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Thread: The Brawl ~ WEEK 11 Results and FINAL WEEK~

  1. #21
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    Title: Whistling
    Quote: A
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years, none
    Word Count: 498

    It was a baking hot summer’s day, and Aunt Petunia had ordered Dudley and Harry out of the house so she could give it a thorough clean. Dudley had walked off with several of his friends, laughing all the while at Harry, because he had nobody to play with.

    ‘See you later, Harry-no-friends!’ he had called over his shoulder before disappearing.

    Dudley was right; Harry didn’t have any friends. He didn’t have anyone to go and play with. He was just Harry, all alone. He walked along the street, and turned into a cul-de-sac, where there was a playground.

    He was walking along, dragging his feet along the ground and not paying much attention to anything, when, suddenly, someone spoke to him.

    ‘I know who you are.’

    Harry looked up. The speaker was a girl about his age. She was sitting on one of the swings, watching him. Harry didn’t know what to say; people didn’t usually start speaking to him like that. He looked at her.

    ‘You’re Harry Potter.’

    ‘Yes,’ Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

    ‘You’re Dudley Dursley’s cousin. I don’t like Dudley,’ the girl said. ‘He’s nasty to people. He hit my brother.’

    Harry didn’t know what to say to this, either. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked, finally.

    ‘Lucy Evans,’ the girl said. ‘Do you want to be my friend?’

    Harry was rather taken aback by this question, but he smiled.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. Finally, he would have someone to play with, like Dudley.

    ‘I can whistle, you know,’ Lucy said, jumping off her swing. ‘You know how to whistle, don’t you, Harry?’

    Harry shook his head.

    ‘You just put your lips together and... blow.’

    She blew, and made a high-pitched whistling noise, before looking up at him and grinning.

    ‘Come on, I’ll teach you!’ she said, sitting down on the asphalt floor of the playground. Harry sat down next to her, and tried to copy what she’d done, but all he managed to produce was a rather wet raspberry. Lucy burst out laughing.

    ‘No, no!’ she shrieked. ‘It’s like this!’ She did it again, making sure he was watching carefully.

    ‘Ha! Look at this!’ Harry sat up suddenly. It was Dudley. ‘Harry’s got himself a girlfriend!’

    Harry blushed to the roots of his hair. ‘Have not!’ he shouted.

    ‘Look, It’s Lucy lavatory-head!’ Dudley said, spotting Lucy. ‘Your brother’s a sissy! He cried all night when we hit him!’

    ‘He did not!’ Lucy shouted. She clenched her fists tightly, but seemed too scared to approach Dudley.

    Dudley sniggered, and walked towards them, a menacing look on his face. ‘Go away, and don’t talk to Harry again,’ he said threateningly. ‘Or I’ll hit you, too!’

    Lucy trembled. Dudley was a lot bigger than she was, and she didn’t want to get hurt.

    ‘I’m sorry, Harry,’ she said sadly, turning to him. ‘I can’t be friends with you anymore.’ She cast one last, frightened look at Dudley, before running off.

    Harry was alone once more.

    Title: Cho the Magician
    Ratings/Warnings:1st-2nd/none
    Quote used - A,B, or C: A
    Word Count: 399 without the quote
    Author's Note: Cho did end up married to a Muggle, after all.

    With my view so limited by the box in my arms, it isn’t a surprise to me that I didn’t see the dark haired girl walking down the hallway until I ran into her.

    “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said, bending over at once to help me gather my scattered belongings.

    “No, no, it was my fault, I’m sorry,” I began and then, catching sight of her face, I paused, searching my memory. Where had I seen her before?

    “Cho?” I asked, finally identifying my childhood friend in her pretty face. She looked up, surprised.

    “Steven!” she said, recognition dawning. She smiled and, tucking the last CD case into the box in my arms, she stood.

    “Well, I go by Steve now,” I said, laughing, and stood up too.

    “You're moving in?”

    “Yeah.” I nodded in the direction of the door to my new apartment.

    “I guess we’re neighbors again. I’m just there.” She pointed at the door three down from mine.

    “Great!” There was a moment of silence. I shifted the box in my arms. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

    “Yeah,” she said, blushing. “See you.”

    I turned, walked down the hallway to my door and tried to turn the handle.

    It was locked.

    I swore. I was certain I had left the door open a crack. Setting my box on the floor, I felt my pockets and groaned. The key was inside the apartment.

    “Alright, Steve?”

    I turned to find Cho watching my curiously from her doorway.

    “I, er, think I locked myself out.”

    She laughed and came over to examine my door.

    “Sometimes they stick,” she explained. After several minutes of jiggling the handle, the door had still not given way. Resigned, I turned to find the building manager. Behind me, I heard Cho mutter under her breath. Apparently she was becoming frustrated as well. But then –

    “There you go!” she said, proudly. I turned to see my door swing open under her hand.

    “How –?”

    “Magic,” she said, and winked. I laughed.

    “Well, thank you.”

    “What else are neighbors for?” she said, grinning. “If you ever need my help, just whistle and I’ll be right over. You know how to whistle, don’t you Steve?

    I was taken aback. Of course I knew how to whistle. But before I could say so, she continued, “You just put your lips together,” she demonstrated, puckering her lips, “ and… blow.”

    And then she walked away, leaving me standing, bemused, in the hallway.
    Title: The Idea of Being in Love
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years/none
    Quote used: B
    Word Count: 382
    Author's Note: I failed to leave rarepairs week behind, I think!


    Susan Bones leant back against the tree behind her and dug her fingers into the soft, damp earth. She stretched her legs out in front of her and squinted against the sun as she tilted her head to look up at the man standing over her. It was always this way: her making herself comfortable wherever they were but Theodore awkward and wary.

    "This is a very strange love affair," she said.

    "Why?" Theodore sat beside her, but he didn't look comfortable; he looked primed to bolt at any moment.

    "Maybe the fact that you don't love me."

    Theodore stared at her for a long moment and then lifted his fingers to trail down her cheek. "I do love you," he said as she shook off his touch.

    Susan gave a sad, little sigh. "No, you think you do, but it's not the same thing. I think you've been alone too long. You're in love with the idea of being in love."

    Something flashed in Theodore's eyes. "Just because I don't fit into your pretty, little Hufflepuff notions of romance ..." His voice was cold and hard, shutting her out, and without him knowing, proving her point. Yet, he was quiet; the words were hissed at her, not making a scene because it all came down to appearances in the end. Sometimes she felt like that was all their relationship was: a play staged for the outside world.

    "It's not about romance. I couldn't care less for candles and rose petals, but you don't know me - not in the ways that matter. We're too different."

    Theodore went to clutch her hand, but she pulled it away and his fingers dug angrily into his palms instead, leaving stark red crescents. "But I'd do anything for you!"

    "That's not love: it's obsession, and that's dangerous. I'm sorry, Theodore." Susan started to stand.

    "Sorry? What for? What do you mean? I don't understand."

    Susan stared down at him. He looked like a scared, little boy, hugging his knees in the long grass. A wave of pity washed through her, but pity wasn't enough this time to make her stay.

    "No, you don't, do you. Goodbye, Theodore. I hope you find some peace one day." Susan turned and walked away. She didn't look back or make any move to wipe away the tears that blurred her sight and burnt her cheeks.

    Title: Love?
    Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th years; sexual situations; adultery implied.
    Quote used B
    Word Count: 388

    ‘This is a very strange love affair.’

    Ginny frowned, pausing as she reached for the coffee pot, leaving her hand suspended over it. ‘Why?’ she asked in a careful tone, turning to look at him.

    He brushed some stray blond hairs from his eyes, and then stood up. He took a step towards her, shrugging before kissing her. ’Maybe the fact that you don't love me. I’m right, aren’t I?’ He asked the question quickly -- too quickly for Ginny to be comfortable.

    She stepped out of the circle his arms enclosed her in, still frowning at him. ‘I thought…’ She took a deep breath, studying his face closely as she continued. ‘I thought we were on the same page. I thought we both realised that there is no question of love between us.’

    Draco flinched, his expression turning cold and hard though his eyes still radiated warmth. ‘I don’t love you, Gin,’ he snapped, on the defensive. ‘I was just commenting on the irony of… well…’

    She turned around and poured the mug of coffee. ‘Good.’ There was a beat of silence. ‘And don’t call me that.’

    ‘What?’

    ‘”Gin“. It’s always “Gin“. I hate it when you call me that.’

    ‘You’ve never said anything to me about it before!’

    ‘Well, I am now.’

    ‘Fine,’ he spat.

    Ginny took a sip of her coffee, breathing in the bitter fumes deeply. She pulled them into her, then exhaled. Draco sat down in the chair, back straight. They drank their drinks in silence for a few minutes, each studying the other, each aware of the other studying them. She noted, for the hundredth time, the battle scar on his cheekbone. She didn’t like the reminder of all he had done in the past, and quickly looked elsewhere.

    Draco broke the quiet, his voice uncharacteristically soft, but like a bullet in the atmosphere.

    ‘What would you say if I did love you?’

    ‘Nothing. Because you don’t. That’s absurd.’ She laughed harshly. Her stomach dropped. She set her coffee on the counter carefully. Draco noted that she had gone very white suddenly.

    ‘I love Harry; you love Astoria,’ she continued defiantly.

    Draco laughed now. He put his coffee down, too, and stepped towards Ginny, first embracing her, and then kissing her. He whispered the words in her ear, sending a chill down her spine: ‘If we love them, then why are we doing this?’

    She had no answer.
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  2. #22
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    RESULTS!



    theopaleye – In Love and War <5,0>
    coolh5000- Some things will never change <2,1>
    Leahsm2-Fear the Dinged Up Dementor <1,2>
    hestiajones- Him, Alice and Me<3,1>
    Weasley Mom –Luna’s Leisure <2,2>
    Sainyn Swiftfoot –Untitled <1,6>
    AidaLuthien – Flawed <2,6>
    minnabird –A conversation under the stars <0,1>
    Cinderella Angelina –Selfish Sacrifice <1,0>
    Apollonious- Doesn’t mean a thing <0,0>
    Gwendalynne –Cho the Magician <1,0>
    inspirations –Love? <0,1>
    Majestic ginny- For Harry <0,0>
    h– vic –The idea of being in love <0,1>
    ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor –Unforgiven <3,1>
    mugglemathdork –Unspoken Affection <1,0>
    FlightOfSong – Whistle while you work <2,0>
    Sapphire at Dawn-Whistling <1,2>
    welshdevondragon- Bethany and Juliet <0,2>
    Karaley Dargen- Money <1,0>



    Sadly, we are saying goodbye this week to Sainyn Swiftfoot and AidaLuthien. Both receive five points for their house and lots of squishy hugs.

