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Thread: Weekly Drabble Challenge: Infamous Words #3 - Results

  1. #1
    Ebil Gato Loco Ravenclaw
    He's The Dog... He's An Animagus...
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    Weekly Drabble Challenge: Infamous Words #3 - Results

    Your prompt this week is to pick one of the following three quotes and paraphrase it into a drabble:

    Quote #1
    “Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.” ~ Jim Fiebig

    Quote #2
    "Without ice cream life and fame are meaningless”

    Quote #3
    “I had always thought that once you grew up you could do anything you wanted -- stay up all night or eat ice-cream straight out of the container.” ~ Bill Bryson
    The only restriction: You must use a famous character that has never had any direct action or dialogue in the HP books. There's a lot of choose from so have fun!

    The following form must be used when submitting your drabble responses to this post -
    PHP Code:
    B]Word Count:[/B]
    B]Author's Notes:[/B] 
    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 (August 31st).

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

    Not So New Anymore for the Weekly Challenges:
    Due to a major lack of quality drabbles being submitted to the weeklies, Gato Loco will require that some real thoughtful, original submissions be posted from this moment on or you'll end up like this woman here. That's your one and only warning! XD

    Other than that...have fun!

    ~Ebil One

    I've left moddom/fandom...though don't be surprised if I get caught lurking once in a blue moon.
    All questions pertinent to Ravenclaw need to be sent to ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor
    If you wish to keep in touch, feel free to friend me on LJ - I don't friend anyone under the age of 18. Sorry!

    Otherwise, so long, and thanks for all the fish!

  2. #2
    Title:Small Things
    Word Count:222
    Character:Nicholas Flamel/Quote 1
    Authors Notes: Please don't let me end up like the woman in the Ebil!One's post.

    The sun was shining , there was a small but pleasant breeze in the air, and the birds were singing, in short it was a perfect day for a scoop of ice cream. Sitting outside the local ice cream parlor, I savored the creamy, sugary confection of perfection. The flavor swirled on my tongue and I was transported into paradise, mmmm. Just as I was about to take a second delightful lick, I was jostled from behind. Apparently my fellow patrons had finished their treat and decided to retreat, paying no mind when they hit an old man during their exit. My lovely ice cream fell to the ground, splattering on my shoes.

    I sat a while and dejectedly watched my sweetened daydream melt across the ground, until a small voice broke my concentration.

    “Mister, Mister why do you look so sad?” asked a small girl of seven or eight.

    “Well, my dear child, my ice cream has fallen to the ground,” I told her.

    “But, sir, you are old, you shouldn’t care ‘bout that,” she replied with a confused look on her face.

    “My dear, age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone,” I stated. I rose and left then, my perfect day running over the cement and into the gutter.

  3. #3
    Squib Kitten
    Name: Elaina/Squib Kitten
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Final Resting Place
    Warnings: Character Deaths
    Word Count: 289
    Character: Celestina Warbeck, Quote #2
    Authors Notes: Yes, I ship Celestina Warbeck/Horace Slughorn. I wrote another drabble about them, a while ago (it's in my drabble thread). I hope Celestina Warbeck counts, and that her singing in the background does not constitute direct dialogue. And you DID say paraphrase. *hopes drabble fits requirements*

    A frail but lovely old dame enters the fancy wrought iron gate of a cemetery. She approaches an ornate headstone, and stops in front of it, smiling wistfully.

    Ah, my dear Horace.

    What is there to say to you now? All your connections and “friends” could not stop your death, or even slow the progress of the disease that transformed you quickly from the rotund and jovial man you used to be, into a wasted piece of flesh, wracked with coughing fits, unable to enjoy even the simple pleasure of breathing easily.

    You always did like your simple comforts. I remember you used to say to me, “Cele, if I could not have candied pineapple, life and fame would be meaningless.”

    I’d always retort, “As long as you have me to share it with, you mean.”

    You’d chuckle and agree with me, pressing a kiss flavored of candied pineapple on my cheek.

    You needed me, for someone who wasn’t just a connection; just as I needed you, for someone who wasn’t just a fan. We loved each other.

