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Thread: Weekly Drabble Challenge: Word Beads#4 - Results

  1. #11
    Name: saneasluna
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: The Joys of Being a Grandfather
    Warnings: Deathly Hallows Spoilers
    Word Count: 387
    Authors Note: Arthur Weasley has Lily, Albus Severus, and James over at the Burrow. Randomness ensues. Lily babbles on in baby language, too. Oh, and this is my first time doing this, so it may be ridiculously lame.

    “How about some muggle origami with your grandfather, eh?” Arthur said as he plopped his granddaughter Lily on his lap. Lily giggled with delight, as she slapped one of her pudgy hands on a piece of bright, ruby red paper.
    “All right then, we’ll go with red paper, since you like it and it’s the only one I’ve got. So what do you want to make?”
    “Ishadoo!” she garbled.
    “How about a nice jar, so grandmum has somewhere to put her homemade sauce in? After all, we knocked it over this morning.”
    “E?” she asked.
    “Fine, it was me,” Arthur chuckled. “Would you like to make a nice paper angel instead? Don’t worry; it won’t be as cute as you!” Lily laughed, and Arthur was just about ready to fold the paper… until he heard a loud crash from the garage.
    “Uh oh, your brother got into the rubber duck collection again. Stay right here, ok? James! Albus Severus!” he called after them, placing Lily on the wooden chair. Arthur came bumbling along to the garage to clean up the explosion of rubber bath toys. Meanwhile, being a curious toddler, Lily noticed a pretty, bright yellow pencil with a rosy pink eraser and a charcoal point. She pressed the pencil to the paper, and became fascinated with the mark that it made. Then, she did it again, but made a line. After, she made another, and another, and other.
    “All right then, let’s go fold- oh my!” Arthur noticed that the piece of paper was now decorated in a lovely pattern of graphite scribbles. Squealing, Lily kept making lines and clapping blissfully.
    “I guess you’re content with your drawing. It looks like the beach doesn’t it? It's marvelous-let me go hang it up on the wall, alright?” Just as Arthur found a piece of tape to stick the lovely drawing on the door, another crash came from the garage.
    “Rubber ducks! I’ll be right back Lily, stay here.” Then, Lily decided to pick up the pencil and draw on the walls! Arthur came back with Albus Severus and James in each hand, and stopped dead when he saw the newly charcoaled wall (and a cheery Lily).
    “Honey,” he called to his wife, “do you know a really good cleaning charm?”

    Ah… the joys of being a grandfather.

  2. #12
    Title:Little brothers
    Warnings:DH spoilers
    Word Count:499
    Authors Note:I'm working on the assumption that Hugo and Lily are roughly the same age, so Hugo is two years younger than Rose. In this story it is the Christmas break of Rose's third (so Hugo's first) year.
    Rose Weasley was not happy. Hermione had offered her three sickles to keep an eye on Hugo for the evening, while her parents went out. Rose had accepted, on the assumption that Hugo would already be asleep. Unfortunately it had been Ron who had had the job of getting Hugo into bed. As Ron and Hermione left, the kitchen was in chaos, the biscuit tin had been raided and the toothpaste had exploded all over the bathroom. Rose stood in the kitchen doorway, watching sauce from the ketchup bottle drip slowly onto the floor. She turned her back on it. First things first; Hugo was jumping on the sofa, singing “I know a song that’ll get on your nerves”. Rose dashed into the living room and lunged at him, attempting to grab the back of his t-shirt. Hugo leapt out of her grasp and sang more loudly than ever, “get on your nerves, GET ON YOUR NERVES!”

    Rose cursed the invention of small brothers. Pushing back her long red hair with an impatient hand, she grabbed once more at the eleven year old boy, who jumped further backwards, skidded, and landed on the floor with a thump and a wail, knocking a picture of the family at the beach off the wall as he fell. Rose groaned. Kneeling beside her brother, she poked him hard in the arm. To her relief, Hugo tried to poke her back. “C’mon Hugo, bed,” Rose said, in her best imitation of her mother’s firm-but-kind voice. To her surprise, he got to his feet and headed towards the stairs. She followed, wondering if he might possibly have suffered some sort of brain-damage.