    The winner this week is Julia (the opaleye) who not only gains bragging rights for the entire week but takes away 5 shiny points for SSSSSlytherin!


    Ready to carry on ...

    Following tradition, week 4 of the brawl remains the same as previous rounds. Therefore, I bring you

    DUN DUN DUN


    Prompt 4 - A Brawl

    Definition: Brawl – a noisy quarrel or fight.

    The catch:

    The reason for the brawl must be trivial and you have to mention the reason.

    You may write any era, any issue (just keep it 3rd-5th) but I want to see a good old barney!

    Use this form when you send your entries to me:

    PHP Code:
    [B]Name:[/B]
    [
    B]House:[/B]
    [
    B]Title:[/B]
    [
    B]Reason for brawl:[/B]
    [
    B]Rating/Warning:[/B]
    [
    B]Word Count:[/B]
    [
    B]Author's Note:[/B] 
    EDIT: All drabbles need to be sent to me by Thursday 24th March 8pm GMT.

    Let the brawl begin!



    Madam Carmerta
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  3. #23
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    WEEK 4 ~ THE BRAWL~

    You know the drill. Read through all the drabbles, then click the link here to vote for your Favourite and Least Favourite drabbles.

    I have kept the comment feature in, so please feel free to use it.

    There are only fifteen brawlers left in the competition, but we shall still be voting TWO off this week.

    GOOD LUCK!






    Title: The Joys of Being a Mother
    Reason for brawl: Name-calling...or is it?
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd years
    Word Count: 497
    Sometimes Molly thought she might like to write a book about motherhood. She was qualified, she knew; the only problem was time. Her best hope was to pass along the information to her sons' wives...and her daughters, if she was lucky enough to get any.

    For example: "Mothers know when screaming is fun and when it is not." The screaming coming from the boys' bedroom currently classified as 'not,' so she heaved herself out of her chair ("When you finally sit down is when the emergency happens") and started up the stairs.

    As soon as she felt she had the breath, she shouted over the din, "What is going on up here?" To her dismay, the scuffling didn't stop, so she made her way to the top and stood in the doorway.

    "Boys!" she said sharply. "Bill! Charlie! Percy!" she continued loudly, stepping into the fray and pulling Fred and George off their brothers. "What kind of example do you think you're setting to the twins?"

    "I didn't know they were here," Bill said, rubbing his shoulder. "It does explain some of the bounciness."

    Charlie glanced around quickly. "Um, he started it," he said, pointing at Bill. "He...called me a name."

    "You called me names first!" Bill shot back.

    Another of Molly's rules was "Don't roll your eyes in front of children," but she was having a hard time at the moment. "Calling names is no reason to get into a fight. Is it, Percy?" she asked.

    Percy looked at his feet, glasses askew. "Depends on the name," he said finally.

    "I see," Molly said, looking sternly at her sons. "What were these horrible names?"

    All three were silent; all that could be heard was the sound of Fred and George rolling on the floor together. "Wimp!" said one, giggling. "Foot-nose smelly something!" the other responded, smacking his twin with his hand. Molly laboriously leaned down and separated the two of them.

    "Well," she said. "Look what you've started. If I have to spend the rest of my waking hours separating brawling toddlers, your father will have to have words with you. Furthermore --" she paused, winced, and dropped the twins to hold her bulging stomach. "Furthermore," she repeated, sounding strained, "I get quite enough punches from your baby brother, and I don't need any more in my household."

    "Can I feel your tummy?" asked Percy shyly. "I promise I won't punch back."

    "Me too!" squealed Fred and George.

    "Whoa, that's almost as hard as you punched my rib!" Charlie exclaimed, nudging Bill as they all stood around their mother. "I think this one will be as well able to compete for Mum's affections as the rest of us."

    Molly raised her eyebrows; was that what they had really been fighting about? She decided not to mention anything, just kissed her children's heads in turn. After all, if there was one thing she'd learned, it was: "Always let your children know you love them."

    Title: “A Simple 'No' Would Have Been Sufficient”
    Reason for brawl: misplaced jealousy
    Rating/Warning: 3rd/5th; fem-slash; AU
    Word Count: 499
    Author's*Note:*

    The Hogwarts Express lumbered into the station, taking the graduating students away for the last time. A young witch stood by a far wall, consoling another girl.

    “I'll die without you,” The younger girl sobbed.

    “You'll be fine,” she whispered, kissing her softly.

    “How could you, Gwen?” Althea asked, emerging from the shadows. “That Chloe is so ugly... Her mother was truly a hag.”

    Chloe reached for her wand, but Gwen stopped her.

    “You're intolerant, Althea,” Gwen said evenly. “You'll have to get over this alone because I'm through.”

    Without a backward glance, Gwen walked out of their lives forever.

    The following year Althea found that Chloe wasn't a troll after all. What little one could see of her in her work robes appeared to be enticing. Althea began leaving broad hints, and casting lusting looks until Chloe agreed to come to Althea's her room to help in her potions homework.

    “There.” Chloe said that night, as she finished off the Invigoration Draught.

    She took a spoon and fed a bit to Althea, who had been trying her best all evening to distract Chloe from her schoolwork. The draught had a bitterness that Althea knew was wrong.

    “What did you do?” She croaked, as the world appeared to do have turned upside down.

    “You moron,” Chloe said triumphantly, “you don't even know the difference between a Invigoration Draught and an Eye-flipping Elixir.”

    Chloe spent the rest of the night trying to fix her dilemma, finally finding a charm that put artificial, but right side up and functioning, eyes on her goggles.

    ~*~

    “Seriously, Althea,” Draco snorted, as she reached over him for her healthy serving of a full grain and a fruit. “Quidditch goggles at the table?”

    “It's my game day ritual, Malfoy,” Althea snarled, readjusting her goggles to properly view her breakfast, ignoring the guffaws coming from the unpopular end of the table.

    She looked up for a moment, her death-stare stifling Malfoy's taunts, as she returned her attention to the grape filled goodness of her oatmeal. Althea had just managed to get a spoonful of her cereal into her mouth when zap her goggles fell into her food.

    “Holy crap,” Pansy Parkinson exploded, “what is up with your eyes?”

    Althea found herself staring at Parkinson, giving the stupid cow a full view of her shame. She fumbled in the oatmeal, held up the goo encrusted goggles, found a clear spot she could see through and wildly sent a flash of bright light in the general direction of Chloe. Luckily, Pansy's loud braying had gotten the attention of those sitting between the two girls, and they were able to dodge Althea's Stinging Hex, which hit the back wall with a small explosion.

    “You are so lame, Althea,” Chloe chuckled menacingly as she stood and aimed her wand directly at the other girl's head. “That feeble hex wouldn't have brought up a pimple.”

    Title: A Thistle
    Reason for brawl: A mix up of nationality.
    Rating/Warning: Violence. 1st-2nd.
    Word Count: 495
    Author's Note: Some may take the reason as far from trivial, but it's all I could come up with.

    Tom Riddle came to the Three Broomsticks not to socialise, like most students, but to eavesdrop. He knew he was skilled at manipulation, but thought there was room for improvement, something he could achieve by careful observations of his peers.

    But all the discussions around him were tedious. He sipped the butterbeer he had persuaded the barmaid to give him for free.

    Suddenly there was a crash, and he turned to see the couple behind him staring at the body which had suddenly been thrown onto their table. The body he recognised as Avery, a seventh year Slytherin and idiot but one who, quite rightly, held Tom in high regard. Tom sighed. He supposed if he wanted to retain Avery’s loyalty he should help him, but this was too entertaining.

    He glanced at the girl who was now lifting Avery off the table two feet into the air, and then dropping him to the floor with an unceremonious thump.

    There was a momentary pause whilst Avery got up, using the table for support, staggered and then lunged at the girl, who easily grasped his flailing arm and twisted it behind his back, grabbing his other hand and rotating her hand around his wrist. He yowled in pain. Tom, thinking it was time to intervene, stood up and, thinking it wise not to use magic just yet as that would attract the barman’s attention, tried to pull Avery away from the girl. Tom expected it to be easy. He was slightly built, but stronger than he looked and, after all, she was a girl.

    He was wrong. She yanked Avery backwards, and then turned round, chucking his body, as if it was a feather, onto the opposite table, butterbeer spilling and glasses crashing to the floor. The bar was too crowded for the barman to notice.

    “You can’t do that,” Tom said, in a cold, but amused, voice.

    The girl rose an eyebrow. She was too angular to be pretty, but she had sharp, piercing eyes that managed to make him, against his will, feel uncomfortable.

    “Why not?” She was Scottish. Tom Riddle felt a shiver of disgust at her voice. He had taken time to dilute his rough East London accent, and saw no reason why she couldn’t refine hers. “Who are you to boss me around?”

    “I am a prefect,” he said, cooly. She folded her arms.

    “So? What are you going to do?”

    Tom had already noticed the red and gold of her scarf, and realised Avery, who was shakily standing up again, and himself were the only Slytherins. He was patient.

    “Nothing,” he said, “as long as you answer me two questions.”

    “What?” she said, with a self-confident smile.

    “Why did you fight him? And why like a Muggle?”

    She rose her eyebrow imperiously. “If I’d used magic I might have seriously hurt him. And he called me English.”

    With that, she turned smartly on the spot and left the pub.


    Title: Given and Taken
    Reason for brawl: Possession of a yo-yo
    Rating/Warning: 1st/2nd Years – None
    Word Count: 500
    Author's Note: I used canon names for the kids in the orphanage, since there were enough available to avoid using OCs. It helps place the events easier. And I so believe that children fight over things this stupid. >.>

    “Give it back! It’s mine!” Dennis took a swipe at the yo-yo in the other boy’s hand

    “Is not!” Eric said. “You gave it to me, so now it’s mine.” He defiantly put the yo-yo behind his back to block Dennis’s attempts to take it from him.

