Montly Drabble Challenges - 2007

[crazy_purple_hp_freak]

Author: crazy_purple_hp_freak
House: Slytherin
Title: Where did the people go?
Warnings: None
Words: 498

“Dean, be a good boy – tell Mummy!”

Seven year old Dean Thomas couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong, but it must be bad because Miss Field had kept him back after school to talk to his Mum. Both were looking down at him with peculiar expressions. Dean just grinned.

“Tell Mummy! What happened to the picture?”

Dean looked down at his picture – he was rather proud of this one; the sky was a perfect shade of blue and the grass was really nicely coloured. These new pencil crayons were fantastic; they didn’t leave funny marks or smudge like his other ones. The lead didn’t break when you dropped them, and he hadn’t had to sharpen the brown one all afternoon, even though he’d been using it a lot to colour the house in the middle.

Miss Field shook her head. “Mrs Thomas, I hope you believe me. I’m telling you exactly what I saw. That picture had people on it – a man, a woman and a child. Look.”

She pointed and Mrs Thomas saw that there were, indeed, three slightly darker patches of shadow – perfect shadows of a man, a woman and a child.

“But - ” she spluttered.

Dean cracked another grin and both women glanced down at him.

“Dean,” said his mother. “Did you throw away the first picture and draw another one?”

Dean shook his head.

“Did you rub the people out?”

Dean shook his head again.

“Mrs Thomas, that’s not all – the people didn’t just disappear, I swear that I saw them walk off the picture!”

Dean’s mother shook her head disbelievingly. “You mean they started moving? Like a film or something? Ridiculous!”

“That’s what I thought – but I saw them. I did!”

Both women turned to Dean again, who by now was getting rather bored. He had chosen another sheet of paper – blue this time (so he wouldn’t have to draw the sky). He doodled with a black felt tip pen, his hand held steady in concentration. This picture was going to be the sea, maybe with cliffs and a beach and lots of seagulls.

“Dean, are you listening to us? This is very serious. Tell Mummy, what happened to the people? Where did they go?”

Dean was drawing little wings for the seagulls now, high in the sky.

His mother tapped the desk with her fingers. “People on the drawing can’t just walk away or move. They don’t just disappear! What did you do to them?”

Dean shrugged again, ignoring them. How was he meant to know what had happened to the people in his drawing? Perhaps they just fancied a walk.

He finished drawing the seagulls and smiled in satisfaction.

One by one, the birds began to flutter about, flitting across the page with freedom. Dean grinned.

He was still grinning when Miss Field gasped in shock. He was still grinning as his mother uttered a forced apology and dragged him out of the classroom.

He liked pictures that moved.

[kumydabookworm]

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: The Light In The Hallway
Word Count: 380
Warnings: Character Death, Violence

His breath came in heavy gasps, his ears still ringing from screams - were they his? He clutched the damp sheets tightly between his fingers, and focused on the hallway light that flickered on slowly.

Soft footsteps made their way closer. His door cracked open.

"You alright, love?"

Dean shook his head. "Another dream, Mum. Don't worry about it."

Voldemort is back. The Ministry finally says Harry is right. I'm having these dreams...what does this mean?

Mum walked closer and sat on the edge of his bed. She reached out a finger to stroke his cheek and he winced. She recoiled in shock.

"Dean, what is wrong? Why won't you talk to me?" she whispered sadly.

Dean released the sheets. "I - Mum, I'm having dreams of a cut off hand. I have been scared of it since I was little. The dreams are getting stronger, more vivid, more frequent. I don't understand it."

My boggart was this hand - not the monsters I'm really afraid of, or even the dark, which I don't really like. How can I be so scared of something I know nothing about? It's in my nightmares, in my thoughts - it's my boggart, even - and I still don't know what it means!

Mum's face paled a bit. "It's nothing," she reassured. "It's just...a dream, love. Just a dream. Go back to bed."

Dean frowned. It wasn't like his mum to hide things, and the hand did mean something. He could tell by her hasty retreat into her bedroom. He shut his eyes, falling into another frantic haze of rushed images.

