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Thread: The Character Gymnasium

  1. #31
    Second Year Ravenclaw
    Setting Snakes on Hapless Relatives

    Join Date
    Feb 2008
    Posts
    30
    OC: Holly Runcorn
    Word count: 686
    Warnings: N/A

    “Holly, darling,” a poisonous voice drawled behind me. “I’m not used to seeing you not surrounded by your precious firsties.”

    "Well, Daphne, they need me. Someone needs to teach them to survive Slytherin House.”

    “If they were worthy enough to be Sorted here, they should be able to handle it themselves. And if not, pity on them.”

    “They need to be prepared for people like you.” I hadn’t even bothered to turn around. She wasn’t worth my time, and I didn’t see why she insisted on starting something with such a large audience.

    “Ooh, that hurt, dear. I see now – and here I thought it was because you were on the children’s level, but they’re really above you.” I hadn’t reacted to her liking, so she came around to face me herself. “Must be why you gallivant with the other Houses. Could swear I saw you with a Gryffindor the other night. They just about dumb enough for you?”

    Merlin, this was why I didn’t bother with my classmates. “That Gryffindor was my little sister.”

    “Really? Poor Louisa. I’d have never guessed. Perhaps her sister has been a negative influence on her. Why couldn’t you two take after your uncle Albert? He’s climbing up in the Ministry, you know. I can see it now: ‘Albert Runcorn New Minister for Magic – Vows to Strengthen Pureblood Movement, Disown Blood-traitor Mongrel Nieces.’ Sound about right, dear?”

    “He can go right ahead. I made the smarter move, so I’ll have more people on my side anyhow. Haven’t you noticed the trend of Slytherin versus the rest of the world? I happen to be allied with the rest of the world.” Usually I loved arguing, but Daphne Greengrass was an idiot in that regard. I finally stood up, so we were eye to eye. “By the way, what possessed you to talk to me, after six years of forgetting I existed? I don’t seem to be worthy, apparently, and you were the one to decide we should go our separate ways upon starting Hogwarts. Why is that?”

    She tried to gesture for backup from her precious current ‘second,’ Tracey Davis, who seemed wrapped up in something else entirely. When that didn’t work, she just rolled her eyes. “Well, your childishness is reminding me why we split up.”

    “Why, because I wasn’t taking your orders anymore? Because I wanted a name, and not just ‘Daphne’s second’? Because I finally figured out that I was a person and deserved to be treated like one?” She attempted to butt in, but there was no way I was letting her get a word in edgewise now. “Not that it matters. You’d agree with me that purebloods shouldn’t be second to anyone anyhow, so it should be good that I got out, right? I mean, you took on Tracey, and Pansy’s got Millicent – perhaps that was part of the split too, wasn’t it? Why bother with me when you could have a halfblood do your dirty work? And your boy-toys don’t do things themselves either – they’ve got dumb kids to manipulate, haven’t they? And that’s why I play mother hen for the new arrivals – there are halfbloods coming in, and dumb kids, and even just normal people who don’t understand the social ladder, and they need to learn that they are worth more than you make them out to be, and that they can count for something without having to lick the designer dragonskin boots of people like you.”

    The common room went silent. Tracey was enthralled. Millicent furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Even Crabbe and Goyle were impressed. Malfoy and Pansy looked sour, and Zabini rolled his eyes. Nott smiled, almost poised to applaud.

    They were thinking.

    Finally, Daphne sneered at me. “Go ahead and say that now, but just wait until people like me are in charge. We’ll even let those of inferior blood off for a while, because people like you will be the first to go.” She turned on her heel and took Zabini’s hand, motioning for Tracey to follow.

    Tracey hesitated.

    I smiled. “Sure we will, Daphne.” My job was done.

    ~t.d.c
    [CENTER]
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    Warning: The following contains an overdose of underloved characters.

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  2. #32
    Enneirda
    Guest
    OC: Artemis Nyxlin
    Warnings: A bit of language
    Word Count: 672

    "It seems we have something to talk about, Queen."

    "Say 'discuss', Mr. Malfoy, it's a better word," Artemis stated calmly, nursing her Firewhiskey. He had seated himself next to her, as if he was a businessman. She internally scoffed.

    "I have no need for your English lessons," he said angrily. She grinned to herself. And so he had figured it out.

    "That's a bit odd, considering that you can't string a sentence together without the anger," she insulted. He didn't notice.

    "I want him dead - did you forget our deal?" he said venomously. She took another sip from her drink, silently laughing to herself.

