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  1. #1

    The Return of the Weekly Drabble Challenge! Results!

    About time we had these again. I'll try to be as regular and creative with these as Magical Maeve was.

    This week's drabble is going to be about: Confrontation. One of the canon characters has finally decided to tell another canon character what they honestly think of them/something they're doing. This results in a little heated conversation that I want to read!

    Have fun and use the following form for submissions:


  2. #2
    Name: helgaandgodric
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: How do they feel?
    Words: 307
    Warnings: None

    “You’re messy, a pig, and can’t do your own homework!” Hermione yelled from one end of the Common Room.

    Maroon in the face, Ron yelled back from the other side, “Oh yeah? Well you are a stuck-up, study-scheduled-freaky know-it-all!”

    Harry and Ginny sat on a couch that they had positioned in the middle of the two of them. They refused to take sides, as this was a weekly event. However, this time it seemed more serious than normal. They had already been arguing for fifteen minutes, and showed no signs of shopping. Tears filled Hermione’s eyes, and seemed ready to fall at any minute.

    “Your inability to do your own work is going to make you fail at life and be miserable and won’t be able to provide for your gazillion kids! They’ll all hate you! And when we have reunions, my husband, my seven perfect children and I will come and laugh at you!”

    “Well, I don’t see how that could happen since you’re too much of a workaholic to have a social, not to mention romantic, life and get married!”

    Ginny whispered to Harry, “Oh no he didn’t!” As the tears that had filled Hermione’s eyes began to spill and fall down her cheeks, Ron seemed to lose his resolve.

    He closed the space between them is 7 long strides, and tilted her face towards him. Wiping away the tears with his thumb, he spoke softly to her. The entire Common Room was quiet, even the fire.

    “Of course,” he said, “if someone already loved you, and you already loved them, what would you need to date around for?” Everyone held their breathe, not daring to make a sound.

    I love you, Hermione,” Ron said, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Smiling through her tears, she said, “I love you, too”.

    And he kissed her.

  3. #3
    Seventh Year Ravenclaw
    Attending a Deathday Party
    Gmariam's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2006
    Wales (I wish)
    Name: Gmariam
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Bring Him Home
    Word Count: 417
    Warnings: None

    The castle grounds were dark and deathly quiet as a tall young man strode purposefully toward the lake. He carried a heavy bundle, and stumbled in his sorrowful haste, as he made his way toward a white marble tomb.

    Gently he set down his sad burden: it was the body of his best friend. He stepped back, and the mask of grief he wore turned to sudden rage.

    “He’s dead!” the young man shouted at the tomb, at the world. “He’s dead, and it’s your fault! You left us here, to fight alone, and now he’s gone. How could you leave us?”

    The young man sank to his knees on the soft earth, inconsolable, and his head fell to his heaving chest. “We fought so hard,” he whispered, desperately trying to hold back hot tears. “We followed the clues, found the Horcruxes. We destroyed them all, and went after…” He paused, and chased away the wetness in his eyes with the back of his hand. “…after Voldemort. He’s gone now, vanquished forever. The world is safe.”

    The young man stood up and took a deep breath. He felt the anger return. “But the only one who really mattered is gone. He’s dead! How could you leave him to die? What are we going to do now, without him?” He placed a shaking hand on the tomb as the loss finally overwhelmed him. He wasn’t furious after all: he was devastated. “What am I going to do?” he asked the silent tomb, but no one answered.

    Soon a small hand found his, steady and warm. The young man looked into a face as grief-struck as his own, but also full of compassion and love.

    “Come,” said Hermione quietly, her voice gentle and sad. “Let’s bring him home.”

    He nodded as the tears began to finally run down his face. He couldn’t hold them back any longer. He wanted to stay, and rage at the stoic marble tomb; but he knew that deep down he wasn’t angry. The pain he felt wasn’t the pain of rage, but of grief for a life lost, a friend cruelly taken. He didn’t know how he would go on, without him.

    The young man bent down, smoothed his friend’s hair one last time. He picked up the body, and was surprised at how light his burden now felt. Slowly he made his way back up to the castle with Hermione at his side.

    He was bringing his friend home, for the last time.
    I hope this meets the requirements of the confrontation drabble. In my mind it does, but the character being confronted is dead, so it might be stretching it a bit.

