Weekly Drabble Challenge - Animals

[Ellynia]

Name: Ellynia
House: Gryffindor
Title: Pride Before a Fall
Warnings: Mild violence
Word Count:281
Authors Notes: The events of Harry's first Care of Magical Creatures lesson from Buckeak's point of view.

I hate this! I really do. All their gormless faces; as if they’ve never seen anything like me before. If anyone should be staring, it’s me! They’re far more strange-looking. Why have four limbs if you’re only going to walk on two? And they have no wings. What’s life without wings? Not many feathers on them either. Well, some have more than others.

Who’s this now? I look at the skinny boy with the ebony fur on his head and the strange mark above his eyes. He’s looking at me as if I’m about to eat him. What a vulgar thought.

I look to Hagrid. He’s speaking to the strange boy. Harry, he calls him. Harry. Har-ree. Hmm. Harry.

I’ve decided I like this human boy more than the others. He was very polite, as it happens. A deep bow; not just a mere inclination of the head and hunching of the shoulders. There’s respect in those green eyes, more than fear. Which is fine. I don’t want to be feared. I’m not here to hurt anyone.

Except that boy. The one with the almost white hair. Disrespectful, insolent, disgusting wretch!

I felt absolutely no remorse in striking him. I know I shouldn’t have, but blind anger and wounded pride always replace reason, I find. The boy’s howls of pain and the shock in the other faces is punishment enough, I suppose. I don’t want to be a monster. I’m not a monster.

I’m getting the look. You’ve done it now, Buckbeak. You’ve done it now.

I don’t want to hurt anyone, but that little snake hurt me.

I get the feeling I shall perhaps live to regret this day!

[Pinkcess of the Abyss]

Name: Pinkcess of the Abyss
House: Slytherin
Title: The Predator
Warnings: none
Word Count: 403
Authors Notes: I've written the scene where Harry steals the egg from the Dragon. I've taken the idea that Dragon's see the same as snakes. Poorly, in a blur of black and whites, and like certain snakes, they also see heat.

An eerie silence descended upon her lair. It was unnatural; like a stalker before the pounce. Her tongue slipped between her lips and flickered. A slither of malevolent essence tainted the air. There was a predator near. Her sharp eyes darted between the different shades of matter. Nothing.

BOOM! An orchestra of sound and light exploded. Vibrations ripped through the air and she lashed with her horned tail. Rock smashed. The predator's glow brightened. Rivers of flame soared from her scaly lips and scorched where the predator's light once stood.

Her breast burned with a vicious fever. A searing panic welled within her as the predator eluded her grasp. Her eyes rolled wild. She screamed her fiery rage. The red glow sprang into the air; her predator had wings. She swung and snapped with her teeth but it darted from her reach, each time a little father. It taunted her.

She thought of her children, still curled in their shells. Their bodies were soft, their teeth not yet formed. She had to destroy the predator! It threatened the sanctuary of her lair! She would gnaw upon its feeble bones. Its death would be a warning to others that thought to feast upon her eggs.

It flew higher. Its heat merged with the glare of the sun. She could see it no longer, but the tingle that ran on the currents of the air was better than her sight. Her wings unfurled and their greatness launched her into the wind.

It was behind her.

Her skull rang with the rapid beating of its heart. She swung around to see the glow shoot faster than a dying star towards her children. Her heart stopped. She roared! A scream of anger, hate and fear burst forth from her snarling jaws. She pounded with her wings as a sickening dread settled in her gut.

They were not yet born!

And then it was gone. With a flicker the predator vanished, leaving her precious children untouched. She landed upon her nest and nuzzled her loves, listening with an aching heart to the faint movement of their still forming limbs. The scent turned stale and she knew that her children were safe once more. Still, though, she kept watch. Adrenaline continued to pump through her veins. If it dared return it would be for the last time. She was ready now. It would never get near her children again.

[Equinox Chick]

Name: Equinox Chick
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Mr Tibbles
Warnings: None
Word Count: 463
Authors Notes: Tempted as I was by Aberforth and his goat, I thought this was more appropriate.

I have never liked that man. I keep saying so to my mistress. Whilst she does not understand anything I say, on this we are of one mind.

Mundungus Fletcher is not to be trusted.

It was a hot summer’s day and I was lying in the sun, dozing on-and-off. The occasional bee would fly close, I would bat at it with my paw, and then, after that effort, I would lie back, exhausted. Then my mistress, (I call her that but I’m actually the brains of our operation) came out and began talking.