    Glaring, Dennis said, “Give it back, or I’ll tell Mrs Cole.”

    Eric huffed. “And she’ll just tell you that only tosspots give something away and take it back.”

    Dennis was only incensed by Eric’s words. Taking a look around to make sure there were no witnesses, he launched himself at Eric. Both boys hit the floor with a mighty thud, but Dennis ignored the sharp pain in his knee from where it struck the floorboard and went straight for his target: the yo-yo. But before he could get a hold of Eric’s arm to pry away the disputed item, it popped out of the tangled mass of limbs and rolled across the floor.

    However, Eric ignored it and focused on Dennis. His arm flailed into the air and made solid contact with his assailant’s ear. Taking advantage of the resulting daze, he jutted his elbow into Dennis’s ribcage and successfully freed himself from underneath. Eric was able to shove the other boy away and regain his feet, scouring the room for the fallen yo-yo.

    Eric seemed to spot the toy, but so did Dennis. The first step that the former took toward it was met with immediate retaliation in the form of a tug on the ankle and a reunion with the floor. That gave Dennis the chance to regain his own feet and make a break for the yo-yo, which had settled next to the door.

    But when that door opened, Dennis’s hopes of recovering his lone possession were all but lost. Pale fingers closed around the yo-yo and fit one of the spindly digits into the string loop. Almost mockingly, the black-haired newcomer let the spool drop and spin at the end of the string before snatching it back into his hand. The triumphant sneer was one that Dennis recalled all too well.

    It was the same one that had grinned gleefully as Dennis and Amy had been terrified half to death, climbing into that cave. They hadn’t wanted to go, but neither could make their bodies refuse to follow him into its murky depths. There were few nights that Dennis’s dreams weren’t haunted by that day’s events, and he knew that Amy had never been the same.

    With one last predatory smirk, both the yo-yo and the brazen thief were gone. Dennis wasn’t so attached to a toy as to brave a confrontation with the boy of his nightmares. When Eric finally caught up with Dennis, though, he must have sensed the change in his opponent’s demeanour.

    “Where is it?”

    “It’s gone,” Dennis replied flatly.

    “What do you mean ‘gone’? How can it be gone?”

    “Tom has it.”

    At the mention of Tom, both boys shuddered, no other explanation required.


    Title: Of Bludgers and Footballs
    Reason for brawl: Disagreement between Ron and Dean about which sport is better; Quidditch or football.
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd years, none
    Word Count: 396
    Author's Note: While Ron and Dean might not find the subject trivial... I do...

    As Harry climbed the stairs to the first-year dormitory, he heard what sounded like raised voices coming from the room. Slightly bewildered, he hurried up the remaining steps and opened the door. Ron and Dean were stood on opposite sides of the room, and they were clearly in the middle of a heated argument.

    ‘There’s only one ball!’ Ron was shouting, slightly red around the ears. ‘How can it be interesting watching a bunch of people run up and down the pitch, chasing only one ball? They’re not even allowed to bash each other!’

    ‘This isn’t bloody rugby!’ Dean shouted back. Harry noticed that his fists were clenched around a slightly faded claret and blue scarf, the words ‘West Ham FC’ visible beneath the folds of material.

    ‘What the hell is rugby?’ Ron snapped.

    ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Dean said with a sigh. ‘A game doesn’t need violence to be interesting. It’s about skill.’

    ‘You chase after a ball and kick it. How much skill do you need?’

    Harry snorted to himself. Clearly, Ron was having trouble understanding the concept of the popular Muggle sport. He wasn’t the only one who looked amused; Seamus was sprawled on his bed, an amused grin spread over his face. Unnoticed by either Ron or Dean, Harry sidled over to Seamus.

    ‘Before you ask, I’ve got no idea,’ Seamus said as Harry sat down on the end of his bed. ‘Hilarious though!’

    ‘It’s harder than it looks!’ Dean was retorting. ‘Anyway, I could say the same about Quidditch. People just do a bit of throwing and catching.’

    ‘Whilst flying through the air, trying to dodge Bludgers!’ shouted Ron. ‘And there’s loads more to watch, what with the Snitch and Beaters and everything. Football is just one ball! And you’re not even allowed to fly!’

    ‘Muggles can’t fly!’ Dean said in exasperation. ‘How many times?’

    ‘Yeah, okay, I think that’s enough now,’ Harry said, trying to suppress a grin as he stepped between Ron and Dean. However amusing it would be to watch this brawl carry on, Harry had a feeling that each of them could argue their point until the cows came home.

    ‘Whatever,’ Dean said, turning away from Ron, leaving Ron gaping at Dean’s turned back like a strange sort of fish, before shaking his head in resigned bewilderment.

    ‘Mental,’ Harry heard him mutter before he threw himself onto his bed.
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  4. #24
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    Title: Of Dung and Insects
    Reason for brawl: Fighting over names.
    Rating/Warning: 3rd-5th; Coarse language; Stupidity
    Word Count: 500

    “That the lot?” yelled the wizard with the grizzly beard.

    A series of clatters and clangs followed as around thirty cauldrons were dumped unceremoniously on the ground. The two huge wizards who had brought them stretched their back and said “Yers” together, massaging their neck as they did so.

    Mundungus appraised the situation quickly: A deserted warehouse a little off Knocturn Alley. Two massive twins who admittedly had something lacking upstairs. A bearded, irritable proprietor. No less than five other competitors who had come for the auction of the stolen cauldrons – all of them certified crooks. Ten minutes till he had to leave for Privet Drive to protect Harry Potter.

    Could he do it?

    Yes, he could.

    “Are yeh ready, gentl’men?” announced the proprietor, who was standing on a raised platform.

    Mundungus and the five ‘gentlemen’ grunted.

    “But show us those pretty Galleons firs’,” said the proprietor, stroking his beard. “Bedbug and Flea here will be none too pleased if we find ou’ you want those cauldrons for free.” Right on cue, the twins, who Mundugus suspected to be part troll, cracked their knuckles.

    Without any complaint, Mundungus raised his pouch of Galleons along with his fellow buyers. The proprietor clapped his hands happily and was about to start the auction, when Mundungus interrupted.

    “’scuse me,” he said, “but why are these fellows called Bedbug and Flea?”

    “What?” asked the proprietor.

    “They sure don’t look like insects to me,” said Dung, turning towards the twins and chuckling. They glared at him.

    “Well, yeh’re called ‘Dung’,” said the proprietor impatiently. “Yeh can hardly laugh at people’s names, can yeh?”

    “My name is Mundungus,” corrected Mundungus. “I’d say that’s a damn sight better than an insect’s name.”

    “Shut up, Dung,” cried one of the other people. “Let’s get on with the bloody auction.”

    “But Bedbug and Flea are stupid!” said Mundungus. “Old Grizzly here’s probably using them.”

    The irate twins started towards him as the proprietor tried to take control of the situation. “Now, now, boys, let’s go back to–”

    “Who you callin’ stoopid?” asked Bedbug – or Flea, in a voice that threatened murder.

    “Well, if you’re letting Grizzly call yeh that, then yeh’re stupid, aren’t yeh?”

    He knew it was coming, but that didn’t make it any less painful; the punch sent him flying backwards, making him cry out in agony.

    “Say ‘stoopid’ again!” shouted the other twin.

    “Oi!” cried one of the buyers. “It’s just a blooming name.”

    There was a crack – no doubt Bedbug and Flea had got him, too. Though half-blinded by pain, Mundugus could see his plan working out beautifully. The proprietor shouted at the twins, trying to rein them in, but they turned on him as well. Whether to stop the twins or avenging their fellow buyers, the other wizards had taken out their wands and were raining hexes on them. Soon, it turned into a battle with curses and punches flying everywhere.

    Sniggering, Mundungus crawled towards the cauldrons, and grabbing at least five, Disapparated.

    Title: Just a Paper
    Reason for brawl: Sirius spilt juice over Peter's Prophet
    Rating/Warning: 3rd/5th, violence (obviously), mild language perhaps...
    Word Count: 499

    “Sirius!” Peter exclaimed from behind his Daily Prophet. Immediately, the other three turned to him.

    “What, Wormtail?” asked James. “Has something happened?”

    “You bet that something has happened!” Slamming the Prophet down on the table, Peter glared at Sirius. “He’s done it again,” he said, pointing at the middle of the newspaper. “I’ve told you, don’t take my Prophet before I get down for breakfast!”

    “Woah, hold on, Wormtail,” Remus interjected. “But nothing really has happened, has it? There’s nothing in the paper about anyone, is there?”

    “If there was, I wouldn’t know, because this twit has spilt Pumpkin juice right across the middle!” Peter paused for a moment before turning on Remus. “And what do you mean, nothing really has happened? Sirius keeps taking my things, how is that nothing?”

    “Oh come on, Wormy.” Sirius stood up and stretched. “Calm down. It’s just a paper. And it’s not my fault that you come down for breakfast that late on weekends.”

    Peter was standing now, too, his face red in patches.

    “It IS your sodding fault that every single morning, you take my paper, and... you tear it, or you spill something over it, or, or–”

    Sirius just grinned and turned to leave. “Really, half the time you don’t notice when I use your stuff. Hey, Prongs, you up for some Qui–”

    He never managed to finish that sentence, for at that moment, Peter collided head first with Sirius’s diaphragm, knocking the wind right out of him.

    Before he could even process what had just happen, Sirius felt wild punches on his arms and chest, and with each punch, Peter uttered another word between clenched teeth. “Stop – taking – my – stuff – and – stop – walking – over – me – all – the – time! ARGH!”

    He cried out loudly as Sirius pushed him away. “Stop hitting me, you idiot, that hurts!”

    “It’s supposed to,” Peter yelled, charged back at Sirius, kicked him in the shins, and grabbed a fist of his hair.

    Sirius swung his fists around blindly, his head still pulled back by Peter’s hand, until one of his fists hit Peter right on the nose.

    “Mate, that’s enough!” said Remus as he walked up to Sirius to pull the two apart.

    Peter had regained a steady pose on both his legs, but his eyes were still unfocussed as he swung his fist back at Sirius – and hit Remus right on the eye.

    “That’ll be a nice shiner later,” Sirius said with a grin, right before Remus tackled him to the ground. A second later, Peter had pushed Remus away, and now he and Sirius were kicking and hitting each other in any place they could reach.

    Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and the three of them were pushed two yards into different directions.

    James and Lily were standing on either side of them, wands in their hands.

    “Isn’t it just amazing what a well-timed Protego can do? Twits...,” she added silently.

    Title: Bedlam at the Burrow
    Reason for brawl: intentional slight of hand in pouring drinks; characters... overreacting
    Rating/Warning: 3rd - 5th
    Word Count: 497
    Author's Note: No time to mention every family member present in under 500 words, but this is a birthday celebration at the Burrow, with many present, including several of the next gen kids.


    For dessert, Molly served one of George’s favorites, her famous trifle. He helped by refreshing the drinks as the conversation turned to his nephew James’ love life, or more aptly put, the lack thereof.

    “I’ll ask her out myself, if you don’t,” Fred said from across the table.

    James glared. “You wouldn’t dare.”

    “I thought you weren’t interested,” said Ginny.

    “She’s my best friend!”

    Hermione shook her head knowingly. “Famous last words.”

    “Yeah, if you need advice on the transition to romance, I’m available,” said Ron seriously to everyone’s general amusement.

    This seemed to bother James, and his voice took on a bit of an edge. “Right. If I decide to keep her confused and frustrated for three or four years before I make my move, you’ll be the first one I call.”

    George howled with laughter, but the overall atmosphere at the table was growing more tense by the moment.

    “That’s extremely disrespectful, James,” said Percy disapprovingly.

    Ginny looked up. “I don’t know, Perce. That’s pretty much the way I remember it.”

    Ron could usually take a joke, but his mood had soured over the last few minutes as well; he snapped. He picked up piece bread from the table and pinged it at his sister’s head; a moment later, wands were out. Rose screamed and dove into the sitting room with Albus on her heels. Hugo and George laughed the loudest as chaos exploded with foul-but-harmless spells flying around the table. Lily delivered a Bat Bogey Hex to make her mum proud as Audrey fired a stinging jinx under the table without her husband seeing. Arthur watched, amused, as his wife roared and swished her wand in a wasted attempt to restore some semblance of order to her kitchen. No use, however: in less than a minute, two benches were broken, food was everywhere, and burn marks from spells littered the walls.

    Then, as George saw Hermione raise Ron’s glass to her mouth, he shouted, “Hermione, no!”

    Everyone looked up, wiping the remnants of firewhiskey, bogies, and the remains of the trifle from their collective faces. All eyes were on George, who had obviously been warning Hermione not to drink from her husband’s glass.

    “Dad?” asked Fred, his eyes moving from his aunt to his father. “You didn’t!”

    George drew his own wand in a gesture of self-preservation. “All right… yes… a little experiment… a slight adjustment to the Confused and Befuddlement Draught, a subtle reversal effect in the Draught of Peace… combine the two, and…”

    “Testing potions on the family?” screeched Molly.

    “Not everyone! Just those most likely to, well… overreact.”

    They were all looking at each other now, deciding who fit the bill: James, certainly, and Ron… probably Ginny and Fred, too, if not others.

    A large grin stretched out on George’s face: he wasn’t sorry. This was worth whatever retribution he would receive in return. “No worries—it wears off quickly. Besides,” he concluded, “this is the best birthday I’ve had in years.”

    Title: Schoolbag Smell
    Reason for brawl: Scorpius Malfoy and his Slytherin buddies have planted something rather unpleasant in Albus' bag, and James wants revenge.
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd years/Mild Profanity
    Word Count: 497
    Author's Note: This takes place in October of Albus' third year, and James is in his fifth.

    “How the hell did these even get in here?” James said loudly, looking inside Albus’ bag.

    Albus sighed in defeat. “Just tell him, Rose.”

    James crossed his arms expectantly.

    “Well,” she began, “we’re pretty sure Scorpius Malfoy did it.”

    Malfoy?” James asked incredulously. “Malfoy? Albus, how can you lie down like this and take crap from a Malfoy?”

    Albus opened his mouth to argue, but James said, “Forget it. Look, dinner’s going to start soon. C’mon,” and disappeared through the portrait hole. Rose and Albus shared an apprehensive glance before following him.

    When they got to the entrance hall, they saw a blonde head making its way toward the doors of the Great Hall. Before Albus or Rose could do anything, James was pushing through the crowd.

    “Malfoy! Hey, MALFOY!” he yelled, nearly knocking down a first year.

    Albus groaned when he saw James had brought the bag. Students were recoiling from the horrible stench whenever James passed, but he didn’t care. Instead, he caught Scorpius by the hood of his robes and twisted him around to face him.

    Scorpius looked baffled before catching sight of the schoolbag in James’ hand. He and the rest of his Slytherin buddies howled with laughter.

    “Did you do this?” James asked angrily, shaking the bag in Malfoy’s face.

    “Of course we did,” said Malfoy, nearly in tears with hysterics. “What’s it to you?”

    “I wouldn’t push it, kid,” James said menacingly, brandishing his wand. “I’ve had nearly twice the amount of schooling you’ve had.”

    “Get off me –” Scorpius began, trying to disengage his robes.

    James muttered an incantation, and Malfoy, almost robotically, turned around and slapped one of his Slytherin buddies across the face.

    “What the hell was that for?!” the boy exclaimed, rubbing his face and yanking out his wand.

    “It wasn’t me!” said Malfoy indignantly. “It was Potter, he jinxed me, you saw him jinx me! You saw that, didn’t you, Don –?”

    But the first boy didn’t listen, and threw a poorly aimed hex at Scorpius, hitting Don instead. This triggered a loud argument among the three boys. Eventually, Don punched Malfoy in the nose, and the third boy had Don in a headlock. A small crowd had actually formed around them, cheering on the fight.

    James made his way through the crowd and back to where Rose and Albus were gazing, openmouthed, at the brawl. He grinned.

    “I think my work is done here,” he said, looking fondly at the fight. “We’d better get into the Great Hall, though – a teacher’s bound to show up soon.”

    Thinking fast, Rose pointed her wand toward Albus’ schoolbag, flicked her wand, and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!

    The bag flew up into the air, over the heads of the growing crowd, and turned upside-down, dumping thirty or so dead flobberworms on the participants of the fight.

    “I think I’ll be needing a new schoolbag,” said Albus matter-of-factly as they made their way past a fuming McGonagall into the Great Hall.

    Title: Pretty Boy
    Reason for brawl: Scabior's mascara
    Rating/Warning: 3rd-5th years; Mild Profanity, Violence
    Word Count: 499
    Author's Note: Not sure a Death Eater would know what mascara is but let's not let that get in the way of a good ol' pub brawl, eh?

    There were three of them sitting in a particularly grimy corner of the Hog’s Head, although none of them seemed to mind. It was spotless compared to their usual life on the move, on the hunt. They kept to themselves, those three, one of them puffing away at a pipe, the smoke shielding them from the other patrons.

    Apart from the three Snatchers, the Hog was nearly empty. In the opposite corner sat a pair of wizards in long black robes. They kept their hoods pulled forwards masking their faces from view but the Snatchers knew exactly who they were, or rather, what they were. Death Eaters.

    “Look at them, sitting over there like they own the place,” spat Scabior, squinting at the cloaked Death Eaters through the smog of pipe smoke. “Not going to join your friends, Greyback? Or was being in the Dark Lord’s inner circle just talk-”

    “You shut ye mouth, Scabior, or it won’t just be ladies slap running from yer eyes.”

    The third Snatcher didn’t say a word but continued puffing away.

    “Them Death Eaters get all the fun and all we get is a few measley sickles...”

    “Scabior, it’s your round,” grunted the third Snatcher before placing the pipe back between his dry lips. Scabior scowled at the interruption before sauntering over to the bar. The Death Eaters looked up and one of them rose to join the Snatcher. The barman shuffled over to them, a chipped and grubby glass in his hands.

    “Three pints,” ordered Scabior, throwing his coins onto the bar. The Death Eater shrugged back his hood, a cold sneer on his lips.

    “I hope those Mudbloods are keeping you busy, pretty boy,” he said. His voice was thick, as if he were recovering from Spattergroit, but instead of being repulsed, Scabior stepped closer until they were face to face.

    “And who might you be calling 'pretty boy' eh?”

    The Death Eater laughed.

    “Well, I’ve never seen so much slap on a wizard before. Does your girlfriend let you use her mascara or do you buy it yourself from Madame Blissbone?”

    Scabior whipped out his wand but Macnair was too quick for him and he went flying back against the wall. Letting out a roar, Scabior charged, knocking the Death Eater to the floor with him. Red sparks flew from their wands as they rolled upon the earthy ground.

    Suddenly, they were blasted apart. Scabior blinked. He could feel a slow, warm trickle of blood down his left cheek. He looked up into the menacing eyes of Greyback.

    “What are ye playing at, Scab?”

    Scabior snarled. The barman continued wiping the same glass as if nothing had happened and the two Death Eaters stood by the door. He could swear they were laughing.

    “He insulted my face, that’s what!”

    “Oh fu-”

    “I don’t buy it from Madam Blissbone,” continued Scabior. “I don’t touch none of that. Mine’s ‘igh quality, yeah? Nothing but the best for me. I’ve sensitive skin, right?”
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  5. #25
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    Title: Wedding Jitters
    Reason for brawl: Ron not wanting to wear a flower in his robes for his wedding.
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd/none
    Word Count: 450
    Author's Note:

    Harry had never seen Ron so nervous in all his life. He looked like he’d rather face the spiders in the Forbidden Forest again then be standing in The Burrow in his dress robes waiting for the call to go downstairs.

    He was snapping at everyone; the stag night had been bad enough, with all of them getting rather drunk, and having more than one ridiculous argument, but Ron seemed determined to start a punch up with at least three of his brothers that day.

    “Watch it,” he yelled, as Harry attempted to pin a flower to the top of his robes. “And what the hell is this for anyway?”

    “It’s a Muggle thing, apparently,” Harry replied, concentrating on getting the pin straight. “Hermione wanted all the men in the wedding wearing flowers.”

    “Well it’s stupid.”

    Harry shrugged. “Tell that to her not me.”

    “You could at least be a little bit supportive. You have to wear one of them too.”

    Harry glanced down at his own flower which Ginny had pinned on for him that morning before they had parted ways to deal with the bride and groom. “It’s not a big deal, mate. It’s just a flower.”

