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Thread: Montly Drabble Challenges - 2007

  1. #1
    MithrilQuill
    Guest

    Montly Drabble Challenges - 2007

    Alright! Sorry for the delay, but everything is almost back on track here in the Three Broomsticks.


    Our monthly challenge this month is on Dean Thomas. He's got the interesting background story and Jo mentioned on her website that she had a whole plotline involving Dean that had to get cut, but which one of us wouldn't love to have even more to the potterverse.


    So, your job this month is to explore any aspect of the character of Dean Thomas in less than five hundred words.


    Points will be awarded to winners as usual. 15, 10 and 5 respectively.


    Please use the following form for submissions:


    Author:
    House:
    Title:
    Warnings:
    Words:

  2. #2
    stareyed_in_LA
    Guest
    Here is my entry.

    Author: stareyed_in_LA
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Father of Mine
    Warnings: None
    Words: 496

    My dad left my mum when I was a really small kid. I don’t remember him that much. But what I do remember is knowing that he wasn’t there for me. Mum hated him for years after he left. She never really wanted to talk about him, thinking that if she doesn’t talk about him, he would be considered dead to her. I don’t really get it. A person is only dead if the entire world forgets about him or her. She does remember. She once told me his name, but that was it.
    One time, when I was five, we were making Fathers Day cards before school was let out for the summer holidays. I didn’t make one, not for my dad at least. I made one for Mum. This boy, John Caulfield, started to laugh at me and started to ask me why my dad isn’t here. Questioning led to teasing which led to pure harassment. Caulfield wanted to make it evident that I didn’t have a dad and that I was probably going to grow up to be a criminal and all. He never let it down, not even after Mum married Alec.
    I was seven when Mum got remarried. His name was Alec Thomas and they met at an art gallery. I took on his last name at Mum’s request. Alec’s an okay guy. I am not very close to him. They have four kids; Charlie, Diana, Eugena, and Arnold.
    I’m the only person in my family who is a wizard. It was a huge shock for Mum when she found an owl pecking at her kitchen window one fine summer’s morning. In fact, it was a huge shock for us! I always thought I was a Muggle. I never thought of myself as extraordinary in any way.
    I am the only person in my family, who knows what happened to my father. Before, whenever I had asked her what had happened to my father, she told me that he had run off with a barmaid or something. She must have been really angry at him for leaving her with an infant for her to tell such vicious stories about him.
    It wasn’t till I was fifteen did I find out the truth. I was looking through an old issue of the Daily Prophet dating back to January 9, 1981 when I found the article titled “Man Found Dead in Alley”.
    My father was murdered by Death Eaters. They left his body to rot in some dingy and dank alleyway. I knew that the dead man was him because there was a picture of him included with the article and he looked just like me. Mum told me of his name once. His name was Bernard Rice.
    Mum doesn’t know what happened to her first husband. I am going to tell her, someday, but not today. She probably wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. As I said before, she hates my dad.

  3. #3
    Onbegrepen
    Guest
    Author: Onbegrepen
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Last Goodbye
    Warnings: None
    Words: 499

    Forcing a smile on his face he lifted his hand and softly knocked on the door. He waited a few minutes with the smile still firmly held in place, but no one answered . He knocked again harder and waited, the false smile slipped off his face and he turned to leave tears gathering in his eyes. Just as he reached the rusty gate at the end of the path he heard a small click and a quiet voice mumbled out into the night.

    “Dad?”

    Martin turned around and looked at his son, and this time for real, he smiled. He slowly walked down the path and knelt down so he was eye to eye with the young boy, who was remarkably tall for a Three year old.

    “Daddy, where have you been, and why is your face all hairy?” he asked puzzled.

    Chuckling his dad replied “Why it’s a beard Dean, maybe you’ll have one soon, you’ve grown up a lot since I saw you. You can even open the doors now!”

    Dean smiled and reached out a hand to his fathers face. Attentively he touched the beard and giggled.

    “I don’t want one of them things, they’re all tickly!” squealed Dean.

    “Yes, it is fairly annoying, now Dean where is your mother?” He was serious now and he lowered his voice to a husky whisper.

    “She’s in the bath, why, what’s wrong Daddy don’t you want to say hello?”

    “No! Dean listen. You can not under any circumstances tell your mother I was here or that you talked to me, do you understand?” He reached out and grabbed Deans arm.

    “umm, ok, why not?”

    “Because, I don’t want her to know… what I’ve done or were I‘m going.”

    “Were are you going daddy? Please don’t go, I miss you.” Deans lip trembled.

    “Dean I’ve done some bad things and I’m involved with some. . .bad people. I’ve got to go somewhere and I’m really sorry.” Martin tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall but a few escaped and rolled down his cheeks.