    "Do you realize," she said finally, turning on her barstool to face him, "that the man you want dead is in line to be promoted to Minister of Magic?"

    "I very well realize that," he said, clenching his teeth.

    "Ah, then you know that Mr. Potter is a very hard man to get to," she answered, finishing her liquor. The satisfying aftertaste of alcohol was welcomed and she savored it as she lit a cigarette.

    He stared at her, fuming. His hand so calmly placed on the counter had become a fist. She felt the pistol in its holster on her leg, wondering if she needed to use it. "You told me you could kill him," he said, leaning closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. She ordered another Firewhiskey and it was delivered hastily.

    "I never told you that, Mr. Malfoy - I don't brag," she stated coldly, grasping the equally freezing glass. "You simply assumed I could extinguish his life."

    "I didn't assume a bloody thing!" he spewed, spittle flying from his mouth. She quickly covered her drink with her hand, saving it from being ruined.

    "Mr. Malfoy, is there any real reason you're bothering me as I slowly become intoxicated?" she said, tired of his trivial conversation.

    "I want Harry Potter dead!" he nearly shouted. "Go back on the deal, and you'll see what happens!"

    This caught her attention rather quickly as her gun was instantly pressed against his chest. He grasped her wrist instinctively, but he wasn't strong enough to pry her hand away from his heart. "Do not threaten me, Mr. Malfoy," she said, turning to him as the bartender and patrons keep their eyes down. "I will not murder the Minister of Magic. I am not going to risk execution for your petty request."

    "Give me back my money then," he sneered. "Maybe I could find a better person to do the job."

    Her ego quivered, unused to the insult. "There is no one better than myself, Mr. Malfoy. If you want some incompetent thief or murderer like yourself, go ahead and hire them. But if you don’t want to get caught, I’m your best chance," she said, holstering the gun and turning back to her drink. She took a long drag on her cigarette before blowing smoke from her mouth. The poisonous gas drifted into the air.

    "Oh, surely there can be... maybe someone who isn't afraid of anything."

    He had found her weakest point. Her ego was suddenly bruised, anger boiling in her. “I am not afraid of anything, Mr. Malfoy,” she returned harshly. She took another deep breath off of her cigarette. "I will kill Harry Potter," she stated after a moment. "And tomorrow, you'll find the Prophet full of sorrow at the death of the Boy who Lived."

    "That's better."

    He moved to leave, but she called him back. Grabbing his collar, she pulled him closer. "Mr. Malfoy, if you ever threaten me again, I promise that I will torture you - mentally and physically. Your family won't miss you, hell, the world won't miss you. So I'm advising you to avoid the coercing for now."

    She released him, and he staggered back. "J-Just get the job done," he said, hurrying out of the tavern. Artemis watched him exit before returning to her Firewhiskey. Damn Hogwarts graduates never let her have a day off.

  3. #33
    Honigkuchenpferd Hufflepuff
    "Greetings From Egypt..."
    luinrina's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
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    currently in the Botosphere
    Posts
    826
    Name: luinrina
    House: Hufflepuff
    OC: Savaric Orwell
    POV: Isla Black
    Words: 628
    Warnings: Shining Through Blackness spoiler
    Note: I left a cliffhanger at the end to not go over the word mark, and it therefore leaves some questions open. Those are going to be answered in the last chapter of my story.

    ‘May I ask what you’re doing?’

    I looked up from where I sat on the floor and saw Savaric standing in the door. ‘Hello,’ I greeted him and slowly stood up. ‘I’m packing.’ Smiling I showed him the bundle of clothes I carried in my arms, but upon seeing his expression darken, I let my arms sink down again.

    ‘What for?’ he asked, his voice strained yet still carrying a curious tone, and entered my bedroom, looking around. He hadn’t been in my room since we started Hogwarts, and in the last seven years much had happened.

    I gulped when I remembered that I hadn’t yet told anybody of my plans. Trying to look away – I was sure that he wouldn’t like what I would have to tell him – I pondered over what to answer, but nothing came to my mind, and I wasn’t able to look away. His eyes held mine captured. And I felt exposed to his staring, questioning gaze.

    ‘Isla?’ he asked when I still hadn’t given him a response after several moments.

    I braced myself to what was to come, and took a deep breath before saying, ‘I’m leaving.’

    ‘Where to?’ His words came as quickly as the shot of a gun, and were spoken harshly.

    Nervously wringing my hands, I whispered, ‘For Bob’s home.’

    Silence fell like a velvet veil covering everything under its thick cloth. I felt his stare burn through me, meeting the core of my soul.

