Weekly Drabble Challenge - Theme: Spirituality - Results

[mugglemathdork]

The Ebil One feels that a 'theme' weekly is in order. Therefore, your challenge this week is to write a drabble on spirituality and the wizarding world. No restrictions on character, situations, era, etc. It's a free for all. Have fun exploring this aspect.

Note: If this theme makes you uncomfortable, my apologies in advance. If you have real issues with this please PM me with your specific concerns; If enough of you PM me I will take it down though I hope that doesn't have to occur.


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

[B]Name:[/B]
[B]House:[/B]
[B]Title:[/B]
[B]Rating:[/B]
[B]Warnings:[/B]
[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 (September 28th).

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

[eternalangel]

Name: eternalangel
House: Ravenclaw
Title: The Gentle Shepherd
Rating: 3rd-5th
Warnings: none.
Word Count: 495
Authors Notes: The main character in this is the fat friar, the Hufflepuff ghost, just in case people wonder who it is I am writing about. I have given him a surname of a character in the series, but you will have to read on to find out what it is.

Friar Bartholomew Bones looked out his window as the last strands of daylight cascaded down the castle walls before inking to darkness. As he watched the light fade from the day, his mind grew over laden with serious thoughts and striking questions.

Bartholomew picked up the thick tomb that had been sitting in his lap and fervently ran his calloused fingers over its soft leather binding. He flipped it open to his favorite pages, noting the dirty smudges his fingers constant perusal had caused. Neat, spidery handwritten text flowed from page to page, accented by the occasional illustration. The Greek words were beautiful in their details.

It was safe to say that Bartholomew Bones loved his singular Bible. He had gotten it handcrafted from a Monk that resided in a Muggle monastery not far from Hogwarts. The quiet life of reflection and prayer had appealed to the wizard, who found his peace in Christianity. That was why he had become a friar, despite all the vehement dissent amongst his peers.

To many wizards around him, the Christian religion belonged to the Muggle world, and, in a time when the Muggle world hated anything that was different, the boundary between the worlds was distinct and unyielding. But for Bartholomew, being a Christian had nothing to do with being a wizard. He believed that God made every being including witches and wizards and gave each person unique abilities, be it magic or not. If a person was good and used their abilities to help others, then the kingdom of heaven was open to them. Religion was not confined to specific people and specific customs in the wizard/friar’s opinion. It was the spiritual world inside that mattered the most.

The gentle Hufflepuff sighed as the weight of his own cross began to bear down on him even more. Not many had accepted his choice, especially not Lord Viriticus.

Lord Viriticus was a powerful pureblood who claimed to be descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. He had donated many funds to Hogwarts, which helped build up the castle, but that also gave him the idea that he was in control of every aspect of the castle, including the lives of the staff. Bartholomew, who was the history Professor, had been under major scrutiny for his choice in faith, and had more than once been called a “blood traitor”.

Bartholomew knew that one day Lord Viriticus would get his way; the Friar would either have to leave the castle or die. Viriticus had no sense of mercy or understanding. When the day came to decide, Bartholomew would stand his ground in his beliefs.

A knock at the Professor’s door roused the friar from his thoughts. Bartholomew got up and strode over to the door. When he opened it, he recognized Lord Viriticus’ messenger boy right away.

“Lord Viriticus would like to speak with you in his chambers.”

His test of trials had come and Bartholomew Bones knew what he must do.

[Gonz]

Name: Gonz
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Prodigal
Rating: 1st - 2nd
Warnings: none
Word Count: 441
Authors Notes: The biblical inspiritation for this drabble is found in Luke 15:11-32. The italics are lyrics from the song "Prodigal" by Casting Crowns.

When had he first realized that he was wrong? When he had fallen so low?

Working for a government he had once given everything to be a part of, a government that he could no longer support, a government that he was trapped into working for because he left himself with no other options…

No options expect for one.

Could he bring himself to do it? Could the once proud son, bring himself to beg for forgiveness?

The world was falling down around him, and Percy Weasley stood frozen in a pool of indecision.

It was in that moment, that Percy couldn’t help but remember a time when he had wandered down to the Muggle village. A new found friend had taken him into a church, where Percy had heard what he thought was the most absurd story. It was the story of son who had squandered his father’s money and good name, but when he returned home he had been welcomed back with loving arms. The story had made no sense; the son deserved to be punished for his actions, not accepted and his actions forgotten. Christianity and the concept of an all-loving God had made no sense to Percy’s rational mind.