    “Daddy’s done some bad things and he’s going to have to go away tonight Dean, and I’m afraid that he’ll never be able to see you again, I came to say goodbye.” He openly cried now, salty tears fell into his mouth.

    “Daddy please. Don’t go, I miss you, I love you.” the boy threw himself into his dad’s arms and hugged him tightly.

    “Goodbye Dean.”

    “Goodbye Dad.”

    Martin stumbled up the path his vision blurred through tears. When he turned around the door was closed. He tore his eyes away from what used to be his son and home and carried on walking.

    Before Martin even reached the end of the street he came face to face with a hooded figure.

    “You either serve the dark lord, or you die.”

    Martin didn’t even get the chance to utter a word before a searing green light blinded his vision.

  4. #4
    helgaandgodric
    Guest
    Author: helgaandgodric
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Lucky Ginny Weasley
    Warnings: None
    Words: 388

    Ginny loved the way the June sun felt on her skin. Her feet were sheltered by a great oak tree, but the rest of her body lay on the damp grass in the sun. The more the sun shown, the better it felt to be laying there, spread eagle in the grass with her boyfriend.

    The boyfriend in question sat under the tree, smiling at her. She squinted at him, and brought a hand to sheild her eyes. All of a sudden, however, his face grew dark, and serious. A feeling of pure worry seized her heart, and she sat forward.

    "Dean? What is it?" she asked fearfully.

    A grin played on his dark face, and he leaned forward on his knees. "Nothing, I was just thinking, I mean-" He paused, trying to phrase his words. "Can I draw you?"

    Replacing her smile with a frown, Ginny laid back down with an "of course."

    Taking out his sketchpad and coloured pencils, the couple stayed in that position for what seemed to be forever to Ginny. She knew that for awhile, since they had been dating, anyways, he had wanted to draw her. To Dean, she wasn't just his girlfriend, she was his "artisitic challenge." It was her hair, her perfect skin, her soft brown eyes that made her so hard to capture on paper, according to him. She wondered how it would look when he was finished with it. Not once had she seen a bad drawing done by him, and so, since he hadn't drawn her yet, she figured the lighting must be perfect.

    Finally, Dean exclaimed, "Finished!" Ginny moved to get up so she could see it, but Dean motioned her to stay where she was. "I'll bring it to you. Someone who enspires me as much as you do should not be moving about." That made Ginny giggle, but she knew that Dean meant it. He was courteous like that.

    But when it was brought to Ginny's eye level, she could hardly believe her eyes. It was a perfect representation of her, from the different shades of red in her hair to the unique color for every freckle. "I didn't bewitch it," he whispered in her ear. "Because I don't want you leaving the drawing."

    Ginny Weasley was so very lucky to have Dean Thomas.

  5. #5
    Mr.Deadman
    Guest
    Author: Mr. Deadman
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: This Morning
    Warnings: None
    Words:499
    Dean grinned and took his first conscious breath of the day. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, slowly opening them to the dazzling sunlight pouring through the windows of Gryffindor tower. It was Saturday, and not even eight yet. But he was up early for a reason, Quidditch tryouts were today. He hadn`t made the team last year, but he was ready to try again. Tryouts weren`t until eleven, but he wanted to be up early to eat and get ready. He dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. Being that it was Saturday most people were still asleep, but the Gryffindor table had the largest group, no doubt all were team hopefuls. Dean sat down at the end of the table and made a plate with eggs, bacon, toast and kippers. He also poured a large glass of orange juice. He took out his notepad and quill and began finishing a drawing he had been working on all week. It was an advertisement poster for an art club he was trying to start. He had gotten permission from MacGonagall. So far the poster had the words ‘Art Club’ at the top in real decorative letters. Below were an artist’s palette and an explosion of markers, pencils, paintbrushes, and everything else Dean had ever used, or seen used, in drawing.

    It took him ten minutes to finish his poster, and then another five to finish eating. He looked at his watch and groaned, it was barely eight in the morning. He wondered vaguely if Ginny would be trying out. Obviously she would, she was the best chaser last year. He shook himself mentally, he had no reason to be thinking about Ginny, it hadn`t worked out between them. He sighed as he passed Parvati on his way to the library, “Hi Dean.” She said.

    “Hi Parvati.” He replied absently.

    “What’s wrong?” She asked, falling into step next to him.

    “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just a little nervous, I`m trying out for the Quidditch team.”

    “Really, I hope you make it.” She said happily.

    “Yeah, I`m kinda wondering about Ginny though…” His voice trailed off a bit.

    “Oh.” said Parvati a bit more coldly then she had before, “Why`s that?”

    Dean looked up, somewhat surprised by her change in tone, “Well, I`ll be flying against he today won`t I? She`s pretty good.”

    “Yes, but I watched you in our fifth year, when Harry got himself banned from the team and you got to play, you did much better then she did.”