  4. #4
    Ebil Gato Loco Ravenclaw
    He's The Dog... He's An Animagus...
    mugglemathdork's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2006
    retired to EbilVille
    Name: mugglemathdork
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title:Conjugal Irritations
    Word Count: 457
    Warnings: None

    The brunette furrowed her eyebrows in contempt at the sight before her: a pile of dirty clothes lay on the floor, a trail of muddy paw prints on the stairs, and an overturned cup of orange juice was soaking onto the laundry.

    As she stalked up the stairs, she tripped on an ice skate at the landing.

    “I’m going to curse him into the middle of next week,” she growled in exasperation. With as much dignity as she could muster, she rose to look for the pernicious blonde she called a husband.

    She found him and their youngest offspring curled up in front of the fire, taking a nap on the expansive sofa.

    Angrily, she woke her husband and dragged him to his personal study.

    “What is the matter, woman?” he drawled after the rude awakening.
    “You!” she bellowed.
    “ME? And exactly did I manage to do this time?”

    The brunette stared incredulously at her husband, unable to form any coherent speech patterns. “Why don’t you sit your Gryffindor bum down and tell me what really is bothering you?!”

    “NO! I will not sit. I specifically asked you to clean up this morning when I left. Instead, I found mud on the floor, dangerous toys lying about, orange juice soaking onto clothes, and unclean laundry abandoned in the middle of the hallway. Can’t your pathetic self cast a couple of cleaning charms? And what’s more…I find you sleeping in the library.”

    “Wife,” he began out of irritation at the accusations, “I would have done all the servant work you demanded of me this morning had I not being preoccupied with matters of more importance.”

    “Other…more importance…,” she angrily huffed. “And exactly WHAT were these matters?” she screamed indignantly.

    “Our bloody children! I began sorting the laundry as you can see by the evidence left behind, but I had to tend to the stomachs of our evil spawn. Then that beast you call a cat came in through the blasted ‘doggy door’ you insisted on installing, leaving a trail of mud behind. At which point, our youngest spilled his orange juice and ran after the cat. By the time I found him, he was just as muddy. Therefore, I had to give him a bath. Of course, by then I had to go drop off our daughters with the bespectacled git and his offspring at Diagon Alley. By the time I came back home, I starting preparing dinner, which I burned by the way, and had YOU not insisted on freeing ALL the house-elves, PERHAPS all the servant work would have been completed! Granger!” he spat.

    All of a sudden, a giggle escaped Hermione’s mouth. “Oh, Draco, you silly prat, how did you manage to burn microwaveable lasagna?”

    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!

  5. #5
    Name: just_the_contrary
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Sirius vs. Peter
    Words: 235
    Warnings: none (real), but this drabble is based on the song The Confrontation from Les Miserables. The second I saw the title of this challenge I knew I wanted to do this. See if you can spot the similarities (there are many):

    At first, it appeared to be exactly like any other day. The street was busy, the shops were crowded, although Sirius did not threaten to kill Peter every day.

    Peter was cornered.

    “At last,” said Sirius, brandishing his wand.

    “Please, Padfoot,” begged Peter. “You-“

    “Before you say another word, Wormtail, you scum of the Earth, listen to me! There is something I must ask.”

    “Padfoot…” whimpered Peter.

    “Do you expect me to leave behind the suffering child?” boomed Sirius. “I am the only one who can intercede. I’m the only one that knows!” His voice was deafening. Pedestrians had stopped to look.

    “You must think me mad,” stuttered Peter. “The Dark Lord… he would hunt me down…”

    “A man like you can never change,” said Sirius angrily. “A man so conceited and cowardly. I am warning you, Wormtail! I’m the stronger man by far!”

    “There is power in the Dark Lord yet!” stammered Peter. “His race is not yet run!”

    “If I have to kill you here,” whispered Sirius, the fist holding his wand clenching, “I’ll do what must be done!”

    “My duty’s to the Dark Lord!” said Peter frantically. “Sirius, you are nothing now! Don’t you dare talk to me of crime.”

    “I swear to you, tonight you will be nothing,” cried Sirius.

    He pointed his wand. Discreetly, so did Peter.

    Concrete flew everywhere as the blast hit the sidewalk.

    And Peter was gone.