And now he was that son, that prodigal son.

Daddy, here I am again. Will you take me back tonight?

Percy had never believed in God, but now he found himself longing for that loving father who would welcome him back with loving arms. What would his father do if he showed up tonight?

The people at the church had said that God would forgive anything, but Percy didn’t care about God. He cared about what his father would do.

Were his actions unforgivable? Could even dare to walk up to father after all he done?

Not worthy to be called your son,
Is this to be my end?

What would happen, when it all ended tonight? If You-Know-Who was victorious and his family dead, could he live with the guilt? If You-Know-Who was defeated and he stayed on the sidelines, could he live with the shame?

He couldn’t, and Percy knew that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t go tonight.

So would he continue to let his fear hold him back and make a decision that he would regret for the rest of his life?

No, he wouldn’t let it. After all the worst that could happen would be that he got what he deserved.

And I've held out as long as I can.
Now, I'm letting go and holding out my hand.

Percy walked out the door.

Daddy, here I am.

[inspirations]

Name: inspirations
House: Hufflepuff!
Title: Wilting
Rating: 3rd-5th
Warnings: Character Death, DH Spoilers
Word Count: 318
Authors Notes: This is based around the second Lily Potter, though I never mention her name. It is an insight on the fact that wizards are no different to Muggles when it comes to mourning. Rating is higher, as I think it's quite sad.

She twiddled a daisy between her thumb and forefinger, barely aware of what she was doing. Slowly, she meandered through the neat rows of graves. She respected the dead, and took dainty steps, being careful about where she stood. She knew the route to her destination perfectly.

The sun was high in the sky, and a few soft, fluffy clouds drifted across the horizon. The church clock chimed for midday; the bells echoed across the graveyard long after the twelfth ring had died.

Columns of flowers grew between the tombstones. Planted lovingly, one by one - each seed represented a long gone soul. Grass grew in the empty spaces. It was patchy and brown in places - long, but well trodden by generations of feet.

She sat down in front of Harry Potter’s grave. Scraping earth aside, she popped the daisy into the soil. Her eyes pricked at the realisation that it would’ve wilted by the time she next visited. She traced the inscription on the gravestone with her littlest finger, her lips curling sadly. It matched that which was on his parents’ grave, which sat next door to him. Clasping her hands together, she offered up a prayer for all three of her deceased family members. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper.

Once she’d re-opened her eyes, she stood up, and pulled out a rod of wood. Pointing it at the daisy, she muttered a strange phrase. A white light spun itself around the petals before disintegrating into nothing. The flower stopped drooping, and a small smile spread itself across her face at the result, though her eyes still shone.

Steadily, Harry Potter’s daughter walked away. She went into the Church that cast half the graveyard into shadow. Beyond the alter, her silhouette shone through the stained glass window. There, where her father couldn’t see her, she let a single tear slide down her cheek.

[whomovedmyquil]

Name: Ashley/whomovedmyquil
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Say Your Prayers, Lily
Rating: 1st-2nd years
Warnings: none
Word Count: 475
Authors Notes: Enjoy.

Lily wasn’t quite sure why she was still staring out of the rain-lashed window. James should have returned nearly a week ago; what was to say he’d return now, if at all? And even if, by some miracle, he had returned, she wouldn’t be able to see him in this gale anyway.

She sighed hopelessly and stood. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself.

Lily scanned the room quickly, looking for something to keep her busy, but a week of the same routine left little to be done: all the laundry was neatly folded in the hamper, the bed was made, the water in the vase of flowers that stood perched on her nightstand was fresh, even Harry was sleeping.

Where was James?

Unbidden and unwanted, the thought crept into her mind and spread like poison. She couldn’t dwell on it, not now. She needed to keep her mind clear and alert. Harry’s safety depended on that.

More for something to do than an actual need to know the time, Lily looked down at her watch and received a shock: it was seven minutes past midnight.

Pleased to have something more to do, Lily pulled on her nightgown, took care of her usual nightly rituals, and checked on Harry before turning in.

Just as she was about to crawl into bed, her mother’s voice seemed to whisper in her ears:

Say your prayers, Lily.

Lily Potter had never been a religious woman. She had never attended church regularly, never carried a rosary with her, there was no cross above her bed, and had rarely said her prayers as a child, except at her mother insistence.