A uniformed man stood at the door, as Dean peeked between his mother's legs.

"That's all they found of him, Mrs. Thomas. I know you've been trying to get him to pay child support...but his hand is all they found."

"He changed so suddenly," Mum said softly. "One day, he was fine. The next day, he was gone."

The man held out a hand. "We have to show you, ma'am. What would you like us to do with it?"

"Just - take it away," muttered Mum.

"Dean! What are you doing here?" cried his mother.

"Where's Papa, Mummy?"

A hand blotted out his vision.

Dean woke up, gasping. The hallway light flickered on.

[solemnlyswear_x]

Username: solemnlyswear_x
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: None
Word Count: 392
Title: Good Enough

-mutters something incoherent about last minute inspiration, and hopes this isn't too late-

He has always hated the wind; it disrupts his drawing.

This is what Dean Thomas is thinking as a gust blows through the Hogwarts grounds, reaching him at his spot by the lake.

The paper he is currently sketching on is tossed aside by the breeze, and he watches as it is lofted through the air, and settles a few feet away, breathing a sigh of relief when it narrowly misses landing in the lake.

Exhaling heavily, his distaste of the wind growing steadily by the second, Dean stands to retrieve his drawing. When he lifts himself from the rock he is sitting on, he turns to face the rest of the grounds. It is a nice day outside, and plenty of students are milling about- walking with friends, napping under trees, and in one case, talking about Quidditch.

The Quidditch conversation is one he can’t help but overhear. They are speaking about how well Gryffindor fared this year, with Harry Potter as their new captain.

Dean grimaces ever so slightly at the mention of Harry’s name. He doesn’t mean to, but ever since Ginny broke up with him, hearing his classmate’s name brings a bitter taste to his mouth.

It is not Harry, so much as the thought he brings to Dean’s mind.

He has never been good enough.

He has been never been great, only mediocre.

He hadn’t been good enough for Ginny to stay with him. He was only good enough to act as a substitute for Harry until he came around.

He hadn’t been good enough to make Harry’s Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was only good enough to join as a reserve Chaser.

And after thinking this, Dean would somehow, always, think of his dad.

He hadn’t been good enough to make his father want to raise him. He had only been good enough for him to want to leave.

Dean breathes in shakily, trying to push those thoughts from his mind. He squeezes his eyes close, collecting himself, and then steps forward to pick up the drawing he has left lying on the ground while thoughts of inadequacy flooded his mind.

He leans down to grab the paper, only to see it fly away as another gust barrels through. This time, the sketch lands in the lake.

He has always hated the wind; it disrupts his drawing.

[kehribar]

I found the thread unlocked, so.. I hope it's not too late to submit.

Name: kehribar
House: Gryffindor
Title: From the eyes of a canon
Warning: The usage of the word "canon" may seem a bit confusing here; what I meant is the wooden models used in studios, which are named "canon". I hope it's not too confusing.
Words: 387

“Isabelle, I’m telling you for the last time: Stay straight, or I’ll lock you in the cupboard.”

“…again,” I complete the sentence under my breath, and return to the position Dean put me. The last time he locked me in the cupboard, I stayed there for a week. But I had deserved it. An incredibly talkative magical canon would only annoy the artist, especially if he’s running out of work.

As I sit on a non-existent broom in the appearance of the captain of that Quidditch team, Chudley Cannons, I watch his hand move in swift and sharp motions as he draws an outline. Yesterday, he received an owl from the Chudley Cannons, requesting a new crest for their team. Dean was thrilled. He’s always like this; always so excited for any new work he gets. Now, for the last seven hours or so, he’s been sketching endless crests. I can see pride and joy in his eyes; this is such a big honour for him, and so, he’s trying to do his very best… using me to death in the process.

I hear him sigh in frustration, and he ruffles his hair in despair. He looks at me.

“I can’t get it right,” he says simply. I smile and roll my eyes. He always says this.

“What about using a cannon?” I suggest. “It’d be really symbolic.”

This time it is him who rolls eyes.

“What a creative idea,” he mutters. I step down from the invisible broom and put my hands on my waist.

