Weekly Drabble Challenge - Theme: Changing Seasons - Results Posted

[Rushia]

Name: Rushia
House: Ravenclaw
Title: At Hogwarts
Warnings: none
Word Count: 415
Authors Note: This is set during Harry's second year, when Hagrid made those vast pumpkins for the Halloween Feast that "had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in".

EDIT: Sorry, got my wires crossed. I was convinced that "first person" was for the last weekly challenge, not this one. >.>; Fixed.

I hummed cheerily to myself as I planted pumpkin seeds in the newly ploughed earth of my garden. It had always been my favourite part of my little house, and this year, I had plans to grow some pumpkins for the Halloween Feast. Unfortunately, it was already fall. I would have plenty of mulch, but I knew that wouldn’t be enough. Just so long as Dumbledore didn’t find out what I was going to do.

The pumpkins would have the garden all to themselves. Nothing much else grew well in the fall, though the Forbidden Forest always looked very festive this time of year. Always put me in the mind of Christmas and those trees my dad used to decorate. Just beautiful. Nothing more uplifting than to walk through the forest in the fall and see a unicorn surrounded by those multi-coloured leaves.

Ah, but the spring was my favourite. I could plant just about anything, and it would grow. Like some nice, fresh vegetables for the summer when everyone was gone. Fang and I had the run of the castle then, but sometimes it got a bit lonely. The centaurs kept me company sometimes, but they were awful quiet, centaurs. Much better for just company than conversation, and I already had Fang for company. I hadn’t much liked summer since Dad died.

But the spring.... All the students were tired of being cooped up inside all winter and spent as much time as they could outside. Some of them studied, of course, but they goofed off, too—particularly those Weasley twins. I never could keep up with all their antics during the spring. Must be something about the pollen in the air that just made those boys go a little mad. But they certainly were a bundle of fun no matter the season.

I let my back rest as I finally finished planting the pumpkins, grinning up at the colouring forest. Maybe being expelled hadn’t been so bad after all. (Well, except for Azkaban, but that’s long behind me.) Dad hadn’t seen it, so he could rest in peace, and Dumbledore had let me stay here to work for him. I could think of worse things to do with my life than stay at Hogwarts forever.

[mudbloodproud]

Name: mudbloodproud
House: Hufflepuff
Title: A Snowstorm, Memories and Love
Warnings: none
Word Count: 500
Authors Note: I choose Hannah for this drabble. I had to write several versions as the first couple I wrote didn't include all the seasons before they went over the 500 word limit. I am sure this will turn into at least a one-shot or possibly a chaptered fic.

As I wipe off the table next to the front window, I watch the snow piling up outside. It is strange for there to be a snowstorm in London. I think back to my years at Hogwarts, snow was a normal thing from late December into March. I didn’t realise that I missed it.

I know I can lock up the bar and take the rest of the day off as I doubt there will be any clientèle today. However, I have never since I bought the bar from Old Tom, closed early. I go back to the office and grab my account books. I will just sit in front of the window and watch the snow as I work on the books.

Settling myself in the booth with a cup of tea, I open the account register and begin tallying my figures. I could either have someone else do this or do it by magic, but I enjoy the everydayness of it.

Within moments, my eyes stray to the scene outside the window and I find myself thinking back to my life at Hogwarts.

Though it was still summer by the calendar, arriving at Hogwarts in September, autumn was not far behind. The air turned chilly by the end of September, and by October, there would often be frost on the grass in the mornings. I always enjoyed the coolness in the air. To this day, a cool autumn day reminds me of the beginning of the Quidditch season.

Winter at Hogwarts always meant cold and snow. Though in the beginning of winter, it was something to enjoy and to frolic in, by March, we were all anxious for spring.

Spring came slowly to the castle. It was welcomed by all after being cooped up in the castle for the past few months. I can say honestly, spring is my favourite season. Everything is fresh and new.

Summer meant it was time to go home for a couple months. Though this was anticipated by most, it also meant time away from friends. We could and did however, look forward to September first and seeing each other again.