She hesitated, then knelt beside her bed, propping her elbows on top of it, clasping her hands together, and for the first time since childhood, Lily prayed.

She prayed that wherever James was, he was safe and coming back to her, and that Remus, whose monthly hell was approaching, would find strength in the fact that she, James and so many others loved him. She prayed that Sirius’s rash actions wouldn’t put him in danger, and thanked whatever god was listening that Peter was brave enough to put himself in danger to keep them safe as their secret-keeper. She prayed that Harry would never know sadness or a world without every one of these people.

Tears came at the thought of her son, and still Lily prayed. She clasped her hands tighter together, blessing Dumbledore for always having the answers she needed and prayed for the safety of the rest of the Order. She sobbed as she urged God to help those fallen members and friends find their way to heaven. She prayed that somehow, there was a light in the endless darkness, something — anything — that might guide them.

"Please,” she sobbed aloud. “I need something to believe in. Please.”

[Equinox Chick]

Name: Equinox Chick
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Master of the Inner Eye.
Rating: 1st-2nd years
Warnings: Implied character death. Debunking of spiritualists.
Word Count: 476
Authors Notes: I have chosen to interpret 'Spirituality' slightly differently. My definition is 'pertaining to the spirit world'. My main character, Tiresias, has been named after an ancient Greek seer who was highly talented. I have no doubt that my Tiresias is about as insightful as his sister!

Thank-you to Terri (mudbloodproud) for beta'ing and advising.

The shifty looking man in the black cloak arrived only a few minutes late but his companion wasn’t happy.

“Late again, Mundungus,” he muttered. “I hope you’ve got the right info this time. Last week was a shambles!”

“Keep your hair on, Tie,” he replied. He held out a wad of papers. “It’s all here, death records, disputed wills- all the local scandal.”

The other man looked slightly happier. He took the package from him and began scanning through the notes. “Nice one, Dung. Lots of useful stuff here.” He looked around at the darkening sky. “Just hope the crowds come tonight.”

“Relax, mate,” said Mundungus. “It’s Halloween and Muggles love talking to the dead on Halloween.”

*****

At 6:30 P. M., the doors to the Village Hall opened. As Mundungus had predicted the Muggles came in their droves.

“I’ve heard he’s the real thing,” said a young woman talking to her friend. “Tiresias Trelawney can really see.”

“Oh, Vonnie,” said her friend scornfully. “You believe in anything, don’t you?”

They sat down in the second row by the middle aisle. Vonnie opened a packet of polos which they both began to suck noisily whilst they waited for the show to begin.

At 7:00 P. M. precisely, Mundungus switched off the lights. Using his wand, he created smoke and eerie sound effects. There was a sudden crack and a white light as Tiresias Apparated to the centre of the stage.

“Welcome!” he boomed. “I am the Tiresias the Great, Master of the Inner Eye, a portal between this world and the next!”

He sounded impressive. Even the woman in the second row could see that. Tiresias, however, was tired of all this. He was tired of conning Muggles and tired of their wretched attempts to communicate with the ‘dearly departed’. These days it was never about comfort; it was always about money, a mislaid will or a lost jewel and it bored him.

‘If I can get through tonight then maybe we’ll give next week a miss,’ he thought.

Now what had been in those notes of Dung’s? Edward, yes, seven Edwards had died recently. It was as good a place as any to start.

“I have an Ed...” Tiresias stopped. He felt a coldness creeping through him, pervading all his senses. Rapidly he scanned the room until he saw her; the one for whom the message was meant. He began to climb off the stage.

Mundungus jerked his head up. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. “For the love of Merlin, what is he up to?” he whispered under his breath.

Tiresias reached the second row. He looked past Vonnie and into the eyes of her friend.

“Tuney,” he screamed in a voice that was not his own but was that of a young woman. “Take care of Harry for me. Take care of my boy!”

Carole
xxx

[Azhure]

Name: Azhure
House: Ravenclaw
Title: God Protects Him
Rating: 3rd -5th years purely because the drabble is focused around death.
Warnings: Character Death (canon), DH Spoilers.
Word Count: 497, including the '***' things.
Authors Notes: At first I wasn't particularily inspired to write for the challenge; I didn't really have time either. But I had an idea this morning and I wrote the drabble down on paper so all I had to do was copy it into Word Document and post here. Spirituality is definitely not my specialty, but I gave it a shot!

