few moments without saying anything. And then, he jumps in his seat, pulling a new sheet of paper before him.

“Okay, get on the broom,” he instructs, his voice again business-like. “You’re flying in the uppermost speed; lie down on the broom, your hair is waving behind you, eyes narrowed against the wind…” he looks at me and grins. “… as if you’ve been fired by a cannon.”

I smirk at him, and once again climb on the imaginary broom to do what he says. No matter what, I know that Dean will come up with the best. This is his job.
A drabble written a while ago, out of nowhere.

Title: Intelligent Conversation
Words: 241

“Remus, what in Merlin’s name is this?” Sirius Black asked as he entered the living room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, where harsh tunes of a cello were filling the air.

Remus Lupin looked up from the parchments he’d been looking over in a huge armchair by one of the windows. He had a smile on his face as if Sirius’ reaction was exactly what he’d been waiting.

“What is what, my friend?” he asked innocently, with raised eyebrows.

“This... music... if you call it so,” Sirius replied with a grimace, dropping a couch.

“Oh, that...” Remus replied, and he waved his wand towards the huge gramophone on a table in one corner, turning the volume down a little. “Why, just as you said, it's music.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius retorted, “It reminds a kind of blood ritual – it’s hammering on my brain!” With that, he swiftly drew his wand and had the music stopped. Silence settled in the air like a cloud of dust. Remus sighed as he laid the parchments on his knee.

“Just to let you know, Sirius, it was Bach. And it had nothing to do with a blood ritual, my friend, it was meant to visualize an inward struggle.”

Sirius snorted in response.

“Then I really wouldn’t want to meet that man.”

Remus only shook his head and returned to the parchments on his lap. It couldn’t be any clearer that he believed Sirius to be hopeless.

And here's another one I'm actually quite fond of.

Title: Save Me From the Grey
Warnings: Extended use of fragments and metaphors. May be boring.
Words: 496


Silence.

Dusty and airless silence, filled with the intriguing smell of past years. The crowd of memories; a calm, peaceful, but nevertheless sad crowd.

The only visitor of the attic was the sun. The loyal, faithful sun; passing by the small, triangular windowpanes every single day, touching its light to the faded colours of old pictures, trying to liven up the grey that slowly, but surely swarmed on the old sparks of life that once coloured several people’s lives.

But it was no avail.

The memories in the attic were dying. They’ve been buried alive under the dust.

But today, something happened. Something that hadn’t happened in years.

A click tingled in the room. A faint, almost inaudible click; but it spread through every single particle of dust. The pictures held their breaths. The click became louder. A key was put in to the lock… and it turned… the rusty old padlock clanged… and then came the long-waited creaking of the hatch.

The first real movement in the attic in years. The trap-door straightened, pushed by a shoulder from below. It made a muffled, huffing sound; the dust that covered the wooden floor splashed in the air with soundless joy. A head rose from within the opened trap-door – a head with thick, curly black hair with a few strands of grey on the sides. The first real colours in the attic in years.

A man made its way through the dusty place. Heavy breathing filled the stiffened air; a few coughs shook the shoulders and sparked more of the dust. The wooden floor moaned under the feet. Every single picture in the attic kept its stare on the man; silent, begging, insistent. The man stood still and uncomfortably surveyed the memories.

With two wide steps, he crossed the room, reaching a huge, wooden trunk. On the top of it stood an opened scrapbook, covered with the grey dust like everything else it kept company. The man held the scrapbook; raised it close to his face, and filling his lungs with the old air, he blew on the page. The dust sprayed up and glided down to perch on the floor. From under the thinned grey layer, faint traces of colours and shapes appeared. The man stood still; his eyes hard on the scrapbook, a frown creasing his forehead. And then, with a harsh movement, he wiped the remaining dust off the page with one hand. The sketch of a woman came in sight. A confused, unbelieving look on her rough face, she gingerly stood up from the corner of the page, and looked at the man with widened eyes. A smile made its way up to her face; timidly, she held up a hand, and waved.

The man smiled back. With the scrapbook in his hand, he turned and passed the attic in two steps. Climbing down the hatch, he pulled the trap door, and once again, condemned the memories to the remorseless dust and loneliness.

And lastly,

Title: Farewell to the Stage
Words: 467

Silence filled the great concert hall. A heavy, expectant silence. That was the moment she enjoyed the most. The silence of the crowd.

A cough or a sniff echoed off the hall every now and then. She waited behind the curtain. She waited to prolong the silence, and the crowd waited for her. She knew when to walk on the stage. She knew how fast to walk. She knew how to smile, how to make that little elegant bow, and she knew when to start playing. Her heart did not beat the least faster than usual. She had been doing this for nearly forty years.

She straightened her back, smoothed her long dress, and walked on the stage with wide steps. The explosion of applause she received upon walking on the stage was the proof of how celebrated she was. Her chin was held up high, but not so high to make her look conceited. She was aristocratic, she couldn’t change that. She was, and always would be, a Black. If nothing, in blood. And yet, she managed to look both noble and unassuming. She bowed slighty to the audience, and a real smile curled her lips up. She straightened, and surveyed the crowd as she waited for the applaud to die. The hall was full, just like it had always been. All the tickets were sold by the middle of November – over a month ago. She didn’t give the last concert of her career every week, after all.

And it was December 25th.

The hall was decorated with Christmas decorations. There was even a small pine tree by the end of the stage. Hundreds of misletoe bunches were hanging from the ceiling. Faces shone with excitement.

And Andromeda felt the first glimpse of excitement when the applaud kindly died away after her second bow.

She stole a glance towards the misletoe-filled balconies. There they were. Her family. Ted Tonks, her husband, the most handsome man in the world for her, sat on the right. His purely white hair shone in the dim lights. Next to him sat her daughter. Nymphadora, or Dora, as they called her, looked so beautiful in her night-dress, and her long, dark blue locks surrounding her heart-shaped face. One of her hands rested on the shoulder of a young girl, who sat beside her. Her grand-daughter. There wasn’t a more beautiful child in the world than Dorothy.

The racing of her heart somewhat confused her as she turned and walked over the piano. She sat, and smoothed her skirts. She nodded at the sheet turner with a polite smile, and placed her fingers softly on the keys.

She paused.

The silence.

Like everyone’s holding their breaths.

The keys felt cold under the tips of her fingers.

She knew they’d warm up soon.

[Lily_writes]

My submissions for this drabble challenge are my favorites from past challenges I've entered. This is going to take up a lot of space....

~*~

Author: Lily_writes
House: Ravenclaw!

Title: Is There a Problem, Professor Dumbledore?
Word Count: 219
Warnings: None, anymore...
Original Source: Weekly Drabble Challenge: Inner Thoughts

"Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

James Potter and Lily Evans were both standing in front of Professor Dumbledore's desk.

Does he know what we were doing? Lily thought anxiously. I know it was inappropriate, but it was too much fun! I mean, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

I knew I shouldn't have persuaded Lily to do this, James thought, looking over at his nervous girlfriend. I mean, it's not something most teachers punish you for. We were only having some innocent fun, is all. I just wish we looked a little more presentable.

Oh no! I just remembered that some of the other kids said he could read minds! Oh man, we could be in so much trouble! Lily thought, panicking slightly now. What we did was far from dignified, and something I would never have thought I would do anywhere, let alone by the lake while it's raining out.

Oh, great, I just remembered that Dumbledore is one of those Leg...legi...mind readers, James thought. All I have to do is not think about Filch hauling us up here because we were having a mud ball fight in the rain. Oh no....

Dumbledore surveyed the Head Boy and Girl, who were dripping mud onto the floor.

"I see."

~*~

Title: He Deserved It, Right?
Word Count: 351
Warning(s): None, unless you have an issue with people pranking Snape...
Original Source: Weekly Drabble Challenge: Inner Thoughts

"Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

All four Marauders were sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk, looking down at their feet and studying them as if they had suddenly found them rather interesting.

If only Dumbledore could understand, James thought. I was only helping Peter get back at Sniv- I mean Snape. He really deserved it too. At least, I thought covering all his robes in large neon orange spots reading "I love Professor Slughorn" was a fair exchange for him splashing Peter's potion in his face. Poor Petey was in the hospital wing for a week with blue and green acne. I know I'm Head Boy now, and should be more responsible. Just please, don't tell Lily, she'll kill me!

Come on Dumbledore, don't blame James for adding the hens that were magically glued on, that was completely my idea, thought Sirius. I only threw it on as a finishing touch. It's not my fault they all lay eggs every minute, it's not like I charmed them to do that. Oh, wait, yes I did. But you have to admit it was really funny.

Professor Dumbledore, I wish you could understand, thought Remus. We Marauders are like the Three Musketeers, except there are four of us. Don't punish them for the cloud that followed him for an hour raining grease on him, that was me. Let's face it, I'm not prefect material. I can't stop my friends from pranking people, let alone myself. I wish you could forgive us.

Please Professor, don't give us detention, they were only sticking up for me, Peter thought. They only wanted to help me get revenge on Snape for what he did to me last week. Anyway, I'm the one who persuaded Peeves to follow him and scream out "here comes the king of snot" everytime he left a room.

Dumbledore looked over the four seventh-years, three of whom looked a little nervous and kept shooting him quick glances, the last one looking a bit calmer than the rest, as if he had done this hundreds of times.

"I see."

~*~

Title: The Rant of a Free Prisoner
Word Count: 469
Warnings: None, really.
Original Source: Weekly Drabble Challenge: Inner Thoughts

"Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

You know bloody well there's something I'd like to tell you. I don't like being locked up in the house I ran away from at sixteen, I despise being told I'm not doing anything useful by Sniv- Snape, I haven't heard from Harry for months now, and I'm bloody lonely. I miss gettting letters from my godson. I feel guilty because I half-wished he would be expelled over the dementor incident. I even wish that that wretched old toad would throw him out sometimes, I'm getting so bored.

I haven't been outside for nine months now, did you know that? I'm desparate to get out. I wouldn't mind if I was disguised as a dog on a leash, being led by someone just to take out the trash. That's how much I want fresh air. I would like to have a fresh breeze flow through the window, but even that can't be. "What if someone looks up and sees you standing by the window?" That's what Molly says every time I beg her to crack it open an inch. I'd be better off in Azkaban, at least there was a breeze, and company all the time. I see you look surprised. Don't be. I find it rather ironic that I escaped one prison only to be holed up in another.

