Results 1 to 9 of 9

Thread: The January Challenge - A New You.

  1. #1
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    Location
    using rare and complicated words
    Posts
    2,991

    The January Challenge - A New You.

    THE JANUARY CHALLENGE


    I suspect everyone knows how January got its name. The Roman god, Janus, was the god who said 'Ta-Ra' to the old year and 'Hiya' to the new. And for that reason he had two faces. One old, one young. (Bit like Prof Quirrell - see everything ties up in the end.)

    For this month's challenge, I want you to take a canon character and give them another side, a secret, no less. Not just any secret, this has to be something to do with their heritage - or their blood. Whether they've known all the time or are just discovering the secret is up to you, but it's how they handle the knowledge that's going to make your drabble compelling.

    I'm giving you free rein with the secret, so why not attempt something fantastical? In the past we've had Narcissa as a part Veela and Abraxas as a Vampire, so perhaps follow those lines rather than Zabini discovering his mum kills her old husbands, or Dean finding his dad was a wizard.


    Use this form:


    PHP Code:
    [B]Name:[/B]
    [
    B]House:[/B]
    [
    B]Title:[/B]
    [
    B]Ratings and Warnings:[/B]
    [
    B]A/N:[/B

    Rules:

    Word Count. Because it's a monthly challenge, I'm going to be generous and say between 400-800 words.
    All drabbles must conform to MNFF guidelines.
    Use of a beta is encouraged.
    Closing date: 31st January 10 PM (GMT)

    Points:
    5 points per entrant, providing you meet the submission criteria.
    You may enter more than once, but you'll only get one set of participation points and you won't place more than once.
    If there are enough entries of fabulous quality, then I shall award points for first, second and third place.
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 01-05-2014 at 06:52 PM.

    Banner by the fabulous Julia - theoplaeye

  2. #2
    Sixth Year Slytherin
    Snape's Not Evil?
    Oregonian's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2012
    Location
    The green and rainy Pacific Northwest
    Posts
    394
    Name: Oregonian
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Scorpius Dracoson
    Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd Years, None
    A/N: This drabble is set in 2022, when Scorpius is sixteen years old. Additional note placed at end of story to avoid spoiler. Thanks to Nagini Riddle for her beta assistance.

    The foreman stepped into Draco’s home office, his wool cap in his hands.

    “Mr. Malfoy, we’ve found something at the excavation site that you should see.”

    Draco looked up from his papers and regarded the man quizzically. “Well, what have you found? Tell me.”

    “Bones, sir. We think they may be human. At about five feet depth. We’ve stopped the digging for now.”

    Draco pushed back his chair and lifted his lanky frame upright; at age forty-two he was as lean as ever, his hair still without a strand of gray, his pale skin untanned.

    “Show me where these bones are, Henson,” he said, with a sinking feeling that he was about to come face to face with more evidence of atrocities from the second wizarding war.

    But out at the construction site, peering down into the excavations for the foundations of the new building, Draco could see a dark brown, partially uncovered skull and sections of some longer bones, clavicles, sternum, and a few ribs. He was surprised and relieved by the color because he had been expecting to see white bones with perhaps shreds of rotting clothing around them, the remains of Muggles or Muggle-borns killed on his estate during the war. These bones, however, looked very old.

    Not my fault was his immediate reaction, and then he realized that it could still be the fault of the Malfoy family of a few centuries ago.

    The Department of Magical Law Enforcement assessed the dig site and advised Draco that the discovery was a matter of archaeology, not criminal investigation, impelling Draco to ask Hermione for advice about seeking assistance from the Muggle scientific world. After some research she directed him to a national heritage organization which took charge of the site and excavated it professionally.

    It proved to contain five skeletons: two adult males, two adult females, and a juvenile. A few pieces of metal jewelry and clothes-fastening devices were found with the skeletons, but no identifying items.

    “The metal objects appear to date the remains to the high middle ages,” the senior archaeologist told Draco, “but radiocarbon dating can provide a more exact determination, if you wish to do it.”

    “I do,” Draco replied. “It’s important to know if these people were our ancestors.” The archaeologist regarded him with surprise, and Draco continued. “Our family entered England from France with the Norman Conquest and has lived in this locale for centuries.”

    “But Dad,” Scorpius interrupted, “our ancestors are all buried in the mausoleum, not in the dirt. Are some of them missing?”