    “Huh? Did I?”

    “Yes, I thought Harry should have kept you on as Chaser.” They made their way back to the Common Room, talking about whatever came to mind. Time seemed to fly by, and the next time Dean looked at his watch it was five till eleven. “Yikes! He shouted, jumping up, “I`m almost late!” He dashed up to the dormitory to grab his things, leaving a bewildered looking Parvati on the couch, “Late for what?”

  6. #6
    Slytherin Mom Slytherin
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    NikkiSue's Avatar
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    Author: NikkiSue
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Her Eyes, His Heart
    Warnings: none
    Words: 496


    He watched as she sat with her friends at the other end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He was mesmerized by her hair which was a fierce red and she had such a carefree laugh. Oh, how he would have given anything to be the one to make her smile!

    Dean Thomas had learned a lot about Ginny Weasley through the various stories that her brother, Ron would tell. He was one of Dean’s dorm mates and although Ron would complain about her a lot, he knew that the complaints were miniscule compared to the love he held for his sister. This fact made Dean a little nervous when it came to his feelings for the youngest Weasley. He knew many protective brothers in his time. The thought of Seven of them caused him to feel faint.

    Her parents loved her; he could see that every year when they boarded the train for school. The first time he saw the family together, he felt a twinge of jealousy. He had not known much about his father except for what he had read in Daily Prophet articles her mother thought she had hidden well. Every once in a while, he would hear her comment on how certain features he had mirrored his father. She would say that a lot when she heard his hearty laugh.

    There were some days where he allowed himself to daydream about what it was like to grow up in a family Ginny’s size. Being one of seven siblings was an idea he could not fathom. He had his step-siblings but being the only girl in a house full of brothers must have been quite the experience!

    That was probably where she got her spark… and I’m willing to bet that they taught her how to shoot those bat-bogey hexes.

    Every boy in Gryffindor knew about those. He laughed at the thought and it just made him smile a little more.

    Dean was making himself nervous. He and Ginny had recently begun to spend a lot of time together and he could no longer ignore the nagging voice in the forefront of his mind.

    Come on, you dolt. Ask her already.

    He had practiced the conversation several times in the halls in between classes and he was fairly confident that he could pull it off.

    Dean brought himself out of his daydream and watched as Ginny stood from her spot at the table. He looked at the clock and saw that he still had some time before class began and arose to join her.

    “Hey, Ginny, wait a second! I’ll walk with you.” He jogged to catch up with the redhead. She smiled as he approached and they walked for a few minutes in silence.

    “Hey, can I ask you a question?” Upon hearing Dean speak, Ginny had turned to face him and he looked at her as his hands were fiddling in his pockets.

    Here goes nothing, he thought.
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  7. #7
    Mind Games
    Guest
    Author: Mind Games
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: A Photograph
    Warnings: None
    Words: 380

    Note: This drabble was beta'd by Abigail (Joybelle423). =)

    A photograph. A dusty, faded, old photograph with the left corner torn off. This photograph was how he’d come to know his father.

    He’d begged his mum for it. She’d sighed, staring down at her eager seven-year-old son. Finally, she had given in and handed him the photo.

    He’d kept it in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It was just a quick reach away for those times when he’d longed for silent company. He’d gaze down upon it curiously, quickly creating an image of his father in his head. What was his voice like? What was he like around other people? Quiet? Outgoing? What were his worst fears and greatest goals?

    He could picture his father in any way he liked. He could imagine everything, from the way he spoke to his own personal beliefs and ways of thinking. With a simple photograph, he had learnt about his father in every way he wanted to.

    Of course, he knew many of his assumptions were most likely false. How could you know someone through something as frivolous as a photograph? Looking at someone’s picture was no way to learn about their personality and character traits. A simple photograph couldn’t even give you a full sense of one’s appearance, since they can sometimes be misleading in even that aspect. Besides, from what little his mum had told him, he’d been off in several different guesses.

    But it didn’t matter because his father was there. He was there the day Dean had received his Hogwarts acceptance letter and learned the truth about himself. There the day he’d finally received the O.W.L.s results, as well as the day the N.E.W.T.s scores had arrived. There the day he had become engaged to his girlfriend of two years. There the day his mother had passed away. He was there whenever needed.

    The truth remained a secret. He’d never tried to learn it. He preferred the security of just looking at the photograph for only a few moments, knowing his father was there.

    Dean opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and took the photograph into his hands. A photograph. A dusty, faded old photograph with the left corner torn off.

    He gazed down into the eyes of his father – a hero he had never known.

  8. #8
    Sly Severus
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    Author: Sly Severus
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Nothing
    Warnings: None
    Words: 141

    It was late. He sat alone in the Gryffindor Common Room, glaring at the fire. In the mood he was in even the dancing flames annoyed him.