    ‘Bob’s… home…’ It was neither a question nor statement, just a simple repetition of my words, yet spoken in a manner that I knew only too well. Savaric’s eyes then grew hard and unreadable, and just as I had known what would happen, the words he then spoke felt icy. ‘What do you want at a Mudblood’s house?’

    Savaric was taller than me, has always been, by nearly a head, and the way he currently stood made me slowly back away from him. Yes, he had learned to be more patient and remain calm, but I should never have believed that he would simply accept me leaving for someone else than him.

    Especially since we were betrothed and knew each other since the age of four. And even more so because the person we were speaking about was a Muggle-born, someone my family detested – as did Savaric with a passion that was frightening sometimes.

    ‘Explain!’ he coolly demanded and I told him that I hereby was cancelling our betrothal.

    ‘No wedding is going to take place between you and me, Savaric.’ I gathered all my courage and added, ‘I love him.’ I was proud that my voice was strong.

    There was no explosion, just silence which in my opinion was worse than him getting angry at things he didn’t like. The way he slowly neared me indicated that he was furious.

    ‘I won’t allow you to go anywhere,’ he said quietly but it was well audible in the room’s silence. ‘You are mine; not only by oath but physical bounding as well.’

    ‘What do you mean?’

    ‘Remember your sixteenth birthday?’

    He needn’t say more, I remembered that night clearly. Heat crawled into my cheeks, and I’m sure I blushed right there, but I didn’t care at the moment. And since I hadn’t to lose anything, I contradicted. ‘I’m not your possession; that’s where you are mistaken. I’m owned only by myself and my conscience. You have no right to command over who I shall love, and I have fallen in love with Robert Hitchens.’

    His hand painfully colliding with my left cheek I expected, but I never saw the blow coming. The slap echoed through my room, and I staggered backwards. When looking back at him, I noticed he had taken out his wand.
    Thanks to Terri (mudbloodproud) for betaing.

    ~Bine
    No longer a mod and no longer in charge of any forums.

    author ~*~ BA banner ~*~ giggler
    Banners by Tiffany and Samarie ^

  4. #34
    Hufflepuff at Heart
    Guest
    OC: Beth Williams
    Warnings: None
    Word count: 699

    "Williams, Bethany!"

    Beth Williams had eyes only for the high table as she strode towards it, not allowing anyone to look into her eyes at the uncertainty that swum just above the surface. She sat down gingerly, and closed her eyes as the sorting hat was placed ceremoniously on her carefully styled raven hair; the giant, moth-eaten hat falling far past her ears.

    In the darkness, Beth folded the arms in her mind and sat there.

    "And what's this?"

    Beth jumped in fright, and then cleared her throat quickly to regain her composure.

    From somewhere nearby, Beth heard an amused chuckle.

    "Ah, so it is you."

    Beth didn't like jokes at her expense. Especially coming from someone she couldn't see.

    "So?"

    "So, my dear, we have to decide where to put you, don't we?"

    Beth sniffed. "Yeah, that's just what Daddy said would happen."

    "I beg your pardon?"

    "I wanted to go to Beauxbatons; I didn't want to get stuck in this crumbling old place."

    The hat seemed genuinely stumped with this information.

    "Beauxbatons? No, my dear; there are only four houses; I'm afraid I can't sort you into this Beauxbatons-"

    "I don't want you to sort me into Beauxbatons, you stupid old hat! You can't. It's a different school."

    Beth could almost hear the hat raising an eyebrow.

    "Now, now; you won't get far with a mouth - or should I say a mind - like that here," it tutted, more in amusement than anger.

    Beth blinked hard. There was something caught in her eye.

    "Yeah, well, I don't want to go far here. This was all Daddy's idea. Just because this was his old school, I have to come here too. Sometimes, I wonder just how much he and Mummy care-"

    Beth stopped herself just in time. She didn't talk about things like that. There was a slight wobble in her voice when she continued.

    "If I had my way then-"

    "If everyone had their way, then things would be a lot different. Yes, I know this. Believe me; I've been around long enough," The voice sighed heavily. "Look at it this way, my dear; Perhaps you cannot be in the school of your choice, but I am presenting you with a chance to choose your own future. Have it your own way; help me decide which house will shape your destiny."

    Beth was silent.

    The hat hummed for a minute.

    "Ravenclaw, perhaps? I can tell that there is brilliance fighting to break out of you in there somewhere, but I fear you will not be willing to work for it, will you? So, perhaps not Hufflepuff. Slytherin? You do have a wish to succeed, but lack the means to do it presently ..."

    "The Black boy's house."

    Beth had finally piped up.

    There was silence.