    “Not that I’m aware of,” Draco responded drily to his son. “I believe that everyone in the family tree is accounted for.”

    “A DNA analysis might shed some light on the question of consanguinity,” the archaeologist began, but Scorpius quickly asked, “What’s that?”

    “Whether you and these people are blood relatives. We can probably extract DNA from the skeletal teeth and compare it with your DNA. If they are similar, it suggests you are related.”

    “From my teeth?” Scorpius asked, shrinking back a little.

    “No,” laughed the archaeologist, “from a cheek swab.”

    Eager to move closer to identifying the skeletons, and reluctant to reveal his ignorance of radiocarbon dating and DNA analysis, Draco promptly agreed to the tests. A month later the whole family met with the archaeologist again.

    “The date we came up with for the skeletons was 1290, give or take a few years. As for the DNA, the tests show no match. These people were not your ancestors, but they do share genetic characteristics with the population of France. You, on the other hand, share genetic markers with the population of Iceland.”

    Draco was stunned. “You must be mistaken.”

    “No, the Icelandic population is highly inbred and its genome is well known. There is no question. You are descendants of Icelanders.”

    “Look at us, Dad,” Scorpius exclaimed, “tall, blond, with long, thin faces. We don’t look French. Those skeletons we dug up—they were short.”

    “We were French,” Draco said wonderingly. “Then suddenly we were Icelandic. How? There’s no break in the line; they’re all in the mausoleum…”

    “Dad, we’ve got Frenchmen buried in the dirt in 1290 and Icelanders sitting in the hall. What does that tell you? Tall blond Malfoys? We’ve got to look at those skeletons in the tombs, see when they suddenly got tall.”

    “Wait a minute, Scorpius,” Draco said sternly. “I have no intention of disturbing our family tombs. So just forget about it.”

    But Scorpius would not be deterred. “If you don’t open them, then when I’m an old man and you’re dead, I will do it. So we might as well look at them now.”

    Additional A/N: Icelandic people do not have family surnames. Their second name is their father's given name with -son or -dottir appended. Thus Scorpius as an Icelander would be called Scorpius Dracoson.
    Last edited by Oregonian; 01-16-2014 at 03:45 PM.
    Writer, Poet, Drabbler, Occasional Beta, Slytherin Cheerleader
    This lovely banner is a gift from my good friend Nagini Riddle.

  3. #3
    Seventh Year Gryffindor
    The Giant Spider is Hagrid's... Friend?!?
    Nagini Riddle's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2012
    Location
    EADA Benjamin Stone's office (having somehow jumped back to the early 90s)
    Posts
    709
    Name: Nagini Riddle
    House: The one with lions, although I am convinced there are braver animals
    Title: Hermione's Tail
    Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd yrs; um... pretty much none, except for AU. Suspension of belief is required
    A/N: I took to heart what our beloved barmaid said and went with a rather wild idea that I had. Of course, it isn't anything that wild, knowing me, but I had fun contemplating it! Perhaps this will turn into a story... A special shout out to Vicki, for looking this over for me.


    Hermione rubbed her temples for the umpteenth time, trying to massage away the headache that was blossoming from hours of research. Normally, Hermione was content and had no problems with studying—a whole day could pass without her noticing! But today, the research was proving difficult and impossible, almost as if it were resisting her efforts. She was ready to just give up and come back to it later—much later. It wasn’t as if it was vital to her life that she complete this one section of the pedigree chart. Well…

    Her problem was that she couldn’t find any records of her great-grandmother’s birth, and she had only been able to locate the paternal side of said great-grandmother. That part wasn’t proving difficult, and she had gone back at least eight generations from that side. But all she had of her great-grandmother was a marriage record to her great-grandfather and the father’s lineage. And Hermione was now becoming desperate for any inkling of the maternal side. There had to be something.

    It had briefly crossed her mind that perhaps she could find an answer if she looked in some magical genealogy books—perhaps she could be related to a witch or wizard. After all, Professor Slughorn had asked if she had been related to a Granger he knew. Plus, Hermione had been studying the passing of magic, and concluded that Squibs could carry the “magic” gene. It was entirely possible that magic had been passed on to her through a line that started with a witch or wizard. But even if that were the case, there would still be a record of her great-grandmother’s birth.