He closed his eyes, not able to bare the sight of his brother’s coffin being lowered into the ground. It was so... unimaginable. How could someone so close to him, his own brother, be sentenced to an eternity in the dirt? He had begged and begged his dad to put Colin’s body with the other victims of the war – in a special memorial at Hogwarts – but here they were at a Muggle funeral.

But that wasn’t even the main problem. Dennis didn’t know where Colin was. He knew a lot of Muggles believed in God and the fact that if you were ‘good’ you would go to heaven. This just made Dennis wonder. Would Colin be in heaven? He had been a wizard, and they didn’t believe in God; they had Merlin. So where was Colin? Was he burning in hell because he had been a wizard?

Opening his eyes, he saw that the coffin had been lowered into the earth. Fire flashed through his mind... Molten lava... Chains and pain... Was this what Colin was going through right at that moment, just because he stood up for what was right?

Tears flowed down Dennis’ cheeks. Colin didn’t deserve the pain.

A comforting arm wrapped about his shoulders, and Dennis looked up into his father’s face. He had to know the truth. Steeling himself, Dennis asked the most terrifying question he had ever had to ask.

“Is Colin in hell?” Silence greeted his words and Dennis felt his heart sink. He wouldn’t be getting a proper answer.

“No, of course not,” said Dennis’ father before taking back his arm and turning towards the coffin. Dennis’ father had never been good with the emotional talks, and Dennis had expected this reaction, but it did not prevent the longing that washed over him. If only his mother was there. She would have comforted Dennis and given him a long talk that would make it all right. But she wasn’t there. She had died in a car crash the year before Colin had been accepted into Hogwarts.

With a heavy heart, Dennis waited for the funeral to finish so he could go home.

***

That night he lay in bed, mind still whirring at the possibilities of Colin being stuck in hell while his brother was comfortable and warm. Giving a small cry, Dennis quickly turned over and shut his eyes, thinking of anything but fire and pain.

Finally, sleep took him...

***

He was blinded by a bright light shining all around him. His heart soared at the purity and peace of it. It was beautiful, and the light didn’t hurt his eyes. It protected him. A soft whisper blew past him as if it were caught in a non-existent wind.

“Dennis, I’m all right. I’m safe...”

And Dennis knew that God was with him.

***

He woke with a start, but instantly a soft peace settled onto him. Colin was safe. He was happy. God was protecting him.

~~Azhure~~

[cirelondiel]

Name: Chelsea
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Peace
Rating: 1st - 2nd years
Warnings: Mentions of character death
Word Count: ~ 350
Authors Notes: The situation in this drabble (the group of students visiting a monument erected in memory of those who died in the war) was set up in my drabble for the Back to School challenge. In a way, this is a continuation of that drabble, but from a different point of view. It's second person and present tense, because I seem to be addicted to that at the moment.

The sun is setting. It's like spilled ink - red, pink, gold - seeping across a huge blue canvas. You gaze upwards at it, the open endless sky, and wonder how many souls can fit in heaven.

Your hands are tightly grasping those of two others, two anonymous others. They're in different houses, different years, yet you are united just like every person in this ring of students around the golden obelisk. Each and every one of you is connected, not just by your linked hands but by the common loss you have suffered. This impromptu memorial is completely silent as Hogwarts' united houses pray, cry, remember.

You're not sure if God exists. It's hard to believe that this beautiful sunset and the cool wind you feel on your wet cheeks and the people you're holding hands with and the emotion you feel at the loss of other lives could all exist because of the world's chance creation, as Muggle scientists would have you believe. Yet if God created the world and the people in it, how could He let His creations suffer such pain? Was He just looking the other way as your friends and classmated died?

You're not sure.

But you do know that there is a heaven, or something like it, at least. If souls can choose to remain on Earth after death, like Sir Nick and the Fat Friar and the other Hogwarts ghosts, then it stands to reason that there must be another option, an alternative which is taken by most. And that's the option that every person listed on the monument in front of you chose.

So you know they're in a better place. Your face is still raised to the sunset, and you close you eyes and imagine the battlers relaxing on clouds, gazing down at the ring of students around the monument by the lake. They know they are missed and appreciated. Their spirits are safe and happy.

They have found peace in Heaven.

And this unbroken circle of students has peace on Earth.

-- Chels

[tatjanablack]

Name: Tatjana Black (tatjanablack)
House: Ravenclaw
Title: God is always there for you
Rating: Not sure. 3-5 years
Warnings: None
Word Count: 365
Authors Notes: It is the first thing I ever have wrote. It is about Lupin in his first year.