    “It is a big deal. I don’t want to have a bloody flower on my chest when I’m walking down the aisle. Not exactly very manly, is it?”

    “Ron, it’s a wedding. This is what people do. You need to calm down.”

    “Don’t tell me to calm down! You haven’t got a clue. You haven’t done this yet. And I bet Ginny won’t be making you wearing stupid flowers when you do.” Ron was almost yelling, and Harry couldn’t help but get a little bit annoyed in return.

    “Stop acting like such a selfish prat,” he retorted. “The planning for this wedding hasn’t exactly gone smoothly has it, and if this is something that Hermione wants then you should just grow up and deal with it.”

    Ron looked like he might be about to hit him. At that moment, Bill walked in to the room, took one look at the identical glares on the two friends’ faces and sighed.

    “Why does it feel like I’m always having to stop you to from punching each other? First the stag do, and now here. Ron, you’re about to get married, and no matter how nervous you are, you need to pull yourself together because Hermione would kill you if you knocked out the best man. Harry, yes, he’s acting like an idiot, but trust me, when your turn comes, you’ll understand.”

    There were a few seconds of tense silence before Ron finally muttered, “you’d better get this flower on me then.”

    Title: Useless
    Reason for brawl: Lily
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd years; violence.
    Word Count: 391

    She thumbed through her notes as she made her way up the corridor, mentally making a list of the details she needed to look up, revisit, and develop.

    ‘Chocolate fudge,’ she said absently when she reached the portrait hole, barely looking up at the Fat Lady. The portrait sighed, swinging forward to admit Lily to the Common Room. The noise hit Lily’s ears then -- a loud squabbling, a union of many voices howling together.

    This caught her attention, and she looked away from her notes and stepped through the portrait hole. People lined the walls, some still, some leaning forwards and adding their shout to the chorus. Lily pushed her way through, clinging to her reams of notes.

    She sighed.

    In the middle of the room was James Potter and Sirius Black, no less. They hit and punched, no wands, and Lily noted how evenly matched they were. Pettigrew stood off to the side looking awkward, and Remus Lupin looked thoughtful beside him. Lily hoped he was contemplating how to break this brawl up.

    ‘What are they fighting about?’ Lily asked the boy standing next to her. He stopped yelling his encouragement for a second to answer her.

    ‘A girl, I think. I’m not sure.’

    Lily shook her head, rolling her eyes at how pathetic James and Sirius were. These two hadn’t ever struck her as the sort to have a fight over a girl. Merlin, she thought.

    She stepped out of the crowd and shouted, not thinking about what she was doing. ‘Stop!’ Her high-pitched cry caught James’ attention, and he did stop fighting. Sirius hit him one last time, then Remus grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

    James ran a hand through his hair. ‘Hi, Evans.’ He gave her a radiant grin.

    Lily frowned. ‘What are you smiling about?’ she asked.

    ‘I stood up for you, didn’t I? He said you were too frigid to accept me, but that’s not true.’

    ‘Oh, James.’ Lily took a deep, calming breath. ‘You fought with your best friend over that. I didn’t realise you were that stupid.’

    His grin dropped, though his lips still curled hopefully. ‘I was just standing up for you. Though a thank-you date wouldn’t be unwelcome…’

    Lily’s cheeks felt hot; she didn’t know why. She turned on her heel at James’ comment though, and walked away.

    Title: A Little Twit
    Reason for brawl: Percy.
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd years; none.
    Word Count: 480
    Author's Note:

    Charlie ducked as he entered his and Bill’s bedroom. The chair sailed over his head and into the wall behind him. Both the back and one leg of the chair fell off.

    Charlie studied the chair for a moment, then turned and looked at Bill. “Excuse me?”

    Bill was standing by his desk, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. Thought you were Percy.”

    “And why would you be throwing chairs at Percy?” Charlie inquired.

    “Little twerp won’t leave me alone,” Bill said. “Keeps wanting me to tell him all about Hogwarts.”

    “Well, he’s starting next week. It’s natural,” Charlie pointed out.

    “I don’t care if it’s natural,” Bill snapped crabbily. “He’s my little brother and I don’t want to talk to him about Hogwarts.”

    “He’s my brother too,” Charlie pointed out, beginning to feel irritated. “And I don’t care if he is an annoying little twit, you should still answer his questions about school.”

    “Why don’t you answer his questions?” Bill yelled. His hand felt around for his chair, probably to overturn it, but it was lying in pieces behind Charlie.

    “Because,” Charlie retorted, his voice rising to match Bill’s, “He isn’t asking me. He’s asking his big brother Bill.” His voice cracked and broke on the last few words. Bill laughed viciously. Charlie glared at him.

    The stare-off lasted several moments before Bill began walking forward. His motions were slow and deliberate; he could easily take Charlie in a fight, and he knew it. “I am so sick of being the big brother everyone talks to in this family. What makes me so much more worthy of that honor than you?” He said the word ‘honor’ like it was a curse word.

    “Bill, when you’re Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, and you got eight O.W.L.s, you’re sort of the logical choice.”

    “You’re one to talk, Mr. Prefect!” Bill shouted.

    Charlie stepped forward and shoved Bill with all his might. Bill took a step back, shock that the normally amiable Charlie had initiated a fight written plainly across his face. He stepped forward and shoved Charlie, sending him through the door onto the landing.

    Charlie was never sure who took the first real swing, but the shoving match quickly deteriorated into a full-on fistfight. More than once, Charlie ducked upon seeing Bill’s fist headed his way, and Bill ended up punching the wall behind him. He bellowed in pain. Just as footsteps began pounding up the stairs from the kitchen, Charlie began to retreat. He stepped too far toward the top of the stairs and slipped, tumbling down. At the last second, he reached out and grabbed Bill’s wrist. They both fell down the stairs; by the time they reached the bottom, they were both laughing.

    “Charles! William! What are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley asked, reaching the landing where both brothers were sprawled over the floor.

    Bill was the first to stand. “Nothing, Mum.”

    Title: Nice Glass, Crabbe
    Reason for brawl: A compliment heard incorrectly.
    Rating/Warning:1st-2nd years/none
    Word Count: 226
    Author's Note: Enjoy.
    “I’ll teach you! Take it back!”

    The common room was full of cheering students. A few had climbed onto the polished tables and silk couches to get a better view of the fight but they hurriedly jumped down when they saw their Head of House coming through the entrance wall.

    “What’s going on?” Snape asked a booing Moon.

    “It’s Crabbe and Nott, sir! I don’t know how it started, but –” Moon shrugged, “They’re going at it, anyway.”

    Snape scowled and pulling out his wand, hurried through the crowd to the center of the ring. Crabbe had Knott in a headlock. Knott’s face was red and he was desperately trying to elbow Crabbe in the stomach.

    “Take it back, you slimy git!” Crabbe yelled. He seemed unaware of the fact that his opponent couldn’t access the air needed to produce words. Snape flicked his wand; there was a bang and Crabbe was forced to let go of Knott who fell to the floor, gasping.

    “Explain yourselves!” Snape snapped.

    Malfoy gave a sheepish grin.

    “Crabbe was showing me his new glass eye. Then Nott came over and said Crabbe had a nice glass… I think Crabbe must’ve misheard him.”

    Malfoy snickered. Snape frowned at the brawling pair. Crabbe was glaring at Nott and flexing his muscles. Nott was still on the floor, clutching at his throat.

    “Idiots.”

    Title: Shay and Lav Up a Tree
    Reason for brawl: Er … mostly just the inherent ridiculousness of teenaged boys.
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd/None
    Word Count: 301

    "Are you checking out Lav's backside? You are, aren't you!" Seamus spluttered.

    Dean shrugged. "Nah, but so what if I was?"

    "I just ... I mean ..." Seamus flushed to the roots of his messy, sandy hair, and Dean burst out laughing, shoving his mate's shoulder as they stood in a corner of the Common Room.

    "Shay and Lav up a tree! K-I-S—"

    "Don't be ridiculous!" Seamus shoved Dean back, harder.

    "Look it's no big deal, if you like her, mate."

    "I don't like her! No, I mean of course I like her: it's Lav. But I don't like her like her. How could I? It's Lav." The words tumbled out, and Seamus looked genuinely at a loss as to how to explain himself.

    "So you see her like a sister then?"

    "No, I—"

    "Because you like her!" Dean finished triumphantly.

    Seamus changed tack. "Stop being such an edjit!"

    "Don't call me an idiot!"

    "If it looks like an edjit and smells like an edjit—"

    Dean shoved Seamus hard in the chest and Seamus stumbled backwards, sprawling inelegantly into the armchair behind him.

    Seamus sprung up quickly, glancing around to see if anyone had seen his humiliation. He was mortified to see the very object of their discussion marching over. He attempted to dust himself down nonchalantly and even tried a smile.

    "What was that for, Dean?" Lavender demanded.

    "Just stay out of it, Lavender."

    "Don't you tell her to stay out of it!" Seamus yelled, balling his hands into tight fists.

    "Oh, would you rather I included her and told her what this was all about?" Dean's grin showed his white teeth like a shark, and Seamus launched himself at him, fist swinging to wipe the smile off his stupid face.

    "Boys!" Lavender muttered and walked away.
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  6. #26
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    ANNOUNCEMENT


    Due to the clocks going forward an hour in UK, I am leaving the voting open for an extra hour.

    I will therefore close the poll at 4PM GMT.

    This post should be time stamped 10AM (Nargles often affect my time, though) so that gives you SIX hours to get your vote in.

    ~Carole~
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  7. #27
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    RESULTS!


    Ah, you did yourself proud this week, brawlers. I enjoyed them all very much. But what did the voters think?

    Hestiajones – of Dung and Insects <2,0>
    Karaley dargen – Just a Paper <1,0>
    WeasleyMom – Bedlam at the Burrow <5,0>
    FlightofSong – Schoolbag Smell <0,0>
    The Opaleye – Pretty Boy <4,0>
    Coolh5000 – Wedding Jitters <2,3>
    Inspirations – Useless <0,2>
    Apollonius – A Little Twit <0,3>
    Gwendalynne – Nice Glass, Crabbe <1,2>
    H_vic – Shay and Lav Up a Tree <0,0>
    Cinderella Angelina – The Joys of Being a Mother <2,1>
    Leahsm2 – A Simple No would have been sufficient <1,10>
    Welshdevondragon – A Thistle <0,0>
    ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor – Given and Taken <1,0>
    Sapphireatdawn – Of Bludgers and Footballs <2,0>


    So, going out this week are Leahsm2 and Apollonius. After a hug and a squish, you shall be rewarded with 5 points each for participating.