    With a sigh, she stared at the blank spot above her great-grandmother’s name. If she couldn’t find any public records, maybe she could find some personal ones.

    A couple weeks later, Hermione finally found what she had been looking for—a diary, penned by her great-grandmother. She didn’t even wait to find a comfortable spot to read, but instead sat right down and started on the first page.

    The first entry was about her great-grandmother’s birthday party. She had just turned eleven, and one of her presents had been this diary. Her father had told her that the journal was something special, but he hadn’t said why. Her great-grandmother, Iris, lamented the fact that her mother was, once again, absent. It appeared that Iris had never gotten to see her mother, but she knew that she was still alive. Her father always got a misty look in his eye when he talked of her, and it was clear that he loved her. But when asked what happened, her father would always say that her mother was elsewhere.

    Hermione read on through to the next day. Iris had decided to look for pictures of her mother, determined to at least see for herself what her mother was like. But all she found were some photos of her father, and a painting of her father and her as a toddler. Upset, she took the matter to her father, who tried to evade the question, but Iris persisted. Finally, her father decided that it was time for his daughter to hear about her mother.

    At this point, the entry stopped, and some of the ink ran on the pages, as though tears had hit the blots. Iris was having some difficulty writing out what she had learned, and she wondered if her father wasn’t crazy.

    The next entry showed that a week had passed, and Iris admitted that she had dreaded writing down her father’s words for fear that she would have been deemed mad. But after some consideration, she decided to write down the story anyway:

    Father says that he met mother when exploring a cove with some friends of his. He had gotten separated from the group, and had found his way to a clearing with a freshwater lagoon. At first, he hadn’t registered what he was seeing, but when he realized there was a woman, sunbathing on a rock, he had eagerly rushed over to her.

    But she wasn’t a woman. In fact, she wasn’t even human. Father says that it is all true, that she had the top half of a woman, but her bottom half was thickly covered in iridescent fish scales. Her eyes were large and a stormy blue, while her hair was wild and auburn. She had smiled at him, and when she spoke, the birds stopped to listen and the gentle waves of the lagoon rose higher in an attempt to reach her perch.

    I wonder if Father was delirious that day, because I cannot fathom my heritage to include a she-fish.


    Hermione could only stare in wonder at the page before her. Was such a thing possible?
    Last edited by Nagini Riddle; 01-19-2014 at 07:20 AM.
    Banner by the opaleye and avvie by me

  4. #4
    'Til the end of the line Ravenclaw
    Unspeakable
    Kill the Spare
    ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
    Location
    Ganking demons
    Posts
    2,080
    Name: ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Wayward Son
    Ratings and Warnings: 3rd-5th Years: Mild Profanity
    A/N: Word says this is 801, but it’s also counting em-dashes and the periods in my ellipsis as individual words, so the actual count is 795.

    Twat.

    That word surfaced every time Oliver Wood thought about Puddlemere’s new bagboy: McLogger, McLovin, or something like that. Whatever his name, every word out of the man’s mouth made Oliver want to knock his teeth down his throat. McSomeone was arrogant and boastful, with his wild stories of Quidditch, adventure, and womanising.

    And, now, McTwatface was sitting himself down right next to Oliver at the pub.

    “Nice night for a pint, yeah?” he said earnestly, almost making Oliver feel guilty about his previous line of thought. Almost.

    “Indeed. I do like my pints. Alone.” Illustrating his point, Oliver took a long draught of his beer until nothing was left but a foamy moustache. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and dropped a couple of Galleons on the bar, gritting his teeth as he pushed out of his seat and strode towards the exit. He never looked back on his unwanted companion, but just before he reached the door, the shout across the room stopped him in his tracks. “Oliver, wait!”

    Wondering when he had come to a first-name basis with somebody he both disliked and didn’t know his actual name was a mystery to Oliver, but he did halt as the sound of footsteps came up behind him and fought the urge to cringe when a hand touched his shoulder.

    With a huff of annoyance, Oliver turned around. “Listen, McGoogle —”

    “McLaggen,” he corrected with a measure of irritation. “Cormac McLaggen.”

    “Whatever,” Oliver growled. “I don’t like you. I don’t want to be mates, and I don’t want to spend any time with you whatsoever apart from what our jobs require. Now please, either stay here or leave, and I’ll pick the other one.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “And don’t follow me again.”