“Being creative is your job, Dean, not mine,” I remind him. “Use the usual in an unusual way. That’s what you always do.”

He looks at me for a few moments without saying anything. And then, he jumps in his seat, pulling a new sheet of paper before him.

“Okay, get on the broom,” he instructs, his voice again business-like. “You’re flying in the uppermost speed; lie down on the broom, your hair is waving behind you, eyes narrowed against the wind…” he looks at me and grins. “… as if you’ve been fired by a cannon.”

I smirk at him, and once again climb on the imaginary broom to do what he says. No matter what, I know that Dean will come up with the best. This is his job.

[MithrilQuill]

Time for a new character challenge!


This time our character is Kingsley Shacklebolt.


Winners will be awarded 15, 10 and 5 points respectively.


Please use the following form:


Name:
House:
Title:
Warnings:
Words:

[Just Beyond the Veil]

Name: Just Beyond the Veil
House: Ravenclaw!
Title: First Day on the Job
Warnings: None
Words: 190

Ring! Ring! I must have jumped six feet in the air at the sudden sound. Looking around wildly for the source of the noise, I quickly spotted the culprit. Arthur Weasley had explained it to be a fellytone. I snatched up the curvy handle part of the fellytone and did as Arthur had instructed.

"You have reached the Prime Minister's office," I said. It felt odd to be talking to a white piece of plastic.

"Hello, this is Doris Shingleton. I need to reschedule our meeting," a voice in my ear announced.

While I found her a suitable date, people kept slipping papers on my desk. I put the fellytone handle back and grabbed one off the top. It was a complaint about the darkness over the country. I shuffled through the pile. They were all the same. The Order was going to have a tough time fixing this.

The door behind me opened and the Prime Minister stepped out, pulling on his coat.

"Good evening, sir," I said.

"Until tomorrow, Shacklebolt," was his reply.

I rose from my desk and followed him outside. My first day had gone smoothly.

[Sly Severus]

Name: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Title: It Should Be Me
Warnings: None
Words: 228

Kingsley sat in the comfy chair at the headquarters for the Order. He tried his best to look natural. Refusing to let on that anything was bothering him. After all, it shouldn’t be bothering him.

He sat in his chair, never allowing himself to frown, but not allowing he eyes to leave the sofa across the room either. He watched as his friend, his partner, cuddled close to Remus Lupin. His heart plummeted as he watched her raise her lips to the man.

It should be me, he thought. He had loved that girl since she was little more than a child. He had been instantly drawn to her bright colored hair, her mischievous nature, and her childlike clumsiness. The simple truth was that he loved everything about Nymphadora Tonks.

But he had never said anything. He worked beside her every day. They grew close. They spent time together when they were off duty. He would take her to dinner. But he never told her how he felt. Like a fool, he had believed that one day she would come to him.

Now it was too late. She had chosen someone else. It was too late for him to announce his feelings. His only choice was to set back and watch her with someone else. But he could never stop himself from thinking, it should be me.

[Harry_Ginny4ever]

Name: Harry_Ginny4ever
House: Hufflepuff
Title: A Horrible Desk Job
Warnings: None
Words: 255

Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed. His whole reasoning behind wanting to be an Auror was the adventure. He desperately wanted to avoid desk jobs, sitting in a confining cubicle all day. He’d rather be put in Azkaban, with all those he’d stuck in there himself, than sit behind a desk all the time.

But here he was, awkwardly perched on swivel chair behind an immaculate mahogany desk, in the Muggle Minister’s offices. Here he was equipped with several phones, with colored coordinated post-it notes and pens, each ringing as soon as he had hung it up. A desk job. A horrible desk job.

Alas, he was an Auror (and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, no less), dedicated to protecting the Wizarding World. If that meant answering Muggle government phones, he’d do it as long as he was needed. He wouldn’t complain, he wouldn’t like it, but he wouldn’t complain.

Kingsley was shaken from his deep thought by the intercom on the wall beside his head. He quickly jammed his finger to the button. It had taken him awhile to ward off the temptation to stun the wall each time the blasted thing went off. “Yes?”