”God will always be there for you.” That was his father has told him when he was little. ”Who is God?” had he asked. It had been late, and time for bed. ”God is someone who is watching over you.”
The thought had made him feeling good. I don't need to be nervous if Dad or Mom dies. Because then will God be there to help me. And Lupin felt asleep.

God will always be there for you. Lupin remembered his Dad's words. His father had lied to him. His own father had lied! He was angry. Very angry. How could you lie to me? I was stupid. I was a stupid naive child! God does not exsit. That is the truth. If God really had been there it would not had happened to me. It had been almost six week, since he had got the bite who had changed in a way he didn't wanted. It had made him to a werewolf. And nothing could be done. Where was you God? Dad said you would be watching over me. But you didn't! And the week before he had been a werewolf for the first time. He had felt such a pain. If you really were there God, you would not let a 11 years old feel in that way. And the most terrible thing was that he was alone. He was alone in unfamilar place. Hogwarts. It will be fine son, had his Dad said. No it will not, Lupin thought. I will not be able to get any friends.

At that moment he saw two boys. He had seen before. They were always together. He felt awful. I wish I had some friends, he thought. Then he felt someone touched his shoulder. And then he heard.. not really a voice but.. ”Don't worry.”
And the next thing he heard was one of the boys said: ”Hello Lupin. Are you alone? What about coming with us? It is time for lunch. He smiled. ”That would be great.”
You was right Dad. God is there for me always.He has given a chance. To make some friends. And God is right. I don't need to worry.

[Hermoine Jean Granger]

Here is my entry:

Title: Hope
House: Ravenclaw
Ratings: 3rd-5th years
Warnings: Depression, I guess
Word Count: 500

A/N: The definition of Spirituality used in this drabble is: Spirituality: Recognition of a meaning to existence that transcends one's immediate circumstances. I found it when I googled the term.

My mother walked across the corridor towards me and a pang of grief wrecked my heart as I saw her listless expression, bemused, yet calm. Benign, as though she was content with whatever she had. Why wouldn’t she be, I asked myself. It was only my Grandmother and myself who were actually undergoing the actual pain, because it was us who had to live with the torture of seeing them alive, yet so distant.

Even after so many years of seeing my mother on this same corridor in St. Mungo’s, I still hadn’t got used to accepting the reality. She smiled upon seeing me; but it was a smile that she gave every stranger who passed by. Her expression remained listless, and she showed no signs of recognition on seeing me, although I had been there every day of my holidays. Her condition hadn’t improved at all, and that tender ray of hope that I was clutching to seemed to be disappearing into thin air day by day. I saw my Grandmother speaking to my father, and instinctively realised that she too, was clutching that slim ray with all her might.

On seeing my mother, many questions arose in my mind. I wondered how any soul, including Merlin, who’d created the wizarding world, could stay in the realm of the dead, enjoying themselves, while my parents here were stuck between life and death. I felt resentment towards all these souls who’d been relieved from this hell-hole called life. Suddenly a voice was heard inside my head, one that sounded remarkably like Professor Albus Dumbledore’s. Shock and surprise were withheld abruptly and anger just took over.

‘Why the hell do you have to make my parents suffer like this?’ I asked.

‘Who told you that they are suffering?’ Dumbledore questioned with a chuckle.

‘I know they are; I just do! Just look at their gaunt, hollow face; so empty, so blank. Death would be better.’ I replied, enraged by his calm and patient demeanour.


‘Neville, you do not realise that they are now in a completely different plane than that of mere mortals like you.’ Dumbledore said enigmatically

‘Why are they unlike you then? Why do they still remain on this earth?’ Neville cried.

‘Let’s just say that there might be a slight chance of them recovering to normality, but till then they continue to remain one among us, and by no means can it be called suffering; it is an adventure all by itself,’ intoned Dumbledore in a saintly manner.

‘You mean to say that’s another world that they live in?’

‘Yes, and it’s true.’

Something was pressed into my palm; it was a wrapper of Drooble’s bubble gum. My mother smiled as she looked at me, and I smiled back at her. Now that I knew that she wasn’t suffering, I looked at the situation from a different perspective. There was still Hope, hope in her becoming normal again and I hung onto it with everything I had.

This is, by far, the toughest challenge I ever attempted. You are truly Ebil, your potato-ness.