Weekly Drabble Challenge - Little Whinging: Muggle Life

[mugglemathdork]

Before Harry found out he was a Wizard, he was a Muggle, and many Squibs live as Muggles. Hogwarts offers "Muggle Studies" as a course. Yet, there is a wide misconception about Muggles in general all through the Potterverse.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write a drabble about any HP character that has to live as a Muggle. How does this character cope as a Muggle? Does he/she adapt well? Why is he/she living as a Muggle? Does he/she blend in or stand out? Whatever the case may be have fun writing this little drabble.

The following form must be used when submitting your drabble responses to this post -

Name:
House:
Title:
Warnings:
Words:

Winners will be awarded 15, 10, and 5 points respectively.

All drabbles must be less than 500 words; All standard grammar rules, and MNFF submissions guidelines apply.

The challenge will be up for a week, and be closed exactly a week later (January 30th.)

MithrilQuill and I will be judging them and posting results a couple of days later.

All questions should be referred to the Question Corner - Do not post questions here. Only drabbles!

Other than that...have fun!

~Gato Loco & Mith~

[Weasleyboyfreak]

Yay! First Entry!

Name: Weasleyboyfreak
House: Proud Puff
Title: Cookies Anyone?
Warnings: None...with the exception of a little Ron Weasley humor.
Words: 501 (sorrry...I couldn't take out just one word!)

“Hermione, do we really have to stay here?” Ron asked.

“And what is wrong with my house, Ronald?” Hermione snapped defensively as she shut he door.

“Nothing…it’s just a-a Muggle house…” Ron stammered, shuffling his feet on the floor and not looking up at Hermione.

“Oh, Ron, it’s just like your house except there’s a TV! Just relax and make yourself at home, we’ll only be here for the week.”

“But why couldn’t your parents come visit at our house?”

“Because…well they aren’t very comfortable with the whole idea of magic. Besides, we haven’t seen them in ages and-- Oh no…” Hermione was suddenly interrupted by a small golden coin burning in her pocket. “I’m going to have to go to work, there’s an emergency. Just make yourself at home, and don’t use any magic if you go outside! My parents will be home in a few hours! Bye!” Hermione quickly gave him a kiss and ran out the door.

“Murder me…” Ron muttered, looking around the small Muggle flat. Everything but the couch looked alien to him. There were these strange things that were shaped like a vase with a triangular thing around them. Ron curiously walked over to one, pulling on an odd string that stuck out of the triangular part.

“Bloody hell!” Ron shouted, stumbling backwards and pulling his wand on the lamp as it turned on.

He cautiously took a seat on the couch.

“These Muggles are all loony…with vases that light up and the felleyfone! The tosh pots…things work so much better with magic…I don’t see what Hermione could possibly like about this life!” Ron muttered in an irritated tone, looking at a black box with a screen in front of him.

Ron carefully got up and walked over to the television, tapping the top of it.

“This must be the fellyfission…but the blasted thing wont work…how Muggles get any entertainment out of this black box is beyond me! The bunch of nutters!”

Ding Dong!

Ron looked around him, drawing his wand, he had no idea what that noise was. He cautiously walked over to the door, the source of the foreign noise. Ron slowly opened the door…

“’Ello Sir, would you be interested in buying some--” one girl started.

“Mum! He’s going to beat us with a stick!” the second girl screamed, seeing Ron’s wand pointed at them.

Ron looked around outside, a perplexed expression on his face. He had no idea what the girl was on about.

“What?” Ron questioned.

“We just wanted to know if you would like some cookies, Sir?” the third little girl answered in a shaky voice, holding up a box.

“Erm…thanks,” Ron said taking the box and quickly shutting the door, afraid that someone might be watching.

“Hey!” the three little girls called, though Ron didn’t respond to the banging on the door.

“Maybe being a Muggle for a week wont be so bad,” Ron said to himself, shoving a cookie into his mouth and lounging on the couch.

[x_GinnyPotter_x]

Wow, I'm surprised at the lack of entries this time around! >_>

Name: x_GinnyPotter_x
House: Gryffindor
Title: Desperate
Warnings: 7th book disregard, I believe... and very mild "bloody hell" usage
Words: 492

“And how long do you expect me to live like this?” Draco erupted, showing no sympathy for his former Potions Master.

“As long as it takes for the Dark Lord to be defeated, Draco,” Snape said smoothly, showing an identical lack of sympathy for young man before him. “Unless he miraculously decides to forgive your incompetence at the job to which you were assigned, or you care to be done with the matter and hand yourself over for torture and murder, then yes, I expect you to live as a Muggle as long as you value your life.”

Draco scoffed and looked away from the emotionless black eyes boring into him. His situation was desperate, yes; the Dark Lord was sure to want his head on a silver platter now that he had failed to kill Dumbledore. The job was done, it was true, but Draco knew that would not satisfy his master. He had known all along he had only been given the assignment to make his parents suffer. And despite all his efforts, all his preparations, he had failed them… and now they were forced to live like Muggles! Draco kicked the sofa in frustration, which only aggravated him more as pain throbbed in his toe.