    We were young, then. Death hadn’t even crossed our minds yet. But we got old, and then you died. I’m old too, now, Horace. They won’t lay me by your side, since we never married, but I am sure our spirits shall find one another again someday.

    I’ll see you soon, Horace, my dear.

    Celestina Warbeck wipes a tear from her check, smiles, and turns to go. She never finishes her movement. As though the angels had heard her farewell promise to her one true love, she breathes her last and slides to rest peacefully atop the grave of her beloved.

    And she hears Horace Slughorn say, “Welcome home, my love.”

  4. #4
    Name: Leslie/Lizzy
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Freedom
    Warnings: None
    Word Count: 282
    Character: Stubby Boardman
    Authors Notes: I used quote number three.

    Stubby Boardman leaned back in his lounge chair and sighed contentedly. This was the life. No more concerts, no more screaming witches, no more idiotic band members, and no more flying turnips hitting his ear. He was finally living the life he had always wanted; the life he had dreamed about when he was younger, before he learned how difficult fame really was.

    From Stubby’s sitting room, an old grandfather clock began to chime. He was shocked to hear it stop after only three clangs. ‘Three o’clock in the morning? Is it really that early?’ he asked himself incredulously. He pulled his watch out of his pocket, and examined the positions of the planets, only to find that it was, in fact, three o’clock in the morning.

    “Well, there’s no point in me going to bed now,” he said aloud to his empty house, standing up and walking towards his dimly lit kitchen.

    He grabbed a container of ice cream from his freezer and a spoon from his cupboard. He looked at the shelves lining the kitchen, contemplating the use of a bowl. ‘No point,’ he thought to himself. ‘Using a bowl just means I’ll have to do dishes later, which would be nice to avoid when possible.’ And he dug in.

    He wandered around his house for a while, finally stopping in front of his large front window. He could see the sun creeping up over the horizon. ‘It’s tomorrow already,’ he thought lightly. ‘What am I going to do today?’ Because he could do whatever he pleased.

    Yes, he was living the good life he always knew he was going to live. He just had to retire to get it.

  5. #5
    Fifth Year Hufflepuff
    I See Dead People... In Mirrors
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    Jun 2007
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    Name: Nikki/fg_wealsey
    House: Hufflepuff!
    Title: Life's Pleasures
    Warnings: None
    Word Count: 254
    Character: I too used Stubby Boardman, and Doris Purkiss as well.
    Authors Notes: I used quote three directly, and now all this talk of ice cream makes me want some... lol.

    The lights were dimmed and the candles lit; there was a lovely steak dinner on the plate before me and I was sipping mead and sitting across from a beautiful woman. Ah, the perks of being a highly sought-after musical sensation. I cannot say I didn’t enjoy myself as much as I could, but this night was different.

    Doris smiled at me then, cherry lips splitting to reveal slightly yellowed teeth. Leaning forward and giving me a better view, her smile widened further as she placed a hand on mine. “Tell me more about your childhood, Stubby,” she purred. “I want to know the man behind the music. I want to hear how you became the man you are.”

    I grinned and shifted myself forward as well, setting my empty glass back on the table. “What I remember most about my childhood,” I started, and she shifted closer still, “is that I had always thought that once you grew up you could do anything you wanted -- stay up all night or eat ice-cream straight out of the container.” I chuckled and she followed suit, looking down and blushing before turning her gaze back to me.

    “And now?”

    I met her eyes and cracked my smile again. “Now,” I said, “I know there are greater pleasures in life than ice-cream, or late nights, or even fame.” I paused to rub her hand with my thumb before winking and finishing, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a little ice-cream now and then.”
    "Through literacy you can begin to see the universe.
    Through music you can reach anybody.
    Between the two there is you, unstoppable."

    --grace slick
    avvie: julia/the_opaleye

  6. #6

    Late Night Cravings

    Name: Inverarity
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Late Night Cravings
    Warnings: None
    Word Count: 499
    Character: Newt Scamander
    Author's Notes: I just couldn't find the space to include Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!

    Edited to add: If you don't know who Rolf is, or why Luna is in this story, check out the Lexicon!

