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Thread: Minor Canon Characters: A Portrait, A Challenge

  1. #1
    GringottsVault711
    Guest

    Minor Canon Characters: A Portrait, A Challenge

    Minor Canon Characters are their own category of character, similar to both Canon Characters and Original Characters, and different in their own way, too.

    All Minor Canon Characters have something to build their personality on -- a house, an interest, a relationship. We can make inferences about Eileen Prince based on how her son grew up, we make guesses about Alicia Spinnet based on her interests in Quidditch and her place in the Gryffindor team.

    Minor Characters should always be kept IC according to Canon -- but you have to take liberties, or else you'll be left with an underdeveloped, flat category. And as a writer, you can decide that Mark Evans has a talent for witty sarcasm, or that Mr Lovegood has a habit of scratching his ear when he thinks he's come across a new conspiracy.

    So, your task:

    Take a minor character - it can be one you've written, or it can be one you're not used to, and tell me about their personality. You can do it in a snapshot fiction, or you can have the character tell about themself.

    The rules are:

    1. It must be a minor character from the Harry Potter Universe. That rules out Hermione Granger, Molly Weasley, Bilbo Baggins, Pikachu and their close relatives.

    2. They must remain in character with their canon counterpart but you must use creativity, too. You can make up a name for their grandmother, and tell us a random story about their childhood, or give them an unheard of quirk.

    3. If you aren't sure if they qualify as minor or not, PM me [GringottsVault711] and I'll give you the yay or nay.

    4. Your post should be between 300 and 1000 words. It can resemble an Original Character post, or it can be a Character Study-esque drabble.

    5. This thread is for 'Portraits' [entries] only. Questions can be directed to PM or can be posted in the Questions thread in the main index of the Mdm Pomfrey's Character Clinic forum.

    6. 10 points will be awarded per entry [one entry per member], with an additional 10 points to the three 'best' posts.

    All submissions are due July 29th, 11:59 EST.

  2. #2
    kumydabookworm
    Guest
    Name: kumydabookworm
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Emerald Green
    Character: Eileen Prince
    Word Count: 999
    Warnings: Character Death
    Inspiration: We know she was the Gobstones Team captain. I developed this into an obsession - a refuge for her anger. I've always wondered how a pureblood ended up with a Muggleborn and this explains why she left the wizarding world.

    Eileen picked at her breakfast with a fork, placing yellow bits of her scrambled eggs into the Gobstone formation she read about yesterday in a Bulgarian handbook. Her eyes took in the angles and design quickly, checking its accuracy.

    Suddenly claws ripped her carefully placed food to shreds, and a sharp beak pecked her in the shoulder. She looked up through her hair to see her father’s black owl.

    She looked down at her plate again to see the envelope nestled between her goblet of orange juice and her napkin. She cut the twine that tied the letter to the owl’s leg with a jagged fingernail, and extricated the letter from the envelope, taking care not to tear the parchment. She would tear the parchment later and use the shreds as makeshift Gobstones to practice her aim in the hallways by hitting stones in the floor.

    Daughter,

    Ignatius Prewett is becoming too old to find an alliance, and he must produce heirs. You will meet him on the day of your graduation. The Prewetts are powerful family of great repute, and it would be a favorable alliance.

    Father


    Eileen scowled. Ignatius Prewett was fifteen years older than her. This was absurd. Her parents didn’t care about her…they wanted to get in the favor of powerful people.

    She could see Gobstones lying up on the board as clearly as if the game was being played right in front of her – in a way, it was. She was going to be knocked off the board by Ignatius Prewett’s marble, which would be flicked by her own parents.

    She burned inside with rage. How could they make her marry a man like this? She supposed Ignatius would make a decent husband – besides his looks, he was rumored to be a very kind man. She also supposed that she could do a lot worse – she wasn’t pretty like most of the Slytherin girls.

    Still, he could nearly be her father! She bit back a sob. She didn’t want to be a mother. She didn’t want to clean a house, or live with a stranger. She didn’t want any of this. Running up to her room, she threw things around the room. Finally, she found a Gobstone and cupped it in her hand.

    Crushing it in her grip, she clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard. Keep your cool. Stay in control.