    The winner this week is the lovely Lori (Weasley Mom) who wrote the riotous Bedlam at the Burrow. She now has this week’s bragging rights and 5 points of immense shininess.

    The Fallen
    Miss Meg
    Maple and Phoenix Feather
    Fawkes to the rescue
    Midnight Storm
    Sainyn Swiftfoot
    AidaLuthien
    Leahsm2
    Apollonius

    Disqualified
    OliveOilMed
    melody 98
    mugglemathdork
    majestic ginny
    minnabird




    And so ....

    Onwards, my battle-hardened comrades.

    ~Prompt 5~


    In 2000, this item was voted the number one 20th Century innovation in America.

    It is this.

    Now add in James Potter and go write that drabble.

    NB: There are, you may know, two James Potters. You may write about which ever one you want. (I really am that kind! )



    PLEASE READ AND TAKE NOTE: The clocks in UK went forward an hour this weekend. I am now operating in British Summer Time (BST), so you may need to adjust your timings. I will close this week at 8PM BST on Thursday 31st March. DO NOT MISS THE DEADLINE OR YOU WILL BE ZACH SMITHIFIED!

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  8. #28
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    WEEK 5 - TOOTHBRUSH

    Ahhh, the prompt that I feared would sink you all ....

    But you've struggled through!

    Below are all the drabbles, so please read through them all and then vote

    HERE

    Please consider the prompt when you are voting. It was ...

    A toothbrush and James Potter (it could be either).


    Oh ... and I know in UK it's 31st March .. but in other timezones ...

    (Sorry, your barmaid has been having some fun)


    There will be TWO leaving us this week.


    Name: Voldemort
    House: Quirrell’s Head
    Title: You'll Never Look at a Toothbrush in the Same Way...
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd
    Word Count: 498
    Author's Note: NA


    It was the prank that earned James his first Howler. He couldn’t help but feel a little buzz of excitement when he saw the red envelope land on the table. The feeling had passed very quickly however, once the full force of the Howler was unleashed. After just a couple of seconds of his mother’s (it would have to be her, of course) voice echoing through the Great Hall, he was feeling less pleased with himself. Though he still managed to crack a grin, and even take a little bow, when the letter finished its rant, and several of the other Gryffindors applauded.

    “I don’t think I’ve ever Mum shout like that,” Albus said, when he caught with him in the common room later. “I still can’t believe you actually managed to get into the Slytherin common room.”

    “Yes, well getting in was the easy part. We just hadn’t reckoned on how hard it would be to get out of there,” James replied darkly.

    Dominique arrived at this point. “Get over it, James,” she advised. “It was perfect up to then. And they didn’t figure out what we’d done until it was too late. It was just harder to prove it wasn’t us.”

    “Yeah well, it wasn’t my job to get us in there,” James snapped. “Pity your ‘source’ didn’t mention the tiny fact that we needed a password to get out of the room.”

    Albus sighed. Things had been tense between the cousins since James and Dominique’s prank. They had made it into the common room and done what they needed to, but when they tried to get out, it became apparent that they were stuck and had no choice to wait until someone came to let them out. It had taken all of James’ skill to get them away from the Slytherins alive. Professor Longbottom had been informed, and so when the Slytherin third-years had appeared at breakfast the next morning, he knew who to blame

    Albus laughed at the memory, and James scowled. “What’s so funny?”

    “Just remembering the sight of those Slytherins after they came into contact with your toothbrushes. How in Merlin did you manage to come up with it?”

    James’ mood improved instantly – any opportunity to talk about his own brilliance. “It was simple really. I figured it was something that everyone uses every morning, and I was sick of their superior attitude after winning the Ravenclaw match, so I decided it was time to shut them up. All it took was a simple charm, which would be activated by saliva, to turn the bristles into teeth and voila – bitten tongues all round.”

    “You forgot the part which made their tongues swell to twice their size,” added Dominique, giggling.

    “Oh yeah, couldn’t miss that. Spent all morning in the Hospital Wing waiting for them to shrink.”

    “They’ll never look at toothbrushes in the same way again,” remarked Albus.

    “All in all,” James said, “I’d say that it was definitely worth the Howler.”
    Name: Bellatrix
    House: The Noble House of Black
    Title: Oral Concerns
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd/none
    Word Count: 458
    Author's Note: This was quite fun to write.

    To James Potter,

    Your breath stinks. Really, do you even own a toothbrush?

    Sincerely,

    One Who is Disgusted



    Dear Disgusted,

    I’m sorry that the smell of Winter Mint offends you. That is, the last time I checked, the flavour of the toothpaste with which I brush my teeth (along with an excellent quality toothbrush, thanks for asking).

    Cordially,

    James Potter


    Mr. Potter,

    Perhaps upon buying the toothbrush you were told it was of excellent quality, but, judging by your breath, you were sorely deceived.

    Sincerely,

    Disgusted


    Dear Disgusted,

    Unless you are Severus Snape – in which case, I find your tactics unusually juvenile and half hearted (you must be growing positively fond of me these days, Snape, if bad breath is the harshest critique you can come up with!) – then you are welcome to come examine my toothbrush when I use it this evening for yourself.

    Kind regards,

    James Potter


    Potter,

    Unfortunately, I don’t see McGonagall looking too kindly on a stranger entering your dormitory in the night time hours. Perhaps you could bring it down to the Great Hall and show it to me at breakfast tomorrow?

    Sincerely,

    Disgusted


    Dear Disgusted,

    I will bring down my toothbrush as you asked, but I hope you are prepared to be confounded. My toothbrush is not only of excellent quality but also beauteous to behold. I advise you to bring sunglasses.

    Yours in Dental interest,

    James Potter


    Dear Mr. Potter,

    That is strange advice. Why on earth should I need sunglasses in the Great Hall?

    Sincerely,

    Disgusted


    Dear Disgusted,

    Be assured, my only thought in giving such strange advice is your wellbeing, my dear anonymous breath-critic! I wouldn’t want to cause any damage to your eyes when you finally see my toothbrush. As I said, it is not only of excellent quality but also of blinding oral perfection.

    Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,

    James Potter


    Dear James,

    You might want to refrain from praising your toothbrush so highly. Your girlfriend might become jealous.

    Sincerely,

    Disgusted


    James couldn’t contain his laughter. Clutching his side with one hand and wiping his eyes with the other, he turned to look across the room. Lily smiled and waved, looking smug. Turning back to the table, he grabbed a new sheet of paper, pulled his ink and quill closer, and, ignoring Sirius and Peter’s guffaws, scratched out a reply.


    Dear Disgusted,

    The only reason I am able to use such a blindingly beautiful toothbrush is because my girlfriend’s ravishing good looks have already blinded me to all else.

    Yours always,

    James Potter

    P.S. How does a walk ‘round the lake after tomorrow’s toothbrush examination sound?


    With a flick of his wand, he sent this missive flying across the room and, chuckling, returned to his homework.
    Name: Lucius
    House: Malfoy Manor, of course, you Muggle loving fool!
    Title: Back...with Bad Breath
    Rating/Warning: 3rd-5th yr; Mild profanity
    Word Count: 500


    The last thing I registered was the incredible amount of pain that stung and bit every inch of my body. Then, the light faded, and I knew no more. I was dead.

    But if I were dead, the agony should have gone, too. Surely, the loss of life must relieve a person of the ability to feel pain. How come my body was still aching? Why did my limbs still protest against the slightest movement? Why did my head buzz so obstinately?

    “Urhhmm.”

    I could groan! Could a dead man speak? If he weren’t a ghost, I mean. Yet…I couldn’t remember being given the choice to become a ghost, or move on. That’s what Nearly Headless Nick told James and me.

    James! Where the hell was he?

    My eyes opened automatically, and it was only when a million of blinking stars attacked them that I realised I’d had them shut the whole time.

    “James?” I said. It came out as a hoarse grunt. “JAMES!”

    “Sirius!”

    A tide of relief washed over me. He was alive. I was alive.

    He came running into the room, glasses askew and hair as scruffy as ever. There was a look of shock on his face; it was quickly replaced by a wide grin.

    “You’re alive, you bloody git!”

    “That…was a warm welcome,” I managed to say, as he walked in hurriedly and sat down on the chair next to my bed. He had bags under his eyes.

    “Where are we?” I asked slowly.

    “Your flat, of course,” he said. With a shifty look, he added, “Erm…Lily decided to repaint it.”

    I glanced at the peach walls and decided not to comment. “What happened, James?”

    His face darkened. “You got hit by some dark magic. Dunno what it was, but it was powerful enough to knock you out and bruise most of your body.” He paused. “Somebody gave us away. There were far too many Death Eaters there. We thought we were ambushing them, but it turned out to be the other way round.”

    “So…there is a spy in the order?”

    He nodded.

    The thought didn’t help the ache in my head, and I winced as the buzzing grew heavier.

    “Here,” he said gently, “let me help you up.”

    “Where’s my wand?”

    “Under your pillow,” he replied. “But what you need…is this.”

    He thrust something into my hand – a toothbrush. I gave him a questioning look with my eyebrows.

    “Your breath stinks,” he said, grinning. “We were afraid to do further magic on you…So, no mouth freshening charms allowed.”

    “Sod off.”

    He chuckled and stood up. “I’ll be back in a while with some food. Make sure you’ve used the toothbrush by then.” A spittoon and a tube of toothpaste appeared on the side-table as he said this.

    “How about I shove it up your – ”

    “I’m just glad to have you back, mate, bad breath or not,” he said before closing the door.

    “So am I,” I replied as I reached for the toothpaste.
    Name: Stan Shunpike
    House: The Knight Bus
    Title: Gentle Lullabies
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd years/none
    Word Count: 500
    Author's Note:

    James ducked as yet another thing flew toward him. This one was a small windup baby toy that sang a lullaby when a baby started crying. Peter had given it to them when Harry was born. Now, it smashed into pieces as it hit the bathroom wall.