    "I want to be in Sirius' house." Beth's voice was decisive. "Gryffindor."

    The voice finally managed to unstick its tongue.

    "... You wish to base your choice solely on the premise of another? I must admit, it has been done before, but never with satisfactory conclusions ..." It pondered aloud.

    "Well, I want to," Beth insisted defiantly.

    "But, Miss Williams -"

    "Gryffindor! Just put me in Gryffindor!" She had to stop herself from shouting this aloud. Nevertheless, the words reverberated around the hat for what seemed like minutes.

    "You would throw away everything that could be you, to simply follow in the shadow of another?" It asked, the disappointment evident in its tone.

    Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yes," she whispered.

    Now the voice spoke with an urgency it had not before, "My dear girl, just think of what you could do! I would be happy to place you in Gryffindor if I could do so for the right reasons. Yes; I can see it now; you could be brave; if only you had a cause to fight for. Please, Miss Williams; if only you could try to see the proud Gryffindor that you could one day be!"

    Beth inhaled a shuddering breath. "I can't. I'm sorry."

    The hat let out a final resigned sigh. "As you wish. Beth Williams, you will go through this life as a-

    "GRYFFINDOR!"

  5. #35
    XhayleeXblackX
    Guest
    Name: Haylee/XhayleeXblackX
    House: Slytherin
    Original Character: Keighlyn Smith
    Warnings: Abuse, Violence
    Word Count: 648
    She sat in the corner of a small, square room, resting her head on the cold stone wall. Her dark hair was matted with dried blood, her pale skin was hardly noticeable through the dust and dirt that covered it, her body was so frail that it looked one touch could break her in half, and the bright shine that her blue eyes once held had turned to little more than dull cobalt.

    Her hand reached up to cradle her aching head, a deep look of sadness upon her face, but she was not crying. No, it had been long since she had last shed a tear; her eyes were dry and empty. Crying would only entice her captors, show weakness, and she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

    As though she had shouted for them to come, the lock on the door clicked open and three men in long dark robes entered the room.

    “Still breathing?” taunted the taller one, but Keighlyn simply glared in response. “Not going to fight? Going to give up, are we?”

    Keighlyn spat at his feet, earning a swift kick to the head. She fell over hard onto the stone floor, cradling her searing head with both arms now, fresh blood seeping into her hands.

    “Get up, girl,” shouted one of the others, pulling her painfully to her feet. “Are you ready to tell us yet, or do you need some more persuasion?”

    “I’ll never talk,” she said defiantly, her throat protesting against her vocal cords.

    Once more she hit the stone, but she forced her face upward to stare into the eyes of the youngest Death Eater, the one standing off to the side, the one she knew to be her brother.

    “Reed, please.”

    “Quiet, girl! Rookwood, I think another round of the Cruciatus Curse would do her some good, don’t you?”

    “Certainly. Crucio!” yelled Rookwood, and Keighlyn writhed and screamed in pain. After what seemed an eternity, he moved his wand upward and lifted the spell.

    His companion laughed. “Well, girl, ready to talk yet? Where is the Zabini boy?”

    “I don’t know,” she answered hoarsely.

    “Give it up, Keighlyn. Just tell us what we want to know,” her brother ordered, walking forward to join his peers.

    “You would do well to listen to your brother. Give us the information and we’ll let you live, right Avery?” asked Rookwood, motioning to the tallest of the three, who nodded.

    “Go on, tell us, Keighlyn,” Reed insisted. Keighlyn glared at him darker still.

    “You’re a coward, Reed.”

    Slap.

    “Stop resisting us! We haven’t got time for games, girl. Tell us where he is or die!”

    It was Keighlyn’s turn to laugh now, however badly it hurt to do so. “You’d better just kill me then, because I’ll never tell you. But if you kill me, you’ll never find him, and I suppose your boss wouldn’t like that much, would he?”

    Two more slaps and she was lying facedown again, her head threatening to burst open, but they were retreating toward the door. She had delayed them once more.

    “We’ll be back soon to see if you’ve changed your mind,” said Rookwood as he and Avery departed, but Reed turned back to his sister.

    “Just tell them what they want to know, Keighlyn, please,” he said quietly, staring down at her broken form.

    “I’d rather die,” she replied.

    “Well, that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t give in soon,” Reed said coldly. “Please, Keighlyn, I don’t want to watch my only sister die,” he added softly.

    “The hell you don’t. I hate you.”