    Her pulse beat a rhythm against the gold surface of the Gobstone. Her fury ebbed a bit, and it was safe to go to Potions class.

    The professor’s words slipped by her and she continued to look at the Gobstone rolling from one edge of her desk to the next. Flick. She imagined Father, green slime spread into white hair. Flick. Ignatius, his face covered with the liquid. Flick. The professor’s unstoppable mouth spewing it forth.

    “Miss Prince!”

    Eileen turned her head to show that she had heard the professor.

    “What page of the textbook are we on?”

    She remained silent.

    “I will take points if you do not give me an answer!”

    “Thirty-five years old.” That’s who she was going to marry.

    “Thirty points from Slytherin! That is the eighth time this week you have been inattentive!”

    Eileen didn’t move to open her textbook. Flick. The professor’s robes covered in a emerald mess.

    After the bell rung, she trudged through the hallways to go back to the Slytherin Common Room. Once she slipped through the stone wall, she went straight to her unfinished game of Gobstones.

    She hadn’t been playing for long when Hooper, the Head Boy, arrived.

    “Bloody hell, Prince,” he hissed, “you lost us another thirty points. We’re in second place to Gryffindor, and my father will send me a Howler as soon as he hears.”

    Eileen paid him no attention, and Hooper growled in fury. He swept his arm across the board, flinging the Gobstones to the floor.

    “Do I have your attention now?”

    Eileen finally looked at him. His eyes flitted from one focal point to another, looking nearly mad with rage.

    A cruel smile twisted his features. With vindictive vehemence, he slammed his iron-toed boots onto Gobstone after Gobstone, crushing the soft gold under his foot. Eileen watched with muted horror as the destruction continued.

    Finally, face red from exertion, he stopped. “You will never again play with those damn stones and lose House points,” Hooper said triumphantly.

    He turned to walk away, and Eileen gazed at the flattened stones – her precious Gobstones. Fury built up in her and her hands shook. She had no Gobstone to clutch to console her raw rage.

    Thoughtlessly, she grabbed her wand and pointed it at Hooper. “Stop.”

    Hooper froze and spun to face her, a shocked expression on his face. No one had ever heard her speak in front of a group of people before. Everyone in the Common Room stared.

    She paid them no notice. The wand felt different – long and sharp – against her fingers. She longed for the smooth roundness of a Gobstone, but this boy had destroyed them.

    Her heart pounded in her ears, and she felt a swooshing sensation in her stomach. Her father, Ignatius Prewett, her mother, Dippet, the professors, the students – no one here knew what they had done to her.

    Suddenly, she wanted someone else to feel her pain. She wanted someone else to feel as angry as she did. There were no Gobstones to sympathize with her, nothing to hit, to crush until the madness abated.

    “Avada Kedavra,” she hissed.

    His stiff corpse crumpled. As she left the Common Room, ignoring the horrified looks of her classmates, she knew she could never return to the magical world. The Dementors were probably already searching for her. She smiled to herself as she walked towards Hogsmeade to Apparate away from this place, from these people.

    The green light enveloping Hooper’s body was even prettier than how she imagined the Gobstones’ slime would look painted on his skin.

    Death was beautiful.

  3. #3
    bittersweet_lullaby
    Guest
    Author name: bittersweet_lullaby
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Miriam Strout: An Autobiography
    Character: Miriam Strout
    Word Count: 903
    Warnings: None
    Inspiration: I liked Miriam's appearance in OotP and I wanted to explore her a bit more. I've always liked the minor characters, so this was the perfect oppourtunity.

    My name is Miriam Leigh Jones Strout. I was born in a small house in Kent, England, to a young pureblood witch, Leigh Roughton-Jones, and a Muggle, Richard Jones. I was named Miriam, for my maternal aunt, and I was given my mother's name as a middle name (it's often a tradition with pureblood families). Two years after I was born, my parents decided they were ready for another child. When I was nearly four, my mother gave birth to my younger sister, Jane, a month early. Jane was still very small, so she was put into intensive care until she grew more. She died two weeks after her birth. My parents, deep in mourning, decided that I was enough and that they wouldn't try again.

    When I was nine, we moved from Kent, where all my friends were, to London. It was a big, smelly, unfamiliar city in my eyes at the time, and I had no inclination whatsoever to stay there. I remember expecting my parents to go along with my elaborate scheme of how to get back to Kent; it involved riding on top of a train, if I recall correctly.

    I was a relatively happy adolescent, but, as all adolescents are, quite troubled at times. I found my passion quickly, however, when I made my first trip to the hospital wing at Hogwarts, in my second year. I had got a rather nasty burn, quite by accident, and was told to report to Madam Pomfrey, the new nurse, immediately. I went, and she fixed it rather marvellously with a prod of her wand and I was able to make it to my next lesson without being late. When, in my third year, I got a detention for passing a nasty note from the person next to me to a girl across the room, I had to help Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. I was nervous at first, but I liked watching her with the students, and I decided I wanted to learn more about magical healing. I studied hard at Potions, and checked out several books from the library with some simple healing spells, and began using them to get rid of the cuts and bruises that came with taking Care of Magical Creatures. I have kept up with it over the years, and when I graduated from Hogwarts with 11 O.W.L.s and 10 N.E.W.T.s, I began to pursue a career as a Healer.

    I was a very ambitious student in school, so I didn't have much of a social life. I had one close friend, Gretele Davis, who was in my year and House (Ravenclaw). When I was fifteen, boys had begun to notice me, and I had a few offers, but declined them all, preferring to spend my time with Gretele or studying. When I was seventeen, Gretele decided I needed to get out more, and arranged a "blind date" for me. I reluctantly agreed, and had a wonderful time. The boy, Raoul Jenkins, asked me on a second date, which I then accepted, and we dated for two months. Then, N.E.W.T. craze set in and I broke it off to concentrate on my studies. Raoul asked me out again after the exams, but I declined, because my feelings for him had since deteriorated. He had ignored me completely and apparently had said some nasty things behind my back after I stopped our relationship. I didn't date again until my 20s.

    Right now, I am happily married to a wonderful man, Kle Strout (he was born James Strout, but when he became a Healer he legally changed his name to Asklepios, after the Greek god of healing, but most people can't pronounce that, so he goes by Kle). I am 37 years old, and a Healer for St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, which is where I met Kle. He is in charge of the Iphigenia Pan Ward on the same floor as my ward, the Janus Thickey ward. I met him one day about six years ago as I came out of the ward to get a few things for one of my permanent patients. He was just coming out of his ward, and, well, our eyes connected and I knew it was perfect. Kle and I live in Muggle London, not too far from St. Mungo's, because we are both very dedicated to our work and like to be close so we can be available if it's an emergency.

    I like taking care of other people so much that I don't often like to be taken care of, convinced I can do it myself. I don't like to inconvenience people. I am allergic to several things rather badly, however, so Kle and I have come to an understanding that I will allow him to not only take care of me, but take care of my ward as well, since there is no potion that can cure allergies to bee stings or peanut butter.

    Kle and I have been thinking about having a child, but we're both dedicated to our relationship and careers, and we aren't sure if we could handle it all. My patients are sort of like my children, actually. If we do have a child, I hope I will be a sufficient mother, and that I can give my child as happy a childhood as my parents gave me.

  4. #4
    mecredi
    Guest
    Author Name: Mecredi
    House: Slytherin
    Title: A Death Eater?
    Character: Stan Shunpike
    Word Count: 376
    Warnings: Alcohol Abuse
    Inspiration: Harry’s rant in HBP about how the Ministry was holding Stan Shunpike. For someone who has never been drunk before, hopefully I captured the feeling.

    My vision was slightly out of focus, but I ignored it. I heard my raised voice joking and laughing as one fist pounded the table.

    Five minutes later, I laughed at the joke I had told five minutes before.

    That’s it, I was very, very drunk! Now, what should I do about it? ‘Nothing,’ my brain shouted! Another pint was set in front of me, I vaguely remember clinking glasses with the blurry figure in front of me, but my glass was too full, beer sloshed down the sides on to my hands and on to the table. There was beer all over my hands, and I began to pout. Emotion flowed so easily through my drunken state.

    Eventually, I started annoying the bartender with my cries, and he through me out. I wrapped my arms around myself, wiggling slightly. I stumbled down the block to my flat and struggled to make the key fit in the lock. Then, sleep.

    I woke up, and there were men standing around me. Oh, god. I had the worst headache in my entire life. They were reaching down. Thank god, a hang-over cure! But they twisted my arms behind my back and used magic to bind them together. What?

    They were saying something. It was too loud, and my ears rang. I shouted at them, “Stop shouting!”

    I felt a strange sensation in my abdomen. I was Apparating? Suddenly, I was in the-the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. I threw up one of the men’s shoes.

    They picked me up and carried to the elevator where we went down, down, down. I was placed in a cell to sober up.



    I woke up, feeling better. My head still had a full feeling, but not the pain of the day before. Day before? Yes, it happened? What happened? Why I am here?

    The door screeched slowly open. I saw a pair of shiny, black boots step in. I closed my eyes, groaned, and rolled on to my back. Hold on, he was saying something, “You are here to be questioned about recent Death Eater activity.”

    I looked up at him with confusion, then groaned again and place my head in my hands.
    Death Eater activity?

  5. #5
    Madame Marauder
    Guest
    Author name: Madame Marauder
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: A Once Constant Variable
    Character: Daphne Greengrass
    Word Count: 673
    Warnings: None
    Inspiration: I always wondered about the Slytherin Girls. Other than Pansy, we don't know any of them. And I wanted to create a distrusting character. Daphne Greengrass was the perfect blank canvas. The Daphne of Greek Mythology was turned into a laurel by her father. My Daphne also has an interesting relationship with her "father".


    School was drawing to a close for the year, and Merlin, had it been eventful. Too eventful. Our headmaster was murdered, as the rumor goes, by our ex-head of house. I felt betrayed. I knew it was wrong to feel betrayed… I shouldn’t have expected much, if anything, from Professor Snape. But, he was there. A solid figure in my life, which, was something I’ve needed… desired for a long time.

    My father was caught and convicted as a Death Eater when I was a young girl. He was locked away Azkaban now. He betrayed my mum, never telling her what he was… that he bore the dark mark. I was six years old when he was actually caught. He had tried to regroup the Death Eaters, but had failed and been turned in.

    So for five years of my life, I went without any true father. Yes, my mother had many suitors; she was very beautiful. But none of them ever stayed. Then, when I got to school, there was Professor Snape.

    I didn’t mean for me to adopt him as my father. No, I would never have done that knowingly. It was a subconscious thing. I mean, Professor Snape was always there. He was my head of house and my professor. He was a constant variable in my life.

    So I guess it wasn’t suprising that one day in my second year I called him, “Daddy.” I’m normally quiet in class. I’m not the most outgoing of girls. But, anyways, I had a question and I raised my hand. Professor Snape nodded in recognition.

    “Daddy, how many porcupine quills do I need to add to my potion?” I asked.

    Professor Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise.

    “Come again, Miss Greengrass?” he said quietly.

    I felt myself blush.

    “Sir, how many porcupine quills do I need to add to my potion?” I asked. I got the impression that Professor Snape was, at the least, mildly amused.

    “Seven, Miss Greengrass,” he said, smiling, gentler than I’d seen him smile at anyone else.

    I didn’t know that he had, in fact, heard me call him ‘Daddy’ until much later. But in my heart and in my head, I knew that’s what I called him. And I felt like I lived a charmed life. Most kids don’t get to pick their parents. But I had. Or at least, I had chosen my daddy.

    And Professor Snape became that constant variable in my life, as I said once before. I think he was at least that to all his Slytherins.

    As history shows, there has always been friction between Slytherin and the other houses, but in my time at Hogwarts, this friction was enough to isolate Slytherins. But Professor Snape made us… or rather, made me, at least, not feel so left out. He made sure our house was unified.

    For example, one day, in my fourth year, Pansy Parkinson was teasing me because I was too leggy. She was calling me a Plimpy (a fish, famous for its long, rubbery legs). I don’t know why this affected me, I’ve always been on the gangly side, but Pansy’s snide remarks burned. I nearly began crying when it was “Daddy” to the rescue.

    “Miss Parkinson,” he said coolly. “Have you considered that maybe Miss Greengrass knows that her legs are long? Instead, why not be more productive in helping her find an appealing feature about herself? I’d really not like giving you detention for exercising your biting wit.”

    As he sauntered off, I thought I caught a ghost of a smile flit across his face. It was pointed in my direction.

    But, like all men, Professor Snape could not be counted on. No. The night he betrayed Dumbledore, he betrayed his Slytherins, who he’d always been there for. He’d betrayed me. He was just like my real father… Pretending to be loyal, but really being a traitor. They bore the same mark and I felt foolish for ever assuming “constant variable” and “Daddy” meant the same thing.

  6. #6
    the nutty imp
    Guest
    Author Name: the nutty imp (Miel)
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: In Over My Head.
    Character: Aidan Lynch
    Word Count: 330
    Warnings: none
    Inspiration: During the Quidditch World Cup Aidan Lynch, the Irish Seeker obviously cannot handle Krum.

    The coach told me to be careful that he’s tricky, Hell, I’ve play through a World Cup and had faced off with plenty other Seekers more experienced than Viktor Krum. These rookies are all show and little substance, he may have speed and a bagful of tricks but I’ve got the better eye and experience.

    The game started, I scanned for the Snitch suddenly Krum dived down at such a sharp vertical angle, I’m sure he saw the Snitch, that’s the one reason for a Seeker to go down at such a dangerous angle and speed. I followed suit, determined to catch the Snitch before my rival. At the very last minute, he pulled up, I don’t know how he did it – I tried to follow suit and failed.

    A loud groan emanated from the fans on our side.

    The white spots in front of me cleared. I cursed myself for falling for that feint. Krum was definitely a better Seeker than I anticipated him to be. I would have to be more alert the next time around.

    From the corner of my eye I notice Quigley aim a Bludger towards Krum, when I notice a glint. I turned around and dived for it. Suddenly I felt someone beside me – Krum. I took a sharper angle towards the ground, I would not allow this rookie to beat me. As I reached for the golden ball, I felt it pulled away from me as I my fingers touch the grass. I don’t have the snitch and I could not pull up.

    As I felt the horde of angry vela atop of me, the crowd cheered. From my vantage point I saw a flurry of red robes floating above a golden glint on his hand – Krum caught the Snitch and ended the game.

    My head bowed, although we have won the game. I knew that it was not due to my performance - I have been humbled but this young rookie.

  7. #7
    cmwinters
    Guest
    Name: cmwinters
    House: Slytherin
    Title: By Any Means Necessary
    Character: Tobias Snape
    Word Count: 1000 (!!!)
    Warnings: Murder
    Inspiration: There have been several posts on LJ that lament the fact that a single, out-of-context memory of Snape's has everyone writing Tobias as a horrible, drunken, misogynistic child-beater with a gambling addiction. Some of my theories, namely that Eileen Prince, a Ravenclaw and descendant of the headmaster Everard, was murdered by Death Eaters for being a blood-traitor when Severus was very small, and that being the impetus for Severus joining the Death Eaters to bring them and the Dark Lord down "from the inside", made me want to paint Tobias in a more favourable light.

    Besides, I think they all have more depth this way.

    Also, the Slytherins strike me as a very "The End Justifies the Means" group.

    ==
    Tobias Snape's sole failure as a father to his only child, Severus, was his lack of wizarding ability – and he knew it.

    The two had a rewarding relationship when Eileen was alive. However, once she was murdered at the hands of those . . . dead beaters, or whatever they were called, father and son found themselves unwittingly thrust into a war that neither had the capability to understand or fight.

    As time went on, Severus blamed Tobias for Tobias' failure to defend Eileen the way Severus thought a "proper father" would have done. Truth be told, Tobias blamed himself for Eileen's death. Both because he was not home when the invaders came, and also because he had dragged his six-year-old son into the shed and directed the boy to magically hide them from the attackers based on some ridiculous prediction he'd heard from an old man who'd come to visit them some years before, which said Severus alone would have the ability to end the escalating war. Tobias hadn't bought it, but Eileen had, and they'd sworn to protect their son to adulthood.

    As if a parent wouldn't do that already. Even a Muggle one.

    Nonetheless, after Eileen's funeral, Tobias found himself isolated. Upon Eileen's death, their modest home had been taken off the Floo Network by the Ministry, and they didn't own an owl. Tobias felt abandoned by his in-laws, who mistook his silence as a desire for distance, and Tobias found himself increasingly immersed in both raising a child as a single parent which he, as a working man, was ill-equipped to do to begin with, in early 1960's England. Never mind when that child had special needs as a wizard.

    Tobias knew there were wizards that had chosen to live as or amongst Muggles, and reflected that it was much easier for the Wizards to disguise themselves among the non-magical population. On the other hand, it was not so easy for Tobias. He was also completely unable to continue Severus' early magical education, because he didn't understand the terminology and, as a Muggle, simply could not see or read a number of things, because of protective spells.

    Unable to leave a small child alone during the day, Tobias was forced to enroll his son in the local primary school, a situation Severus despised with every fibre of his being. The Prince family, although brilliant, didn't contact Severus until the winter holidays. Early Christmas morning, Tobias grabbed the owl and howled for his son, unsure if the creature would respond to the directive of a Muggle, and in a fit of near hysteria, scribbled a hasty "Please come for a visit" invitation, which he sent back with the ruffled and now angry-looking owl.

    That evening thankfully brought the entire Prince family, who apologised profusely for their oversight of his situation, and Eileen's cousin Broderick Bode, who had recently graduated Hogwarts and was just starting an apprenticeship at the Ministry, agreed to bring Severus to his grandparents' home during the day and back to Spinner's End in the evenings, and to assist in tutoring Severus. Severus spent weeks on end immersed in the Prince family library, which had gained a number of rare volumes during Everard Prince's term as Headmaster of Hogwarts.

    While this arrangement made Severus much happier, it widened the rift between father and son, and when Severus started Hogwarts and needed help with his schoolwork, Tobias found himself completely unable to assist his son the way a father should be able to help his school-aged son with assignments, leaving both of them incredibly frustrated.

    As a result, as Severus aged, their relationship became more and more strained. There was normal teenaged angst to contend with, exacerbated by an unhappy home life and an unpopular school life. Tobias was almost wholly unable to relate to his son and when the boy came home from the first year Christmas Holidays with horrible stories of being bullied, Tobias could only offer to his son the recommendation that he get back at the bullies in a way they wouldn't expect.

    A lifetime of living and working in an industrial area had taken its toll on Tobias' health, and when Severus came home between his sixth and seventh years of school, Tobias sat the boy down for a long talk, punctuated by coughing fits that left the older man exhausted and delirious.

    Much to his surprise, Tobias survived two years beyond that conversation, although he drifted further and further into delirium. His son, despite his skill in Potions, was unable to help heal him. But late one night, during a rare moment of lucidity, he heard the scuffling sound downstairs that he would never mistake – the sound of the invaders who had killed his wife had returned.

    Tobias grabbed the cricket bat hidden behind his bedroom door, creeping slowly down the stairs, hoping to take the intruders by surprise.

    "Now remember," an educated voice drawled, "he must see your face."

    A familiar profile nodded then turned to face him as Tobias raised his weapon. A white, skull-like mask was removed, and Tobias gasped in recognition.

    The lengths his son would go to, to avenge his mother's death were suddenly very clear to Tobias, and he whispered "Severus . . .?"

    "A bit of Crucio, then, Snape?" said a laughing voice on his son's right.

    Crucio was a word Tobias knew.

    Severus shook his head from side to side, anger and hate building in his eyes. "Not worth it."

    No torture, then. Tobias looked defiantly at the young adult before him. As skilled as his son had been for years at hiding emotion, Tobias saw with some satisfaction that the younger man allowed the barest flicker of regret to cross his eyes.

    Tobias, hoping to show he understood, grasped his shirt at the chest and simply said, "You are my son."

    The exertion brought on a coughing fit, which was mercifully put to a silent end as Severus raised his wand.

  8. #8
    Periwinkle
    Guest
    Name: Periwinkle
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: He Had Always Loved Her
    Character: Rodolphus Lestrange
    Word Count: 327
    Warnings: None
    Inspiration: I have always been interested in Rodolphus, and how he had gotten into the relationship with Bellatrix that he is in now.

    He will always love her. Or so he tells himself.

    Ever since his eyes had strayed to her tall, straight form walking past him in the hallways of Hogwarts, he had been infatuated with her. Who wouldn't be? She was his rival -- intellectually, spiritually, mentally and physically. He could always count on her to give him the right answers -- answers he wanted to hear. She would always rise to his challenges, his queries and comments.

    She was like him as well, in personality. The Dark Arts interested them both and they often had discussions about them. She pushed him to his limits, never giving up until he gave her what she wanted. She had him under her spell.

    Throughout his childhood, he had had to depend on himself solely. His parents weren't there for him. Ignoring him, they were tangled up in their problems, barely paying attention to their son. He listened to himself, that voice in his head that he to seek advice from. Relying on himself, he got through the years at Hogwarts.

    But then he met her.

    She was so domineering, so imperious. She attracted him and he listened to her. Because he was so sick and tired of listening only to himself and when she came, it was his only solution. He didn't mind her devious ways, her sly remarks. He followed her, because he had nothing else to do, no one else to turn to. She was there for him and he clung to her, not letting go.

    He payed attention to her; listened. He did her bidding, always agreeing with her opinions. She had him wrapped around her finger, leading him into a web of twisted lies and obediance that would eventually swallow him up. Trapped, he would have nowhere to go. It was never a realization to him and she knew that. Eagerly, he followed her path, blindly stumbling into the biggest mistake of his life.

    He had always loved her. Or so he told himself.

  9. #9
    Gryffinpuff
    Guest
    Name: Gryffinpuff
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Beyond the Acne and the Chubby Waistline
    Character: Eloise Midgen
    Word Count: 699
    Warnings: None
    Inspiration: I'm not really sure, it just came to me. I suppose I just wondered what it was like being Eloise, the chubby kid with acne. Hermione calls her a very sweet person underneath it all, even though Ron and Harry scoff at the idea of bringing her to the Yule Ball. I suppose I wanted to explore that person underneath. The girl who hexed off her own nose, and then disappeared without a trace in book six after the second war began.

    Eloise Midgen stood before the mirror, gazing at her reflection, sadness sweeping over her pimpled features. She touched her nose gingerly, as though reassuring herself it was still firmly attached. Ever since she’d accidentally hexed it off in her fourth year she’d had recurring nightmares. They were always the same. She’d wake up in the dream, her nose lying beside her on the pillow. Then Madam Pomfrey would appear by her bed, saying it had fallen off too many times and she’d just have to do without.

    Eloise shivered slightly, wrapping her robes more tightly around her shoulders as she wandered to her bedroom window. Colorful leaves littered the ground outside the house, blowing softly along the road in the chilly November breeze. She sighed, plopping herself down unceremoniously in the window sill, sulking, her head resting heavily on her hand. Even though it was still very early in the morning, Eloise knew she’d never get back to sleep now. She always had trouble falling asleep after “the nose dreams.”

    But it’s more than that, she thought sadly, sighing deeply.

    Eloise was lonely. Last month her father had come to Hogwarts, demanding that she leave the school right away, whisking her and the rest of their family off to France to live with her Aunt Daeva. Since then Eloise had been practically confined to her room. Daeva hated children, and even though Eloise would be seventeen in five months, Daeva refused to see her as an adult.

    When Eloise did venture into the rest of the house, Daeva loved to comment on her face and the build of her body, questioning how such an “ugly child” could have sprouted from her bloodline. Eloise closed her eyes, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. She was no longer affected by these comments. She knew she wasn’t a raving beauty; plenty of people had made her perfectly aware of that, both within Hogwarts and out. Her mother kept insisting it was a phase; that she’d grow out of the acne and the chubbiness. After sixteen years, Eloise was fairly convinced her mother was lying, or lost in a state of denial.