    It just wasn’t fair. He knew that it was too good to be true. He knew that someone like Ginny Weasley would never stay interested in him for long. She was beautiful and intelligent. And what was he? Nothing. He was especially nothing when compared to the great Harry Potter, who was Ginny’s one true love.

    Harry had fought the Dark Lord and won. What had he ever done? Nothing.

    Dean knew that he would never be anything special. He could never compete with the great Harry Potter. Ginny was right to leave him. She deserved someone that could give her everything and he could give her nothing. She would be happier with Harry.

  9. #9
    Vous parlez français? Slytherin
    Filch is a Squib!
    Viv's Avatar
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    Posts
    522
    Author: Viv
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Artistic Expression
    Warnings: None
    Words: 430

    Author's note: I just want to say a big thank you to Sly_Severus for betaing my drabble!

    Lying on his bed, curtains closed around him, Dean was savouring a moment of peace after dinner. He was doing one of his favourite things, if it wasn’t his favourite: drawing. It had been his passion since he was a little boy. He could remember very well when he had received his first set of pencils for his 6th birthday. He wasn’t a very talkative boy at the time and his mother wanted him to find a way to express his emotions. She thought drawing could be a good idea. And she had been right; Dean had loved to draw right from the start. It was easy for him. He was able to reproduce everything that he saw, to transpose his interpretation of the world on a piece of paper. To create something out of his imagination was the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced.

    When he was angry or sad, all he had to do to chase away his bad thoughts was to take his pencil and draw something. No screams, no harm done, just some artistic expression. Sometimes the shapes on the parchment didn’t really make sense; it was more abstract than anything, but he was always feeling better afterward.

    He put down his pencil and admired his artwork. This portrait of Ginny Weasley wasn’t too bad. He thought that the curves of her red hair could have been a bit smoother, but he would have some time to fix that later. It wasn’t like he would give it to her anyway. He didn’t want to. He wanted to keep his drawing so he would be able to look at it whenever he wanted to. He had already memorised her face in his mind, but to look at it on the parchment was much more satisfying. She was so pretty…

    The sudden sound of an opening door brought him out of his contemplation. He hid the drawing under his pillow just in time; Seamus Finnigan’s head appeared two seconds later between the bed’s curtains.

    “Hey mate! What are you doing there all alone?” the boy asked with curiosity.

    “Nothing particular,” Dean answered, amused by the sudden apparition of his friend. “I was just relaxing a bit.”

    “Yeah, what a nasty potions class we had this afternoon! I don’t get it; Snape seems to find it really funny to torture us with his boring lessons… Anyway, do you want to come and play chess with me?”

    Dean nodded in approval. He would come back to his drawing later. It was safe there, as a secret, under his pillow.

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  10. #10
    Dill
    Guest
    Author: Dill
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Father
    Warnings: None[?]
    Words: 418

    “Dean,” Mrs. Thomas announced on Dean’s 17th birthday. “Come with me.”

    Obeying his mother, as he always did, he followed her. She showed him into the Room. Ever since he had been able to reach the doorknob, he had been prohibited from entering that room. Everyday, when he woke up, he would walk by that door and pause, knowing that it was locked, but curiosity burned at him until he swore that there was a hole in his heart from the flame. Today was the day that he would learn at last.

    The room was dark and covered with dust. The only window was covered by ragged blinds. Cobwebs covered nearly everything. His mother stood there with tears silently running down her cheeks. She was looking at a picture of a man. Dean had never seen that man before. He walked over to her, but the dust that picked up from his steps made him sneeze.

    “I’m sorry,” his mother apologized. “I haven’t been in here for sixteen years. Your father was an amazing man. The memory of him is too painful for me.”

    “Mum, it’s alright. I can clean it!” he offered. “Scourgify!

    Instantly, years of dust, dirt, and grime disappeared from the room, leaving it as sparkling clean as the day his mother put the key in the lock and turned it. He turned to his mother who still held the picture in her hands.

    “You told me that Father left us,” he accused. “I blamed him for everything bad that ever happened to us.”

    She shook her head. “Brian never left us,” she sobbed. “He was killed by Death Eaters when he refused to let them hurt me. His love protects us.”

    “Mum,” Dean said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Why did you keep this from me?”

    “Because I met Allan,” she cried even harder. “He filled the hole that Brian left. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I didn’t want you to know because you look just like him.”

    Dean’s gaze traveled over to the photographs of his father and his mother together. Happy smiles were spread on their faces, frozen in time. He ran his fingers over his father’s most valued possessions. Then, he saw a beautiful golden watch.

    “It was your father’s,” his mother said. “He wanted you to have it when you came of age.”

    Dean walked over to the window, pulled back the blinds, and looked up to the heavens.

    “Thanks, Father,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

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