    Rose decided to make a start on her holiday muggle studies homework before sorting out the kitchen and bathroom. She sat down at her desk, picked up a pencil, as she had lost all of her quills, and carefully wrote the title, “The history of muggle paper making: from papyrus to origami.” Rose sighed with relief; here was something much more manageable than her little brother. Maybe this evening would be easy after all. But it was not to be. As she began writing, Rose heard quite clearly from the next room, “I know a song...”

    Rose slammed open the door to her brother’s room. “AND IT GOES LIKE THIS!” bellowed Hugo. He looked up at his sister with a look of impish delight, which quickly turned to consternation as he saw the look on Rose’s face. Rose looked rather like an avenging angel, and her hair stood out like a halo around her head. Hugo speedily tucked himself back into bed and began fake snoring. Rose gave him one last glare and stamped away.

    Rose was wiping the last minty smear from the bathroom mirror as Ron and Hermione arrived home. “Well, how did it go?” asked Hermione, taking in her daughter’s dishevelled appearance. “Not well, I take it.”
    “Mum,” growled Rose, “you owe me a lot more than three sickles.”

  3. #13
    The Canon Queen Hufflepuff
    Sirius Black Entered Gryffindor Tower
    mudbloodproud's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2008
    With Sirius on his flying bike
    Name: mudbloodproud
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: The Announcement
    Warnings: none
    Word Count: 492

    “Hermione, just what is this stuff?” Ron asked looking down at his plate.

    “It is called pizza, Ron.” Hermione voice held a note of exasperation. Every time she introduced Ron to a Muggle food, he questioned her. Okay, so maybe the clams they had while on the beach during their honeymoon didn’t go over so well. But, most of the food she made him try, he loved.

    “What is in it?” he always asked the same questions.

    “The red stuff is pizza sauce, it is kinda like spaghetti sauce only spicier. The gooey stuff on the top is cheese. The crust is basically bread. Just try it, I know you will like it.”

    With a doubtful look on his face, Ron picked up the piece of pizza. He took a small bite and after a moment, smiled and took an even larger bite.

    Ron started to speak with his mouth full, but at Hermione’s look, he waited until he had swallowed.

    “This is really good. How come we never had this before?”

    Laughing, Hermione put another piece on Ron’s plate. “Because every time I try to introduce you to Muggle stuff, you suddenly remember you forgot to do something. Like when I tried to teach you to use a pencil or make origami. So, I decided to wait until I know you won’t run away to give you new things. Since I know you have no plans tonight, I figured I would give you pizza for dinner. Besides, I had a craving for it.” Hermione smiled waiting for what she said to sink into Ron’s head.

    It didn’t take long. She knew it wouldn’t. He had plenty of experience with cravings throughout Ginny’s pregnancies. Ginny always seemed to crave weird things whenever Ron was around.

    “You were craving pizza? What do you mean? Why were you….” Ron’s voice trailed off as his thoughts grasped the full meaning of Hermione’s cravings.

    “You’re, we’re, oh boy.” Ron stood suddenly and grabbed Hermione and kissed her. He didn’t seem to need confirmation of what he thought. He knew without a doubt, Hermione was pregnant.

    “I’m going to be a daddy. We are going to have a baby. We are going to have our own little angel.” letting go of Hermione, Ron pulled out the nearest chair. “Sit down, you shouldn’t be on your feet. You need to rest. You need to eat. Here,” Ron took several slices of pizza and put them on Hermione’s plate. “sit, eat. I have to go tell my mum. I have to tell Harry. I need to tell everyone.” Ron turned and rushed to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, he stepped into the fireplace and shouted "the Burrow”.