Anything that would've made my life enjoyable has been taken from me. Harry can't write anymore, Remus doesn't stay long, nor anyone else from the Order, all I have here is Kreacher and Buckbeak, and even then that accursed house-elf isn't here all the time. I still don't know where he disappears off to half the time.

You don't even know how I feel right now. The only way you could truly appreciate my situation is if you locked yourself in your dead mother's house for nine months, have people pop in and out once in awhile but can't talk to them because, they're too busy to "stay for a chat", and while you're at it, make absolutely sure that there's someone who can rub it in your face that you aren't doing anything useful as they brag about top secret assignments they were given.

I don't even know if Harry cares about me anymore. I gave him James' mirror before he left to go back to school. Either he forgot about it or he's not using it because he doesn't care about me anymore.

I think I hear Remus calling me. Snivellus wants a word with the Order members here. Oh, don't give me that look. If you were trapped here for as long as I have, you'd be just as cantankerous. Do me a favor and stay here. I still have a few bones to pick with you. I need to go see what Snivelling Snape wants with me. I hope Harry's okay, even if he doesn't care about me anymore.

"I see."

~*~

Title: Through the Eyes of a Dragon
Word Count: 416
Warning(s): None
Original Source: Weekly Drabble Challenge: Fantastic Beasts

Set in the first task (GoF).

She heard the crowd make a great deal of noise and looked down, only to notice a boy with black hair standing alone. She appraised him carefully, flailing her tail around in a warning.

He's only raised his arm and shouted something, she thought. I won't breathe fire, yet.

Then, a long stick came from somewhere distant. Another man was shouting as the boy climbed on the stick. She watched the boy ascend and fly far above her head. She turned her head skyward, immediately suspicious of the boy's intentions, to watch his every move. He dove and her maternal instincts told her he was after her eggs.

I'll show him to steal my eggs, she thought determinedly. So she opened her mouth and shot fire at him, but she missed as he pulled up.

The crowd made more noise as did the shouting man, but she didn't care, and neither did the boy since he flew back above her head.

He was flying in circles now as she watched. She opened her mouth once more to release more flames. The boy, however, swooped down, but she was ready and swung her tail up.

She heard more yells and screams as she felt one of the spikes catch on something. With some satisfaction, she knew her eggs were safe for now.

He flew above her head a third time, now moving from one side to the other.

What is that boy up to now? she wondered in exasperation, allowing her neck to stretch up toward him.

He moved a little higher as she brought her neck out as far as possible before roaring.

What do you want with me? she thought, shooting some more fire at him.

She spread out her large, black wings and came up off the ground a little. Then, the next thing she knew, the boy was gone.

Where is he? she thought angrily. Where did he go?

She heard the crowd make more noise than before and saw the boy flying over the mass of people. The men that had brought her from her home ran over to her, and then the world around her went black. When she woke up, she was back home.

Maybe it was only a dream, she thought.

She brought her tail around her and noticed something on one of the spikes. She lifted her tail up to eye level and saw it was a piece of a strange dark material. Like the boy had worn.

~*~

Title: Fred and George's New Pet
Word Count: 238
Warning(s): None
Original Source: Weekly Drabble Challenge: Fantastic Beasts

"Hey mum, look what we found!" Fred called as he ran into the kitchen.

George followed at his heels, carrying what appeared to be a hedgehog. Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove to look down on the eight-year-old twins.

"Can we keep it mum?" George pleaded. "Please?"

"I don't know," she began. She looked at the creature George was holding up, regarding it with some suspicion. "Do you know what it even is?"

"Sure we do, it's a hedgehog," Fred told her. "We even asked Charlie, and he said it was a hedgehog."

Their mother looked at the little animal in George's hands. Then glanced between Fred and George, both boys looking very hopeful.

"Take it outside and feed it something," Mrs. Weasley relented finally. "I must be crazy..."

Grinning widely the boys took their new pet, whom they promptly named Percy, and set him on the ground. Fred got a dish from the kitchen and put some orange peels on the plate. The little animal immediately went berserk. It began to rip up their mother's flowers in the garden. The boys ran after it, hollering.

"Percy, come back here!" Fred yelled.

"What's gotten into you, Percy?" George shouted.

"I'm right here, you two," Percy announced from the back door. "Mum asked me to check on you..."

He stopped upon seeing his brothers chasing the little creature.

"MUM!" he hollered. "Fred and George gave food to a knarl!"

~*~

Title: Harry's Not the Only One With Nightmares
Word Count: 349
Warning(s): Torture
Original Source: Monthly Drabble Challenge: Neville Longbottom

Neville Longbottom watched on, helpless, as three wizards and a witch surrounded his parents. He felt as if some invisible force was preventing him from moving.

"Tell us where He is!" the youngest shouted at him.

"I told you, we don't know!" Frank Longbottom called to them.

"Liar! If you refuse to comply, we'll torture you," the witch shrieked, now drawing her wand. "Crucio!"

Frank screamed in pain. He collapsed to the ground, twitching uncontrollably. The young Death Eater pulled out his wand and pointed at the man too, shouting the same curse as the witch. Alice Longbottom sobbed uncontrollably, restrained by the remaining two Death Eaters, unable to help her husband. Neville watched in horror, unable to break free, unable to help. The witch cackled mercilessly, as she stared down upon the man she was torturing.

Soon, the man moved no more. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. The two wizards holding Alice let go of her. She fell to the ground and crawled over to her husbands side. She took one look at him before burying her face into her hands and crying even harder. Neville shed some tears too.

The witch lowered her wand, looking down on Alice sobbing over her husband, with some satisfaction that made Neville feel ill.

"Now tell us where the Dark Lord is," she commanded. "Or you get the same fate as your husband."

"We already told you, we don't know where he is!" Alice sobbed.

"Have it your way," hissed the witch. "Crucio!"

Alice fell next to Frank, screaming and twitching just like him. Neville yelled out, but what he said was not heard, as his mother's screaming drowned him out.

Thud.

Neville fell to the floor of the boy's dormitory, tangled in the bed sheets. The room was pitch black but he heard someone sit down on the floor next to him.

"Neville, are you okay?"

He finally fought his way out of the sheets and saw who was sitting next to him. It was Harry.

"Yeah, it was just- just a nightmare," he answered quickly.

[ProfPosky]

Author: ProfPosky
House: Gryffindor
Title: Feathers
Word count:493


You couldn’t say she was in a good mood. She was usually in a bad mood these days.

“Why did he say he wanted us?” she asked curtly.

“Something hatching. Don’t tell him I told you. He wants to surprise you.”

.
“Come in, come in. It’s good ter see yuh, good ter,” Hagrid said when he opened the door. “I got sumptin’ nice fer yer both. You’ll like ‘em.”


<i>Pink acromantulas, most likely</i>, Harry thought . <i>That, or an improved screwt. Grawp couldn’t have a child hatching out, could he? Do Giants hatch?.</i> He approached the basket with a certain amount of caution, only to have something appear in it just as he poked his head over the edge. He pulled it back sharply, surprised.

“Hagrid, you’ve got a bird in there!’ he exclaimed.

“Not jes’ any bird, Harry, not jest any bird. That’ll be a Diricawl.” At Harry’s blank stare he added “Muggles call ‘em Dodo birds.”

He looked down into the nest box, and noticed…

“So this is what you brought us here for, Hagrid? Your Dodo bird is about to hatch her eggs?”

Hagrid looked over at the box with a slight smile on his face. “They’re not jes’ Diricawls. I bred ‘em up meself, see. Thought they’d make good pets, right cheerful. Thought they’d make people laugh…” He seemed sad, somehow, and as if there was less air in him than formerly – as if he needed less, and had less, and was perhaps not looking for more.

“Well, she’s going crazy in there, Hagrid. Do we do anything? I mean, in Muggle movies they’re always boiling water and tearing up sheets.”.

“Ye jes’ watch ‘em, mostly. See, that egg is cracking now.” Hagrid put his face right into the box, and Hermione mouthed “Fangs?” over his head. Harry tried to peak around Hagrid, couldn’t, and shrugged.

“OOP. He popped off right quick. He’ll be back though.” He looked up as if he had forgotten them for a minute. “They disappear in a burst of feathers. Sorta like bird fireworks, see, only with feathers.”

“But Hagrid, there’s…” Harry looked closely inside the box “Pink fuzz in there. Do the babies have fur?”

“These will, “ said Hagrid with a shadow of his old paternal pride. “I crossed ‘em with Pygmy Puffs, see?”

“Pygmy Puffs, Hagrid?” Hermione asked. “Pygmy Puffs? Not spiders, not Basilisks, not Alligators, not even Pit Bulls, Hagrid, Pygmy Puffs? No claws? No fangs? No Poison?” Her voice rose in a crescendo, getting wilder as it went, and the two men watched her in alarm. “No monsters, Hagrid? A disappearing bird, and a PYGMY PUFF?”

Hagrid just stood there, amazed and a bit defeated looking. Harry was desperately thinking in useless circles, and then it came, like a storm, like a fireburst, like the explosion they had all known would have to come some day.

Hermione, for the first time since Voldemort was vanquished, began to cry.

Author: ProfPosky
House: Gryffindor
Title: Killjoys
Word count:500


"Five o' them, ye say?" The large, bushy-haired man put his enormous tankard to his lips and sipped. "Five?" His voice echoed in the almost-empty tavern.

"Five," agreed the mournful pile of unkempt hair and tattered clothing that sat and drank with him, "an' if ye can believe it, Hagrid, I only paid for three. How I got the other two I couldn't say." He, too, took a drink absentmindedly. The beer spilled from the heavy cup, splashing his filthy clothes further, but he seemed ot find it funny. "There ye go, mate. I just put on these robes this mornin' for the firs'time, and they're broken in already." His laugh was rusty, but a laugh, all the same.

"Do they play cards like that fer folks? Ye ough' ter make a few knuts lettin' folks watch." Hagrid observed the small, sheeplike animals sitting cross-legged on the floor near the fire. "They'r real convincin' like."