    Cormac looked taken aback by the venom in Oliver’s tone but pressed on. “I’m not here to stalk you, Wood. I’m here to . . . verify.”

    Oliver raised a brow as he crossed his well-muscled arms. “I’m not taking a picture with you.”

    Taking a similar posture, Cormac stood toe to toe with Oliver and shook his head. “Well, the brains aren’t from our dad’s side, that’s for bloody certain.”

    His throat rumbling menacingly, Oliver stepped forward and said, “Now, you’d better step off, you empty-headed son of a — what did you say?”

    What Cormac had said finally sunk in. Oliver woodenly walked back to his seat and gestured for another round. ‘Our’ father, he had said. The ramifications of a statement like that were gigantic — so much so that Oliver didn’t protest when Cormac sat back down. There were several minutes of silence before Oliver growled, “Explain.”

    “Believe me, I wasn’t any happier when I was told. Finding out your mum was a Quidditch groupie is horrible. I’ll never get that conversation out of my brain.” Grabbing Oliver’s beer, Cormac emptied it despite the sputtered protest. “I’m surprised she knows which one of them is my dad at all, but she said she’s sure, so here I am.”

    Oliver resisted the urge to retch as he thought about his mum. Did she know her husband had been unfaithful? Granted, Oliver hadn’t spoken to his father in five years because he was an abusive, obsessive bastard; the idea of infidelity didn’t seem too unlikely.

    Yet while Oliver’s mind conjured all the reasons they couldn’t possibly have been related, he could not deny the similarities. Same tall, stocky build; same squared jaw; same Roman nose; same blue eyes. If they were two other blokes and if Cormac weren’t a smouldering git, he might’ve conceded that the two of them were, possibly, related.

    With a heavy sigh, Oliver started, “Okay, let’s say I believe you. What do you want from me?”

    Cormac looked pointedly at his stolen beer. “To know him, I guess. Why do you think I took this crap job in the first place? My family has more money than the Malfoys.”

    With a snort, Oliver re-appropriated his drink. “Then talk to Dad. That’ll make one of us.”

    “Don’t get on, then?”

    Oliver shook his head. “He’s an arse, and you’re probably better off not knowing him at all.”

    Shrugging, Cormac said, “You turned out all right.”

    “Well,” Oliver said, “when you have every mistake you could make spelled out in front of you, it’s easier to dodge them.” Groaning as his beer’s lifespan came to an end, Oliver stood and said, “Look, kid, if he’s really your dad, I’m sorry. Go home to your mum and remember the good times, because you won’t find any with him.”

    Cormac nodded as Oliver headed towards the exit.

    However, just as his hand closed around the doorknob, Oliver turned and, to his own surprise, called, “Cormac! Same time next week?”

    The younger man smiled and nodded.
    Last edited by ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor; 02-01-2014 at 08:21 AM.
    Jess WritesJess DrabblesJess DuelsJess PoetsJess Draws



    Gorgeous banner by Dinny / Evora.


  5. #5
    First Year Gryffindor
    Setting Snakes on Hapless Relatives
    Hypatia's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2011
    Location
    Canada
    Posts
    28
    Name: Hypatia
    House: GryffinRoar
    Title: Darkest Black
    Ratings and Warnings: 1st-2nd Years
    A/N: During a Wandlore class, Bellatrix stumbles on a Black family skeleton

    “Peasegood’s rules of core inheritance state that a unicorn core is dominant with respect to a dragon core. Both are dominant with respect to the rarer wand core: phoenix feather,” Professor Wood informed the class.

    Bellatrix lazily took notes. Her father’s wand had a phoenix feather core, as did his pride and joy, Andy. Bella had only signed up for the stupid Wandlore elective in an effort to impress her father, but the ‘E’ she’d been averaging had thus far only managed a raised eyebrow. She resolved to pay closer attention.

    “As an exercise, each of you will attempt a Punnett square to represent your parents.” A hand went up. Professor Wood sighed. “Yes, Mr Tonks?”

    “I’m Muggle-born. What am I supposed to do?”

    The class tittered. Professor Wood wrinkled her nose. “Clearly, normal magical inheritance doesn’t apply to you.” She addressed the class. “Anyone of Muggle parentage should work on the following…”

    Bellatrix smirked as she began her assignment. Clearly this wasn’t a class for the inferior. She started by marking Father as pp, for phoenix. That seemed easy enough. Mother’s wand had a unicorn hair. She checked her text and noted that it could be any of three possibilities: UU, Ud, or Up. The first was immediately ruled out since that would mean that her parents could only have had children with unicorn cores. Bellatrix lovingly brushed her fingers along her own dragon heartstring wand.