“I’m worried, Mr Tibbles,” she said as she sat down next to me and began stroking behind my ears. I rubbed her hand back and then sniffed. My mistress thinks I love being stroked there, but really, it’s just a way of spreading my scent around the place – so the others know who exactly the top cat is around here. (Oh, all right, top Kneazle or top half-cat/half Kneazle if you’re being pedantic.)

“What are you worried about now?” I asked in a slightly bored tone. Of course, it sounded as though I was purring, so she rather annoyingly started stroking my stomach (I do hate that, and wish she’d stop. One day I’ll have to scratch her to get my point across.)

“It’s Harry’s new guard,” she said at last. “Everything was fine when that lovely Mr Lupin was here, and Mr Weasley is a dear – so fascinated by my photographs and knitted tea cosies. But... hmmm... well you know I don’t like to speak ill of anyone, Mr Tibbles, but ...” She pursed her lips. “Albus Dumbledore has sent him again.”

I jerked my head at that point. I knew exactly whom she meant. That shiftless, baccy- chewing, poor excuse for a wizard – Mundungus Fletcher.

“You know what to do,” she said, sighing.

I got up and ran to keep a lookout on the lookout. He was, of course, under an Invisibility Cloak, but nothing can disguise the stench of that man – even a human with their poorly developed sense of smell, would be able to sniff him out. As expected, Fletcher left his post, and I heard later he had some sort of ‘deal’ going on that he could not afford to pass up. Well, Mr Fletcher, what could be more important –cauldrons or the Boy-Who-Lived’s life?

I think you know the rest. I ran back to find my mistress, and then the Dementors came-a-calling. Fortunately, Mr Potter (or Harry as I’m allowed to call him) had a wand and was extraordinarily adept at producing a Patronus, so he saved the day.

Damn fine job too!

However, next time I see that Mundungus Fletcher, I’m going to dig my claws in somewhere it hurts – a lot!

Carole
xxx

[Jessie Lights]

Name: Jessie Lights
House: Ravenclaw
Title: The Escape
Warnings: None
Word Count: 496
Authors Note: It's rubbish, I know I'm out of practice, so please be nice.

Something bad was coming, I knew it. The heartbeats coming from inside the small hut were quickening as the men made noises back and forth that seemed to make sense to them. Danger was near and I was tied up, defenseless for the first time in my life.

I nervously dug my hove into the dirt and gave a tug on the rope. It was no good. I was stuck here. My front talons began flexing and curling as I prepared myself for an attack.

A crunching noise from the forest.

I was aware that I was being stalked, but it was not the same hazardous feeling as that coming from within the hut. My watcher was a young boy who emerged, looking more nervous than I felt. I recognized him instantly as the one I had flown around days earlier on my back. He gave a deep bow and before I could finish mine, he was jerking the rope away from the voices.

The sounds from inside were speeding up and nearing the door. Danger. It was coming and I didn’t know why. That man who had been feeding me for the last few days, why wasn’t he helping me now?

The small boy tugged harder on the rope around me and I finally complied. He seemed to fear the same evil as me, and he desperately pulled me back into his hiding place amongst the trees where another small human with longer hair waited, but was rather jumpy with her anxious eyes.

The threat was literally behind me. I stood silently with the two small creatures, apprehensively waiting for our next move.

Men suddenly came out and my eyes immediately fell on the sharp blade hanging maliciously from one man’s hand. My talon would be more than a match for his weapon and I edged forward. The rope was tugged, but I ignored it. The large man who had fed me was standing outside and I had to protect him from the man holding the blade.

A burst of noise came out of each man, all at once, sounding completely different than moments before. Anger. The man with the weapon brought it up, over his head violently, and sent it swinging through the air down again. But my large man was not to be harmed, I realized, and the two younglings led me away.

It seemed like ages before we were able to move again. I wasted away the time by picking at my wings, cleaning. The boy left us, but returned minutes later and began speaking in harsh tones to the other.

The two humans, without asking, mounted my back but, trusting the boy, I took off.

It was magnificent to stretch my wings again and the night air passed pleasantly through my feathers. We arrived alongside a stone tower where another man, older but hairier than my current riders switched places. I immediately took flight again, knowing I was heading to freedom.

[The Scribbler]

Name: The Scribbler
House: Slytherin
Title: Passwords for Prey
Warnings: None
Word Count: 371
Authors Notes: Though Crookshanks is an intelligent cat, I worked off the assumption that he perceives the world mostly with half-formed thoughts and emotions rather than full sentences.