The largest of the small animals looked up at Hagrid and growled. The ferocity of the sound, combined with the adorable mop of curls on top of it's placid, sheep-like head got a smile out of the large man.

"No," Dung continued mournfully, "They won't perform in public.. Although Eunice in the corner there'll knit."

"Really? Well, thats sumpin' like. Don' see too many sheep as can knit."

"No, ye don't, do ye. There's no market for knittin' sheep in these times, Hagrid. I've wasted my money." Mundungus seemed resigned. "Free to a good home. Ye've got the room."

"But they're a bit dull, ain't they. No breathin' fire or bitin' or spinning rope?" he asked with a faint hope in his voice.

"Not a bit of it. Still, sort of amusin', watchin 'em when they think ye ain't lookin. Billy was playin' drums on the oatmeal box this mornin'"

Hagrid burst out then with a deep belly-laugh. "OATmeal, Dung? I'd a never picked ye fer oatmeal in the mornin'."

”Oatmeal goes very nice with a bit o' fire whiskey in the mornin'. An ye know, I don' think they're sheep. I think they might be KillJoys."

"Ye don' say. But they're supposed to be extinct!" This was more interesting to Hagrid.

"I have it on good authority," Mundungus responded, in a low voice, "That there's odder thin's in New Jersey than that."

"Maybe. Maybe, Dung. I can' take em, though, anyways. Too much to be doing right now, what with..."


"Well, mebbe Fred and George, then. they're use' to bad knitting anyway..." He stood up and whistled. "On yer feet, lads." Obediently, they stood on their hind legs. "March."

The little wooly animals sashayed out the door of the Leaky Cauldron. "Then again, Hagrid, mebbe I'll keep 'em meself. There's sumthin' about them I je' can' put my finger on, but their cheerful, like."

"Well, if ye like that, then. Good day, Mundungus." Hagrid sat down again at the table, remembering to be bereft, while happiness on the hoof marched itself out the door.




Author: ProfPosky
House:Gryffindor
Title: Defying Time
Number of words: 491

It was constant.

In September, it had been burning eyes, a bit of irritability, the occasional headache. She had made sure to eat the celery in her salad, bathed her eyes in chamomile, and started putting cinnamon on her toast.

By November, the headaches were more frequent, and she was tossing back chamomile tea at every meal, although it smelled like grass clippings. The book didn’t say, but she privately suspected it was making her hay fever worse.

Christmas provided a break. Being in only one time at a time gave her young body some opportunity to recover. Her mother fed her up. Her Aunt Rose fed her up. Her Grandmother, the lady next door, and Emmaline, her best friend from her pre-wizarding days all encouraged her to take second helpings. She was developing not only a thinness of body those at school did not notice under her uniform robes, but a pulling, a taughtening of the spirit, as if it were a drum head. They saw, they did not know what they saw, but still, saw, and threw at this problem the numerous remedies they trusted – fresh air, exercise, good food, dark chocolate, tea of every description, over the counter dietary supplements, and water. She ate so much celery that her mother spoke to her father about a specialist. She did not quite seem anorexic, and yet…

February rolled into March, rolled into April. People were so foolish, so easy to put off. Not once did her friends actually corner her, demand to know how she could be taking so many classes, and while Professor McGonagall had told her it would be so, she had not believed her, could not believe it now.

Had it only been the time turning she would not have been in such a state. It was a miscalculation on Minerva McGonagall’s part. She had not foreseen that as she became more and more depleted Hermione’s judgment would slip. She consistently broke the law of diminishing returns, demanding of herself not the hour that would guarantee a good grade, but the hours additional that might – only might - yield a perfect one. Her nerves were at a breaking point.

And yet, it went on. Parvati and Lavender were too intimidated to tell anyone that she kept a Citron on her desk to stare at. Lavender had a vague recollection – she did not remember from when, or from where, of an old Muggle man with a citron done up in a bit of cellophane shuffling around on a street corner in some perplexing ritual which her mother could not explain. From this, they deduced that the citron was Muggle business they could not expect to understand, rather than realizing she was going round the bend.

Long before she hauled off and belted Malfoy she had begun seeing birds flying across the periphery of her vision and meant to have her eyes checked. She did not realize …


Author:ProfPosky
House: Gryffindor
Title: Early Signs of Promise
Word count: 492


If she was getting them in the hospital wing, thought Poppy Pomfrey, things were dire. Normally, students did not come all the way up to her lair for constipation.

There were 15 students out there now, lined up in a row of chairs. All were Slytherins. She debated in her mind the wisdom of talking to Severus Snape. On the one hand, there was patient-healer confidentiality to be preserved. On the other, there seemed to be some sort of public health crisis going on in that house. If 15 first and second years were sitting in her reception area, as it were, there were undoubtedly many others sitting – or, more to the point, not sitting – elsewhere.


Severus Snape rarely looked at the picture just to the left of his bookshelves. It came with his territory, although whether that was his territory as potions master or as Slytherin’s Head of House, he couldn’t say. He had inherited both from Horace Slughorn, and it could simply have been that it was a picture Horace liked. It showed the Hogwarts kitchens, with the house elves as work, like a Muggle television with only one show.

He was watching it with great interest now, however. He knew that most of his house was – internally cluttered at the moment. It didn’t seem to be bothering anyone else --at least not in such numbers. The furtive, desperate looking glances from those first year students who had yet to meet Poppy Pomfrey, the ones more afraid of healers than they were of potions masters, were coming only from the Slytherins. He was starting to overhear whispered conversations. “You ask him.” “No, YOU ask him.”

He was eyeing the two red-headed boys in the frame with interest. Taller than the house-elves, but not by much, they seemed to be deep in earnest discussion with Drabby, the head of the kitchen crew. A hand of bananas was peeling itself. The conversation continued – it was joined by another hand. A very large bag of rice – larger than the elf beneath it – was making its way over to the preparation table, and a bushel of broad beans as well – those were difficult to identify at a distance, but he had passed Hagrid bringing in that very bushel earlier that afternoon.

With a nod, he walked over to the picture and removed it from the wall. A matter of moments had him in an astonished Minerva McGonagall’s office.

“There is a picture in the kitchens of Julius the Childless. He has a picture on his wall in the portrait. Whatever that picture would see is shown in this one. I think you might like to hang it someplace you can keep an eye on it.” He said coolly.

“And why would I want to do that?” she asked, perplexed.

“Because,” he said with a certain satisfaction, “for the next seven years, you will be finding it much more useful than I would have.”

[tc015]

Here are a few of my drabbles.

Author Name: tc015
House: Gryffindor
Word count: 299
Warnings: None
I Never Stopped

Ambitious

I had always wanted more than the average pureblood woman. I did not intend to be married off to the highest bidder, who only wanted me to produce heirs. I knew that I was worth more than. I had intelligence, and I planned to use it to make a difference in the world. It had been my dream since I was a child to become a healer. But more than anything else, I wanted a choice in life. I wanted to choose my husband, choose how many children I have, to choose what profession I become. And I would do anything to make that dream become a reality.

Cunning

I was able to deceive everyone for so long. Everyone, my family, my friends, thought that I would just willingly marry Augustus Rookwood, my fiancé, and that I would live happily ever after as Rockwood’s trophy wife, producing several good heirs and leading a life of luxury. But no one knew the truth. No one knew that I was in love with another man. No one knew until I left the house that fateful morning.

Slytherin

That fateful morning, the morning before my wedding to Augustus Rookwood, I told my family the truth. I told them that I had done one of the worse things a Black could do – I had fallen in love with a Muggleborn, and I intended to marry him. The reaction was nothing more or less than what was to be expected. Over the harsh screams of my mother and the deadly curses being thrown at me by my older sister, my father said that I had ceased to be a Black and a Slytherin. He was wrong. While I may have stopped being a Black that day, I never stopped being a Slytherin.

To the end.

Name: tc015
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: Mentions of Character Death at the end
Words: 273
His Dream

“I want to be like Professor Dumbledore,” the young boy of eleven thought.

After his first meeting with him, that was all Remus could think about. Professor Dumbledore was extremely tall, taller Dad even. He had a long white beard that sparkled in the sun. He wore these moon shaped spectacles on his face, and his bright blue eyes were always twinkling. Remus wanted to be just like him.

He wanted to be a professor. He wanted to teach other boys and girls about magic. He wanted to someday become headmaster of Hogwarts. He wanted to be kind like Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore let him into the school, even though no other man would have done so. He loved everything about the professor.

But he could never become a professor. No one would want to go to school with someone like him; that’s why he had to keep it a secret. If no one wanted him to go to school, then no one would want him to teach there. But he still wanted to be a professor just like Professor Dumbledore.
When he found out the news, that Professor Dumbledore had died, Remus Lupin collapsed onto a nearby chair and put his face in his hands. The man he had loved, the man he had admired was dead. Professor Dumbledore made his dreams come true. He let him, a poor werewolf, teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He loved his one year teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts; it had been his happiest year in a long time. He owed it all to Professor Dumbledore, the one person he looked up to.

Name: tc015
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: Mentions of Character Death
Words: 499

Photograph

I was extremely bored that day. Snape had been missing from Spinner’s End ever since he had murdered Dumbledore, and it looked I wasn’t getting out soon. I was looking through the few possessions I had managed to retrieve. I found something at the bottom of my small orange bag that made me jaw drop.

It was an old book filled with pictures. I was so surprised to see it; it had been years since I looked at the old thing. I opened up the book to a random page and laughed at what I saw.

It was taken during Lily and James’s wedding. It was of all of us, who were all smiling brightly and patting James on the back. We told James about how now he would have to give up his mischief making for his dear wife. James replied that he would just tell his kids to do it. I laughed for the first time in months. Just looking at that picture brought back memories of all my good times spent with my friends. I turned the page, and the next picture made my smile disappear.

It was from when I was around twenty. It was from my mum’s wedding. She was smiling brightly at her husband, my stepfather Neil Roberts. I was standing on Neil’s side as his best man. I was faking a joyful smile, pretending I was actually happy about it. It was a year after my dad died, and she had already gotten married. It bothered me that he was a pureblood. My dad was a Muggle. It felt so weird that my mum had been so quick to forget her Muggle husband for some pureblood wizard. My blood boiled as I turned to the last page of my album.