    She tried the pp and Ud combination. Consulting her text revealed that this would yield unicorn and dragon cores. That wouldn’t account for Andy’s precious phoenix feather.

    Bella sighed and tried the third option, but it resulted in only unicorn and phoenix, leaving herself out. She frowned at her parchment, trying to find her error. Try as she might, she couldn’t find a combination that yielded the results she needed. Bella’s stomach clenched. She must have made a mistake.

    “Would you like some help, Miss Black?” Professor Wood inquired, as she made her way down the row of desks.

    Bellatrix tapped her quill. “Are these correct?”

    The instructor looked over Bella’s parchment and smiled. “Excellent. Five points to Slytherin.”

    Bellatrix sat numbly in her seat for the remainder of the class. Something was terribly wrong, and Professor Wood had unwittingly confirmed it. Andromeda and Bellatrix couldn’t both be Blacks. Furthermore, Cygnus Black had received an ‘O’ in NEWT level Wandlore; he already knew.

    Bellatrix spent the next few months trying to conclusively prove that Druella Black nee Rosier was a Ud instead of a Up. After writing to various family members and compiling three generations of history on the Rosier side, Bellatrix was no closer to proving Andromeda illegitimate.

    Instead, she had only managed to prove that it was impossible to know for certain which of them wasn’t Cygnus Black’s daughter. Bellatrix was left with hollow knowledge that while her father couldn’t know which girl was his daughter, he had clearly chosen Andromeda.

    A hot seed of hatred had been planted where jealousy had only existed before. Andromeda might be Father’s favourite, but there was no way to prove which daughter was the Black. Bellatrix resolved to be the truest Black, the purest of pure-bloods. She would force her father to choose her over Andromeda.

    It was nearly a decade before Bellatrix watched with grim satisfaction as Andromeda was blasted off the family tapestry. Her only disappointment was that Aunt Walburga got to do it. She’d longed for the day she could turn Andromeda’s pretty face into a scorched burn mark. It was her own fault; Andromeda had thrown everything away for a Mudblood. Bellatrix could barely contain her elation as she entered her father’s study.

    Cygnus’s cheeks had hollowed in the past few weeks. “What do you want, Bellatrix?” he gruffly asked.

    Bellatrix tasted bile. Her father was blinking back tears. “She wasn’t even your daughter!” she spat.

    The moist grey eyes immediately hardened. Cygnus glared at his eldest, but eventually sighed in resignation. “How did you figure it out?”

    “Wandlore. Peasegood’s rules of inheritance,” Bellatrix shot back smugly.

    Cygnus snorted.

    “You think it’s funny?” Bellatrix demanded. She was gripping her wand so hard that her knuckles turned white.

    Cygnus drawled, “Peasegood’s crack-pot theory was disproved years ago.”

    “Then how did you know?” Bellatrix blurted.

    “I caught your mother and your uncle Orion at a Christmas party. Nine months later…” He shrugged, allowing Bellatrix to fill in the blanks.

    Bellatrix stared at the man whose approval had mattered so much. She choked on the words, “So you’ve known all along that I was your daughter and that – that miserable - that Mudblood marrying-”

    Cygnus shrugged. He coolly regarded his eldest. “What can I say, Bellatrix? Andy’s the daughter I loved. You’re just the reason I had to get married.”
    Photobucket

  6. #6
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    Location
    using rare and complicated words
    Posts
    2,991
    CLOSED!

    I'm aware there might be a late entry from someone who posted in the wrong place, so the thread will be reopened to accommodate them.

    Thank you

    Banner by the fabulous Julia - theoplaeye

  7. #7
    First Year Hufflepuff
    In the Rubble at Godric's Hollow

    Join Date
    Oct 2013
    Posts
    1
    Name dreamsnape
    House Hufflepuff
    Title The Flitwick Papers
    Ratings and Warnings 1st-2nd Years, None

    One cold, blustery evening in early November, Professor Filius Flitwick walked alone from Hogwarts Castle to the village of Hogsmeade. Passing by the Three Broomsticks, he instead went down a small side street to the Hog’s Head. Upon entering the dingy, dimly-lit bar, he greeted the barman. He ordered and paid for two glasses of mead, and carried them to a table in the far corner. The only other people in the pub were two elderly witches huddled by the fire. Flitwick perched himself on a chair facing the door and waited.