    Hermione sat at the table with a smile on her face. She knew Ron would go to see Harry and Ginny when he left the Burrow. She looked down at the pizza and thought, 'All the more for me.'
    Terri Black (as in Mrs Sirius {aka Padfoot} Black)
    Hufflepuff Head of House

  4. #14
    Second Year Ravenclaw
    Setting Snakes on Hapless Relatives

    Join Date
    Feb 2008
    Name: Erin / dragonchilde
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Charming
    Warnings: N/A
    Word Count: 490
    Authors Note: Yes, I imagine Lockhart and Skeeter were friends in school. xD Sorry for that.

    "Gilderoy, you'd better be done with my quill, it's the only one I've got and--"

    "Oh, relax, Rita darling. You'll thank me when I'm done--which I almost am." With that, Gilderoy went back to work, his wand in one hand and her bright green quill in the other.

    Rita rolled her eyes and returned to her own multitasking--writing a Transfiguration essay and eating her dinner. She gritted her teeth as her pencil snapped for the fourth time. "I hate these stupid contraptions!" she growled. "They write too lightly, and they smudge, and all this breaking is making things messier!" Slamming her head down onto the Slytherin table, she lamented, "This'll bring down my Transfig average for sure!"

    "Actually, that big red spaghetti sauce blotch might do that better than the pencil," Gilderoy quipped, not taking his eyes from his spells.

    Rita grimaced. "Thanks for that, Prince Charming." She crumpled up the now-useless parchment as she ate.


    "Better the paper than your face, O Smart One."

    "I have the face of an angel, thank you."

    "Yeah, which one? Lucifer?"

    "Fine," Gilderoy huffed, nose in the air. "I'm finished with your quill, but maybe I'll just undo it now."

    Rita frantically shook her head. "No, please, I'm sorry, I'll take it back, just give me my quill--"

    "Tell me I'm beautiful."


    "Do you want your quill back?"

    "Yes, but--"

    "Then tell me I'm beautiful."

    "...fine, you're beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, you could bag any bird you want."

    "Could I even bag you, if I wanted?"

    "You're pushing it..."

    "Well, could I?"

    "If you don't give back that quill, the whole school knows you use peroxide."

    "Okay, okay!" Gilderoy protectively shielded his precious hair with his hands and gave Rita back her quill. "Let me demonstrate." He gingerly pulled out a clean sheet of parchment. "Ahem. Record this. Sixth-year Slytherin Gilderoy Lockhart has successfully charmed a self-writing quill." The quill started scrawling Handsome blond student Gilderoy Lockhart, an ingenuous sixteen, stands before me with his forget-me-not-blue eyes glistening with new ideas. He has just revealed a stunning new invention to the world...

    "For me?" Rita managed, in awe.

    "Who else?" Gilderoy nodded, seconds before being clinched in a tackle-hug.

    "Oh for the love of all that is good and holy, you're a genius, I love you so much right now, and--" Rita stopped cold upon catching a glimpse of a sketch in the margin of Gilderoy's notes. It was him, at the beach, surrounded by adoring fans.

    Gilderoy squealed, covering his notes hastily. "You weren't supposed to see that!"

    "No, no," Rita smirked. "I can repay you now. I have an idea to help you get famous like that, and it doesn't involve you doing anything."


    "Don't you know memory charms?"

    "Best in the class!"

    "Then that's all you need. Listen, you just have to..."
    banner by eternalangel <3

    Warning: The following contains an overdose of underloved characters.

    My Works: Enchanted | Desperate Measures | Puberty (or, At Least I Don't Have To...) | Duel | Drabbles

  5. #15
    Title:Paper Hope
    Word Count:490
    Author’s Note:Sadako Sasaki @ Wikipedia Wishes are complicated.

    “Among the many non-electrical devices that Muggle’s employ in their daily lives are simple writing implements such as the pencil and paper. . .”

    Ginny listened idly to her teacher’s words. She had taken Muggle Studies mainly to please her father, who had been disappointed when none of his other children had bothered. But sometimes the subject matter lacked the drama of her other courses.