    Eloise would never win any awards for beauty, or receive candies and flowers from admiring suitors. Originally she’d fretted horribly over this realization; trying everything she could imagine to change her appearance. That was how she ended up without a nose in the first place, her desperation to look like everyone else overpowering her common sense.

    Since that day, she’d decided to accept fate and embrace her pimpled visage as best she could. It hadn’t been an easy task, and she still wasn’t satisfied with herself, but she’d always had friends at her side. Her friends would lash out aggressively at anyone who sought to poke fun, cheering Eloise considerably when she felt extremely low. It was no wonder she’d ended up in Hufflepuff house. Her fellow badgers could see beyond the acne and the chubby waistline. They saw her for her, a fact Eloise had taken advantage of until now.

    Now she stood alone. Friendless. Defenseless. She hated her father sometimes for pulling her out of school. She didn’t see how she was any safer here than at Hogwarts. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had a long reach. There was nowhere to hide that he couldn’t affect in one way or another. She’d much prefer taking her chances at the castle, surrounded by gifted wizards and friends, than remain here in France, the victim of her Aunt’s wicked tongue.

    Eloise rose from her reverie, gazing once again out the window as fresh morning sunlight crested the horizon, bathing the world in welcoming light. Eloise cringed. Aunt Daeva always woke promptly at sunrise, demanding that Eloise get up as well. No “lazy children” in her home, not when there were chores to be done. Eloise groaned as she heard her Aunt’s clothed feet thumping menacingly down the hall. Pulling herself up from the window, she made her way to answer the beckoning bangs on her door.

    You-Know-Who better lose this war quickly, Eloise thought as she opened the door, her Aunt’s ravings washing over her, or I may go after him myself.


  10. #10
    Jeffersonian Intern Gryffindor
    I See Dead People... In Mirrors
    solemnlyswear_x's Avatar
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    Name: solemnlyswear_x
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Please Don’t Be Dead
    Character: Olive Hornby
    Word Count: 429
    Warnings: Character Death mentioned
    Inspiration: We know Olive Hornby was the student who teased Moaning Myrtle, but what if she was the one who found her body in the bathroom?

    “I can’t believe the Headmaster is making me do this,” I muttered softly, my hurried footsteps echoing noisily in the empty corridor. “It’s not my fault Myrtle’s a baby.”

    I kept walking, increasing my pace as I neared my destination. The sooner I finished this, the better. By the time I finally reached the door, I was in a near sprint, my black hair flying all over the place. I stopped directly in front of the entrance, pausing briefly. I was trying to prepare myself for whatever extravagant, fake apology I would have to make in order to get Myrtle to come out of the stall. It always involved promising that I would never tease her again- like that would happen. She was such an easy target, what with her glasses and constant tears, that my friends and I couldn’t help it. Sighing heavily, I opened the door and walked into the bathroom.

    “Myrtle, it’s time for dinner. Quit being a baby and come o-” I trailed off, my brown eyes widening as I took in the sight before me.

    Lying spread eagle on the cold floor was Myrtle Miller. Her brown eyes were open in what appeared to be shock, and her glasses, the ones that I had teased her about earlier in the day, were skewed on her pale face.

    I timidly stepped forward and checked for the pulse I knew wouldn’t be there.

    “Myrtle, please don’t be dead. I swear I won’t tease you again, and I really mean it. I’ll leave you alone- just please don’t be dead.”

    My thoughts and promises were in vain however; I quickly realized that she was dead.

    I felt myself sway on the spot, unable to believe that the lifeless body on the floor belonged to Myrtle. A few minutes slowly trickled by before I realized I needed to tell the Headmaster what had happened. I very slowly began to turn away from Myrtle’s body, but before I could completely leave, I heard someone clear their throat. I whipped around, hoping against hope that it was Myrtle, and that she wasn’t dead. Ironically, I did see her, but not the live one.

    “Why, hello,” the ghost of a chubby teenage girl said.

    I opened my mouth to say something, or perhaps scream, but nothing came out. Again, I began to teeter on the spot, the room beginning to fade into darkness. The last thing I remember before completely fainting was a slightly malevolent grin playing about Myrtle’s lips, and her words.

    “I expect I’ll be seeing you soon, Olive.”

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