    “How could you do this, James?” Lily said shrilly, repairing the toy with her wand. “You know what Dumbledore said about leaving the house!”

    Lily had awoken that morning to find James washing his face in the bathroom, trying to get rid of the evidence that he had been out of the house that night.

    “I only went to see Sirius – Expelliarmus!” he shouted, disarming her as she pointed her wand at him.

    There was silence as Lily stared, motionless, at the two wands in James’ hand. Then she lunged forward unexpectedly.

    “Give – that – here!” she yelled, clawing at him. She finally managed to pry his fingers open and extract, not her wand, but his, from his grip. She backed away from him, spitting strands of hair out of her face. It was all over the place as she cornered him with his own wand.

    “Can’t we forget about this? It’s all over now – I’m perfectly fine,” he reasoned, but Lily just grew more hysterical.

    “For all we know, James, you could have been spotted by Death Eaters. You could have a tracking device on you this very minute!”

    “Come on, Lily, you’re just overreacting,” James tried, but his eyes told her what his mouth did not; he was worried now, too.

    “Don’t you dare say I’m overreacting!” she shrieked. “For all we know, your toothbrush could be a spy.” She snatched it off the edge of the sink and wiggled it in his face.

    “Alright, Lily, now that’s just silly,” James said, taking it from her. He expected her to say something in return, but her shoulders just sagged, and the fire seemed to seep out of her eyes.

    “I just can’t do this anymore,” she whispered in defeat, looking at James hopelessly. “I can’t stay in this house any longer!”

    She grabbed the toothbrush back. “This place is filthy!” she said wildly. “We need to clean these floors!” And with that, she dropped onto all fours and began to scrub the dirt from the space between the tiles – with James’ toothbrush.

    James knelt down beside her and plucked the brush from her fingers. Even so, she continued to desperately scratch at the floor with her fingernails.

    “Lily,” he began, “Lily, listen to me. You can’t be like this. Please, be reasonable. You can’t let this get to you.”

    “We have…to do…something…” She trailed off. “Do…something…”

    Lily pounded the floor helplessly, her shoulders shaking hysterically with sobs.

    “We can’t,” said James firmly, pulling her into a sitting position. “We can’t.”

    She leaned on his shoulder, sniffling. “I wish we could do something.”

    “I know,” James said heavily. “I know.”

    The windup toy in the corner began to tinkle out a gentle lullaby.
    Name: Scabior
    House: Avon Cosmetics
    Title: Family Business
    Rating/Warning: 3-5th, none
    Word Count: 498
    Author's Note: James visits his uncle at WWW during the holiday break of his seventh year at Hogwarts.


    James walked through the joke shop and into the office, dropped a red toothbrush onto his uncle’s desk, and sat down to wait for a reaction.

    Ron eyed the toothbrush suspiciously. “Are you trying to tell me something about my personal hygiene?”

    “I’ve been working on something, and I want your opinion.”

    Ron examined it slowly, having learned caution from dealing with George. “A product?”

    “It insults the user as he brushes… mostly bad-breath jokes, but we could add more. Most people brush in front of a mirror, so really the whole face is up for grabs.”

    Ron grinned. “Not bad, but who would buy an insulting toothbrush?”

    “Don’t be daft—you don’t buy it for yourself. You buy it for your mate, then swap it out in the dormitory. We’d make them charmable: you adjust it lto ook identical to any toothbrush, and the entertainment begins.”

    “Interesting. You think it would be popular at Hogwarts?”

    James nodded. “I wondered something else, too: do you think parents would buy it for their small children? We could design a version that gives brushing instructions in a silly voice: don’t forget the ones in the back!”

    Ron studied his nephew for several moments, a sober look on his face.

    “You’re not laughing,” James said, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s not good.”

    “No, I like it. It’s just… why didn’t you take this to George?”

    James shifted a little in his seat. “I wanted to see what you thought first.”

    “Why?”

    When James didn’t respond, Ron leaned over the desk and met his eyes. “This isn’t just a summer job anymore, is it?”

    James sank back into the chair and sighed. “I don’t want to play Quidditch, and I don’t want to be an Auror. I want to work here, with you and Uncle George. I like the business, and I like the customers. I’m getting better with numbers, and I’m brilliant at charms and potions, so I can help with ideas and product design.”

    “James,” said Ron, holding up a hand to stop him. “You don’t have to sell me—I’ve been here all along, remember? Have you told your parents?”

    He shook his head.

    “Why not?”

    “Everyone expects me to…" James gave him a pointed look. "I want to do this. If anyone knows what it’s like to be good at something but not want to do that thing for the rest of your life… well, you’re not an Auror anymore, are you?”

    Ron looked at James with newfound respect. “No. I’m not.”

    “I would be good at this, Uncle Ron.”

    “I know. But you’ve got five months of school to finish first. I’m going to show this to George.” He stood and pocketed the toothbrush. “Meanwhile, you’re going to tell your parents that you want to go into the family business.”

    “Which one?” James asked warily.

    “The lucrative one,” Ron answered, grabbing his cloak and putting a hand on James’ shoulder. “C’mon… lunch is on me.”
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  9. #29
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    Name: Kreacher
    House: Snogging Orion’s Trousers
    Title: Take Four
    Rating/Warning: 1st/2nd Years — None
    Word Count: 497
    Author's Note:Well, Harry had to get his caps!lock-ness from somewhere.

    The morning sun shone down into the bathroom as James Potter went about his morning ablutions. Lily was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for the three of them. Well, two, if one considered her, him, and exclude their baby, which hadn’t yet been born. They knew it was a boy, but it was supposed to be bad luck to pick a name before birth, though James had his doubts. But as long as Lily believed it, it was so.

    As he was brushing his teeth, he heard a shriek come from the other room — more specifically, the kitchen. His heart stopping for a second, James sprinted toward the source of the noise, only to find Lily doubled over in pain. Her breath was coming in short, quick gasps, which he knew meant one thing.

    “Are you sure?” he asked.

    “‘Am I sure’? What sort of stupid question is that? Of course I’m sure!”

    Not sure how to broach the subject, James tentatively said, “Well, you did have four false alarms, and —”

    His verbal stumbling was cut short by a loud cry of pain from Lily. That told him all he needed to know; false alarm or not, he loved her and didn’t want her to suffer. Taking her by the shoulders to help support her weight, he guided her to the Floo, where her overnight bag lay, awaiting its call to duty. Tossing in some powder, he said, “St Mungo’s!” and guided her into the green flames.

    Upon their arrival, the desk witch saw them straightaway and called for an orderly to help her into a room. All too suddenly, James found himself in a lonely hallway, pacing back and forth as the Healer was alone with Lily. This was the longest he’d gone without any word, judging by the past false alarms. And it only made sense that, had it been the real deal, he would’ve been notified.

    Just as he was about to barge in, the door opened to a maddeningly unperturbed Healer. “Mr Potter, I’m afraid it’s just another bout of prodromal labour. No baby today.”

    Sighing in relief, James asked, “Can I see her now?”

    With a nod, the Healer said, “Of course.”

    James pushed past the Healer and into the room, where Lily lay, sweating but breathing far more normally. “You were right,” she said softly. “You’d think I would know.”

    “Lily, it’s okay. As long as our son is healthy, I don’t care how many times I have to make this trip.” He reached out his hand to take hers, only to find his fingers wrapped tightly around something already. Looking down, he was surprised to see his toothbrush. “What the hell…”

    Simultaneously, they both laughed, and James felt his stress melting away with her colour returning. However, when her expression turned to a pinched one, he just had a feeling that this wasn’t another false alarm. Dropping the toothbrush, he sped out of the room, shouting, “He’s coming! HEALER!”
    Name: Ghoul
    House: Ron’s bedroom
    Title: Smelly Snog
    Rating/Warning: 3rd-5th years
    Word Count: 497
    Author's Note:

    James sat in the Great Hall with a dumb look on his face. Beside him, his sister Lily was scowling at the blonde and rather buxom Ravenclaw walking away from the Gryffindor table.

    “Look how she keeps her skirt so short,” muttered Lily. “None of my charms stick…”

    “Yeah,” sighed James, the grin refusing to remove itself from his lips. “I mean, no, Lily! Ugh, you’re my sister. Gross.”

    “You just arranged for an early morning snog session with Eleanor Peakes right in front of me! That is gross, James.”

    Lily smirked at him as she rose from the table.

    “Well, don’t keep her waiting too long. And you better brush your teeth first, especially after all those kippers.”

    James’ face fell as he cupped his hands in front of his mouth trying to sniff his own breath. Lily had already grabbed her bag of books from the table and was walking towards the Entrance Hall before he had time to call after her.

    “Lily, wait! I don’t have time!”

    He looked at his watch. Eleanor had told him to wait five minutes before following her. That wasn’t nearly enough time for him to run all the way back to his dormitory and brush his teeth. Crap! What was he going to do? Why did he choose to eat those kippers this morning? He grabbed his bag and began rummaging around trying to see if he had any stray Toothflossing Stringmints but there were none. He would just have to wing it and hope Eleanor wouldn’t mind.

    You idiot, James! Of course she’s going to mind! Without a second glance back at the remaining kippers on his breakfast plate, James rushed from the Great Hall and headed in the direction of the seventh floor classroom in which Eleanor was waiting.

    When he reached the seventh floor corridor he could see the door to the classroom was slightly ajar. He paused then began to pace in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

    She’s going to think I’m just like one of those stupid trolls, he thought, as he walked up and down. She’s going to chuck me! Oh Merlin, she’s going to chuck me. James turned back around thinking it best to leave her there rather than face the consequences of a smelly snog. He could pretend that Professor Vector had caught him after breakfast and demanded his late Arithmancy homework…

    And then he saw it. There, where there had been a bare stone wall, was a small and unassuming door.

    “James? Is that you?” he heard Eleanor call and he paused, wondering whether to ignore the door or ignore the prospect of Eleanor’s bare –

    James yanked open the mysterious door. He almost cried. In fact, he could feel warm pricks of moisture in the corner of his eyes. The room was small, barely a room at all. Pulling the door shut behind him he stood before the washbasin and grabbed the toothbrush.