    She turned away from him as he stood gaping at her, before he turned sharply and swept from the room. As she placed her hand to her throbbing head once more, she allowed the flood of tears that had been threatening to escape her eyes to break free at last.
    -Haylee

  6. #36
    The Canon Queen Hufflepuff
    Unspeakable
    Hermione Couldn’t Possibly Be In Two Places At Once
    mudbloodproud's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2008
    Location
    With Sirius on his flying bike
    Posts
    1,209
    Name: mudbloodproud
    House: Hufflepuff
    Original Character: Skylar (last name withheld to protect his secret)
    Warnings: none
    Word Count: 688

    Skylar waited somewhat impatiently for Harry to contact him. It had been a week since he had given him the letters and still he had had no word from him. Pacing his room above The Leaky Cauldron, he wondered if he should try to contact him.

    The knock on the door was unexpected. Skylar walked over and opened the door. Standing there was the man who had been with Harry that day. Skylar couldn’t remember his name.

    “Something I can do for you?” Skylar asked. He knew this man didn’t trust him nor did he believe his story.

    “Can I come in?”

    “Yeah, I guess,” Skylar answered.

    “I don’t think Harry told you my name when we were here. I’m Ron, Ron Weasley.”

    “Why are you here? Did Harry send you?” Skylar asked.

    “No, Harry doesn’t know I am here. I wanted to ask you what your game is,” Ron said.

    “My game? I am not playing a game. I came here to find out about my father.” Skylar answered, his anger at being questioned evident in his voice.

    “Look, there is no way you are who you say you are. Someone would have known about you or at least about your mother.” Ron’s own anger was building.

    “Harry’s parents knew. His mother knew not only about my parents being married but about me too.” Skylar answered.

    “How convenient for you they are dead and can’t confirm or deny your story. Who else may have known?”

    “I don’t know. I guess my mother’s friend Sarah knew. She wrote to my mother about Harry’s parents dying.”

    “How come that letter wasn’t in the ones you gave Harry? How do we know this Sarah even exists?”

    Skylar looked at Ron. He took a deep breath. While he could understand Ron’s desire to protect his friend, Skylar always hated when someone questioned him. He knew he was close to losing his temper. He had a very wicked temper. His mom always told him that he inherited that from his father. Along with his penchant for finding trouble and for causing it.

    Rather than get into a battle of words with Ron, Skylar walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Pulling out a small stack of letters, he took the top one and handed it to Ron.

    “There read it. I may be a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them.” Skylar walked over to the window. He knew what was in that letter. It was that letter that made his mother decide to stay in America. It was because of that letter, his mother knew she couldn’t go back to England.

    Skylar watched as Ron read the letter.

    Putting the letter back in the envelope, Ron looked at the return address. “I think I better take this to Harry. I am going to find this Sarah and talk to her. If she confirms what you said, then we’ll take it from there.” Ron looked at Skylar.

    “Look, I’m sorry if it seems as if I don’t believe you. I don’t know what to believe. After everything Harry has been through, I don’t want to see him hurt again.” Ron held his hand out to Skylar.

    Looking down at the extended hand, Skylar debated on taking it. He understood loyalty. He never really had a friend like that himself, one who would go alone to confront a virtual stranger to protect him.

    Shaking Ron’s hand, he said, “Look, if I was in your place, I would do the same thing. You don’t know me so why should you believe me? But, know this, no one is going to stop me from learning about my dad. Not you, not Harry, no one. It would be easier if the two of you helped me, but I will learn the truth. That I can promise you.”

    As Skylar closed the door behind Ron, he looked around his room. What he said to Ron before he left was the truth. He would be damned if anyone would stop him learning the truth. All of the truth about his father.
    Terri Black (as in Mrs Sirius {aka Padfoot} Black)
    Hufflepuff Head of House


  7. #37
    leahsm2
    Guest
    Name: leahsm2
    House: Slytherin
    Character: Isla/Addison
    Word Count:697

    Isla sat in the comfortable, overstuffed chair in the Slytherin Commons, silently seething. She twirled her wand slightly, making the embers of the half dead fire in the immense fireplace emit wildly jumping flames, turning them bold shades of colour which just matched her mood. The chairs by the fireplace were usually the most sought after, but no one, not even Isla’s beloved Jonathon, was daft enough to attempt to claim one.

    What is she thinking? Isla thought, a single, frustrated tear glittering in the low light as it snaked its way down her cheek, a flame of deepest crimson escaping its brick prison, falling menacingly onto the deep green carpet. She barely turned, effortlessly snuffing it out with a single flick of her wand, before resuming her sulking.