    Ginny looked over at Luna, who smiled cheerfully back. When the homework was announced, two inches of parchment on that day’s topic, both girls sighed, but agreed to meet later.

    That evening, after a rather disappointing dinner of stew served in some strange, pinkish sauce, Ginny met Luna at the library to do research for their Muggle studies class. She looked through the titles disinterestedly, until one of them caught her eye.

    “Oh,” Ginny whispered, as she began reading the book. “How fascinating.”

    Ginny hurried back to the table to show Luna, who was just putting the finishing touches on her two inches describing a special ink some obscure beachcombing sect of Muggles made out of sand. She opened the book and Luna agreed it was the perfect topic for her homework.

    A Few Years Later

    Ginny sat in the corner of the Gryffindor Commons, furiously folding red paper into the shape of cranes. The idea had come to her the first day of the term, when Luna had failed to return. She had already folded at least three hundred on her own before Neville had agreed to help.

    “It’s called Origami,” she had told Neville. “Muggles believe that if you fold a thousand cranes your wish will come true.”

    Only for Ginny, it was more than that. The story of the young girl, hopelessly harmed by a strange Muggle war instrument, had resonated in her heart ever since she had read the story for her homework assignment. She hoped Luna would remember. When she had a thousand cranes, Ginny gathered them in a bunch and flicked her wand gently as she whispered her charm.

    Luna stood dejectedly on the floor of the makeshift prison deep beneath Malfoy Mansion. She had tried everything she could think of, but in the end decided Mr. Ollivander was right. He had sadly informed her that not even an angel could escape. There truly was no way out. It seemed like forever since she had arrived, but it couldn’t have been more than a month. She looked up at the window, so high from the ground that the sun barely lit the room. She bit her lip to keep from crying in her frustration, when she saw them. The cranes. They flitted through the air and descended into the room, spelling the words:


    Luna shut her eyes and wished for escape for her and all the others. The cranes disappeared, and Luna heard the doors unlock and the muffled sound of screaming. . .

  6. #16
    Name: x_lily_evans_x
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: A Prank Involving Parchment Planes
    Warnings: DH spoilers
    Word Count: 497
    Author's Note: I made James Potter Junior the replica of his grandfather— just without much of the bullying bit, of course.


    I started, and looked from the chalkboard to my best friend, James.

    “What?” I mouthed.

    He pointed to Professor Taylor, the Transfigurations professor, and crossed his eyes, indicating boredom. I rolled my eyes, and went back to taking notes with my pencil (being Muggle-born, I thought that quills were troublesome for note-taking when I could just use a pencil, which would serve the same purpose more efficiently). James was amusing and mischievous, but it was at times like this that I wish he was more attentive like me. Not that he needed to pay attention to get good grades.

    He slid a note on my desk.


    Please, please will you teach me how to fold one of those Muggle parchment planes you were playing with last night?

    best mate, who is bored catatonic of Professor Taylor’s speeches,
    James Sirius Potter

    I looked at him and shook my head surreptitiously. He pouted, a sight that would cause most girls in our year to go into giggles. I was not moved. Then he jabbed me at regular intervals, and I could tell that he was going to do that till I relented.

    I scribbled on the note, Oh, all right already! and quickly drew some crude diagrams on how to fold a parchment plane. Then I passed the note back to him, and he, after looking at my instructions in utter delight, leaned over and hissed gratefully, “My life is yours for eternity.”

    “Oh, shut up,” I whispered back, but could not stop a grin from taking over my face.


    “JAMES POTTER!” Professor Taylor’s yell made me jump, and I glanced up at her. There seemed to be a parchment plane in her hands, and I looked accusingly at James, who shrugged.

    “Does this,” our professor said, waving the plane alarmingly, “happen to belong to you, Mr Potter?”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” James replied, smiling like an angel.

    Professor Taylor went very red in the face. James had played too many tricks in her class for her not to catch on. “I’ll have none of your sauce, Mr Potter. Is this plane yours or not?”