It was my favorite picture. It was of my dad and me, in front of Kings Cross Station. I was twelve, and beginning my second year at Hogwarts. We were both beaming. Dad loved magic. He loved to see me do magic. It made him smile. It was the last picture I had of him. Shortly after that day, Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was long six years of battling the cancer.

It was the worst thing for me, losing my dad. I can remember crying all night long, praying that somehow my dad could come back. I could never imagine inflicting that on a person. It was the worst punishment in the world.

Then it hit me. I did inflict that fate on a person, on Harry. I gave the Dark Lord the location of the Potters. I led him to the Potter’s house. I let him kill Lily and James. I allowed Harry to be an orphan, to live with horrid Muggles.

Tears were spilling from my eyes. I had felt never guilty about betraying the Potters until now. I had to make it up to Harry. I quickly left Spinner’s End, knowing what I had to do.

[Viv]

I don't have many drabbles, but here's the one I like best. It was for the Narcissa Malfoy challenge a while ago.

Author: Viv
House: Slytherin
Title: Failure
Word count: 434
Warnings: None

He had failed. He had failed in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort had counted on my husband to get him the prophecy, but he deceived him. This is a disgrace to our family. What will the other Death Eaters think about the Malfoys from now on? How much respect will there be left for us? It took so much time to earn ourselves a place of choice in His circle of followers. Now, it looks like the day of our downfall is near. I know we’re not the only ones who couldn’t achieve a mission entrusted by the Dark Lord and that humans are born to make mistakes, but Lucius never failed before. And with Him, there is no place for mistake. You fail; you die. And if you don’t die, He will punish you in a way you can only wish you were dead. At least, He cannot harm Lucius now that he is in Azkaban. I would never have thought to say this one day, but to be in prison is the best thing for him right now. He’s safe.

Then again, it is Azkaban, a place full of Dementors. What are the chances of seeing Lucius again? And if I do, in which mental state will he be? They say people go mad after sometime spent in there. I fear for him. I know I shouldn’t, he can handle himself pretty well, but I can’t help myself. He’s my husband, for God sake! And what about my son? He always thought Lucius was the greatest wizard in the world. Draco needs his father, stronger and prouder than ever. He needs his protection. I need his protection. What if the Dark Lord decides to punish Lucius through us? I could stand a punishment, to go through terrible ordeals, but if something were to happen to Draco, I know it would be way too difficult to bear. My poor boy… He’s still so young, and so fragile, even if he doesn’t want anyone to notice it. He wants to follow his father’s path, but he’s not ready yet. And I don’t want him to be ready. He’s the only thing I have left. My only child…

Well, now look at me, I’m crying. What a shame I am. I must stop it now. I must be strong. I must do what I always do in this family: keep my head up and show no weakness. I must not give a chance to our Lord to find an easy way to reach us. Stand up straight, Narcissa, and brace yourself: the worst is ahead…

And my recommandations!

Doing The Right Thing (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=4080) by Sly_Severus
She took the words right out of my mouth (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=6595) by helgaandgodric
Doing This For Glory (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=4073) by crazy_purple_hp_freak

[MorganRay]

This is my St. Mungo's challenge drabble.

Title: The Candystriper
Author: MorganRay
House: Hufflepuff
Words: 380
Warnings: None

The young girl fidgeted with the edge of her white bed sheets. Her straggly, brunette tresses hung around her face and hadn’t seen any grooming in a while. She would go into moments where she just couldn’t think about anything. She would sit and forget where she was and what she was doing. The edge of her blanket was the most interesting thing in the world at the moment, and she left the plate heaped full of turkey, an ear of corn, and a sweet potato unattended. She hadn’t sipped the juice they brought her, either, and the pitcher of water remained completely full.

Beside her bed sat a little bear who would tap dance and spray hearts out of its chest when one touched its nose. It scared the girl the first time she saw it; her parents became upset, too, because they picked it from the hospital gift shop. Her mother insisted it was better than the bear that spewed smiles out of its mouth.

The door to the room clicked open. The girl didn’t look up as a petit woman entered the sterile, white room. Her long face wasn’t unpleasant, and a look of alertness filled her gray eyes. Her large, strawberry lips opened in a cheerful smile to reveal straight, clean teeth.

“Katie Bell?” She paused, waiting for the girl to answer. When she didn’t look up, the woman in striped, pink scrubs continued in a chipper voice. “I’m Heather Pierce, and I was wondering if you need anything. I see you haven’t touched your dinner.”

Katie didn’t move, and the woman went over to examine what Katie was looking at so intently. “I’m glad you like your blanket, dear.” A look of pity flashed through her eyes. She put her hands on the girl’s wrist gently. “The intern told me you get like this. I personally have seen worse since working here, though, so don’t feel too bad, dear. I’ll just keep your diner warm for you.”

Without another word, Heather collected Katie’s meal and walked out of the room. Katie continued to fidget with her sheets.

This is my drabble about how Tonks feels about herself.

Title: Tonks
Words: 388
Warnings: None

She turned her back on them, and her knuckles were bawled up so tightly that she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms.

Bloody prick! I only gave him what he deserved.

Instead of heading towards the doors, her feet turned her unwillingly in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

I don’t care if he runs back and tattles on me. I’m no more a man than he is! It felt so good to slam his nose.

She walked into the darkness and leaned against the rough back of the first tree she could find.

He’s so thick! What does he know about being a Metamorphagi? Is he one? He’s probably never even read about one! If he had, he would have known that we can’t really change our sex, although it is possible to look like the other sex, but my abilities aren’t nearly that advanced!

Rubbish! It’s all rubbish what they say about me. Today it’s one thick boy. Tomorrow it’ll be another thick person. Today, he was in Ravenclaw. Tomorrow he could be from Gryffindor. It doesn’t even have to be a boy. Merlin knows that my own roommates say the same thing.
She tilted her head back against the tree truck and stared up into the dark canopy. She brushed her hand across her eyes to remove the tears.

I know I’m different, but there’s nothing wrong with who and what I am. Girls don’t have the same interests as me, I know, and they avoid me. I’m not a real girl to them, but I’m just ‘one of the guys’ to the guys. If one of them would open their eyes, they’d see I really was a woman. I’m not some stupid girl. Sorry that I don’t own a skirt or a dress. I like to dress in jeans and T-shirts. None of these thick boys can understand that, apparently. Not one person really looks at me as a woman. I’m ‘Tonks the Metamorphagi’ to them, not just Tonks.

I don’t want to change for them. Being a Metamorphagi is what I am, not who I am. I wish someone understood that, too. I like being different because it’s me. I am who I am. There’s no need for me to be who they want me to be. I wish that at least one of them would try to understand.

Title: Prince Charming
Rating: 1st-2nd Years
Words: 530
Warnings: None
Summary: When she was little, Hermione made her own rules for who Prince Charming would be.


She couldn’t get the tune out of her head.

‘I’ve forgotten most of the words! I hated the story!’ she mentally chastised herself for recollecting a song that she loathed.

But it was a catchy tune.

‘So this is love . . . . hmm hmm hmm hmm . . .’


To keep her occupied, her mum had plunked her in front of the TV and inserted a tape into their VCR almost everyday. One day, at some undetermined but unquestionably young age, Hermione remembered watching Disney’s Cinderella. She liked the magic. She always liked the magic in the videos, but she simply didn’t understand why Cinderella wanted a man that badly. She didn’t understand why she simply didn’t find a better place where she belonged.

And, for Hermione, the most puzzling thing was why she wanted that man so much. They didn’t seem like they were in love. They couldn’t be in love -- she reasoned, even at that young age, --they hardly knew each other! You couldn’t love someone you really didn’t know, now could you?

Also, she never understood the concept of ‘Prince Charming.’ None of the men in fairy tales seemed to be charming. Sure, they could feed you, clothe you, and give you jewels, but her parents could do that, too. For her, a charming boy would be one who would want to talk to her and play make-believe in the woods. And, even then, she didn’t think she wanted the boy to be overly sweet and charming, as the fairy tales put it, because it might take all the fun away from their play.

My heart’s a glow . . .

And now, she stood there, in a frilly, pink dress, exactly like one of those princesses. And, worst of all, she heard that song in her head.

And now I know . . . that this is what makes life divine . . . .

She tactfully itched a spot where her lace irritated her skin before descending down the stairs towards the Great Hall. As she turned the corner, she saw Ron and Harry. A small smile flitted across her face at the sight of them, and she pushed her annoyance with Ron aside for the moment. She was going with Viktor – the perfect prince charming.

This is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of . . .

Strangely, at that moment, the idea of going with someone who embodied the hero in the movies repulsed her. She let herself stand on the stairs, and she pined to go with the boyhood companion she had always told herself she preferred in the place of Prince Charming. She could see herself waltzing across the floor with Viktor, and the idea made her feel girly and silly.

Then, she glanced at Ron, who looked absolutely ridiculous in his robes. A grin tugged up the corners of her mouth at the thought of waltzing across the floor of a massive, elegant ballroom with Ron. Somehow, it relieved her to know that the two of them would never share in that awkward experience.

So this, so this . . . is love.


Here's the link to StaceyLC's drabble page (http://www.fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=3165), and I reccomend Someone To Talk To.

[Hel]

Author Name: Hel
House: Gryffindor
Word count: 309
Warnings: None



Ink Stains
Hermione was writing a letter. People were rushing around her in every way, but they were but a blur to her focused eyes. Nothing else mattered, except that this letter reached him, and that he be alive to read it.

As people rushed past in all direction, she dipped her quill into the ink bottle, waited a moment, then returned to her writing. All she could hear were the words in her head, and the scratching of the quill. She was in her own world - his world. She was at peace, and peace was echoed in her words; she hoped her peace would bring him peace, if nothing else.

She glanced at her watch, and realized that she must say goodbye…

Reluctantly she drew herself part-way out of his world and wrote her name. She hesitated, then wrote 'love'. Feeling pleased with herself she looked up, and was jerked abruptly into the real world by a person.

"Ron!"

Hermione started, her heart beating faster than it had ever beaten. God I missed him... She looked down and found that her starting had caused the ink bottle that had been perched precariously on her lap to topple over, spilling its ink all over her new robes. Her heart stopped, it was all too much, the war, Ron, and now this…

Her distress must have shown on her face, because at that moment Ron had pulled out his wand, leant in towards her, and muttered a spell.