  6. #6
    Name: Fawkes_07
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Pot, Meet Kettle
    Words: 495
    Warnings: Very silly

    The stout wooden table was practically bowing under the weight of dishes, scraps, and bones. Fang looked up at his master with tail tucked neatly between his legs, as if to say, "Don't blame me, Boss, I'm not supposed to eat off the table."

    "GRAWP!" bellowed Hagrid.

    Hagrid tapped his foot impatiently at the sounds of breaking branches, until Grawp emerged from the Forbidden Forest. He wagged a crooked finger at his baby brother, who obediently followed him inside.

    "Grawp. I leave yeh for three days an' this is what I come home ter? Look at this mess! It smells like inside a shoe in here! We need ter talk about manners."

    "What manners?" inquired Grawp.

    "Tha's me point! It's about time fer yeh to learn some!"

    A crease appeared between Grawp's wide eyes. "You said Grawp do good at sums!"

    "What?" Hagrid barked crossly. "No, no, not sums, SOME! Pay attention, Grawpy."

    The crease deepened. "What tension?"

    Hagrid shut his eyes, as if the change in visuals could somehow reboot the entire conversation. "Never mind. Look here, Grawp. Do yeh see all this?"

    Grawp leaned down and peered with great concentration at the tabletop. "See all that."

    "All that, yeah. Well, tha's mess. Unnerstand? Mess. Not good, Grawpy."

    "Not good, mess," repeated the giant.

    "Yes!" said Hagrid emphatically. "Mess bad."

    Grawpy's round head tilted on its axis. "You said mess not good."


    "Mess not good AND mess bad?" One could almost hear the cogwheels grinding to a halt.

    Like a pair of shutters slamming shut in a windstorm, Hagrid threw his hands up and covered his face. "Not good and bad are the same, Grawp. Not good means bad. Yeh see?"

    Once again, Grawp peered at the table. "I see mess."

    "Good. Good. This is a mess. Yeh shouldn't leave a mess fer yer brother, Grawp."

    The giant had to sit down for that one. "My brother Hagrid. I Grawp."

    "Oh for the love of...Listen, Grawp. Okay? Don't talk. Shh." Hagrid put his finger over his lips, which Grawp mimicked. "Just listen." He paused a moment, and Grawp nodded conspiratorially, making only a little "shh" sound. "You left a mess there. That wasn't nice, Grawp. You don' leave yer scraps on the table to get all smelly. You pick them up, like this--" Hagrid demonstrated, lifting the femur of a sheep off the table "--an' put them in the heap outside."

    Grawp watched the process closely. With one broad sweep, he pulled scraps, bones and dishes against his chest and heaved it gracefully through the back door to crash onto the compost heap. He smiled broadly at his brother as he picked up a nearby pillowcase to wipe the sludge from his shirt.

    Hagrid raised his hands and lowered them several times, then stomped out of the cabin without a word. Grawp looked after him uncomprehendingly, offering Fang a chunk that had stuck to his forearm. "Hagrid talk funny," he muttered.

  7. #7
    Pheonix song
    Name:Pheonix song
    Title:Tough Brotherly Love

    The two brothers stared at each other for a long time, neither believing what he saw in the other.
    Percy lowered his gaze from Bill’s once handsome face. He had received a letter a few weeks ago about the attack, but only now did the information seem concrete to him. Bill was covered in deeps scratches that were still fresh and red, his eyes were steely and intimidating, not the warm blue ones he remembered his big brother having.

    “I heard you sent your Weasley sweater back” Bill said lowly.

    “So what if I did?” Percy challenged, pretending to sort some papers on his tiny desk.

    “How could you do that?”

    Percy kept his gaze low and on the blank parchment in his hand “I don’t have to answer to you”

    “Our mother has been crying her eyes out over you,” Bill said with disgust “so you had better answer me”

    “Or what?” Percy muttered, not daring to look up at his brothers ruined face.

    Bill took a breath as if to calm himself, but his words were cold and harsh
    “Do you realize how much your hurting them? Can you use any of that brain power to think of what your doing to your family? All because you can’t admit that you were wrong. . .”

    “That has nothing to do with it!” Percy yelled, daring a glare at his brother.

    “Than what is it about, Percy?”

    Percy didn’t answer his brother because he knew he had lied, instead he snarled “Is that why you came? To try and make me feel guilty?”

    “No, I'm here to tell you what your doing to yourself! And what a selfish coward your being!”