    She returned her wand to its pocket within her robe and smiled slightly as she sadly reminisced about Addison, the seemingly guileless first year she had met three years earlier. Addison, with her foot long plaits and serious ways, should have been just another underclassman, noticed only when you needed them to do some unspeakably tedious task. But no, Addison had been special. Addison was still special. Addison would always be beastly special, claiming a huge chunk of her heart, and making Isla protective, no matter how much she longed to throttle her at the moment.

    “Isla?” Addison asked, quietly, as she knelt beside the chair. “I’m back.”

    Isla turned and saw the beaming face of the younger girl. Addison’s eyes, sparkling with happiness, made Isla’s mood even more murderous. Addison looked at her, expecting Isla to share in her happy moment. Isla retrieved her wand from the breast pocket of her robe and stirred up more flames. The colour of the flame this time glowed purple. She played with the flame, watching it twitch back and forth as she slowly moved her wand.

    “So, Addison,” she said quietly, choosing her words carefully.

    Addison pulled out her wand and changed the colour of the flame to deep green, laughing softly at her friend.

    “Sirius Black is not a good choice,” Isla said finally, making the flame fall with a cloud of sparks back into the bed of embers.

    “I have no choice, Isla,” Addison whispered tearfully, pulling a chair up to join her friend. “Oh, Isla! I know he can be horrid, but he’s also thoughtful and funny! He’s amazing at magic!”

    Isla, who had spent more time than she cared to recall figuring out counterspells to undo the carnage Black and his cohorts had inflicted on her and their housemates, had to grudgingly agree with that last part. Five years of Double Potions with Black and Potter did not, however, make her agree that thinking was one of his stronger suits. She turned and met Addison’s eyes.

    “He’ll break your heart, Addison,” she said, the tears welling up in her eyes. “End it now, before it’s too late! The two of you are too different to . . .”

    Isla stopped talking, as Addison sank back into the overstuffed chair.

    “He is my heart, Isla!” Addison retorted. “I know it sounds stupid, but you of all people must know what I mean!”

    Isla too sank back in her chair. Yes, she knew. Jonathon and she had been engaged, practically since emerging from the womb, but both were pleased with the arrangement. Their mothers were best friends since earliest memory, and everyone rejoiced at their relationship.

    “Oh, Addison!” Isla cried in frustration, refusing to admit defeat. “It’s not the same thing and you know it!”

    “I spend all of my time with the two of you, Isla!” Addison sat up again, speaking forcefully. “I wouldn’t insult you with equating my relationship with yours if it wasn’t 'exactly' the same.”

    Isla sat stewing over Addison’s words. She had watched, silently hoping the obvious signs of Addison’s growing attachment to Black was somehow not happening. It had seemed impossible. They were too different. Isla sat up, facing her friend.

    “I won’t stop my crusade against those heathens from attacking the members of our house,” she said, finally admitting defeat. “But I won’t let anyone interfere with you and Black, either.”

  8. #38
    Kate Skeffington
    Guest
    Name: Mila Z/Kate Skeffington.
    House: Gryffindor
    Original Character and POV: Tabitha Specks
    Warnings: None, I think.
    Word Count: 700


    Tabitha walked into the Gryffindor common room, exhausted, and was greeted by an unusual silence. She looked around for her friends, but they were not there. It was still early and most of the Gryffindors were having supper in the Great Hall. The few students that were scattered here and there, bent over the small tables, were either Fifth or Seventh years, and as Tabitha sunk into an armchair by the fireplace, she thought, gladly, she still had a year left before she needed to stress over the NEWTs.

    Her stomach churned, unpleasantly, as she remembered Professor Grimsby’s words: if her performance in Defence against the dark arts didn’t improve by Christmas break, she would have to drop the subject. What would she do then? How would she explain to her parents she wasn’t allowed to sit her Defence against the dark arts NEWT exam? Her mother would, surely, send her a howler in the middle of breakfast. She groaned. And to make matters worse, she would have to see Sirius Black for an hour every week It was just her luck to get stuck in detention cleaning jars full of foul-smelling liquids and scrubbing cauldrons with him out of all people.

    She heaved and irritated sigh, thinking of how sore she would be the following day (Saturday, thank goodness!)and of the two rolls of the Potions essay she still needed to start. “This is bloody brilliant.”

    “What is?”

    Tabitha let out a small yelp of fright. James had entered the common room, and was now standing behind the armchair, in which, she was currently sitting.

    “Oh, it’s you,” she said, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. She really hoped James would climb up the stairs, go up into the boys’s dormitories and leave her alone. She was too moody to bear any sort of joke, and with James and the rest of his friends, there were always jokes.