Hermione could barely breathe his face was so close. She could see every freckle, every blemish, every imperfection, all - perfect.

"Thank you." she breathed.

She could feel him glance down at the letter, focusing on the last word. He read it, and as the comprehension dawned on him, he looked back up at her, his blue eyes locked into her brown.

"I love you..."

[mspadfoot89]

Author: mspadfoot89
House: Ravenclaw
Title: A kiss
Word length: 415
Warnings: --

A Kiss

“What are you doing here?” Draco Malfoy whispered.

His once-perfectly combed hair was swept all over his face, which was gaunt, hollow and paler than usual—standing in contrast with his red, chapped lips. His eyes reflected nothing, whereas once they had been full of mockery and life. His gaze unsteady, he looked at his visitor with the closest thing to feeling. Azkaban had weakened Draco Malfoy.

Cho Chang stood in front of him her eyes filled with pain, her heart bursting with unshed tears. She had long learnt that crying would get her nowhere.

“I’m here to see you,” she answered, sitting down if front of him, a sense of cold and dread taking hold of her, although there were no Dementors around. But the minute she did he turned away from her.

“How did they let you in?”

“It …” she spoke, but seemed unnerved, “It was Harry. He … he did me a favour.”

“Almighty Potter?” His voice was flat and held none of the usual maliciousness, his back still turned towards her. “What are you doing here?”

“Draco … it’s … it’s Valentine’s Day. I had to see you. Why are you like this?”

“What do you expect me to be like? I had no idea what day it was. I don’t know why you’ve come. I thought I was clear three weeks ago? Before they stuffed me in this …” Words failed him, but for the first time since her arrival, he looked at her and his eyes were haunted by something she could not define.

“How can you say that?” she asked, her heart tearing. “Have you forgotten all we went through to be together? You told me you’d always be there for me. I haven’t forgotten, you know.”

“It’s over, Cho. You know it is. I will never get out of here. Move on with your life! I can carry on a normal conversation now, but in a few weeks time, you won’t recognise me. Is that what you want?”

“But … Draco … please. We’ll find a wa—“

“There is no way. Now leave! GO!” he shouted, his heart breaking, just like hers.

As she looked into his eyes, she knew he was right and she knew that she was lost. She stood to go, leaving one small, heart-shaped chocolate next to him. And as Draco looked at it, he wished for the Dementors to give him what Cho never would be able to again—a kiss.

Author: mspadfoot89
House: Ravenclaw
Title: Only Us
Word length: 397
Warnings: --




Only Us

11. 23. 1998

I sit here alone, thinking. The thoughts that cross my mind are countless, but they are all connected to one thing. This war. It seems impossible to grasp the fact that we’ve been fighting for more than a year. It seems like just yesterday when Dumbledore fell, and alongside him, Hogwarts. Things have changed so much since then.

The few faces that you see in the streets are fearful, haunted, sad, tormented. I don’t blame them. I feel the same way. Every day is torture, thinking that people are being killed—people you care about, people whose names you don’t know, people who are trying to change something. Because this whole war is about accepting change. Many people see that, while others just refuse to acknowledge it. I suffer deeply. Watching the people I love fight and die, watching morals die, watching people’s rights die. It pains me. I cannot stand to fight any longer. I am tired of every single thing, every word, every feeling. I just want this to end.

But still I fight. I fight for my beliefs, I fight for others’ rights, I fight for life, but most of all I fight for Harry. I see him everyday, courageously facing everything that comes in his path, trying his best to put an end to all this. He stands tall, but deep inside he is scared and I know he thinks he’s alone. But he’s not and he’s never been. I fight alongside him, with all of my strength, with passion and with loyalty. He’s the one who keeps me fighting, he’s the one who keeps me sane and the one who always reminds me of the gentle days when we were still in Hogwarts, thus making me temporarily forget the sick, twisted feeling in my stomach, the iron hand clutching my heart.

He is the only one I have left and I like to think I’m the only thing he has as well. We have both lost so many people through this ordeal. Smiling faces flash through my head as I fight to keep my tears from falling. Redheads and old friends, teachers and parents—we’ve lost them all. As I look at his sleeping form huddled under a tree, my determination grows stronger. We will emerge victorious. Because as long as we have each other, we can go on.

Hermione Granger.


Author: mspadfoot89
House: Ravenclaw
Word Count: 448
Warnings: --

Am I a Wizard?

“Wake up, sweetheart” Melanie Goldstein called up the stairs, her voice soft and sweet.

Anthony Goldstein, a little boy of around eleven years of age and curly black hair, woke up startlingly.
He hated it when his mum woke him like this. He loved to sleep and saw absolutely no point in getting up early. Sighing deeply, he got up and started dressing. His father had always been this way too—he hated mornings—and he had always let Anthony sleep until late.

But dad isn’t here anymore, Anthony thought, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. After all, he had promised himself and his mum that since his dad had decided to get up and leave three years ago, he would be strong for both of them. And he certainly couldn’t do that if he kept thinking of all this. At eleven, Anthony was as much grown up as most people became later in life.

The sweet smell of bacon and eggs met his nose as he entered the kitchen. He sniffed happily, his stomach growling. He had come to like the way his mother cooked. He sat down at the table and started eating, occasionally asking his mum this or that. The mail came as he was finishing his apple.

“Bills, bills, pizza ad, magazine—ooh, I’ve been waiting for this—” she stopped, looking at an envelope in her hands with all the surprise in the world.

“Mum, what is it?” Anthony asked, dropping his apple on a plate and moving behind his mother to get a look at what she was looking at.

Melanie quickly opened up the envelope and read its contents, her eyes getting wider as each sentence passed by. This was … this had to be … Had Richard known this all along? Was he a … wizard? She flinched as the word passed through her mind. Then, unbidden, a memory of old times came into her mind.

“Our child will go to the best school, you shall see,” Richard Goldstein said patting his wife’s round belly.

“Well, of course, we’ll do our best, but what with our financial—“ Melanie started, but was interrupted.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. You’ll understand one day.”

She had never truly forgotten those words—they had haunted her until this very day, when she was finally able to understand their meaning.

“So mum, what is it?” Anthony repeated, his black eyes boring steadily into those of his mother’s.

“I-it’s a letter … from a school … Hogwarts.”

“It says here, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He turned around at his mother, eyes unbelieving. “What does that mean? Am I a … a wizard?”


Author: mspadfoot89
House: Ravenclaw
Word length: 348
Warnings: --




On the run

Life on the run is a hard thing, Draco Malfoy decided while crouching inside a cave, feeding on a piece of moulted cheese he had found, in the ruins of a nearby house. However, he had no other choice but to keep running—running and wondering if he would ever get rid of the smell of sweat on heated skin, of the dirt that seemed to crawl under his skin, or of the habit he had picked up of eating his food as though it was going to be taken away from him.

He, Draco Malfoy, proud son of Lucius and pureblood heir of the Malfoy name, reduced to sleeping on tree branches and caves, eating whatever garbage he could find, not knowing if the next day would find him alive or dead. He was afraid to show himself to anyone for fear of talking to a traitor, but kept his constant lookout for Harry Potter. Although he hated to admit it, Potter was the only person that could get him out of this mess. As much as Draco liked being independent, he appreciated his life, and having clean clothes even more.

Having finished his dinner, he slumped on the back wall of his newfound cave, left alone to think about the misery of what he had come to call life, dreaming of warm beds, long baths and proper food. His imagination was not helping much though, as he could not clearly remember the smell of soap, the feel of clean sheets under him, or the taste of proper food. He looked at his long, blonde hair so covered in grime, one could not tell its colour anymore. His hands clenched around them, as he made himself a promise. If it were the last thing he would do, he would get out of this disaster he had dug himself into. And with that, and not much else, given to the fact that he had not slept for three days, his eyelids began to close, and he had long dreams of Voldemort chasing him with soap and water.

[StaceyLC]

I'll play :)

The first two are ones that I did for VV's Fall NEWT DADA class. The last one is my favorite that I wrote for the Monthly Drabble Challenge: Dumbledore that I won second place for. And the one about Narcissa was the first drabble that I ever did.

Author: StaceyLC
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Shamed
Words: Er... no idea. I have WordPerfect, not Word. But I remember that it was under 500.
Warnings: none, except the usual Pureblood mania

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Her father’s words stung Bellatrix. He was supposed to be proud of her! She was going to be doing what they had always talked about doing – ridding the Wizarding world of the filth that was infesting it.

“What do you mean, Papa?” she asked. Although her words were innocent, her voice and eyes betrayed the anger inside her.

Her father looked up from the Daily Prophet article he was reading. “That band is just common riffraff. It would not do well for a daughter of the Black family to be seen with such… lowly… company.”

“They are not,” she challenged him. “You’ve heard what they’ve done. The Prophet reports on them everyday. You’ve seen it with your own two eyes.” She was referring, of course, to the Mark. His mark. It had hung above the house of a Mudblood family not half a mile from them.

“I saw Grindelwald do it, too, and there are still half-bloods and filth in our world,” her father spat. “This one will be no different. He will fall, and you will bring us shame.”

“He will not fall,” Bellatrix hissed, and her eyes flashed dangerously. Her father narrowed his eyes at her, as if seeing her for the first time

“Rudolphus,” he said, finally. “He joined them, too, didn’t he?”

Bellatrix remained silent.
“Ah,” he nodded. “I should have guessed. Did we raise a daughter who cannot think for herself? Perhaps the match between you two was a mistake.”

“Rudolphus and I are more concerned about the salvation of our race than you, it would seem!” Bellatirix shrieked. “How dare you denounce our union? I will be a Lestrange, and when the Dark Lord is victorious-”

“Have you not thought of your mother in this?” her father interrupted. “Or your sister? Lucius Malfoy was hesistant to come forward with his intentions for Narcissa because of Andromeda’s behavior. She almost ruined us! We don’t need you and your… Dark Lord destroying us further!”

With this Bellatrix brandished her wand. “Enough! I will not tolerate it!”