“Kingsley, could you teach the new intern how to use the second floor phone, please?” Interns, how they annoyed him. “Certainly,” he said, shutting off the intercom. Making sure his wand was properly concealed, Kingsley Shaklebolt, the great Auror, instructed another snot-nosed intern how to properly operate a government building fellytone.

It was going to be a long war.

[Cheshlin]

Name: Cheshlin
House: Slytherin
Title: Assignments
Warnings:
Words: 338

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked around at his team. They were to keep their eyes open and watch for Death Eater activity in Knockturn Alley and keep them out of Diagon Alley. There were bound to be lots of students with their families heading toward Diagon Alley since Hogwarts started back to school in a few weeks.

“Ok team, we know that there will be lots of families around out there. We need to do our best to keep trouble from reaching them. There is very good possibility that there will be Death Eaters out there waiting to cause trouble. Let’s see what we can do to stop them! Tonks and Decon, you will be by the Leaky Cauldron. Peats and Hurst you watch by the entrance to Knockturn Alley. I will be with Munst by Ollivander’s and on occasion walking through Knockturn Alley. Don’t do anything stupid. Keep your wits about you and if you see someone, get back up. We don’t want to get any of the innocents in the middle of a shoot out. Anyone have questions?” Kingsley studied the team he had worked hard to train and was happy with what he saw.

Peats looked a little rattled. He was the newest member, and straight from Auror training. Hurst had been with him the longest, which is why Peats was teamed with him. Hurst had fought many battles, and always came out of trouble with the fewest innocents injured. Tonks was clumsy, but had a great head on her shoulders. Blending in was Tonk’s specialty, and no one would know what hit them when she decided to finally show herself. Decon had a great eye, and often saw things that were out of place long before everyone else. Munst always stayed calm and nothing rattled her. They were a great team.

“Ok, if there are no questions, let’s go. Remember to keep your partner in sight at all times. See you after our shift.” Kingsley Apparated to Diagon Alley, and his team was right behind him.

[Cwiddy]

Name: Cwiddy
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Day of Patrol
Warnings: None
Words: 400

Kingsley Shacklebolt couldn’t help but think about the cold as he did his patrol on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was winter and the occasional snow flake could be seen gently falling from the sky as he patrolled. He was contemplating the recent changes that had occurred in one of the younger Aurors that worked with him, one he had felt an almost fatherly-fondness of since she started working with him a few years back.

Nymphadora Tonks was young, but she held a lot of promise because of her Metamorphmagus abilities and her ability to think straight in dangerous situations. He clumsiness was a drawback, but she had always been able to get the job done, and safely, too. Lately those abilities were not as reliable; the sparkle of life that always seemed to brighten the air around her was also missing. Her usually bright pink hair was dulled to a dreary brown, and she never seemed to joke or smile any more. Her Patronus had also changed; to a shadowy almost wolf-like form. He had seen the spark that almost started when Remus Lupin was around. Kingsley wondered if Remus had anything to do with the changes in Tonks.

Always on alert he saw a shadow appear ahead, and had his wand at the ready. As the shadow took shape he saw that it was the young lady on his mind. He had forgotten she was also here on patrol today. Well, now was as good a time as any to see if his hypothesis was correct about her and Lupin.

“Hello Tonks! How’s the patrol going?” inquired Kingsley.

“Wotcher Kingsley. Haven’t seen anything unusual, but there is a long day ahead yet,” stated Tonks.

“Have you seen the recent reports at the office about the new werewolf attacks? It seems that Greyback is at it again.” Kingsley said, observing Tonks for a reaction.

Slowly the little bit of color that remained in Tonks’ face drained and her eyes dulled even more. It almost seemed that she became the shadow that he’d mistaken her for earlier.

“Ah, really,” she stuttered. “No, I hadn’t seen those reports. I just remembered there was something I needed to see Dumbledore about, I need to go,” stated Tonks as she rushed back towards the castle.

“Guess that confirms my hypothesis,” whispered Kingsley as he continued on his patrol.