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Thread: The REAL April Challenge ~ Hysterical/Historical?

  1. #1
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    The REAL April Challenge ~ Hysterical/Historical?

    Well, now we’re back after our day robe shopping (I purchased a fabulous set of robes designed by Jean-Paul Golompierre, no less) so let the real April competition began.

    (I can hear the protests from here, so the goat competition will still run.)



    HYSTERICAL/HISTORICAL

    (the clue is in the title)


    Your task is to write a drabble which must be historical, hysterical, or both. And how will you achieve this? Why, by incorporating one of the greatest witches of the Potterverse in your drabble. Yes, we are talking about, the old dragon herself . . .



    GREAT-AUNT MURIEL!


    The drabble must feature her. Not just a name-check, or a photograph. She must be in the drabble and have a line of dialogue.

    It can be at any time in her life. (b. c1890)

    Aaaaand, just to liven it up a little, you must use these words in your drabble (please bold them)

    spice
    potato
    bath
    petal
    wellington

    You are allowed to alter the words slightly, so spice could be spicy or spicing, for instance.

    All drabbles must be between 300-500 words.

    Points
    5 points participation

    Then, if we have sufficient quality, we shall award thusly!

    5 points for third
    10 points for second
    15 points for first.


    Use this form for your entries:


    PHP Code:
    [B]Name:[/B]
    [
    B]House:[/B]
    [
    B]Title:[/B]
    [
    B]Ratings  Warnings:[/B]
    [
    B]A/N:[/B
    This competition will close on April 30th at 10 pm BST .

    All normal MNFF submission guidelines apply. This means you should use betas, format properly, and not annoy the barmaids with canon spelling errors or dodgy timeline issues.
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  2. #2
    Fifth Year Hufflepuff
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    Name:majestic_ginny/Nadia
    House: Poufsouffle
    Title:Aunt Muriel's Busy(?) Day
    Ratings & Warnings:1st-2nd; none
    A/N:

    Muriel bumbles about in her kitchen, preparing breakfast for herself. It takes her a while to get her things, though; she’s not as young as she once was. After twice mistaking the sugar for salt and the potatoes as the piece of clay she rubs her foot with, she finally manages to cook up a somewhat decent meal of spiced potatoes. One mouthful, though, and she spits it out, grimacing and sticking her tongue out as if she were retching. It seems like she’s put in cardamom flakes instead of pepper. She hates cardamom.

    She didn’t care, though. She’ll have some of that scrumptious food Martha – or was it Molly? – would cook that afternoon.

    That pudgy little red-head had popped out another child last month, and Muriel was off to their house to see it. After all, she’s a beloved family member and they love her. Muriel had thought that after five kids, two of which were twins, Arthur and Martha would have stopped with the babies. But she was wrong. Who knew how many were to come.

    Considering that her breakfast was a waste, she decides to head over there right now. Before that, she takes a short bath and shampoos her almost non-existent greying hair with her rose-petal fragranced shampoo – after all, everyone loves her and she needs to look presentable. Hobbling over to the fireplace with her walking stick in hand, she grapples around until she finds the jar of Floo Powder. Throwing it into the fire, which turns a bright green that hurt her eyes, she steps into it and manages to choke out “The Bu-burrow!” She spins on the spot, her eyes shut, as she starts whizzing through fireplaces. As she slows down and comes to a stop, she peeks open her eyes and sees the house already full of little red-headed midgets – those pesky little Weasley kids.

    “Arthur!” she yells, stepping forwards quickly.

    A bit too quickly.

    Before she realizes it, she trips over a wellington boot and falls to the floor, face first.

    {iBAbanner!} ~♥~ {iDrabble!} ~♥~ {iExcerpt!} ~♥~ {iPuff!}


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  3. #3
    Sixth Year Slytherin
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    Name: Oregonian
    House: Slytherin
    Title: A Visit From Cousin Gordon
    Ratings & Warnings: 1st-2nd Years, No Warnings
    A/N:

    "Cousin Gordon!" Muriel cried as the servant opened the door and a tall, brown-haired man entered. "Mama says you came all the way from New Zealand."

    "From Wellington, the capital city," Gordon exclaimed, "just to see my little cousin. You're so big now. How old are you?"

    "Ten," Muriel said proudly.

    "My, my. Double digits. Are you at school?"

    "No, Eleanor teaches me. She's my governess."

    "Let me guess. An old lady with gray hair and a stern expression."

    Muriel laughed. "She's young and pretty and loads of fun. She teaches me lots of things."

    "Like what?"

    "Reading writing, maths, history, all about strange countries, playing the piano, drawing, plants and animals. I draw the flowers."

    She took Gordon's hand and drew him into the dining room. "I wanted to cut red poppies for the table, but Mama said they drop their petals when they're cut. So I took roses instead. And Cook let me help make the custard. I stirred it over a bain de Marie -- that means "Mary's bath" in French -- so it wouldn't burn. Then she got a nutmeg from the spice drawer and let me grate it over the bowls."

    "What else are we having?" Gordon asked. "Roast mutton, to make me feel at home?"

    "No, silly, quail and pommes frites. That means 'fried potatoes' in French."

    "Who teaches you these French words?"

    "Eleanor."

    "Would you like to learn a word in the Maori language?"

    "Who are the Maori?"

    "The native people of New Zealand."