Her father stood up to his full height, glowering down upon her. “Already they’ve changed you. Already you are in too deep. How long have you hid this from us?” he demanded.

Bellatrix laughed, rolling up her sleeve and displaying the mark on her forearm. “Long enough. You will see,” she continued, eyes shining. “He will be the greatest wizard the world will ever seen. He has already gone farther than anyone, even Grindelwald, has dared to go. He will save us. And you will come crawling to me for forgiveness on that day. And I may not be willing to give it. It is you who has shamed us. I am willing to fight, to do whatever it takes to preserve the purity of our race, while you do nothing but sit back and let it be destroyed!”

She turned then and stormed out of the room. Her father followed her, and when she arrived at the front door and swung it open, she turned and added, “I wonder, Papa, what you will think of Narcissa when she marries a Death Eater, since you apparently think so little of me.”

And with that same strange gleam in her eye, she raised her head haughtily and left, slamming the door behind her.


Author: StaceyLC
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Trapped
Word Count: under 500
Warnings: none

I had another nightmare last night.

It’s been almost three months since the last one. Maybe that means I’m getting better. I’ve stopped yelling at Mum and Dad at least. Little, unimportant things will set me off, though. Things that remind me of it. Like storms. I used to love thunderstorms; they used to help me study. They were soothing. But now they just remind me of chaos. They remind me of being in the dark and not knowing what’s lurking around the corner. They make me feel like I’m trapped somewhere and I can’t get out.

I can’t go to cemeteries anymore. Or museums. I don’t like the statues. They stare at you with their empty eyes and it reminds me of nothingness. I was one of those statues in my nightmare. I don’t know what I will do when I get back to Hogwarts. Maybe I will be able to put it behind me by then.
I’ve been burying myself in my studies. I signed up for every OWL level course that was offered for next year, and I’m glad I did. Having all that work to do will help me take my mind off it, and hopefully keep me as far away from the Hospital Wing as possible.

I wonder if Harry is going through much of the same thing. He was there at the end, after all, and from what he and Ron told me he almost lost his life. Is this what it’s like to be Harry Potter? If it is, I don’t know how he can stand it. Or maybe this is what it is to be Harry Potter’s best friend. And if that’s true, I don’t know if I will be able to stand it.

I have that feeling of being trapped again. I’ve developed claustrophobia. Mum always wonders what’s wrong with me when we take trips and we have to use the Underground. I think the tunnels bother me more than the closeness of everything. They remind me of pipes.

I don’t like the cold and I don’t like stone. I’m beginning to wonder if I like anything anymore. Madam Pomfrey suggested that I start using this journal because it will help me cope to get my feelings and fears out. I don’t like it anymore. It reminds me of the diary. And a diary is where everything started.

I am going to burn this tomorrow. I think that will help me cope more than anything, because I will be burning my fears. I’ll be burning my feelings. And they will rise up in the smoke and be free, instead of trapped within these pages. And they don’t want to be trapped anymore.


Author: StaceyLC
House: Hufflepuff
Title: It's Not Easy
Word Count: 300 something
Warnings: None

You think it’s easy, don’t you? Being wealthy, being powerful, being a Malfoy.

Being pure.

It’s not easy to stand there regally, looking and acting like nothing more than a porcelain doll your husband purchased. It’s not easy to hate Mudbloods and half-bloods and blood-traitors. Although, after years and years of it being beaten into your head by your parents and their parents and their friends, it does come naturally. It’s not easy having to tell your son he can’t play with other the other children because he’s a Malfoy and “Father thinks those children are filthy”, and then listen to him cry and tell you he hates you. It’s not easy to teach your son right, when his father comes home with tails of deceit and talk of wizard purification. It’s not easy to stand against the wall and be undressed by Death Eater eyes.

It’s not easy to love your husband, who’s once bright, beautiful eyes have gone stone cold and his life consumed by serving another.

It’s not easy to love your son, who’s turning out to be just like his Father.

It’s not easy being a Death Eater’s wife.

But you do it. And you smile, and you look pretty, and buy beautiful clothes to let the world know just how happy, powerful, and wealthy you are because you’re a pureblood. Because you’re a Malfoy. Then you gawk and sneer and hate everyone and everything in the world around you that isn’t pure, until you forget.

You forget what it was like to play with Muggle children before mother took you away. You forget what it was like to wear shorts and get dirty before father threatened to beat neatness into you and your sisters. You forget what it was to love and laugh openly, to smile freely. To live.

It’s not easy being pure. What is easy, however, is forgetting you were ever anything else.


Author: StaceyLC
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Haunted
Word Count: Er... I want to say 300 something
Warnings: None

He stared at the boy sitting across from him and couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility for his current state. He was pale - paler than usual - and his dark hair was matted and unkempt. But his eyes… his eyes were what frightened Albus Dumbledore the most.

They were cold and haunted. Distant. Uncaring. Dumbledore didn’t want to look into those eyes, but he knew he had to. Those eyes were once wide and awestruck as their owner took his first steps into Hogwarts castle. They were once trusting and held so much life.

But no longer.

On the same token, Albus used to look upon him with trust as well. He was one of the more brilliant students to come out of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, it seemed intelligence wasn’t enough to keep people from making The Wrong Turn.

That’s how Albus described it. The Wrong Turn. Turning to the dark side, as it were. To Voldemort.

Taking the Dark Mark.

As Albus looked upon this haunted human being sitting before him, he tried to convince himself that he should have seen it coming. The boy’s eyes may have been trusting; the boy himself may at one time or another may have been happy and eager. But he had also been angry, and bitter, and the subject of much torment from his fellows. He had allowed himself to find powerful and dangerous friends. No doubt these friends were responsible for the boy’s decision and current state.

Albus began to chastise himself. Why had he not done something? Perhaps he should have taken more of a stand against the ones who had bullied him; docked more points, or given out more detentions. He should have tried to get more involved in the boys life. He should have done something as soon as he saw the warning signs that this promising young boy was delving too deeply into dangerous territory.

And, unfortunately, the answer was that he hadn’t noticed. He never saw the warning signs. He never tried to talk to him, find out why he was so angry. And he had only stepped in twice during the bullying occasions, and that was only because of the seriousness of the situations. Albus had been too busy fighting the battle outside, rather than paying attention to the soldiers of Voldemort that were being created on the inside.

And now this boy… no, this young man… was paying for it. And he had come to Albus for help. Fortunately, Albus knew why.

But he mustn’t push the him away. He had to be careful, if he was to bring him back; if he was to save him.

So, this time, Albus cleared his throat, steepled his fingers, and stared into those cold, haunted, dark eyes, and asked:

“What can I do for you, Severus?”

[solemnlyswear_x]

This is a very cool idea. :D

Recommendations:
Black till the End (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showpost.php?p=86001&postcount=12) by kehribar
A Photograph (http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showpost.php?p=90302&postcount=1) by Mind Games

Author: solemnlyswear_x
House: Gryffindor
Title: When I Was Twelve
Word length: 100 [This was for the HHWP 100 word drabble challenge.]
When I was twelve years old, I used to joke that a Boggart wouldn’t turn into anything in my presence.

“That’s because nothing scares me,” I boasted, attempting to impress my classmates.

When I was seventeen years old, I used to joke that there was only one thing that scared me: N.E.W.T.s.

I am twenty-two years old, and I don’t joke at all. Grindelwald has seized complete power, and there seems to be no stopping him. He is threatening to eradicate “the Mudbloods who dare to live in this pure-blood world.”

I am a Muggle-born, and now, everything scares me.
Author: solemnlyswear_x
House: Gryffindor
Title: Not Tonight
Word length: 328
Footsteps echoed softly throughout the room no matter how hard Andromeda tried to muffle them. She would have moved slower, but she needed to pack her things and leave. It was the second of July, barely the summer holidays, but Andromeda couldn’t stay until September in this house. She needed to get out.

“Meda?” A voice shot through the darkness, stopping Andromeda dead in her tracks. She glanced at the bed where the voice had come from. It was Narcissa; Bellatrix was still fast asleep.

“Yes, Narcissa. It’s me. Go back to sleep.”

“Why are you standing up? Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I’m-” Andromeda faltered. What could she tell her sister? That she was running away because the pressure to be a ‘good, pureblooded daughter’ was already too much at twelve? That she couldn’t risk becoming the person that she knew her older sister already was?

Bellatrix. She thought of her sister, her crazy Bella, who at fourteen was hanging out with the wrong crowd at Hogwarts. The Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Goyles. They were all part of the pureblooded crowd, the crowd that would lead to trouble.

She thought of herself, about to be a second year, but old enough to know she didn’t want to be a part of what Bella and her friends were involved with. Old enough to know how to run away. She could ride the Knight Bus to her friend Mary Cooper’s house. Mary would let her stay until they could go back to school.

“Meda,” Narcissa persisted, “how come you’ve got your suitcase? Are you running away?”

She thought of Narcissa, not quite nine. Small and delicate, with light blonde ringlets that framed her face. Narcissa who followed her around whenever she came home, hoping to find one sister that would play with her.

“No, Cissy,” Andromeda said quietly, reaching her hand out to stroke her sister’s soft hair. “I’m not running away.”

And she wouldn’t leave.

At least not tonight.
Author: solemnlyswear_x
House: Gryffindor
Title: Someone Else
Word length: 332
Warnings: Character death mentioned.
Whenever he sees a Dementor, the world seems to collapse on top of him.

He is pressed together, squeezed until he can’t breathe. He breaks out in a cold sweat, which prickles as it drips down the back of his neck slowly. And then every time, without fail, the tremors start. They come slowly at first, but then more violently, as if he is shaking the happiness out of himself.

The sadness manages to stay. The horrible memory clings to his brain, refusing to be thrown from him. He doesn’t expect anything different, though.

This is what Dementors do, he thinks to himself. Suck happiness away, leaving only pain.

This one memory that is adamant about not leaving his mind, no matter how hard he shudders, is the day he remembers everything about. The day he tries in vain to forget. It is this day that the Dementors force him to relive.

It is just one scene, replaying over and over again, as if a broken film is running in his mind. His father’s shouting, his mother’s pleading, and then, the unmistakable flash of green light, so bright that it blinds him. And as quickly as it starts, it stops.

And then it begins again. Each time somehow more painful to watch than the last.