I think of the past year I have owned the Leaky Cauldron. My business reflects the school year. I would have an increase in business in late summer, and a gradual decline to almost non-existent by the middle of winter. Spring would see a steady stream of customers tired of being in all winter. Summer would start slow and increase as the school year approached.

The sound of the bell on the door startles me out of my memories. I look up to see a man covered in snow. As I rush to grab him a towel and a hot cup of tea, I realise who it is.

“Neville? What brings you out on a day like today?” I question him as I hand him a towel.

“Hi Hannah.” Neville smiles as he says my name and my mind goes completely blank.

[Merlynne]

Name: Merlynne
House: Slytherin
Title: Red and Gold
Warnings: none
Word Count: 499
Authors Note: I chose Madam Rosmerta because I could relate to her work. I wanted to show how she might see herself, and her life, as based upon her job, relating the seasons with the stages in her life.

Despite the date on the calendar, it could have been September. A cold rain washed down the windows, speaking of an early fall to an already exhaustingly hot summer. By all rights, it still was summer, but the heart wasn’t in it. Neither was mine nor that of the patrons. An old American tourist dipped into a third pint of butterbeer, slowly growing sleepier with every sip.

“When you’re finished up, the inn’s down the street,” I called, mind only on a dull ache in both of my feet. They weren’t as bad as in the thick of the summer—the cooling rain was good for that at least—but a full day of work wasn’t exactly easy on them, and I was not as light as I used to be.

I remember when I had started at years earlier, a young thing full of eagerness and life that labour laws and minimum Three Broomsticks wage didn’t mean all that much. I had been eager to begin a life that was all my own, and to make money that was equally mine.

“You show up at nine,” the grizzled old bartender had said to me, brandishing his grubby cloth like a wand. “And you leave when the lot of them leaves.” He had indicated to the group of chattering students squashed in around tables slurping tall glasses of butterbeer. Graduation had been the topic of choice, and I had so smugly smiled as I cleared away the empty glasses, remembering how recent my own graduation had been. After three years of travelling the globe, I was ready to settle down into a real job—something that didn’t include experimental potions or the feeding of cats whose owners could afford vacations. Mr. Tubman helped me with that much.

At first, I made decent tips from the tourists who could add a pretty, cheerful young bartender to their list of sights seen in Hogsmead, and the older locals took pleasure in the fact that I could remember their names. When Mr. Tubman retired, he sold me the bar, which I saw only as my ticket to a long, comfortable summer, where I could live out my prime with the promise of employment and shelter. I was caught up in the luster of life, and nothing could ever stop me.

Except the rain.

August was closing, sending us wayward children on our ways towards a cold-cheeked September, followed by an icy December during which we would year for just one last ray of sunlight. Would I regret time not spent in the sun? Would I regret my choices (because I’m told we always regret some choices)? Which ones?

As the door slammed shut behind the American, I gathered up his empty glasses.

I still had an autumn. Calming the battering desperation in my heart, I flipped the sign on the door to read Closed. It wasn’t the solstice yet, and not even summer’s flowery pastels were match for October’s red and gold.

[mugglemathdork]

First, I'd like to apologize for taking so long to judge these.
Second, I'd like to congratulate the following drabblers for their exceptional entries:

1st Place:
Merlynne

2nd Place:
Gonz

3rd Place:
botherinsnape

All of these drabbles were eloquently phrased in first person. I had a hard time just choosing winners.

Merlynne's drabble explicitly states the character she's using, and relates it to the stages of Rosmerta's life and the changing of the seasons. The progression from youth [spring] to old age [winter] is slight and wonderfully depicted.

Gonz's drabble is short but to the point. She made good use of the prompt, and drabble reflects that in the minimalistic amount of words that were used.

Even though the separation between the seasons is made in Ashley's drabble, she chose an interested character and made good use of what we know of him in canon while adding a bit of originality while addressing the prompt itself.

You guys did awesome! Thanks for participating, everyone else. Make sure you keep participating and sharpening those drabbling skills.

~Ebil One