    “Yeah, but you don’t need to sound so happy about it.”

    Tabitha shrugged. “Sorry.”

    “Bad day?”

    “The worst,” she admitted, sinking deeper into the arm chair.

    “Bummer.” He gave Tabitha a small pat on the shoulder, and much to Tabitha’s glee, began walking away, but suddenly, turned around again, “Oh, I almost forgot, there’s someone waiting for you outside.”

    Tabitha faced James with a frown. “Is this another one of your pranks? Look, I’m not in the mood for– ”

    “No, there’s this bloke from Hufflepuff waiting for you outside. I asked him if he wanted something and he asked for you, that’s it.”

    Tabitha eyed James suspiciously. He had pranked her an uncountable amount of times, changing her hair colour from red to bright green. She knew she should ignore him and stay put, but she was curious. Who could it be? The thought of Patrick MacMillan waiting for her outside made Tabitha’s heart skip several beats. “Ok, thanks.”She stood up and crawled out the portrait hole to find...

    Nobody. The corridor was deserted.

    Tabitha swore under her breath and stomped back into the common room. James was sitting on a sofa, reading a Quidditch magazine, when he saw Tabitha come in, he smiled at her.“What did he want?”

    Tabitha had to fight the urge to smack him across the face. “You think that was funny, do you?” she said, shrilly. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

    James looked gob-smacked. “What?”

    “You just wanted to have a laugh, didn’t you? Get me to go out there and then laugh at me ”

    “What are you on about?”

    Tabitha had taken a lot from James. She didn’t mind him turning her hair green, form time to time, or the fact that he did nothing when Black teased her, but fooling her like that, getting her hopes up...what was worse, she realised, it wasn’t entirely his fault. She had been gullible enough to believe him and stupid enough to think it could’ve been Patrick waiting for her outside. But James would never know that.

    Tabitha’s body was shaking in anger, tears welling up in her eyes.“Thanks for making my day better,” she said coldly, before storming up the staircase.

    A few seconds later, James heard a door slamming shut.

  9. #39
    Savannah Hen Slytherin
    Sirius Black Entered Gryffindor Tower
    coolh5000's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2007
    Location
    Wonderful England!
    Posts
    1,235
    Name: Coolh5000/Hannah
    House: Slytherin
    Original Character: Charlotte Pearson
    Warnings:Violence/Abuse
    Word Count: 608

    Charlotte was late for her next class. Professor Sprout had kept her behind to explain a bit more about that week’s homework and as a consequence, the corridors were almost deserted and the group of Gryfffindor first-years she usually travelled with were long gone. Even Myrtle, who had tried to wait for her, had been ushered away by Professor Sprout. Charlotte hated walking the corridors alone. There was always a danger of bumping into one of the Carrow Professors or possibly a Slytherin.

    She walked as quickly as possible, clutching her overflowing school bag as she went. She rounded a corner at speed and suddenly tripped on a loose stone. Her bag went flying from her arms and her things were strewn everywhere. Hurriedly, she tried to gather them up again but her inkpot had rolled behind a suit of armour and she couldn’t reach it.

    Just at she was attempting to stretch her arm a little bit further, she heard approaching footsteps. Looking up she saw Professor Carrow heading towards.

    “Well, well, well,” he said, with a sneer on his face. “Shouldn’t you be in a class at the moment?”

    “I…I…” she stuttered.

    “Spit it out,” he commanded.

    “I was with Professor Sprout. I have a note.” She looked down at her hands and realised, to her horror, the note was no longer there. She must have dropped it when her bag fell.

    The Professors smile grew bigger. “So, a liar as well, are you? Well, that certainly deserves punishment.”

    He sliced his wand through the air and she felt a sudden pain on her forehead. Blood began to trickle down her face and she had to bite her lip to stop herself screaming in pain; she was not going to let him see that she was hurt.

    “So,” he said. “Is that not enough for you? Then you can come for detention this evening and every evening until I decide you’ve learnt your lesson.”

    Her eyes widened in horror at this. She had heard of his detentions and she knew that the people who emerged from them usually required treatment in the Hospital Wing.

    He seemed delighted at the reaction. “I’m glad to see you understand how badly behaved you’ve been. Now, I shall accompany you to class to ensure you don’t have any further detours on the way.”

    She knew that this meant she was being stopped from going to the Hospital Wing to get treatment for the wound, which was still bleeding on her forehead.
    “What lesson should you be in?” he asked.

    “Transfiguration,” she said, her voice hardly audible.