A flick of my tail as I entered. The rat that was not a rat had disappeared again. His stale scent hung in the air. The dog that was not a dog would not get his revenge that night. I would never catch my prey. Frustration. The non-rat was too smart.

I leapt onto a bed in the dormitory. Soft bedspread. I dug in my claws. The girl with the bushy hair would be looking for me soon. The boy who always yelled and chased me would be back, too. Time was running out. I felt it.

With no non-rat, I wondered what to do next. I couldn’t go back to the forest with nothing. I couldn’t bear to see the non-dog’s somber face. Regret. The non-dog would sit in his true form, petting my fur, as he lamented his story. I didn’t understand all the sounds but heard his distraught tone. Sympathy.

Creaking door. Hide under the bed from the angry boy. Instead, the boy who smelt of fear tramped into the room. Relief. I risked a peek at him, poking my head out from the dark. He set his magic stick on the wood perch nearby. The perch nice for enjoying the warm sunset. Soft purr. The boy sat on the bed. Distress in his face like usual.

He pulled a crumpled scrap of parchment out of his pocket. He picked up a bird feather off the perch. Been so long since I last ate. The bushy one would be coming soon. I had to move quickly but still waited. The boy scratched the scrap with the feather tip, muttering to himself all the while.

I caught the words ‘password’ and ‘Gryffindor tower’. They sounded familiar. Important. Possibly valuable. The non-dog would like it.

“Dinner!” the boy suddenly exclaimed. He mumbled something else I didn’t recognize and rushed through the door. The feather and scrap left behind.

My opportunity. I padded to the perch and easily jumped up. My whiskers brushed the paper. Strange scratches of the two-legged ones. I couldn’t read it but somehow knew the non-dog could use the information. I lifted the scrap in my mouth. Carefully. Yes, the non-dog would not be disappointed that night.

[sorrow_of_severus]

Name: sorrow_of_severus
House: Gryffindor
Title: I, Crookshanks
Warnings: None
Word Count: 194
Authors Notes: This is a missing moment from PoA.

The girl browsing in the shop doesn't even glance my way. I should be used to that by now. Nobody ever notices me.

Gradually, she makes her way over to the owl section. Oh, how I hate those owls! They think that they rule the world, just because wizards and witches entrust them with their most important correspondences. Hmmmph! What I wouldn’t give to sink my claws into them!

Oh, excuse my manners. I haven’t properly introduced myself. I really don’t have a name. I’m generally known as “that darn cat” by the owner of Magical Menagerie. It drives me mad. I’m mostly Kneazle, for heaven’s sake!

You’re surprised that a Kneazle thinks in complete sentences, are you? We’re intelligent creatures, you know.

The girl catches sight of me out of the corner of her eye. “Oh!” she exclaims. “A Kneazle! I’ve read about them.”

To my surprise, she heads right over to me. She cocks her head to the side as she examines me through the bars of the cage. “You’re really not much to look at,” she finally says.

She isn’t either, with her bushy hair and crooked teeth. Still, there’s something intriguing in her eyes – intelligence. She might be a witch I can respect.

“Your ginger fur reminds me of Ron,” she adds with a laugh. “Come to think of it, neither of you are lookers.”

Despite her words, my appearance seems to appeal to her. My resemblance to this Ron must be a mark in my favor, I suppose.

“I'll take this one,” she declares to the witch at the counter, pointing to me.

[DracoGurlFurever]

Name: DracoGurlFurever
House: Gryffindor
Title: Define Love.
Warnings: mentions death.
Word Count: 244.

I have never known love; I have only known manipulation, distrust, secrecy, isolation, neglect, and terror.

Those of my species are not to be loved; we are to be feared. We are the stuff of nightmares, not dreams. We are a wall – unscalable, insurmountable – of complete blankness.

My very existence is a mistake. It is against nature, they say. I agree. I am an abomination. I am at the mercy of those who create me, for they stop me from murdering relentlessly. You see, I can’t stop. It’s a feeding frenzy. It makes me a monster, a killer, a murderer, without any conscious action on my part. Sight is not a gift; it is my weapon.

Worse than being a murderer on my own, however, is being a murderer on the whim of those who control me. Through the centuries, I have been neglected by all but a select few – why search for those you cannot communicate with, after all?

Those who speak to me are different. They seem at home in the dungeons, perhaps because they have explored the many stone chambers of the place where I am kept. They seem…isolated, too. I relate to them. I have heard them whisper through the walls, and I am gripped with a terrible mixture of wanting to speak to someone, anyone, while at the same time trying to stay away from as many people as I can.

I whisper back, sometimes. Most of them never hear me.