    The stairs squeaked, in the dark house in Dorset. The figure creeping down them froze, for a moment. But there was not a stir from upstairs, and not even a murmur from the downstairs guests.

    The prowler breathed a sigh of relief, and continued downstairs to the kitchen, where he carefully opened the ancient Thau-Ma-Freeze. Cackling to himself like a thief in the heart of a dragon's lair, he withdrew a large frozen container.

    “Oh, were you going to have ice cream?”

    “Eek!” the prowler exclaimed, jumping into the air and almost dropping the container. He spun about, wild-eyed.

    “I'm sorry,” said Luna. “I didn't mean to frighten you.” Her large, radiant eyes were all that he could see of her face, as moonlight illuminated the top of her head but left the rest of her in shadow. The old man clapped a hand to his heart, and mumbled, “Merlin, I thought you were Porpentina! She'd hex me into next week if she caught me sneaking sweets after bedtime.” He blinked at the young witch, and said, a little anxiously, “You won't tell her, will you?”

    Luna smiled. “No, it will be our little secret.” She glided over to the kitchen table to join him. “Provided you share.”

    Newt Scamander chuckled, and conjured bowls for himself and his granddaughter-in-law. “Luna, my dear, have I mentioned how very much I enjoy your being part of our family?”

    “You have, actually, but it's always nice to hear.” She looked happy, almost like a child, as her husband's grandfather scooped ice cream into their bowls. Newt sighed, and settled into a chair.

    “Not that I mind the company, my dear,” he said. “But why are you up so late? Not having trouble sleeping, are you?”

    Luna paused, with her spoon half in her mouth, looking uncharacteristically pensive.

    “You and Rolf haven't had a row?” the elderly wizard asked. “Oh, that's common with newlyweds, don't worry about it.”

    “Newt,” Luna said, more than a little bemused. “Rolf and I aren't newlyweds anymore. We've been married for six years now.”

    “Pshaw!” He waved a hand. “Porpentina and I have been married for sixty years.” He leaned towards her, and whispered, “And we still quarrel like newlyweds!”

    Luna giggled. “I just felt like ice cream,” she said, not sounding entirely convincing.

    “Well, one of the privileges of age, my dear – and believe me, the more aged you become, the more you must take advantage of the privileges that accrue – is that you can stay up as late as you bloody well please, and have ice cream if you feel like it! Even straight out of the container!” He nodded, harrumphed, and then, added in a much quieter voice, “As long as your wife doesn't catch you!”

    “Well,” she said slowly, “I suppose I have a good excuse too.”

    “Oh?” He chuckled. “What's that?”

    Luna smiled coyly, having decided that it would be easier to tell her grandfather-in-law first.

  7. #7
    Hufflepuff at Heart
    Name: Hufflepuff at heart
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: The Follies of Age
    Warnings: Mention of character deaths
    Word Count: 396
    Character: Bathilda Bagshot
    Authors Notes: Thanks to my beta, Hannah/coolh5000 for her help!

    “Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.” ~ Jim Fiebig

    It's funny; I'd always thought that if you were famous, people would want to know you.

    Of course, they're happy to critique your work; to judge you the finest author of the twentieth century (living or dead); or to sell your books to generations of schoolchildren.

    They never call to your door to ask you out to play, though.

    To the world, I'm a ninety-something-year-old crone, as decrepit as the last, and, with my crazed notions of company and happiness, probably more demented than the next. My childhood friends are all either dead or drooling from the mouth day and night. By rights I probably should be too.

    So why is it that whenever I look out my window at the rickety old playground below, I have the same yearning to swing right over the bars that I did eighty years ago? And the same wish to have the love and comfort that my parents once gave me?

    Perhaps that's what made me so happy to meet the Potters. For once I wasn't Bathilda Bagshot, Order of Merlin, Second Class. For once, I was good old Batty; auntie to Harry, and a regular guest at afternoon tea each Sunday. My ankles would give out at any mention of movement, but I was able to imagine the air tearing at little Harry's hair and robes as he defied gravity in the way that only a child can, and that was more than enough.