    I love Hogwarts.
    Name:Sirius Black
    House: Curtain Shop
    Title: James Doesn't Like His Toothbrush
    Rating/Warning: 1st-2nd years
    Word Count: 316

    "Look look look!" James Potter sprinted into the kitchen where Lily was making dinner. "I've waited my whole life for these, even though I didn't know it until today!"

    Lily laughed, turning from the stove to snake an arm around his waist. "What's got you so excited?" she said. "Last time you spoke in that high tone of voice you were fourteen."

    "Behold," James said deeply, winking at his wife. "Toothflossing Stringmints. Candy that flosses your teeth for you!"

    Eyebrows raised, she picked up the box he held out to her and read the description. "Novel idea," she said finally. "But I don't think it'll necessarily get you out of brushing your teeth."

    "We'll see," James replied, snatching the candy out of her hands. "What's for dinner?"

    She grinned. "Stew."

    After they ate and cleaned up, James took out a mint. Making sure Lily was watching, he popped it in his mouth. He smiled smugly at her for a moment, then abruptly his face fell.

    "How often do you floss?" Lily asked curiously. "Because if you don't do it often -- and considering how often I see you pick up your toothbrush, there's no way you do -- the first time can be a little painful." She bit her lip as James reached into his mouth, trying to catch the strings as they vigorously wiggled around his teeth, but there were too many of them. He just had to wait until they had done their job and dissolved.

    "I think I'm bleeding," he said quietly. "I'm going to go get a drink of water."

    When he came back, he sat next to Lily with a sheepish smile. "Well," he said, "I got out of brushing my teeth! No way am I going to subject my gums to more torture. I call that candy successful!"

    "Glad to hear it," Lily said dryly, popping one into her mouth.
    Name: Gilderoy Lockhart
    House: In his own crazy world
    Title: Blaming The Penguin
    Word Count: 472
    Author’s Note: This is loosely based on a true story.


    Cathy was James’ favourite babysitter because, even if he wasn’t supposed to talk about magic with her, she could work the television Granddad had given them. Since the last time she babysat, Albus had pulled all the wires out of the back and James had watched his Dad try and fail to fix it. Cathy, however, had the television flickering to life within minutes.

    She took a selection of oblong boxes, with pictures on, from her bag, asking him to choose one. He pointed to the penguin and she grinned. She opened the box and inserted the black object from it, into another box, just below the television.

    She scooped him up, swinging him round and then plonking him on the sofa. “We can watch three episodes and then bedtime. Promise?”

    He nodded vigorously, snuggling into her as he watched the television. The penguin’s beak twisted into odd shapes and it made a funny noise. He had strange adventures, where he ran through a strange snowy landscape and played games with a floppy animal Cathy said was a seal. The creatures did not speak, making strange noises instead, but James found himself laughing and understanding exactly what was happening.

    When Cathy suggested he should go to bed, he complained and so she let him watch one more, which turned out to be his favourite.

    The penguin’s Mum was pointing to the bathroom, telling him to brush his teeth. The penguin made an angry face and went in, but instead of brushing his teeth he poured the toothpaste on his toothbrush and then scrubbed the side of the bath. It sounded as though he was brushing his teeth. James stared at the television wide-eyed. That was brilliant.

    The next evening James could not wait for his Dad to tell him to brush his teeth. When he did, to Harry’s surprise, James bounded up the stairs. Harry followed, putting his ear to the bathroom door, heard the taps turn on, and the squeaky sound of teeth against brush.

    When James emerged he grinned up at his Dad, who sniffed his breath. He frowned. It didn’t smell clean, but he had heard James brushing. He told his son to choose a bedtime story and went into the bathroom. He looked down at the bath and laughed at the toothpaste smeared across its edge.

    “JAMES!” he called. His sone poked his head round the door, a copy of The Tales Of Beadle The Bard, in his hands.

    “Yes?”

    “You didn’t brush your teeth. Come over here and brush them properly.”

    James, reluctantly, stood on his stool so he could reach the sink and picked up his red toothbrush. As James brushed his teeth, Harry asked, “Who taught you that trick?”

    “The penguin,” James said, promptly and sincerely. “It’s the penguin’s fault.”
    Name: Aberforth
    House: The Hog’s Head
    Title: Scourgify
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st/2nd, none
    Word Count: 498


    With a sigh, Lily dropped back on her chair as the only customer left the shop, and pulled her book back out from under the table. 147 Wisdoms for Witches had been her main source of entertainment during the long hours that she spent working at the Muggle shop this summer. Seconds later, however, the bell over the door chimed again, and by the time Lily had stuffed the book away, the customer had vanished behind some shelves.

    It wasn’t until he turned around that Lily spotted the head of messy hair behind a shelf of laundry detergents.

    “Potter?!” she exclaimed before she could stop herself.

    “What are you doing here?” she asked, completely baffled, as he stepped around the corner.

    “Went to your house,” he said, casually leaning on the till, “but you weren’t there, obviously. Your parents sent me here. So I thought I’d stop by here and buy something and get to talking a bit–”

    “But you thought hiding behind the shelves was more fun?”

    “No, actually –”

    Lily couldn’t quite believe her eyes. James Potter, suddenly didn’t look so relaxed anymore as he blushed deep scarlet.

    “I couldn’t figure out what anything was.”

    Lily pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing, but she couldn’t prevent a grin.

    “Come on, you can’t be serious. Even you aren’t that daft.”

    “No, honestly! What are these things?” He pulled a box from the nearest shelf at random and tossed it to Lily.

    She looked up at James, her eyes round with surprise. “You’re pulling my leg. Are you actually saying that you don’t know what this is?” she asked, taking the toothbrush out of the carton box.

    “I have no clue! I couldn’t even guess, and you know I have a creative mind!”

    “It’s a toothbrush. You brush your teeth with it. You can’t tell me that you’ve never brushed your teeth!”

    “Why would I?” James replied, slightly frowning. “I don’t even brush my hair.”

    “But– but that’s disgusting! How do you still have any of your teeth?”

    “What?”

    Lily stared at him for a moment, then asked, “What do you do after you eat?”

    “Quick Scourgify to the mouth, maybe a small Refreshing Charm – what, you actually brush your teeth?”

    “Yes, I do – but how did this work before you went to Hogwarts? And how do you do this at home? You’re still underage!”

    “My mum helped me when I was a child, and then there are packed charms, you know. And please, Lily. I live in a wizarding household. There’s no way of tracking underage magic there.”

    “Huh. Well, you could buy this toothbrush, anyway, now that you know what it is,” Lily finally said.

    “I would, but I just can’t figure out this Muggle money your mum gave me.”

    Lily couldn’t help but smile. At that moment, however, they were interrupted as another customer entered the shop.

    “I finish at five,” she muttered. “Pick me up then?”
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  10. #30
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
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    Name: Barty Crouch jnr
    House: In a Dementor
    Title: Whispers
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years; sexual situations.
    Word Count: 233
    Author's Note: James senior =)

    I lean against the closed bathroom door, chatting to you as you get ready for bed. I can almost see you reaching for your toothbrush, meticulously squeezing the mint toothpaste. I love the smell of mint; I associate its sharpness with you, and that makes me happy.

    I can hear the swishing of the brush against your teeth as our chatter lulls. I can hear those words in that rhythmic scrub scrub scrub noise. I can hear I love you, I love you, I love you.

    I whisper those words, so quietly you can‘t possibly hear them. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ But if I can hear you cleaning your teeth, you can hear the hiss of my voice, even if you can’t differentiate what I’m saying.

    Suddenly the door opens; I fall backwards before I can stop myself, but you stop me. You catch me, you laugh, you hold me and then you set me upright again. ‘I love you, too, Lily.’ You give me a soft, lingering kiss, which I return gently, no hesitation. I can taste the mint on your breath. It makes my heart leap that you know me well enough that you knew what I was saying, though I know you couldn’t have heard the actual words.

    I stand on tiptoes and place my lips near your ear, so you can’t miss my whisper.
    Username: Gregory Goyle
    House: Errrr ... Wot’s a house?
    Title: To Save His Life
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years, mild profanity
    Word Count: 407

    James wasn't entirely sure why he was brushing his teeth; it was a full moon, so they'd be out most of the night, but somehow, it just felt right to brush them this time of night. Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open with a loud bang, causing James to jump in fright.

    Sirius stormed in, followed by a curious looking Peter, who had been reading a comic sprawled out on his bed.

    'That utter git,' Sirius snarled.

    'Who's a git?' Peter asked, as James lowered his toothbrush, his mouth still full of toothpaste.

    'Snivellus,' Sirius said in reply.

    'He is,' James agreed as he spat and rinsed his mouth out. 'Has he done anything in particular, or are you just stating facts?'

    'He tried to curse me, the little ******,' Sirius said darkly, leaning his hands on the sink. James's brow furrowed. He'd never seen Sirius like this before. 'Tried to force me to tell him where Remus went every month, and what we were up to.'

    James blanched, his heart lurching violently in his chest. 'What did you say?'

    'I bloody told him, all right,' Sirius said, spitting into the sink in apparent disgust and glaring up at his reflection. 'Told him to follow the passage from the Whomping Willow. He'll get a surprise when he opens that door. Oh, how I'd love to see his face at that moment, the greasy t**t.'

    From behind him, James heard Peter gasp. James went numb. He wasn't aware of letting his toothbrush go, but he heard it clatter onto the floor.

    'You did what?'

    'Tried to teach the foul git a lesson,' Sirius said with an unpleasant sneer. 'Serves him right, I say.'

    James stared at his best friend in utter shock. 'Padfoot, please tell me you're joking,' he said, pleadingly.

    'Nope,' Sirius replied, a horrible grin plastered over his face.

    James gaped at him, open mouthed. He couldn't think of what to say. How could Sirius have done this? How could he have done this to Moony? Even someone like Snape didn't deserve this, no matter how much sneaking around he did.

    'You git!' James shouted, his senses finally returning to him. 'How could you do this? He could be killed!'

    'What?' Sirius said. 'It's only Snape.'

    James looked at his friend with utter disgust. 'Nobody deserves that.'

    He turned and made for the bathroom door.

    'Where're you going?' Sirius called after him.

    'To save his life.'


    Let me end this by assuring all my wonderful brawlers that the names assigned were purely random .... *ducks Howlers!*


    ~Carmerta~
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

    Banner by minnabird

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