    "Are they fierce?"

    "Well, they are fierce in the defense of their homes and families, but that's how it should be, don't you think?"

    Muriel frowned, contemplating this.

    "I'll teach you the most important word."

    "What's that?"

    "Love. In Maori you say Aroha. Te Aroha means 'the love'."

    Muriel tried to say it, imitating Gordon.

    "That's also the name of a volcano in the north island."

    "Why do they call it 'love'?"

    "They say that a Maori chieftain got lost while traveling, so he climbed the volcano and from its top he could see his village. He was so happy he named the volcano Te Aroha. I climbed it once. I'll tell you about it at lunch."

    He paused a moment.

    "I expect you'll be going to Hogwarts next year?"

    "Yes, Daddy decided to let me go. He says that nowadays girls need a good education. Eleanor went there too."

    "What will Eleanor do after you leave?"

    Muriel's face clouded. She had not thought about that.

    Eleanor was pureblood; Muriel's father would require that. But after Hogwarts, Eleanor went into a service position, not marriage. Her family was obviously not rich; she was not a good "catch". After Muriel left, Eleanor would take another governess job, becoming less marriageable as the years elapsed. Society was so rigid here, Gordon thought, not like New Zealand, where what mattered was strength, initiative, hard work, courage. Eleanor could do well there. New Zealand needed witches like Eleanor, and witches like Eleanor needed New Zealand.

  4. #4
    Fourth Year Ravenclaw
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    Name: 1000blahblahblah
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: She Was Almost Muriel Dippet Once
    Ratings & Warnings: 1st-2nd Years, none
    A/N: a short scene from Spring 1908.


    “Muriel, dear!” Armando kissed her in greeting.

    “How naughty of you not to drop by for the Easter celebration,” Muriel admonished as he led her to the lavishly set table. She smiled portentously. “This looks delicious—you’re such an excellent cook.”

    “Just beef and a few spices,” he said modestly, pulling out a chair for her. “How was it yesterday?”

    Muriel sat down primly. “Satisfactory. Would have been much dignified by the presence of more respectable guests. Such strange taste in friends my sister-in-law has! Half-bloods like that outspoken Marchbanks, and Fawcett, who never seems to bathe…” She wrinkled her nose. “Even the Weasleys—purebloods, but their sons are unbearable, wearing those awful wellingtons and tracking mud—”

    “I like those boys,” Armando interjected as he dished out the potatoes. “Keen chaps, all Ravenclaws, I expect—though it’s too early to tell for the youngest; isn’t he a baby still?”

    “Bilius? Yes. Couldn’t think why they brought him along; he wailed endlessly, and ripped petals off the floral arrangements.”

    “Children do do that, I’m afraid,” Armando remarked, lifting his fork to begin eating.

    Muriel shuddered. “Merlin forbid we should ever have one.”

    Shocked, his fork clattered upon his plate. “But—don’t you intend to have children?”

    Her lips parted in surprise. “Absolutely not. Imagine the noise, the unendurable disorder!”

    Armando, reeling at her statement, stared in disbelief. She must want children. They might never have discussed it, but he’d held the assumption ever since they began courting. He enjoyed children despite their unruly tendencies. Muriel was easily troubled, perhaps; but he believed that mothering was the natural vocation of all women.

    “I thought we would—don’t you wish to have a family?” he managed.

    Muriel shook her head deliberately, as if he were being foolish. “A family of two, Armando.”

    “Muriel, you cannot feel that way! Families need children—they’re delightful!” he declared, waving his hands.

    “They’re most certainly not delightful—as I said, Bilius cried constantly; even my niece behaved immaturely—”

    “Immaturity makes them delightful! Children are—are—” He struggled to convey the sentiment.

    Muriel interrupted loudly, “Armando, contain yourself! You are spouting utter nonsense!”

    “Muriel, how can you say such things?” he cried.

    Armando!" she spat. “You are being appallingly un-gentlemanlike!”

    You’re being appallingly unladylike! Not wanting children!”

    “How dare you!” she screeched, rising from the table. “And I abhor children! They’re horrid little monsters!”

    Armando stood. “Are you MAD?!”

    She began shrieking, hurling abuse at him, her eyes bloodshot. Yet he was too angry to listen to anything else she had to say. If she didn’t want to raise children with him, she hadn’t truly agreed to marry him.

    “—TO PUT UP WITH YOUR LUDICROUS BELIEFS AND CHURLISH SLURS—”

    “FINE!” He strode over, grabbed her left hand, and slid the engagement ring off her finger.

    She inhaled sharply, eyes widening. Then she let out several shrill sobs and turned to march out the door, pausing only to throw him one last furious glance.

    -on an extended hiatus (though may resurface with a poem or two occasionally)-
    Writing*Poeting*Dueling*Excerpting*Drabbling


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  5. #5
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    Thank you all very much for entering.

    Barmaids
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  6. #6
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    RESULTS!


    As there were only three entries for this, I am only awarding a first place. Also, due to the reduced number of entries, I'm not awarding fifteen points to the winner, but ten.

    First Place - 1000timesingoldenink - Ravenclaw - 10 points

    You will all receive participation points.

    Gryffindor - 0.o
    Hufflepuff - 5
    Ravenclaw - 15
    Slytherin - 5


    ~Carole~
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 05-02-2013 at 08:39 AM.
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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