    “It’s mine,” he admitted demurely, but there was a spark in his eyes. I smirked, and quickly looked down at my work. He did so love attention, and was probably pleased that that he had gotten it from the whole class.

    “I’ll crush it, Mr Potter, and perhaps you’ll learn that I’ll not have such tomfoolery in my classroom,” Professor Taylor said, proceeding to squash the plane.

    “But it’s origami,” he protested.

    “And now it’s a spitball,” Professor Taylor said, displaying the crushed parchment for all to see.

    As she marched to the front of the class to resume her lesson with dignity, James leaned over and said, “Methinks she needs a holiday by the beach.”

    “Methinks sunburns aren’t good for faces that are already scarlet,” I replied, and we bent our heads and laughed silently.

  7. #17
    Name: Merlynne
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Moving On
    Warnings: none
    Word Count: 457

    The beach was deserted in the twilight hour as gentle rays of gold sunlight slid down the retaining wall that ran around the city of Antibes. The beach itself was below and outside this wall, formerly a place for children and families to gain precious time together, and for youth to sit and let it all wash over them and pretend to be untouched by the royal splendor that was sunset.

    But they were all elsewhere tonight. Tonight, the beach belonged just to Her. She had come to France in search of work, and had been taken on by one of the lower division Quidditch teams. In her palm, she clutched the struggling form of a small golden snitch. Its lines were pressed deep into her palm, but she would not let it go. It was a first. First snitch caught in a league game. First victory. The first time she’d ever made it so far on her own. So far from home and all the tragedies that lay there.

    She released the snitch. Startled by its sudden freedom, the little ball fell to the sand for one moment, lying next to an empty packet of tomato sauce like another piece of glimmering rubbish, before rising up and darting away.

    The captor removed a piece of wrinkled parchment from her pocket. It was a small note that did not take up the entire page, written in red pencil that had not faded or smudged in the least.

    Dearest Cho,
    I apologize that this must come in written form, but I couldn’t find the courage to ask you myself. Cho, I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the Yule Ball this Christmas. We’ve been friends for so long, but I must admit my affections to you. You are an angel. Without you, I am a champion only in name. You are the only prize I want.
    I also apologize for the overdone, cliché, and sentimental nature of this note, but when confronted with women like you, it’s the least boys like myself can do.

    She took the piece of parchment and tore the empty bottom section off before beginning to fold. In truth, she could have done it by magic, but she found the simple movements methodically calming. The paper was almost so worn that it would not fold, but she made care not to tear it, and within minutes, it was finished.

    Smiling, the Seeker raised the palm sized origami crane to the air and let the sea breeze carry it away. In truth, the paper bird would tumble to the water minutes later, but as far as she saw, it drifted away into infinity and at long last, the Past.

  8. #18
    Warnings:um..nothing too bad really.
    Word Count:489 words.
    Authors Note:I did this quite quickly...I'm just trying to get better and contribute!

    James cried, like he had never cried before. He looked down at the lead writing on the paper. Why did the first thing he ever read in pencil have to be such bad news? He violently crumpled up the paper, threw it into the fire, and kicked over a chair. He yelled. He wanted everyone to hear him; everyone in the world to hear him and feel his pain.

    Even though he knew it was no good and it wouldn't solve anything, he began breaking things, anything, in an effort to relieve this giant knot in his throat and chest. He looked back at the fire. The orange and red flames dancing about made him feel sick. Why should anything be dancing right now while he, James, is suffering? It was mockery! They were taunting him and teasing his miserable mind!

    As he yelled again, Lily watched sadly. She had never seen this side of him. When he had finally sat down and resorted to sobbing and breathing heavily, she went over to him. She sat next to him and placed a hand on his arm. He looked away, almost shamefully.

    "I shouldn't be crying. 'Tis for the weak, no?" He almost smiled bitterly, but his chin would only tremble.

    Lily cupped his face in her hands and looked him straight in the eye. "You look like an angel, James. You aren't weak, only human."

    Feeling her hands on his face like that took him back to a time when his father was alive...