He desperately hopes that they will catch Sirius Black soon. He is not sure how many more times he can stand to take the long way out of the castle, just to avoid the Dementor standing at the front entrance.

He is not sure how many more times he can stand to watch his mother die.

Once, he thinks bitterly, was more than enough.

Until they catch Black, however, he will pass the foul creatures constantly. The world will keep crushing him, and the happiness won’t return. The lights around him won’t be as brilliant, and he won’t ever feel warm.

And until then, whenever Theodore Nott sees a Dementor, he will wish he is someone else.

[megan_lupin]

*Out of the many that I've written, these are some of my favourites -- and a few of them are past place-holders, too!*

Author: megan_lupin
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 402
Originally Written For: "Perseverance" Weekly Drabble

For Remus

“You know, don’t you?” said James, grasping Sirius on the arm as he started to walk off.

“Know what?” he asked.

“Remus's secret. I know you know what he’s hiding.”

“Why? Do you know?”

-----

“We’re never going to get this!” exclaimed Sirius, throwing one of the advanced Transfiguration books across the common room, where it slammed into the wall. “It’s been six months, and the first part isn’t even working right.”

James removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, exhaling a sigh of frustration as he did so. Sirius was right, in a way. They had been working on the transformations for six months, and they were no closer to achieving their goal than they were when they started. He glanced over at Peter for a moment, and the smaller boy was just sitting in one of the chairs, looking back and forth between Sirius and James. Then he got up and went to pick the book up, replacing it on the table.

“But we need to keep trying,” he said. “For Remus.”

-----

Another six months passed, and before they realized it, two years had passed. They were getting closer, but it still wasn’t close enough.

“Two years, James,” said Sirius. “We’ve been trying to get this for two years.”

“But we’re almost there,” replied James, flipping through pages in another of the Transfiguration books scattered on his bed. “According to this chapter, we should be able to transform in a few months.”

“Is it worth it anymore, though?”

“Yes, it is,” James answered, looking up from the book as Peter entered the dormitory. “We need to do it for Remus.”

-----

When 15-year-old Remus Lupin walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, it was to see a black dog, a stag, and a brown rat chasing each other around the scarlet chairs. The look of shock and confusion on his face only intensified when the animals disappeared to be replaced by his three friends, all of whom were doubled over, laughing.

“James? Sirius? Peter?” he asked. They all jumped as they heard his voice. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” said James, and after seeing that the common room was empty, continued. “We found out about your secret, and we decided to do something.”

“We became Animagi,” said Peter. “After a few years of work, we finally achieved it.”

“But why?” muttered Remus.

“For you,” said Sirius. “We did it for you.”

~**~

Author: megan_lupin
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 458
Originally Written For: "Remus Lupin" Monthly Drabble

The Night (24 Hours)

It had been the same as last night, and nothing about the day had given him any clue that, in less than 24 hours, everything that was would no longer be. Of course, a part of him knew that things had been different; they had grown apart in the past few months. The stress they had all been under for the past couple years had finally reached the point of affecting them. He could not really blame it on any of them, though. After all, he knew it had been bound to happen sometime.

He had spent the night alone, not being on an assignment for the first time in weeks. The entire house was quiet, and he was simply reclining on the sofa, a new book in his hands. His mind could not pay much attention to the story, however; it was far too exhausted, and within a few hours, he had abandoned the book and fallen asleep.

An urgent knock on his front door woke him in the morning. He jerked awake and, glancing at the nearest clock, stumbled up and towards the door, pulling it open as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The figure standing on his front porch, however, was someone he thought he would never see standing outside his home.

"What is it, Albus?" the man asked, addressing his visitor.

The visitor, Albus, said nothing. He simply looked at the younger man, and it was in that moment, when Albus's eyes met those of the man, that the man knew. His visitor did not have to speak, did not have to show anything more, for the man to understand. What he had feared would happen for the past few years had finally occured.

"No," he whispered.

"James and Lily," said Albus. "On Halloween."

At those words, the man backed away from the door and his visitor. His entire body was trembling as he stumbled back, his head shaking "no" as he collapsed on the nearest chair.

The visitor had still not entered the man's house. But he did when the man spoke.

"What else are you not saying?"

Albus approached the man then and, standing right next to the suffering man, he told him the whole story.

----------

His entire world had come crashing down on that night. Everything that he had known, that he had had, was no longer. His friends were either dead or gone, and the joy he had felt with them had now been tainted. Within 24 hours, it had all disappeared. Within one night, he had lost everything. It was the night that he could never forget.

~**~

Author: megan_lupin
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 337
Originally Written For: "Eulogies" Weekly Drabble

Friends, Brothers

No one noticed the thin and tired man as he walked down the dirt path. If people had been watching, they would have seen his limping gait and hunched shoulders, his drawn face and shuffling walk. But they did not, because no one was watching.

The man finally made it to his destination at the path’s end and, reaching into his pocket, withdrew a wand.

“Hello, James, Lily,” he muttered, his eyes becoming slightly misty as he looked at the two graves in front of him. Some tears sought to fall from the man’s eyes, but he blinked them away.

As dark clouds shifted across the night sky, the man waved his wand, muttering a few incantations as he did so. Once the bright moon was revealed, its light shone down on a newly created headstone that had just joined the previous two.

Putting away his wand, the man sat next to the new headstone. He placed a hand on the grave to his right, his fingers tracing the name James Potter, and his other hand to the new grave, tracing over Sirius Black with his trembling fingers.

“We were friends,” the man sighed. “Hell, we were more than that . . . we were brothers. Until one left, taking everything with him. But we remained brothers, James.” And as the man stood, he turned back once more.

“Thank you for being my friend, brother.”

The man walked away, leaving behind the trio of graves, and Remus Lupin never looked back. If he had, he would have seen the moon’s light shine on the newest grave, the words upon the marble stone becoming visible.

True friendships never really die
And family isn’t defined by blood
It’s made strong by bonds that won’t break
Tempered and tested by trials and pain
What we are is brothers, and as such we remain
Loyal to one another until the end
And no matter what happens between this moment and then
I shall be always thankful to have had such friends.

~**~


Author: megan_lupin
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 600
Originally Written For: SBBC Diggory Drabble Contest

For Her Son

The large manor was completely empty, save for only a few of the house-elves, but they didn’t really count, when one thought about it. Narcissa sat on the edge of her bed, staring out of the opened window as the torrents of rain fell from the sky. The rain was a lot like the tears that were making their tracks down her pale cheeks as she thought about her son.

He can’t do this, she thought. He’s not ready . . . He’s just too young. But deep inside her, she knew that there was not anything she could do to stop it, at least, not anymore. It was already too late, to be honest, and Narcissa knew that. Draco had already made the decision to join, helped along, no doubt, by her sister.

“Cissy, it’s time to go. Draco's ready.”

Speak of the devil, Narcissa thought as she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to face Bellatrix in the doorway. “I’ve been ready,” she said.

And, holding herself together, there wasn’t any sign that she had been crying as Narcissa Disapparated to the Dark Lord.

-----

She stood with the other Death Eaters, gazing upon the scene of her son kneeling before the Dark Lord. As she watched her only child receive the Dark Mark, Narcissa's mind flew back to the first time she’d argued with her husband over this.

“He is not a child, Narcissa!”

“Our son, Lucius! Our only son!”

“This is the right thing to do. He is a Malfoy. He will become a Death Eater.”

Well, you have your wish, Lucius. She’d fought with him at first, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Bellatrix took over the argument for Lucius soon afterwards, and Draco had made a decision himself. He thought he was ready for this. But he’s not. . . . I know he’s not.

“You will kill Dumbledore, Malfoy.”

What? He can’t be serious, thought Narcissa as the Dark Lord spoke. She looked around, and saw only her sister remaining of the Death Eaters. Draco will be killed if he tries to murder Dumbledore. . . . He’s condemning my son to death!

Now why would the Dark Lord choose to condemn Draco to death? another voice argued back.

Narcissa didn’t need a lot of time to arrive at the answer. After all, it was the only one that made any sense. Lucius. The Dark Lord’s angry at my husband, so he’s using the opportunity to take it out on Draco! He’s only wanting to punish Lucius; Draco's just his tool to do so!

And what are you going to do about it, Narcissa?

She thought on that last question for awhile. Bella, Draco, and Narcissa had returned home from the meeting, and each had gone their separate ways. Draco was busy in his room, and Bella was somewhere in the house, but her sister’s whereabouts weren’t her chief concern at the moment . . . Saving her son’s life was. Hours passed as she sat in her living room, going over any possible solution.

Lucius would have done something, she thought. But that isn’t even possible. And then, the idea came to her. There was one person she trusted to tell this to; there was one person who Lucius counted as trustworthy, and one person who would be willing to help Draco . . . in some way.

Severus will help . . . He’ll know, and he’ll help me . . . and help my son.

With that, Narcissa grabbed her cloak and made ready to leave.

~**~

Author: megan_lupin
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Words: 548
Originally Written For: "Pandora" Mythology O.W.L

Forbidden Knowledge

He was walking through the long aisles of books that littered the Hogwarts library, not looking for anything in particular, when suddenly, a single book caught his eye. It was thick and bound in dark red leather, but there was no title on the book. But the young, thirteen-year-old student didn’t need a title to tell him what the book was. He knew of this book – the only untitled piece in the library – and he knew that it belonged in the Restricted Section.

The Restricted Section, he thought. For the past two years, he’d wanted to be free to explore the knowledge held within that part of the library, but the old librarian would never let anyone into the section. Madam Scroll haunted that part of the room like an evil spectre, and the only way for a student to get anything from it was for her herself to remove it.

But this book hasn’t been put back, the boy thought, and he was overcome with the intense urge to read it. The knowledge it contained was of the utmost forbidden kind – at least, that was what the rumours said about it. No one had ever actually read the untitled book, as far as he knew. Taking a quick glance around to be sure that there weren’t any teachers present, he grabbed the book and stuffed it into his bag, leaving the library as he did so.

Not wanting to go back to his dormitory, however, he reached the nearest empty classroom and entered inside, shutting the door behind him. He walked to a far corner of the room and removed the book, opening to the first page. The contents of the first page alone were some of the darkest forms of magic ever known, and as the boy continued flipping through the pages, the magic just became darker and darker and, in some cases, the magic was down as just pure theory – things never before attempted even at a testing sort of stage.