    I felt part of the family that I had missed for over half a century. I had friends that loved me for my strawberry tarts and my friendly advice.

    For over a year I lived in a euphoric state. I was living the kind of life that I had all but given up hope of ever having. And suddenly, there it was, right at my doorstep.

    You'd think that age would prepare you for the harsh blows that life deals you. That with each loss, and each hardship that you must endure, you become more worldly, and less vulnerable.

    And yet, nothing could have prepared me for the news of their deaths.

    My very existence, torn apart once again in a single devastating moment. I remembered back to the many deaths that had shattered my life, and realised how little I had learned.

    My age didn't stop me from crying like a baby, either.

  8. #8
    Honigkuchenpferd Hufflepuff
    Dobby's Sock Addiction Begins
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    Jun 2008
    currently in the Botosphere
    Name: luinrina
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Foreseen But Not Seen
    Warnings: 1st-2nd years
    Word Count: 470
    Character: Cassanra Trelawney
    Authors Notes: I created an OC, Cassandra's granddaughter. Her name is Sibel. The drabble is nonetheless from Cassandra's POV.

    ‘Do you like your ice cream, dear?’

    Sibel looked up and smiled. ‘Yes, Nana, it’s wonderful.’ To prove her statement, she licked some more of her scoops.

    The old woman smiled fondly at the little girl. ‘That’s good to hear.’ She mirrored her granddaughter’s actions and did not talk for some moments; she simply enjoyed the cool flavoured sweet on her tongue.

    Quickly, the warm afternoon waned and a fresh evening breeze went through the street. The woman looked up; she had completely forgotten how late it already was. ‘We should go find your mother, dear,’ she said. ‘It’s nearly dinner time and we still have to travel home.’

    ‘Yes, Nana.’

    Both the girl and her grandmother walked through the now relatively empty street of Diagon Alley, continuing to lick their ice creams in peaceful silence. It was then that the woman stopped in her tracks, gasping.

    ‘Nana?’ Sibel asked worried.

    Darkness swirled wildly around the woman; she couldn’t see. Coldness surrounded her; she couldn’t breathe. Both darkness and coldness pressed on on her, and when she thought it would be her end, she saw again.

    Everything was blurred but she spotted two people. One was a girl, quite young still, approximately five to six years old, and the other one was a lady, already in her seventies to eighties. Both held something in their hands, something soft, something fragile. And it was about to break, at least the object of the old lady.

    The picture got clearer, and she could finally discern the two people and the fragile objects both held: ice cream cones. And the one from the old lady was about to melt and fall onto the street. She wanted to shout for her to look out, but before she could formulate any warning, the vision was gone and she stood in Diagon Alley again, her granddaughter at her side.

    ‘Nana? What is it?’

    Still slightly worn by the vision the old woman just had, she looked down at Sibel; she looked pale and worrisome creases rippled her forehead. ‘I’m fine, don’t worry.’

    ‘Have you seen again?’

    ‘Yes, I have, but it’s nothing dangerous going to happen. So please stop worrying. Everything will be fine.’

    The girl shook her head. ‘It won’t, Nana. Look.’

    The moment the woman turned her head to see where her granddaughter was pointing at, a silent splash was to be heard. Where there had been a cone with two scoops of ice cream, there was now only the cone left. Closing her eyes and sadly sighing, Cassandra Trelawney said to Sibel, ‘Even with having seen what is going to happen, I was not able to stop the scoop from falling. And, my dear child, age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.’
    No longer a mod and no longer in charge of any forums.

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  9. #9
    Name: Azhure
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Every Flavour Beans
    Warnings: None
    Word Count: 500 *phew*
    Character: Bertie Bott, with his wife (an OC)
    Authors Notes: Okay, I don't really like this drabble, but it's my way of breaking through writer's block. And I'm happy to say that it worked! The only problem was that I had to cut out a lot. And by a lot I mean a couple of hundred words... *sigh* Oh, well. Here it is. Enjoy!

    Oh, and it's quote #2.

    “Bertie, I must do the washing. Can you go upstairs for a while?”

    Bertie Bott jumped at the sound of his wife’s voice.