    James and his family were on the beach, the first time he had ever been. He had even bought brand new swimming trunks, in honor of the occasion. Just as he was taking a break from the constant swimming, he saw his dad stagger out of the water, coughing up blood. James ran over to him, but didn't understand exactly was going on.

    "Daddy! Why do you have spaghetti sauce coming out of your mouth? Did you wait long enough before swimming again?" His big eyes looking on innocently as his father tried hiding the fact that the coughed up blood was the first signs of his cancer. His mother came over and ushered James away.

    The memory made James feel even more bitter. All of the memories did. His dad taught him to fly, which got him out of origami lessons with his mom. His father was even there when James and his mother disagreed about things. His father taught him to the kind of man he yearned to be.

    "It just...hurts, Lily. It hurts so much." Thinking of his dad made him feel so lost.

    "I know, James, I know," Lily whispered, hugging him close. "But you must stay strong, James. There's dark clouds on the horizon. You must stay strong..."

    James fell asleep in Lily's arms, dreaming nothing and being, for just one night, blissfully unaware of the evils brewing miles away.

  9. #19

    Actual shepard on top?

    Name: Stubbornly_appeared
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Counting Down
    Warnings: None.
    Word Count: 167
    Authors Note: I've always had the notion that shepard's pie was Harry's favourite food.

    Molly stirred the sauce carefully, making sure it was just perfect. It had taken two tries to get iit right: too much chicken broth the first time, not enough flour the second. But now she would have a perfect shepard's pie for Harry's birthday.

    Birthdays were always the hardest times for a mother. Sure, she had survived the origami fads, the trips to the beach (along with the terrible red, sunburned skin that followed), the pencil infatuations. It seemed now that her kids were facing a lot tougher times than she ever had.

    She closed her eyes against the memories that were flashing in her head. Her brother's funerals, her friend's murder in the paper-

    Birthdays were tough for a mother. Even though she wasn't really Harry's mother. All she had to do was make sure that he, the little angel, the hopeful saviour of the world- made it to the next one.

  10. #20
    Fourth Year Ravenclaw
    I See Dead People... In Mirrors
    Phia Phoenix's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2007
    Oz- the REAL land of the free!
    Name: Phia Phoenix
    Title: Stone Angel
    House: Ravenclaw
    Word Count: 310
    Author note: Reading over it, I've realised that someone might get the misconception that it's about the breakup of their marriage. It's not. The pain runs even deeper than that.

    She stood on the stormy headland, a stone angel robed in black. Only the gold hair whipping about her face betrayed the life within; her halo, I suppose. Even as this thought flitted across my mind the first bullets of rain began to sting my skin, and though surely she must have felt them too she gave no sign of it. She simply continued to stand motionless, eyes fixed seaward. I wonder what she struggled to see, at that point where the ocean and the rain hazed into one? What did she think the storm clouds obscured?

    I sighed, picking my way across the deserted beach. There are few things lonelier than the echoes of fled humanity amongst dulled sand; no sound more wistful than that of the waves when untempered by children’s laughter. Here there lay the ragged remains of a once-white beach towel, there a child’s cracked red bucket. Barely an hour ago this bay was jostling with colourful butterflies revelling in sunlight and summer, but now they have folded away their origami lives, all scattering at the onset of the storm.

    Well, all but one.

    ‘Luna?’ Of course, no sooner had the call left my mouth than it was lost amongst the keening wind. ‘Luna?’

    Eventually I did reach her rocky citadel. I called her name once more and she turned to me; her beautiful face was marked by tear tracks, as straight as if they had been drawn there with pencil and ruler. And they led my vision to eyes which did not see me.

    ‘Luna darling, we can leave now. The fish and chips are finally ready – with barbecue sauce, your favourite. Come down from there, let’s go home.’

    ‘Rolf,’ she whispered in a dead tone, and I knew with a sudden clarity that my angel had fallen. ‘But Rolf, I don’t believe any more.’

    (Avvie and banner by me, quote from Fancy, by John Keats)

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