    A few minutes later, another short person entered the pub. Flitwick immediately recognized the low-browed face with its big brown eyes, receding chin and large, oddly blunted nose. A lumpy woolen cap was pulled down over the ears, and a green cloak covered the figure down to the pointy-toed boots. The newcomer looked around, saw Flitwick and approached him. “Filius,” he said with a smile.

    “Hullo, Dad,” said Flitwick, smiling back. The two shook hands and the elder Flitwick climbed onto a chair facing his son.

    “Good to see you again.”

    “It’s good to see you, too, Dad. How are you?”

    “Not bad. You?”

    “All right. How’s Mum?”

    “She’s fine,” said the elder Flitwick, taking the glass his son handed to him. “Cheers,” he said before taking a sip. Glancing around the nearly empty pub, he pulled a couple of sheets of parchment from under his cloak. “Well,” he said, pushing them across the table, “I think I’ve got everything you need here.”

    Flitwick took the papers and looked at them closely.

    “I heard about a fellow who does this kind of thing,” his father explained, “so I went to him and he did this one for me.” He tapped his long index finger on the topmost sheet. “Then I paid a visit to my former employer. It’s only Madam left now, with Channy looking after her. She seemed glad to see me, even offered me my old job back.” He chuckled. “If I didn’t have your mother, I might be tempted. She was always good to me, you know.”

    “You’ve always said so,” said Flitwick, nodding.

    “Anyway, I told her that I had come again to ask her to do us another great favor… Well, when I said that it was for you, she was all for it. She signed that”--indicating the second sheet of parchment--“and she agreed to the story we came up with, in case anyone comes around asking. I told her I was most grateful. Great lady, she is. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

    “Neither would I,” Flitwick said. “I’ll send her an owl thanking her myself.”

    “Good. So, according to this you are officially a full-blooded wizard.”

    “It looks like I am,” Flitwick agreed. He tucked the papers into his robes, adding, “Thanks for doing this for me. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble.”

    “No problem,” his father replied. “ Anyway, it’s not your fault. It’s that foul lot at the Ministry, with all their pureblood nonsense. They’re all working for You-Know-Who now.”

    “I know,” Flitwick said resignedly. “It’s the same here at Hogwarts. Snape’s the headmaster, and he killed Dumbledore. But it’s his two assistants who are the worst, with their barbaric punishments.”

    “Why don’t you quit? You could come back home…”

    “No, I don’t want to leave the students now. The other teachers and I do what we can to help them.”

    “Well, that’s good of you. These are dark times, and no mistake,” said the elder Flitwick, shaking his head. He went on to relate some news from home, of the family and neighbors Flitwick had known since his childhood. When they had drank their mead and decided that it was time to go, they got up and left the pub.

    “You know, Dad…” said the Charms professor, “I’ve never been ashamed of you. If things were different, I’d tell everyone that you’re my dad, and the best dad anyone could ask for.”

    His father smiled. “Thanks, Filius. I’m very proud of you, too,” he said, embracing his son. “Take care now.”

    “You too, Dad. And give my love to Mum.”

    His father nodded, then took a step back. He glanced around the dark side street for a moment, which was empty but for the two of them. He looked back at Flitwick and smiled, then with a loud crack, he disappeared.

    Flitwick remained, contemplating the spot where his father had stood a second ago. Then, putting up his hood and fastening his cloak securely, he turned and headed back towards Hogwarts Castle.

  8. #8
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    Location
    using rare and complicated words
    Posts
    2,991
    This is another late entry that I'm allowing because I had no internet for nine days and the drabbler was unable to post straight away as she'd only just been Sorted.

    Name: AtarahPern
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title:The Orphanage



    Draco and his father had been given an assignment by the Dark Lord. It seemed simple enough to Draco, burn down an orphanage, a Muggle one at that, apparently the one that Voldemort had grown up in before becoming the most powerful dark wizard ever. So he didn’t quite understand why they were standing on the other side of the street just staring at the building. They should be getting on with the job, and back home to bed.