    As they walked, they passed another suit of armour and she was able to make out her reflection and see what he had done to her. The word `liar` had been scratched into her forehead. She felt tears building up behind her eyes but she struggled to hold them in until they had reached the Transfiguration room. Once there, Professor Carrow opened the door and pushed her inside.

    “Professor McGonagall,” he said, in his slimy voice. “I found one of your students in the corridor. I suggest you keep better control of them in future.”

    He slammed the door and immediately Charlotte burst into tears. Her friend, Myrtle, jumped up from her seat and ran to give her a hug. Professor McGonagall was looking at her, concern in her eyes.

    “Miss Pearson, you really should go to the Hospital Wing.”

    “He…He…wouldn’t l…let me,” she gasped between sobs.

    “I see,” replied Professor McGonagall. “Then I shall take you myself. Follow me.” With that, she strode from the room, with Charlotte, feeling thoroughly shaken, following on.

    Adrian won a QSQ! Thanks to Minnabird for the beautiful banner. Click on it to read Stolen Magic - the story of the second wizarding war through a very different character's eyes.

  10. #40
    youaremylifenow
    Guest
    Name: youaremylifenow/Alex
    House: Gryffindor
    Original Character: AnnaMarie Smith
    Warnings:Mental Disorders (eating disorder)
    Word Count: 698


    I had always expected to get caught. I mean, how could I not? My lies and baggy uniform could only get me so far; somebody had to have realized I was shrinking at a rapid – and unhealthy- pace. Replying, “Diet and exercise”, as an explanation for how I lost twenty pounds in a little less than a month rarely ever worked as well as I would have liked it to.

    So, yeah, I knew that somebody would get wise and try to stop me. I just didn’t expect La to be the one to do it. Beautiful, dreamy little Adele, who was naturally tiny and rarely noted that her socks didn’t match. How was I to foresee that my ditzy non-confrontational mate would notice when my own mum hadn’t?

    “We need to talk.” Adele sat on my bed, and gestured for me to join her. I hesitantly walked over, confused. Definitely not expecting her problem to be my obsession.

    “Talk about what?” I asked, taking an uncomfortable position as far away from her as possible.

    “Your weight, Annie. We need to talk about your weight.” My weight? I flushed from my cheeks to my toes. Before, when I was hideously overweight, I had a fairly loud voice. Losing thirty pounds using the methods that I had made my voice raspy and quiet.

    “There’s nothing wrong with my weight.” I tried to sound convincing, but I had always been a terrible liar. Adele, spacey and normally unaware of her surroundings, noticed.

    She released a long breath, as I often did when I was stressed. “When you move your arms, I can see every bone under your skin moving as well. I can make a circle with my hands –”she made an ‘O’ shape with her thumbs and forefingers, “-and fit it around your waist. You haven’t consumed more than four-hundred calories in the last two days. You have had six fainting spells in the last two months! If I poke you, it would cause a week-long bruise. Annie, you have a problem.”

    She reached out to touch my arm. I recoiled at her hot touch on my cold skin and shot up instantly. “You’re delusional.” I told her, desperation leaking into my pathetic voice.

    If my mum had found out, and confronted me, I had a game plan. I’d cry and tell her that my boyfriend had broken with me and was too depressed to eat. I would have faked my “recovery” and happily lied my way through two or three sessions of therapy until it was time to go back to Hogwarts.

    For Adele, with her status as my roommate for the next two years, I was not prepared. I couldn’t fake anything if she was paying attention. If she told on me, it would all be over. I couldn’t let that happen.

    She rose with me. “Annie, you need help. I want to help you. Let me try to make you better.”

    I glared at her. “I don’t need to get better! There’s nothing wrong with me!”

    Adele raised her perfect eyebrows. “You throw up everything you eat. And you think there’s nothing wrong?”

    She knew more than I ever thought she could. My heart sunk as I realized she had enough information to ruin me. I gathered up all my energy, frustration, resentment, and fear. With a silent apology to my best – and only – friend, I sucked in a breath.

    “You’re just jealous.” The malice in my voice was marred by a slight shake.

    “Excuse me?”

    “Envy doesn’t become you, Adele! You’re just jealous because I’m thin and beautiful and you’re not. And everybody can see that you wish you weren’t so portly. Sirius Black didn’t even fancy you enough to shag you. I feel sorry for you.”

    Adele’s bottom lip trembled. Her face became stark white. Her hands balled into tight fists and the tendons strained against her knuckles. She looked as if she wanted to cry. But my cruel words did their job.

    “Screw you.” She spat at me, before stalking out, leaving me alone. When I couldn’t hear her angry footsteps any longer, I sunk down on my knees and started to sob.




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