    “Get out!” Percy fumed

    “I'm not going anywhere until I talk some sense into that thick skull of yours!”

    Percy continued to avoid his brothers’ gaze, which made it very hard to seem intimidating “I said leave”

    “Look at me, Percy” Bill said suddenly, Percy kept his gaze down “Look at me!”

    Percy looked at his brother to see that his deformed face had softened a bit, but when Bill spoke his voice carried bite. “People are dying everyday, disappearing off the streets. Now is not the time to hold grudges or say and do things that you don't really mean. Everyday you have a chance to go home and say that your sorry, but one morning you might wake up and find that you can't, and then the only thing you'll have to apologize to is a tomb”

    These words stung Percy in a way that he hadn't expected one of his brothers speeches could have.

    “They don’t want to see me,” Percy muttered “They hate me now”

    “No,” Bill told him “Their just angry, it would take a while but they would forgive you”

    “How do you know?”

    “Because Mum already has, Dad has too he just doesn't know it yet, and so do I” He paused “the others will catch on soon enough”

  8. #8
    Name: myownmuggle
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: An Entirely Different Matter
    Words: 389
    Warnings: None

    “Charlie, you can’t be serious. It’s ridiculous and I won’t have it. I absolutely will not allow you to go.” Molly put her hands on her hips and glared at her son.

    “Mum, it’s my life. Besides, I’ve already made my decision,” Charlie replied calmly, although he squirmed uncomfortably under her scowl.

    “Who’s making decisions? What’s going on in here?” Bill walked in to the kitchen, clearly amused at his brother’s discomfort.

    Charlie turned bright red and hung his head. “I suppose there’s no point in hiding this any longer, is there?”

    Molly nodded stiffly and started to speak but was distracted by the sound of her family clock. Her husband’s hand moved from work to traveling with a chime.

    “Just you wait until your father comes home. He’ll have plenty to say about this.” Molly was starting to sound like a whistling teakettle, Bill noted with a wide smile. He was careful not to laugh aloud, preferring to let Charlie remain the target of her anger.

    “Say about what, dear?” Arthur appeared in the door as the clock hand settled on home. “What’s all the commotion?”

    “Your son-” Molly shrieked as she reached a full boil. She extended her wand to point at Charlie. “He’s just announced he’s been offered a job and he’s accepted!”

    Arthur clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “That’s wonderful son, what is it? Gringotts, like Bill? The Ministry? No, it must be Quidditch! Who’s the lucky team?” Arthur grinned and Bill began to snicker.

    Molly jabbed Charlie in the shoulder with her wand. “Tell your father, Charlie. Tell your father everything.”

    “Charlie?” Arthur was concerned now, and a little disappointed as his vision of luxury seats at Quidditch matches vanished.

    “Yeah Charlie, tell us,” Bill urged. “We’re waiting.”

    Charlie took a deep breath before addressing the group. “I’m going to Romania, to study and work with dragons.”

    “Wicked!” Three voices exclaimed from the stairway. Fred, George, and Ron burst into the room and promptly inundated their brother with questions. Bill joined them, leaving Molly and Arthur to watch the growing celebration.

    “Dragons? I don’t understand, Molly.” Arthur turned to his wife.

    “Dragons,” Molly snorted. “Your son has taken leave of his senses.”

    Charlie grinned sheepishly as he listened to his mother. Quidditch, they could understand apparently. Dragons? Now that was an entirely different matter.

  9. #9
    Name: Chazzie
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Idiot
    Words: 449
    Warnings: None

    Harry sank down on to the grass next to Ginny. They sat quietly for a while in a comfortable silence. He could hear her breathing and counted those breaths; it was the sweetest sound he’d heard all day, all that week, perhaps, of her avoiding him.

    After several minutes of silence, Harry broke it. “Ginny?” he asked tentatively.

    There was a pause. “I’m not mad,” she said quietly, still looking stubbornly ahead.

    Harry sighed and picked up a handful of leaves before slowly crumpling them in his hand. “You should be,” he said finally.

    Ginny turned her head and looked at him, waiting patiently for him to go on.

    “It’s just… I’m an idiot. You were right.” Harry closed his eyes briefly. “But if being an idiot is the only way to keep you safe, if it’s the only way I can – ”

    “Don’t,” said Ginny fiercely. “Don’t say that you have to protect me, because you don’t.”

    “Ginny –”

    “Please, Harry!” Ginny said sharply. She let out a heaving, shaky breath and after a moment’s pause bluntly said, “Come on. Do you really expect me to just sit on the sidelines while you and Ron and Hermione fight? Do you expect me to just accept all this, go back to school, everything’s sunshine and rainbows? Because I want to, Harry,” she said vehemently. “I want to fight.”

    “You can’t – what do you mean, fight?” said Harry, trying – and failing – to sound casual.

    Ginny made an angry sound at the back of her throat. “I mean fight! Fight him, fight Voldemort!”

    Harry sighed and put his head in his hands. “I can’t let you fight, Ginny,” he told her, his voice muffled.

    “I don’t think it’s up to you to make that decision for me!” she said, taking his hands in hers and shaking them angrily.

    Harry let out a groan and pulled his hands from her grasp. “Maybe, Ginny,” he said hoarsely, “maybe I don’t like making these decisions any more than you like me carrying them out, but we can’t ignore the fact that Voldemort’s out there and he wants to kill me, and he’d kill you, too, if he thought you were a way to get to me! I’m just saving you from –”

    “Harry, this isn’t the Chamber of Secrets, I don’t need you to save me!”

    “I wasn’t – ” started Harry desperately.

    Ginny glared at him. “Don’t lie to me, Harry. I can always tell.” She pushed herself up and strode swiftly out of the orchard.

    Harry stood up and watched her leave, her long red hair dancing behind her. Idiot. That’s what I am. He gave the nearest tree an angry kick.


  10. #10
    *dashes in last minute...* *hopes she's not too late*

    Mithril's Note: It's only too late when the thread has been locked! I'll leave it open for another few hours for last minute entries.

    Name: crazy_purple_hp_freak
    House: Slytherin
    Title: An Equal Beginning
    Words: 494
    Warnings: None

    “What?” sneered the tall, blonde-haired boy, his grey eyes glinting with mischief as his observed with growing disdain, the two heavily built, but clumsy individuals standing before him, their thickset forms throwing shadows over him by the light of the fire in the dungeon common room.

    “We – “

    “We want – “ the large boy with a wide mouth and flat nose hesitated.

    “What?” the blonde boy repeated. “Honestly, you two are so stupid sometimes I’m surprised you know how to talk at all, let alone slowly.” He smirked, folded his arms and began to walk away.

    He had scarcely gone five steps when he felt quick steps behind him and strong hands push him harshly so he fell back into the nearest armchair.

    “We’re SICK of you Draco!!!” hollered the first boy, his stiff gorilla-like arms trembling to the very knuckle as he tried to keep his resolve.

    “Yeah, we’re sick of you,” rasped the second, cracking his knuckles menacingly as he towered over the blonde boy.

    “You never take us seriously – “

    “You never listen to us – “

    “You, you – “

    “You always treat us like we’re stupid – “

    The blonde boy snorted. “That’s because you are stu- “

    “SHUT IT!” The blonde boy gulped and paled visibly as he noticed the two before him flexing their fingers with power as if to grasp him by the throat. He’d never quite appreciated just how much his ‘bodyguards’ stood for his protection, how much they had done for him.

    Holding his hands out in front of himself, as if in makeshift defence, he cleared his throat nervously.

    “Well – er, what do you –um, what to do about it then?”

    The taller of the two thugs scratched his head in concentrated thought, the shorter and slightly wiser one, too paused for a moment, pondering the situation. Now that it had come to this moment, saying what they thought was harder than they had imagined. As much as they wanted their own way, neither wanted really, to lose the only person who had ever acknowledged them; and they knew, too that the blonde boy wanted no more to lose the only two people that he had ever considered as “friends”.

    “We want – we want –“ the taller boy began, “We want to be treated as equals.”

    The second boy nodded in agreement. “We’re not stupid, and we don’t want to be treated as if we are.”

    The blonde boy looked down at his feet, his characteristic sneer steadily seeping away. The second boy continued, “We’re just as important, just as valuable as you are, and we’re not going to be your shadows anymore.”

    He looked directly into the blonde boy’s eye, in unspoken challenge; all three boys apparently of the crucial nature of this deciding moment.

    An unspoken contract passed through the air, and a fresh start ensued.

    The blonde boy stood up, took a deep breath, and finally, spoke.

    “Yes. All right then. I’ll try.”

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