    “What are we waiting for?” he hissed at his father.

    Lucius answered him without turning his head. “Morning.”

    “Why?” Draco answered impatiently. “What difference do a few hours make, other than the sleep that we’re missing?”

    “In the morning they’ll have a better chance of getting the children out.”

    Draco snorted, “They’re Muggles, who cares?!”

    With a heavy sigh, Lucius finally looked at his son. He moved to a nearby bench and sat down. When Draco flopped down beside him, Lucius looked down at his hands a minute before speaking. “When they send you to Azkaban, the dementors find all kinds of dark things inside you that they feed on while making you remember them. Things you put out of your mind, things you have denied for so long that you don’t accept them as truth any longer…”

    Turning his gaze back to the orphanage, Lucius continued. “When I was your age, a group of my friends and I decided it would be great fun to play with Muggles’ heads. So we went to one of their summer gatherings, it’s called a fair. We walked around and won all the games, and put jinxes on the rides, and tormented the animals. It was very amusing. Then one of the guys had the idea to attract the attention of a group of Muggle girls we kept seeing.” A small smile twisted his lips. “The girl I ended up with was named Helen. She was a sweet girl, smiled a lot, and she had soft brown hair that smelled like apples.”

    “Dad!” Draco interrupted, shocked. “A Muggle?!”

    “I’ve always told you that Muggles are horrible despicable wastes of space, haven’t I?” Lucius shook his head sadly. “I was mad at them all, because of her. I spent most of the summer with her, fell completely, madly in love. She was so different from anyone else I’d known, and I enjoyed spending time with her. It felt like a special kind of magic there for awhile.”

    “Then she broke my heart. One day Helen just asked to meet me here, could have even been this very bench I suppose.” He ran a hand along the painted edge beside him, and took a deep breath before continuing. “Helen told me that she was pregnant, but that she didn’t want the baby and would leave it here when it was born.” He nodded his head towards the orphanage. “Helen said I could have it if I wanted it, but she was determined to finish school and wanted a job overseas someday. We argued for a long time. I even offered to marry her, Draco; but she wanted nothing to do with it.”

    Lucius closed his eyes against a pain only he could see. “I was so mad. So very mad. Soon after that I was introduced to the Death Eaters. It was easy to use all the anger I felt at Helen and take it out on all Muggles. Unfortunately, one drunken night, I told someone else my story. He decided we should go find her. When we did, he killed her. She was still pregnant.” Lucius’ voice dropped off.

    “I moved on, married your mother and started a family. I buried Helen’s memory deep, but the dementors found it, and brought it out and made me think about it.” He put his hand on Draco’s knee. “I feel incredible guilt about many things. I don’t need to add the deaths of these children to it. Especially when I think of how your half-brother or sister could have lived here.”

    Draco was quiet for awhile, staring now at the building himself. He placed his hand on his father’s. Finally he simply said, “You’re right. It can wait ‘til morning.”

    Banner by the fabulous Julia - theoplaeye

  9. #9
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    Location
    using rare and complicated words
    Posts
    2,991
    RESULTS!

    Thank you for the entries and all the new information you've given me to ponder about our favourite series. I loved reading each one, and seeing what your crazy imaginations came up with

    But on to the points. It has been a hard task judging because they were all great to read, but alas there can only be one winner and that is ....


    First Place - Hypatia for Darkest Black - Gryffindor 15 points
    I found this an incredibly interesting insight into wandlore and genetics. And the twist at the end ...

    Second Place - ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor for Wayward Son - Ravenclaw 10 points
    Still giggling over McLovin and McGoogle. Jess took two Gryffindors and gave them a connection based not on their house. Both kept their characters, and there was even some sympathy for McTwa- I mean McLaggen. (Just wait till he tells Zach ...)

    Third Place- Nagini Riddle for Hermione's Tail - Gryffindor 5 points
    Yes, it was crazy, but that's what I was looking for, and it could have been true ... Wonder what Ron will say ...


    Points

    Gryffindor - 30
    Hypatia - 20
    Nagini Riddle - 10

    Hufflepuff -10
    dreamsnape - 5
    AtarahPern - 5

    Ravenclaw -15
    ToBeOrNoDoIHaveToTypeThisAgain - 15

    Slytherin 5
    Oregonian - 5

    Banner by the fabulous Julia - theoplaeye

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •