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Thread: Weekly Drabble Challenge - Word Beads #5 - Results

  1. #1
    Ebil Gato Loco Ravenclaw
    He's The Dog... He's An Animagus...
    mugglemathdork's Avatar
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    May 2006
    retired to EbilVille

    Weekly Drabble Challenge - Word Beads #5 - Results

    It's word beading time...AGAIN! Actually, I haven't used this particular challenge since May! So I hope you enjoy it!

    Your prompt is to use ALL of the following words in your drabble: green, handkerchief, oil, lost, bottle, toy, lamp, cat, organic, and steno pad

    There's no "and, if's, or, buts" about it. All of those words must be in your drabble in some shape or form. Please bold the words so I can find them easily.

    The following form must be used when submitting your drabble responses to this post -
    PHP Code:
    B]Word Count:[/B]
    B]Author's Note:[/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 (October 5th).

    All questions should be referred to the Question Corner #4 - 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
    Name: Azhure
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: One Bright Morning
    Warnings: Just Petunia Dursley mistreating a three-year-old Harry.
    Word Count: 499
    Authors Note: I love word bead challenges!! *does a jig* Even though this is only the second one I've participated in...

    Anyway, here's my drabble!


    Petunia woke with a start at the sound of her husband’s voice.

    “Vernon?” she asked sleepily, sitting up and reaching over to turn on the lamp. “What is it?”

    “The boy,” Vernon said simply. Petunia sighed as she came aware of the wailing emitting from downstairs. Of course it was the boy. Getting reluctantly out of bed, she grabbed her dressing gown and headed downstairs.

    The wailing became unbearable the closer she got to the cupboard under the stairs, and Petunia quickly unlocked the cupboard and flung the door open.

    “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed at the three-year-old. The boy’s wailing stopped, but he continued to sniffle. “What did I tell you about waking us up in the middle of the night?” The boy’s reply was to look up at her with his wide green eyes. He looked lost, and had he been anyone else, Petunia would have felt her heart go out to him. Well, she would have if he was her Diddykins. It was then that she noticed something on the floor, reflecting the light from the hallway behind her. The boy had knocked over a bottle of her precious massage oil! She quickly grabbed him and placed him, none to gently, behind her. Then Petunia got a small white handkerchief out of her dressing gown pocket and desperately tried to wipe up all of the mess. It was no use. All of the oil had spilt out and one handkerchief was not enough to wipe it up. She then reached over for the mop, which rested in the corner of the cupboard, to clean up the rest of it up.

    Once done, she turned to the still sniffling boy and picked him up with a grimace and placed him back in the cupboard, locking the door once more. Knowing that she would never get back to sleep now, Petunia headed out to the kitchen to have something to eat.

    It was almost five in the morning, and the sun was just coming out and was shining into her white kitchen. Petunia smiled as she looked over to the television where her Diddykins usually took residence. He was only five years old and he already knew how to play video games. She had the cleverest son in the world. Next to the television sat a steno pad. Petunia looked at it curiously. Surely Dudders wasn’t one to write or draw. She walked over to it and picked it up. On it was a smiling face, and it had whiskers! Did Dudders draw this cat? she thought to herself. He doesn’t seem to be the one to draw pictures. She realised that she must have been the boy. Scrunching up the paper, she took it to the bin, stepping over Diddykins’ favourite toy - a Game Boy.

    With a sigh, she grabbed an organic apple out of the fruit bowl and took a bite, waiting for the rest of her family to wake up.

  3. #3
    Second Year Ravenclaw
    Beset by Owls

    Join Date
    Sep 2007
    Name: Quercus
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: A Lesson in Mischief Management (credit to my wonderful sister Pius)
    Warnings: none
    Word Count: 500
    Author's Note: Can you tell I'm studying for my first organic chemistry exam? O_o

    Remus wiped his face with an already-sweaty handkerchief to brush away the fumes that were condensing on his skin as he leaned over the bubbling green solution. He frowned. He’d added the oil in order to dissolve any organic material that might have been left over from the addition of the dragon scales, but the bottom of the bottle he had been using in place of a cauldron remained obstinately murky. Remus jotted the appearance of the potion in the steno pad he used as a laboratory journal. The article he’d read in the latest volume of The Modern Potionist said that much progress had been made in controlling involuntary transformations with the addition of chimera feathers to a standard Polyjuice antidote, but Remus’ attempt to create a similar concoction was not what the literature indicated. The waxing gibbous moon dipped into view at the window, and the cold light of its menacing leer overpowered the warmer glow of the lamp that lit the dungeon at night.

    Remus noticed too late the sound of padding steps behind him. Turning quietly, he saw the glowing eyes of Ms. Norris, and he ran to catch the cat before she could report to Filch. So close to the full moon, his reflexes were in lupine condition, and soon the tabby was growling in his arms, doing her best to add to his scars. “Shhh…” he whispered, but the wolf-scent overcame his soothing voice, and Ms. Norris yowled.

    Lupin froze, and at the door, the figure of Severus Snape appeared. He eyed Remus suspiciously as he walked in. Ms. Norris leapt from Remus’ arms and rubbed against Snape’s legs. He bent down and picked her up. She purred affectionately. Remus started nervously, “Are you lost, Snape? I was just finishing-“

    “Don’t toy with me, Lupin,” he said, rising and looking at Remus’ work. Remus couldn’t help but notice the genuinely impressed expression on Snape’s face, despite his attempts to hide it, and he couldn’t help but be pleased that he had gained the (at least intellectual) respect of the top potions student in his year. “An anti-transformative complex?” Snape said. “Very nice, but I’d add some aconite next time,” he said briskly. “And please be more discreet the next time you decide to experiment after hours.”

    With that, Snape left, letting Ms. Norris onto the floor and striding into the corridor. As Snape disappeared, Ms. Norris shook her head, and then ran out as well, purpose renewed. Oh great¸ Remus thought, and he ran as quickly as he could to catch her. In the dark hall, he could barely make out Snape, and there was no sign of the cat. He resigned himself to detention duty, and began packing.

    On the way back to Gryffindor tower, Remus tripped, and his precious ingredient vials broke open on the stone floor. In the brief flash of light from the inadvertent reaction, he saw that he had fallen over the inert and sleeping form of Ms. Norris.
    Normally word beads don't inspire me, but this one just clicked right away. I think it helped me finish my lab report faster because I really wanted to write it. I am also a Snape/Lupin fan, although it only shows a teeny bit here, if you squint.

    **snuggles back into books**

  4. #4
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    using rare and complicated words

    Name: Equinox Chick
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Sirius Black-Clueless of Gryffindor?
    Warnings: Slight whiff of cheese at the end.
    Word Count: 497
    Authors Note: This was fun!

    “Used by Miss Jones, perhaps, it’s a way to walk softly around the confused one,” read Sirius, more to himself than to his two companions.

    “Broomstick?” offered Peter.

    “What?” said Sirius irritably.

    “Broomstick. Gwenog Jones, that second year Slytherin, plays Quidditch. She’d use a broomstick,” said Peter.

    “Why would Gwenog Jones’ broomstick be an answer in a Muggle crossword puzzle, Wormy?” said Sirius in exasperation. “Besides broomstick’s ten letters; this is two words, five and three.”

    “You could squash it up to fit in the boxes,” said Peter helpfully.

    Remus, who until then had been lost in a book, snorted.

    “Just give up, Sirius, you’re obviously not as bright as you think!” he said.

    “Where’s Prongs?” asked Sirius moodily.

    “Off with Lily somewhere,” replied Peter. “Got any letters?”

    “Something, T, something, N, something. Next word P, something, D.”

    “Stink Pod?” suggested Peter.

    “What’s that got to do with the clue?” asked Remus.

    “I dunno- it’s cryptic. They never make sense to me.”

    Sirius threw the newspaper down in irritation and looked out of the window; it was getting dark. He pointed his wand at the oil lamp to light it. Then he walked over to his trunk and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky.

    “Want one?” he asked them both. Remus shook his head and returned to his book. Peter looked rather green. He was still suffering from last night.

    “Better not, Padfoot,” he muttered. “I still have a Herbology essay to write on the benefits of organic Snargaluff pods as opposed to magically modified ones.”

    They heard laughter outside their door; the next second James burst into the room dragging Lily behind him.

    “Merlin, Prongs!” shouted Sirius. “Knock next time you bring Lily round. We could have been naked for all you knew.”