You have got to be kidding me… he thought despairingly, unable to imagine going quite possibly the rest of his life without hardly any use of magic. If he was counting on Saint Potter to defeat the Dark Lord, then it didn’t look likely that he would ever be able to come out of hiding. It was bad enough to be stuck in this miserable excuse for a house, and now he couldn’t even use magic to clean the place up.

“How the bloody hell do you expect us to go without magic that long?” he final asked, looking back at Snape. “You really think we can pretend to be as ignorant and incompetent as Muggles?”

Snape only smirked, replying coolly, “I am not banning you from using magic; however I would not advise it unless you would like to have all my efforts thrown to waste because you were incapable of hiding your identity well enough. You are aware this is an entire Muggle neighborhood – and I can assure you the Dark Lord will have the others on lookout for any sign of you. I repeat; if you do not wish to be tortured to death, this is your only option.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest but could devise no better solution. Snape was right – for now, this was his only hope. That didn’t make him any more enthusiastic about the lifestyle he was going to have to adapt, however.

Looking around the small old house, he asked grudgingly after a moment, “Well, then you better show me how to use a bloody strove… stove, whatever the contraption is called. Surely there’s some Muggle way to make food in this minuscule dump.”

[TCole]

This is the first time I've ever done one of these for The Three Broomsticks. I hope I did it right, and I hope you all like it. Good Luck everyone who entered!!

Name: TCole
House: Hufflepuff
Title: My Worst Nightmare Came True
Warnings: There are none.
Words: 498.

It was the worst month of my life. I had no choice; I had to do it. Every time I needed something, I had to actually get out of my seat and get it myself. There was no one there to do things for me, and I had to keep a low profile, so I couldn’t use my magic. Half the time, I wanted to scream. I despise muggles, and to have to live like one was driving me insane. I didn’t think I would make it the entire month. I still had my wand with me, but if I even touched it, an alarm would go off, and there would be someone right there to warn me about the consequences of using my magic.

My name is Bellatrix Lestrange. I am a follower of the Dark Lord. I have been for an extremely long time now, and all my life, I had magic. There wasn’t a time that I could remember where I couldn’t use or be around magic. I grew up with it; it was a part of me. Why, do you ask, did I have to go a month without my magic? Well, let’s see.

Ever since the Dark Lord had fallen, I have been hunted. There are many people out there that want my head on a silver platter. I’m not going to give up easily, and if I had my way, I would still be fighting. My husband is the one that won’t allow me to do this. He knows that I am extremely powerful, and that I can fight for myself, but he doesn’t like the idea that I could end up dead if there were too many people fighting me at once. I know I can do it. I mean, I fought plenty of people at the same time, but Rodlphus just doesn’t want to take that chance.

One of the main things I hated about having to live like a muggle was the clothes. I could deal with the jeans and the blouses, but when people tried getting me to wear skirts and things like that, it drove me crazy. I’m a fighter, not a, what do the muggles call them? Oh, yes, a “girly-girl”. I don’t like getting dressed up, and I never have. Another thing I couldn’t stand was how I had to make my own food. Me! Bellatrix! Had to cook on a muggle <i>stove</i>. It was nuts.

I was the happiest person in the world when Rodolphus came to tell me that I didn’t have to live as a muggle anymore. The first thing I did was destroy the skirts that I was given by almost everybody I know. Then I made it so Rodolphus had to suffer, just like I did, as a muggle. He’s still doing it, and I won’t let him use any of his magic until he realizes that he was wrong, and that I can take care of myself. No matter what.

[dragonwings]

Name: dragonwings
House: Gryffindor
Title: Pansy vs. Universe
Warnings: None
Words: 497

Pansy cringed when she stepped inside the doorway of the small two-bedroom house. The whole place reeked of boiled cabbage and cats. Worse still, was the little old lady sitting on the flowery settee with a photo album on her lap.

Surely, this was hell.

When Pansy had asked the Order for protection, hiding in a smelly little house in Wisteria Drive wasn't on her list of expectations. She was banned from using any magic, even when she had whined endlessly to Professor Snape about the stink of cabbage.

The sardonic bastard had instead sent her a Muggle can of something called “Lysol” and a weirdly fresh smelling, tree-shaped cardboard cutout.

She had managed to get by the first few weeks, but then the Squib lady, Ara-something Figg, had to go to the Muggle hospital after her great-granddaughter had caught some odd case of dragon-pox, consequentially leaving Pansy to fend for herself. Armed with only a can of Lysol and the tree thing, Pansy wasn’t very optimistic about her chances of survival, (even though she was insanely happy that the Squib was gone; the cat photos had been a little too much.)

The first night alone was extremely frightening. She had never noticed how much the house creaked during the night! The next morning was just as terrifying. When she had tried to make coffee, she had nearly set her hair on fire along with most of the kitchen, filling the house with an acrid, smoky smell. She had tried to take a shower, but because the Squib had always done powered up the little box in the shower for her, she couldn’t.

By the next morning, Pansy was cowering in her room. There was a loud beeping noise in the kitchen from a little circle thing on the ceiling, the shower still wouldn’t work and she smelled hideous, and the horrible cats were scratching on her door.

Her stomach rumbled horribly. She hadn’t anything to eat since breakfast yesterday and she thought she was going to faint. The cats had blocked off the route to the kitchen, but maybe she could… she walked over to the window and peered out. It was a short ten feet to the bottom and a thick ivy trellis leaned next to her window. She could climb down!

Pansy shimmied out the window and started to scale the trellis. She was halfway down when she heard an ominous crack! and the trellis collapsed on top of her.

“OK, universe! You win!” Pansy groaned as she struggled to push the vines off of her.

“Learned your lesson, have you?” A quiet, polite voice said. Pansy twisted around and saw the smiling face of Mrs. Figg.

“Yes,” she muttered ungratefully.

Mrs. Figg smiled thinly, but she still helped Pansy from out under the trellis.

“Let’s go inside then, and I can teach you how to live life the Muggle way, eh?” She offered her arm and she and Pansy entered the house.

[BertieBotsBeans741]

Name: BertieBotsBeans741
House: Gryffindor!
Title: A Pattern of Deception
Warnings: None
Words: 337

Rita Skeeter strode down a packed sidewalk. With each step she took her blood-red heels clicked piercingly on the hard concrete. How she longed to hold her wand, it’s soft wood forming to her palm. Her hands itched to feel the delicate stem of her quill, the quivering feather as she wrote fervently. Mind willed against body, fighting the urge to be free of this hell. But, no, she must be patient. Too long had she waited for this.

Rita had made a commitment and as much as she delighted in destroying good reputations, The Daily Prophet desperately required a new view.

“What is this rubbish you’ve turned in? The Daily Prophet continues to thrive because of human interest. And if the Wizarding world isn’t interested, we haven’t got anything.”

And so Rita found herself in a small Muggle community. It had been decided that she reside here for a month. No magic, living the Muggle way. And she was to report back every aspect.

It was a drab way to live, truly. The house she dwelled in was miniscule and dreary compared to the usual luxury Wizards lived in. There would be no summoning House Elves to fulfill strenuous tasks or conjuring up items, as they were needed.

The only thing Rita had managed to prepare without setting the kitchen afire was toast and porridge. Heaps of dishes scattered the countertops, unclean and foul smelling. Rita had yet to wash her clothing or even find a decent start to her report. It had been three weeks and nothing remotely interesting had occurred.

Suddenly, Rita's mind began to spin; a simple solution came to mind.

Silly me, Rita thought. Why it hadn’t seemed obvious before was unclear. She would lie. Rita would weave her own story, entrapping unwary victims. Deception and lies had always proved to draw rapt interest. No one would take note of a few creative liberties. Who would care anyways? After all, wasn’t a world a make believe far more fascinating than the truth?

[MissyQuill]

Name: Sammy/MissyQuill
House: Teh ever stylish...GRYFFINDOR!!!
Title: A Dung-y Affair
Warnings: DH completely disregarded and very AU.
Words: 362

Mr. Mundungus Wilfred Fletcher was not an honorable man!

When he was born, his mother had been delighted and rather thought her one and only son would grow up to become a shining beacon of hope and progress for the wizarding society. Unfortunately, her hopes were sadly dashed over the years as her angelic son landed in more and more mischief.

Indeed she was once heard telling him that he’d “Never once made yer ol' Ma proud.”

And it was that thought with which he fled the legendary battle of the sky between the Order and the Death Eaters.

Mr. Fletcher was very aware of the fact that he would be hunted and murdered if he were to be discovered by both sides alike and the best strategy his years of beer logged brain could come up with was the forfeiting of his magic. If he gave that up, he would be untraceable.

***20 Years later***

Our story, as any of a story told here, focuses on the Chosen One himself. Perhaps not as young as he used to be but dashing still, these days his most valiant task was keeping his three children in line, while trying to simultaneously convince his wife that visiting his Muggle cousin was indeed a good idea and “not to moan" as they were nearly there.

It must be admitted that he, his wife and their children made for an impressive sight, walking along in good natured fun. Perhaps that is why they were earning smiles from Muggles lounging in the park of Privet Drive.

An ancient man, smelling like a vat of cheap whiskey noticed the Potters in that strange way one does when recalling a memory from the past but never quite doing it right, causing our hero to look in his direction, mirroring the tramp’s expression.

It seemed for a moment that Mr. Potter would say something but then thought better of it.

There was no reason to be suspicious, after all, no one had found him and they had assumed he had died. Nobody had missed him, certainly.

And after all, lots of people in the world had ginger hair.

[mugglemathdork]

Teh Gato always has such a hard time just choosing three but the ones below were hilarious, kept to the prompt [actually they all did] and shone above the rest....

Congrats to...

First Place:
Cookies Anyone by Weasleyboyfreak

Second Place:
Desperate by x_GinnyPotter_x

Third Place:
Pansy vs. Universe by dragonwings

Teh lovely MQ will post points at a later date!
Cheers!
~Ebil Gato Loco