The boy was so immersed in the book that he didn’t hear the classroom’s door open, and he didn’t notice that another person had entered until a tall figure stood above him, covering the boy in his shadow. Looking up, the boy met the gaze of Albus Dumbledore.

“Yes, sir?” the boy asked.

“What are you doing alone in this classroom, Tom?”

“Reading.”

“What are you reading?”

At that, the boy knew it would be pointless to lie, to try and hide the book, but he didn’t give it over to Dumbledore, either. “I found it on a table in the library, sir,” he said, and Dumbledore reached down to take the book. After Dumbledore looked at the book, he turned his gaze back to Tom.

“This book is meant for the Restricted Section, Tom,” he said. “You should not have taken it.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the boy answered, though Dumbledore saw the truth behind the boy’s words. Yet, the boy was young, and no harm had come from him reading this book . . .

~**~

Tom Riddle left the classroom shortly after Dumbledore, and he followed the teacher, catching up with him just in time to see Dumbledore set fire to the untitled book.

But the knowledge it contained had already been released.

[Dill]

Author: Dill
House: Ravenclaw
Warnings: Character Death
Words: 253
Ready

James slammed the door shut behind him as he faced the most notorious wizard of his time. His blood raced and his heart pounded, but his face was strangely calm. He held his head high, looking Voldemort straight in his horrible, red eyes. He was going to die here- he knew it.

It didn’t matter, though. He was going to fight for Lily’s life, for Harry’s. He could run away now, but James knew that if he did, he would live the rest of his life as a coward, unable to look at his own reflection because he knew that he’d see a man who fled when his family was in danger.

He was ready.

Raising his wand, he yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!”

Voldemort merely flicked his wand and the spell went flying away. He was toying with James.

Anger bubbled somewhere deep down inside of him. “Relashio!” he shouted with passion.

It knocked Voldemort off of his feet. Sneering, the wizard jumped gracefully to his feet, ready to kill him.

“This is as easy as I thought it would be,” he taunted. “The best you can do is to knock me off of my feet, apparently too proud to use an Unforgivable Curse.”

James stood as if he was made of stone, unmoving and silent.

“Enough of this delay,” Voldemort continued.

“Avada Kedavra!

James attempted to dodge the curse, but he could not. As the flash of green light surrounded him, he thought of Lily and Harry and how much he loved them.

[Gemma Hawk]

So many drabbles to choose from! Here are a few:

Author Name: Gemma Hawk
House: Gryffindor
Title: Isn't it beautiful?
Word count: 240
Warnings: None

Isn’t beautiful? I think so. Isn’t it wonderful how it blackens when our Lord calls to us? I think so. Isn’t it a symbol of our bond to the Dark Lord? I think so.

I like it. I like how when I see it, I think of him, of my master. I know that he is out there. I know that I will be reunited with him- Voldemort.

His name rolls off my tongue into the empty silence of my cell, bouncing off the walls and echoing back to me.

Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort.

The Dark Mark makes me think of him, of how much he trusts me. Me, his only friend. The only one who understood him. Some say that he never had any friends. But he does! He has me.

The day I got it, the day that I joined him, is the best day of my life. I supported him- I still do! My faith has never faltered.

I didn’t get a trial before they sent me to Azkaban. I don’t care. I am guilty and proud. I don’t regret anything. I love the memories of the deeds that I did for him. I love the hope of the deeds yet to come.

I am glad that the Dark Mark will never go away. I don’t want it to. I want it to stay with me forever, to speak of the glory of his name- Voldemort.

Isn’t it beautiful?

Name: Gemma Hawk
Title: White
House: Gryffindor
Word Count: 198
Warnings: None

White. Hospitals are white, clean and orderly. That was why she loved St. Mungo’s. Everything happened the way it should, no mistakes were made, and everything was in perfect order. White symbolized purity and cleanliness. Her exact priorities.

She had been a healer here for more than thirty years. She had the feeling that she would always be a healer here, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind that there was almost no pay. Money was for the corrupt and greedy. She prided herself on being neither.

She healed people, she helped people. They came in messy and left clean. She always knew how to fix them. It was her job- to fix people. To make them perfect again.

She didn’t like colors- they influenced opinions, and opinions made imperfections. In a world of cleanliness imperfections were unacceptable. She only liked white. White was pure, simple and unbiased. There were no problems with white, white was perfect.

St. Mungo’s was where she was happy. It was where she healed those that needed it; it was where she lived in her white haven of cleanliness.

White. Hospitals are white, clean and orderly. That was why she loved St. Mungo’s.

Author Name: Gemma Hawk
House: Gryffindor
Word Count: 248
Title: Firenze
Warnings: None

He could never understand Firenze. Always mingling with the humans that one was. It was most disturbing to an elderly centaur such as himself. In his day respectable centaurs didn’t just run off to teach young humans! It was just irresponsible.

Thank goodness he wasn’t immediately related to Firenze. Firenze’s poor mother had of course been heart broken when her son left the herd.

He would of course never do such a thing. Not only because of his age, but because it was just irresponsible and unreasonable to leave the herd! If he had done such a thing when he was younger he would have been stomped on by the herd.

But now, with these young ones, they let Firenze go! Without proper punishment! It was hardly enough just to throw Firenze out of the herd with only a kick in the chest. What was the world coming to?

And not to mention all those insolent students always wandering into the forest! There was no peace to be had anymore! No wonder the younger generations of centaurs were all so untraditional. Their minds had been poisoned by the humans. Yes indeed!

Hagrid had, of course, been good friend of theirs. He was kind and treated the centaurs with respect. But even he had crossed the line! Those humans were growing too arrogant, the lot of them!

Why in the world would Firenze want to mingle with them- and teach them! It was insane!

He could never understand Firenze.

Author Name: Gemma Hawk
House: Gryffindor
Word Count: 471
Title: Numb
Warnings: None

He has never felt as numb as he does now. Numb down to his very core, his heart. He cannot give explanations, his brain isn’t working properly. His only though is failure. The words ‘I am a failure’ go through his head again and again, but they do not touch him. He accepts them without understanding their true meaning, the real power of those words.

He doesn’t feel, he is past that point now. He can only think of failure. He though that he could do it- but he was obviously wrong. He has failed. He though that he could live up to the expectations of those around him. The expectations of the other Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, his mother- he is certain that she never doubted him for a moment. He is her son, after all. Her life, pride and joy. He is her everything, especially with his father in Azkaban. He has let her down now.

Pansy believed in him too. Pansy always believed in him. Pansy is his girlfriend- well, was. He might not be alive long enough to call her his girlfriend again. He is as good as dead. Is Pansy disappointed? Perhaps. But not so much disappointed as shocked. He has always given the impression of having control, being on the top of things- being ready. Pansy has never known him as a failure. He has never known himself as a failure. Until now. Until he failed to kill Dumbledore.

The thought strikes him like a slap across the face. He failed to kill Dumbledore. Snape had to do it for him. He though that he could do it- he was wrong. He thinks about Dumbledore, about Snape, about his life that will never be the same.

He can’t torture the Golden Trio anymore- they have the upper hand now. He failed, he has no more chances. But Potter? Potter still has chance. Potter can still fulfill his destiny. It pains Draco to think of Potter being better. Potter has always been better. Potter has had better friendships, greater expectations for himself and even- though this thought pained Draco more than anything- Quidditch. Draco, who has spent half of his life on a broom, lost game after game to Potter.

His life will never be the same. He will never be able to hold his head high again; he will never be able to smirk smugly, not now that he has failed. He will never be able to see Pansy’s smile again. He will never again see the proud eyes of his father- Lucius has nothing to be proud of now.

All is lost. He has failed. He doesn’t believe that there is a light at the end of this tunnel of numbness and despair. And because of that, he will never find the light.

[guiding ray of sunlight]

Author: Guiding Ray of Sunlight
House: Gryffindor~
Warnings: errr...angst?
Words: 447
Title: Addiction

"Imperio!" As the words left the professor's mouth, that first time, I felt an abnormal calm come over me, and I felt as if all my troubles were inexistent.

Jump around like a monkey, came a calm commanding voice in my mind.

Sure, I’ll do that, my mind urged. I like this calm state. I won't break it!

Then, the calm is gone. My troubles, my commanding father – they exist again.

"Why-?" I begin asking the professor.

I don't want troubles! I like being care-free! Jump!

I feel my legs lift and I begin bouncing up and down. Hoots pour out of my submissive mouth. The oblivion returns.

Suddenly, I am snapped back into the reality of the classroom, the harsh angles of the professor’s glasses glinting in the light.

"I will not do it to you again. If you become addicted to the feeling, the effects can be devastating. I am here to prevent dark effects, not cause them. Next student!"

I was shoved aside as another student took my place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thought my professor thought he had solved the problem, he had not. For years, I walked around, craving the feeling of selflessness, and could not find it.

Until the Dark Lord approached me. My fellow Slytherins had told him that I would be a loyal follower, no matter who was father was- and because of who he was. So he decided to test me. He told me to cast the Imperius curse on a prisoner he had there. He told me to tell the man to jump off the bridge we were standing on. As soon as the spell hit the man, I felt my own worries slip away as I went into his mind. I felt his troubles, but they weren't mine. A smile split my face as I ended his suffering. Then the feeling was gone and I looked upon my new master with hungry eyes.

"You will get more," He assured me as he branded his mark into my arm.

Now I stand over the infamous auror Frank Longbottom, and his wife. I quickly raise my wand in order to get rid of my own suffering. I need to get away. I feel a weight leave my chest as the spell settles over the couple. I command them to torture each other. NO! their minds protest simultaneously. And my calm is gone as I am banished from their soul.

A craze comes over me. I needed to get away. And they won't let me? Well, that is just too bad for those- those- those- "Crucio!" I scream franticly. My companions cackle evilly as they join in with spells of their own.

~Sunray

[MithrilQuill]

Ok, if anyone has any last minute drabbles they want to add, go ahead and do that quick please, I'm going to close the thread and get the little plot started tonight or tomorrow morning!


*rubs hands together in anticipation*