    “Dear, just give me another half hour. I must finish this,” he said, facing the cauldron before him.

    “No. Go upstairs and get some air.”

    Bertie knew that he shouldn’t argue, but being the quick-tempered person he was, he could not hold back.

    “Don’t you know what will happen if this goes wrong? We will be ruined. Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans will suffer even more than they are now. I have a dream, Margaret, a dream of manufacturing every tasty flavour of bean imaginable! We have banana flavoured beans, toffee flavoured beans… there’s only one thing missing… Ice-cream!”

    Margaret rolled her eyes. She had heard this speech before, just involving different flavours.

    “What’s so great about ice-cream, Bertie?”

    “Ice-cream is everything. What do you think little children crave on a hot summer’s day? What do you think Ministry workers like to eat after a hard day at work? By making these beans, I will harness the hold the ice-cream has over the population. My dear Margaret, by creating these beans, I will be offering relief to everyone. For without ice-cream flavoured beans, my life and fame are meaningless!”

    “You’re just being dramatic, Bertie. Now, go upstairs!” Bertie could see the amusement in his wife’s eyes.

    “No,” he stated suddenly, “not yet.”

    “Fine. Just move over so I can get to the washing machine.”

    Bertie sighed. He really wished Margaret would let him do the washing – it would only take a flick of his wand – but Margaret Bott was a stubborn Squib; she said she was perfectly capable of doing everything the Muggle way.

    He stepped closer to the cauldron so his wife could squeeze through to the other side of the narrow basement with her washing basket.

    Suddenly, Margaret slipped and fell into Bertie. The washing basket went flying, spilling the dirty laundry everywhere. Bertie watched as one of his socks landed onto the surface of his white concoction. The sock floated there for a few seconds before sinking in with a soft hiss.

    “No!” Bertie exclaimed as he grabbed his wand and summoned the sock out of his mixture.

    But it was too late. The mixture rippled and hissed, and quite suddenly, it turned grey.

    “It’s ruined!” he cried, dropping his wand as the sock shot out of the mixture, landing on his shoulder.

    “Maybe it’s not that bad,” spoke up Margaret. And before he could do anything, Margaret had dipped her finger into the grey mixture and put it in her mouth. Her face contorted with disgust and Bertie had to hold in a wail.

    “That tastes like dirty socks! I know you wanted to have ‘every flavour beans’, but that is just foul!” exclaimed Margaret.

    Bertie looked at his wife. That was an idea. Every flavour. Yes, he could make every flavour beans. With a grin, he hugged his wife.

    “You’re a genius!”

  10. #10
    Pinkcess of the Abyss
    Name: Pinkcess of the Abyss
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Taking the Cake
    Warnings: None
    Word Count: 259
    Character: Gambol from Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop.
    Authors Notes: It's been a while since I last wrote, so I'm trying to get back into the game... I love the paraphrase theme! They are my most favourite things to work with!

    “Of all the idiotic, catastrophic, chaotic things you pig-heads have done over the years, this HAS to be most selfish, ridicules and just plain nastiest of the lot!”

    When I look back on it, I suppose that charming the serving plates to fly through the air so that my brother-in-law and I could race on them was not one of my brightest moments. The crimson face of my insane sister can attest to that. Of course, it certainly was not our most selfish, ridicules, and just plain nastiest, idiotic, catastrophic, and chaotic thing we have done; a couple of years back we accidentally set the neighbours house on fire... twice.

    You see, I had always thought that once you turned seventeen you could do magic however you wanted – from bringing back a medieval knight, to charming ice-cream to jump straight out the container and onto your plate. Turns out I was wrong; never mess magic and ice-cream, especially if you have an insane sister that likes to rampage. Yes, you guessed it; when charming our serving plates we forgot to install a horn, or steering, or breaks. My sister’s magical, chocolate, banana, and hot-fudge Sunday just didn’t stand a chance, and neither did that pretty, white dress-robe she was wearing.

    Actually, now that I really think back on it, perhaps we should have waited until after the dessert was eaten and taken away before we raced the serving plates. It really would have saved us a headache, and you know what? It might even have saved that wedding cake.

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