    “Why would all three have you been naked?” said James. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

    Sirius raised his eyebrows sardonically as Peter blushed.

    “It’s for your benefit. If Lily happened to catch any of us in the raw she’d ditch you immediately and leave you sobbing, piteously, into your lace handkerchief.”

    James smirked. For some reason that Sirius couldn’t fathom he looked rather like a cat that had got the cream.

    Lily glanced at the crossword. “Steno pad,” she said.

    “Huh?” said Sirius and Peter together.

    “Steno Pad,” she repeated. “’Way’ is street or 'st'. 'Walk softly'- pad. Put them around ‘one confused’ – meaning mixed up- 'eno'.”

    “What’s Miss Jones got to do with it?” said Sirius in puzzlement.

    “’Miss Jones’ is a nickname for a secretary. The use steno pads for shorthand,” Lily explained.

    “Lily!” shouted Sirius, pulling her into his lap. “Ditch James and run off with me.”

    “Well err... actually,” she said, smiling across at James. He nodded.

    “Don’t toy with me,” said Sirius dramatically. “Just say the word and I’ll marry you.”

    Lily disentangled herself from his embrace and stood beside James.

    “You’re too late, Padfoot,” said James. “Just half an hour ago Lily agreed to marry me!”

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  5. #5
    Name: Rose/vampitude
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Awkward Encounters of a Teenage Werewolf
    Warnings: Zilch, nada, zero... nothing?
    Word Count: 499
    Authors Note: This mostly came about from me desperately trying to fit 'steno pad' into a story somewhere. Also, I hope titles do not affect the judge's decision, because mine is quite awful.

    Remus hunched over his steno pad irritably, poking the tip of his quill ever deeper into the hole widening in the center of the page. He was irritable because, not only did he have to go into his saved stash of green ink because of Sirius’s constant use of his usual black ink, but he just couldn’t think of a beginning to this blasted story. He couldn’t think of a single plot that would work, no character that could help get him started. He squinted at the last lit lamp on the desk, wishing it weren’t so dim. It was doing nothing to repair his mood.

    He stood up, stretching, and set off to filch any Butterbeer bottles left in Peter’s supposedly secret hoard. He flipped the top open. Empty. Typical.

    For quite possibly the first time ever, Remus wished Mrs. Norris was around; kicking that cat was a great way to relieve stress.

    A noise at the top of the girls’ staircase startled him. His eyes shot up to whoever dared disrupt his serene atmosphere.

    Gliding down the stairs was a teenage girl. Her carefully styled eyebrows pulled together when she laid eyes on Remus. She pulled the folds of her plush robe closer together and crossed her arms over her chest. Still, her face was not pinched in anger, but something closer to worry.

    “Remus,” she began tentatively as she reached the bottom step. He smiled falsely at her attempt at politeness.


    “What are you doing down here so late?”

    “Funny, I was about to ask the same from you.” Both stared the other down, unsure of who should answer.

    Marie broke first. “I-I seemed to have lost my good handkerchief.” Remus would have laughed at her pathetic lie if his facial muscles hadn’t been so tightly clenched.

    “Right.” The tension heightened for a moment as they looked awkwardly in any direction but towards each other. Remus turned back to his nonexistent work, feigning interest in his doodle-filled parchment.

    “What is that?” Marie questioned bluntly, startling Remus yet again. She must have come up from behind him.

    He snatched up the doodles she was trying not to smirk at. “Er, my essay on the differences organic materials make in potions. For Potions class.” Obviously.

    She abandoned all attempts not to smile. “Oh, don’t toy with me, Remus. You never were a good liar. Besides, I just saw it.”

    Silence from Remus. Marie sighed and went back to the fireplace.

    “…It was a very nice drawing, that’s all. Nothing to be ashamed of.” She glanced over at him hopefully, so he gradually pulled it back out. She came back over, took one long look at it, and nodded. She went back up the stairs without a word, and possibly with a hint of a smile still left on her lips.

    Remus held the paper up to the light again, knowing he’d only done this scene justice in that old oil painting. Marie made an exquisite portrait model.


  6. #6
    Name: bluemoon13
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Memory's Senses
    Warnings: It is rather fluffy...
    Word Count: 456
    Authors Note: Random scene that came into my head that I realized could be used for a weekly!

    When I remember Dad, I remember the late nights, long after Mum had tucked me in. The night echoed every sound, and as I lay in bed I could hear them all- James’ snores, Al’s quiet breaths, and the creaking of the front door. The last one was the hardest to hear, yet it brought the most excitement to my heart.

    As soon as I heard it, I would pad down the stairs as quietly as I could; skipping the third and sixth one down (they creaked). Smokey Puff the dragon always came with me, even though my favourite toy was afraid of the dark.

    The shadows that danced and moved scared me too, but I clung to Smokey tighter till I reached the bottom of the stairs. Light spilled into the hallway, from the oil lamp Dad preferred over candles. The living room door would always be slightly ajar. I rested one hand against the cool metal of the doorknob and peeked.

    He would always be resting in his favourite armchair- the bright red one by the fire. His glasses were slightly askew as scanned a newspaper or steno pad or even a book. He would take an occasional sip from a bottle of Butterbeer. Sometimes, he would be sneezing into a handkerchief because he never remembered his umbrella.

    He always knew when I was there, I think. But he pretended to be surprised when I slipped out of my hiding place. “What are you doing out of bed?” he would ask in a stern tone, although his green eyes lit up with mischief.

    I had a different response each time. “Smokey was hungry” or “I was making sure you hadn’t gotten lost, Daddy”. His lips would turn into a smile, and he would put aside his book or newspaper or steno pad and hold open his arms. I crawled in his lap and rested my head against his chest, as if to say I missed you. He would kiss the top of my forehead, as if to say I missed you too.

    Then he would scoop me up and carry me into the kitchen. Dad would make hot chocolate while being careful not to disturb the cat and let me eat whatever type of cookie happened to be in the cookie jar. He would take some of those organic apples Mum said were better for you, and juggle them to make me laugh.

    My eyes would grow heavy and I would fall asleep. Gentle arms carried me up a flight of stairs and into bed. Smokey Puff would be placed in my arms, and my covers tucked around me. I would feel another kiss on my forehead, and this one said I love you.

  7. #7
    Honigkuchenpferd Hufflepuff
    Dobby's Sock Addiction Begins
    luinrina's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    currently in the Botosphere
    Name: luinrina
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Night-time Stroll
    Warnings: Thanks to my lovely beta Terri (mudbloodproud).
    Word Count: 479

    With the brush-like tail held high into the air, the cat dashed down the staircase. On the last step it halted, sniffing the air carefully. Something was wrong!

    Looking around, the green eyes scanning the large room rather intensively, the cat lifted a paw and started to move once more, slowly.


    Jumping towards the moving object, the intruder, it caught the hopping enemy. Probing the surface slightly, the cat discovered a handkerchief covering something very organic: a toad. Sniffing the squawking animal, the cat recognised the toad to be the pet of one of its owner’s friends. It was disappointed, however; the cat had hoped to have found a new toy.

    There was a creak then, and the cat looked up when it saw the entrance to the room open. An old lady in emerald robes entered, but the cat didn’t bother waiting till the door was closed again. In a leap, the cat was up and left the room.

    ‘Oh my goodness,’ the cat heard the old woman say, completely shocked.

    The cat didn’t care though.

    Happily running along the long corridors and up or down the stairs, feeling free from any confinements, the cat didn’t care where its paws led it. So it should come as no surprise that it found itself in a place it had never been to before.

    ‘Are you lost?’ an old, crispy voice asked from behind. The cat turned around, and the person it saw didn’t make the cat happy. It was the old man everyone hated. He was supposed to have a sneaky cat but at the moment, she wasn’t with him. The cat knew the other cat was a she, but being a he himself, the cat wasn’t interested in the sneaky feline.

    The man bent down slightly, holding an old oil lamp close to inspect the cat further. But the cat didn’t wait for him to finish inspection and ran away. ‘Oi, you sneaky little –!’ The man never finished the sentence, but the cat still noticed him waving a bottle. No wonder he had smelled strangely.

    Running upstairs this time, the next person the cat met was actually a group of people, among which the cat saw his owner.

    ‘Oh, look at him,’ she beamed, bending down and waiting till the feline had come to let himself be lifted up. ‘Crookshanks came to fetch us.’

    ‘More likely to get us into trouble,’ the red-haired boy said. ‘What if he’s ran across that cow with her clipboard?’

    ‘It’s a steno pad, Ron, and I don’t think Crookshanks would get us into trouble, would you, sweetie?’ She hugged the feline close.

    ‘Whatever,’ the boy with the black, messy hair said before the redhead could answer. ‘Just let’s get back to the Common Room.’

    The others agreed, and Crookshanks was carried away. His night-time stroll had come to an end.
    No longer a mod and no longer in charge of any forums.

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  8. #8
    Name: theworldonlyknows
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Unlost
    Warnings: Substance abuse, if alcohol counts I was unsure.
    Word Count: 483
    Authors Note: I really enjoyed this thank you!

    An empty Firewhisky bottle lay abandoned on the leather settee. The room was suffocated with the lingering poison of stale smoke. Light was banished from the room as the thick curtains hugged the window tightly and the tall lamp lay broken across the floor. Crookshanks lay motionless under the safety of the table, his wide eyes glared at the slumped figure strewn across the foot of the settee.

    The figure has barely moved since the bottle had been drained, but both hands were still kept tense. In one there was a rather murky and revolting handkerchief, the other resided a crumpled up piece of paper from a steno pad. This paper was the stimulus for all his troubles. It was the single piece of evidence that Ronald Weasley possessed which, in his mind, proved his wife was unfaithful. He would never let it go.

    Ron moved ever so slightly. He twisted his throbbing head so he could face outwards from the settee, which now possessed the rather distinctive odor of bad, alcohol ridden, breath. As he released one drunken hand from underneath his stress filled body he shouted,

    “Bloody cat! Get out of my sight!” As he did so he fully sparked into life grabbing the empty bottle from the foot of the settee and threw it straight at a terror filled Crookshanks.

    A piercing meow came from his fleeing position, but Ron had no mind or sympathy to care. He stumbled to his feet barely aware that he had no shoes in a minefield of glass. He swore loudly, causing his head to increase its throbbing. Unsure of how else to progress he resolved his crisis by playing stepping stone with his son, Hugo’s, toy. After attempting a rather pitiful ballet Ron pulled himself into his kitchen. Before he thought about what his real purpose was he lunged towards the fridge and rooted, rather pointlessly, inside. He threw every ‘light’, ‘gluten free’, ‘organic’ food product out of the fridge as his merciless rampage continued. His face turned dark again as he realized that it was void of any indulgence and in an unannounced wrath he threw the vegetable oil across the kitchen, knocking over several green glasses as it went.

    Ron, as he watched the shattered pieces of glass cascade to the floor, did the same. He dropped his body to the floor and sat leaning against the fridge in anguish. Heartbroken, stubborn, frustrated tears escaped his reluctant eyes. He clenched his fists once more and drew them to his forehead. As he did so he felt the paper clasped inside rub against his palm. He drew his hands down to his lap and opened the paper. On the inside it read.


    Not one heartbeat will I forget.


    This was the point where Ron realised, he had not just lost his wife; he never had her in the first place.

  9. #9

    My Submission

    Name: Roonil_Wazlib125
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: From Lily, To Sev
    Warnings: Intense Sadness
    Word Count:497
    Authors Note: Do not read this if your heart is fragile and can crack easily. Do read this if you desperately ship Severus/Lily.

    Letters where letters, where they not? Just someone's thoughts written on a piece of paper and sent to someone else for them to examine. A never-ending cycle that Severus Snape found hopelessly boring. Unless, of course, the letter was from his ex-best friend, Lily.
    There were letters that Lily had written to Snape. But the most important letter was the one marked: From Lily, To Sev:

    From Lily, To Sev.
    Hi Severus. I know it's been a while since we've talked or even seen each other, and you might be mad at me about the whole 'Mudblood incident', but I wanted to see how you were doing.
    I'm fine of course. But busy. Managing an adventure-loving husband and a little baby who's destined to be the same is very hard. But it has its advantages: the cute faces that surprise me every morning!
    But I wish that I could've become successful. I wish I could've written my book, 'Beauty Through Your Eyes' and become famous. But you can't spend your life on wishes and what could've happened. You have to be thankful for what you do have, and I have many wonderful things to be thankful of.
    But enough about me. How about you? Who did you marry? Andromeda Black? She always seemed incredibly interested in you. Or perhaps Nichole Armander who always smiled at you?
    Well, whoever you married let me say that they have a wonderful husband and I'm sure they are very happy.
    But are you happy? That's the question that popped into my mind last night. I was running around giving Harry-my son- medicine for his fever, taking phone calls and making sure that James doesn't try to sneak out. And as I rushed around everywhere like a chicken without a head, a tiny voice asked me if I was happy.
    I am happy. I am, truly, but sometimes I wonder what could've happened if we were still friends. If you hadn't called me a Mudblood. Do you think...
    Do you think or friendship could've grown into something else?
    Green eyes dwell in thoughts and wishes, lost in a sea of mixed emotions. Whatever is someone so confused to do?
    Yours confused,

    So Lily had thought they could've been something more? Snape clutched the letter to his heart. She had felt almost the same way...
    He knew Lily could see beauty in oil spills, a half-melted cat toy, a stained handkercheif, a broken lamp, and everything in between. But he wasn’t beautiful. Was he?
    Snape walked into his kitchen and took out some organic fruit juice.
    He went into his living room and switched the TV on. Muggles appeared, showing off a new steno pad that was for sale.
    Abruptly, he stood up. An idea had popped into his head. He would see her now and ask her. About her feelings.
    Standing up, he pulled on his jacket and raced out the door, not knowing that his beautiful Lily Potter was dead.
    Yay!!! I made it under 500 words!! Hope you like it!!


  10. #10
    Name: Sammy
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: A Detective Story
    Warnings: N/A
    Word Count: 486
    Authors Note: This si set in the Sempra (do I even need to explain what that is? universe so naturally, Lily Jr. exists and Harry Potter does not. (!!!)

    “Lily, slow down! You nearly ran over the cat.”

    “Forget the cat, Mum. Guess what I found out?”

    “And what is it you found out?”

    “They are holding the Triwizard Tournament at school this year!”

    “And how exactly did you come about this knowledge?”

    “Well I was… looking for my handkerchief...”

    “In your father’s study, I bet.”

    “That's not fair, Mum, I really forgot it there. The green one, you know how much I like it.”

    “I’ll let it slide for now. Go on.”

    “Well, there was a bottle of antidote on Dad’s worktop, made from essence of bezoars. And all sorts of organic and non-organic materials as well. And there was a steno pad there, and it had all sorts of burn remedies on it.”

    “Wait, Lily, you lost me there! How did you figure out about the Tournament from all that?”

    “I didn’t, Mum, so I went looking for the hanky again. I mean, why would I pry into Dad’s super secret Hogwarts Business?

    “Why indeed?”

    “Well, I though I had left it on the ingredient shelf – don’t look at me like that, Mum – and sure enough, there it was, next to the little vial of eucalyptus oil.”


    “I was just about to leave when I saw what looked like a tiny toy Dragon on the shelf. Actually, three tiny toy dragons. And I was curious so I…”

    “You went looking through your father’s papers by the table lamp so you wouldn’t attract attention by switching the lights on?”

    “I... Umm… Well…”

    “Lily, how many times must I tell you-”

    “What’s going on here?”

    “Good, you’re back. Maybe you can teach your daughter not to go through the belongings of other people?”


    “Lily, what did you do now?”

    “Nothing, I was just looking for my hanky – you know, the one you gave me for Christmas two years ago? The one with my name on it in sliver?”

    “Yes, I remember it well.”

    “Well, I was looking for that and accidentally found some information which led me to believe that the Triwizard Tournament was going to happen this year, at Hogwarts…”

    “There, you see, Lily? It was merely an accident.”





    “Enough! I don’t even know why I bother trying to explain anything to the child if you’re going to spoil her anyway.”


    “Don’t you 'Lily' me.”

    “Then how may I address you?”

    “And don’t you smirk at me like that!”

    “Lily, apologise to your mother, please.”

    “Sorry, Mum.”

    “And promise not to upset her again.”

    “I promise, Mum.”

    “Now could one of you please get me some tea? I’ve been all the way down to Hogsmeade and back, and I would rather like a nice cup.”

    Accio tea! Here, I already made some when I saw you Travelling on the clock.”

    “Thank you. Lily, I got those books you wanted for Hogwarts. Go pack them up.”

    “Yes, Daddy.”

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