The Brawl ~ WEEK 11 Results and FINAL WEEK~

[Equinox Chick]

RESULTS TIME!

[FONT="Century Gothic"]This is obviously getting ridiculously hard for the voters. The places changed around a multitude of times over the past hours alone.

coolh5000 – The Decision <3,6>
hestiajones – Between Blood and Tears <1,1>
Karaley Dargen – What Friendship Changes <3,2>
the opaleye – Conversations in the Dark <3,5>
Weasley Mom – Counting Sins <5,1>

I declare the winner for this week to be – yet again – Lori (Weasley Mom) who takes five points for the glorious House of Badgers.

Leaving us this week is the lovely Hannah/Bob (coolh5000). We will all miss her, but she takes some well-dessssssssssssserved participation pointssssssssssss for Teh House of Teh Snake.

The Fallen
Miss Meg
Maple and Phoenix Feather
fawkestotherescue
Midnight Storm
Sainyn Swiftfoot
AidaLuthien
leahsm2
Apollonius
Cinderella Angelina
Sapphireatdawn
inspirations
welshdevondragon
gwendalynne
FlightOfSong
ToBeOrNotToBeOrNotToBeOrEverBeAGryffindor
coolh5000


Disqualified
OliveOilMed
melody 98
mugglemathdork
majestic ginny
minnabird
h-vic (Andromeda Tonksed )

WEEK 10

And then there were FOUR.

There is a method in my madness. Four participants ...

This week’s drabble must include four people ... and four people only. They must all belong to the same house. So you may write the Marauders, for instance, or the Trio plus Neville etc. They can talk about other people, but those characters are not allowed to appear.

You must use canon characters (no OC’s).

You may assign someone a House. Example: You want to write an Order meeting with Dumbledore, McGonagall, James Potter and Mad-Eye. Mad-Eye’s House has not been determined in canon, so you’re allowed to make him a Gryffindor. You can’t however decide that Tonks was a Gryffindor because we know she was in Hufflepuff. PM me if you have any queries.

This does not have to be set at Hogwarts.

Finally ... (cackles most ebilly)
I want these words to appear:
Sunshine
Kneazle
Death
Song
Goblet

Use this form for your drabble:

[B]Name:[/B]
[B]House:[/B]
[B]Title:[/B]
[B]Word Count:[/B]
[B]Ratings/Warnings:[/B]
[B]A/N:[/B] 

Please bold the words in your drabble so the voters can see you haven’t missed anything.
All drabbles must be between 100-500 words and be compliant with MNFF guidelines.

All drabbles must be sent to me by Thursday 5th May 8pm BST.

Good Luck.

Madam Carmerta

[Equinox Chick]

You know what to do.

Read the drabbles and then vote (the link is below) for your favourite and your least favourite.

When voting please bear in mind the prompt as well as any SPaG issues. Certain words had to appear in the drabbles. I asked the brawlers to bold their words. They were allowed to pluralise the words.


Voting will close on Sunday 8th at 3PM. (BST)

There will be ONE person leaving.

EVERY VOTE COUNTS!

Title: The Games That We Play
Word Count: 497
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years; none.
A/N: In Slytherin there are no friendships, merely alliances, and often, all is not what it seems.

Millicent had never been a pretty girl. To make things worse, that idiotic Pansy never let her forget it. She always wondered why she bothered making the pug-faced shrew her Anti-Acne Potion each month but, as the moon came and went, Millicent would have a bottle full of pink liquid ready and waiting.

Only this month was different and Pansy’s jibe that Millicent’s teeth were more yellow than the offspring of sunshine and daisies was one step too far.

Take control, Theodore had told her after overhearing her sobs one evening. Be strong. Make Pansy suffer.

+++

Pansy crept down to the common room with a pile of books shielding her face. That stupid cow Millicent had refused to make her more Anti-Acne Potion. The cheek! But the pimples were worsening and at mealtimes she spent more time hiding behind her goblet of pumpkin juice than eating.

She slid into a chair at one of the tables in the common room and pretended to be absorbed in study—a passage describing the characteristics of the Kneazle lay in front of her, completely unread. The illustrations could have been serenading Pansy with a Celestina Warbeck song and she still wouldn’t be interested. Instead, she thought of all the more unsavoury insults she could use to describe “Death Breath” Bullstrode.

A tap on her shoulder jolted Pansy upright. An unsigned, scrappy piece of parchment fluttered onto the table.

Pansy,

I am aware of your dilemma. I have a dilemma of my own, as well. If you help me then I’ll help you…

+++

Theodore watched from a darkened corner, the flicker of a sly smirk on his lips as Pansy deposited the money on the table before heading up to bed. Once the remaining students had retired to their dormitories for the night, he stood and walked over to the empty table.

He counted thirty galleons total. Perfect. Daphne was an irritation and he had no desire to spend his money on expensive gifts when he would dump his Slytherin girlfriend as soon as he left Hogwarts. So, who better to pay for Daphne’s upkeep than another equally irritating and gullible girl?

He poured the galleons into a small, leather pouch with satisfying contempt before walking hurriedly from the common room and out into the corridor. Someone else was waiting for him, someone worth spending his money on.

Pretences were everything these days, and Daphne was the perfect cover for Theo and Susan Bones.

+++

Daphne may have been irritating but she wasn’t thick. Theo hadn’t seen her lurking in the corner opposite. But she had seen the lingering looks, the quiet smile… and the note. There was only one girl he should be sending notes to and it wasn’t Pansy flipping Parkinson!

When her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend rose, she quickly cast a Disillusionment charm and followed him up the corridor towards the Great Hall. Something was going down tonight and Daphne would make sure to provide more sparks than Theo ever expected.

Title: New Normal
Word Count: 494
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd/5th, none
A/N:

I feel lighter than I have in days. Charlie is home, and his presence is a comfort, especially to Molly. I know our family will never really be normal again, but we must still hope for times of peace and joy in accepting this new version of normal.

“Is Perce working?” Bill asks as Molly refills the goblets.

I nod, wondering how late he will stay at the office tonight. Harry and Ron took the girls out to eat and Fleur is with her parents, so Molly and I have the uncommon pleasure of dining with our two oldest sons. It’s so rare, in fact, that I wonder if the last time the four of us ate around this table together was when the boys were small.

Suddenly, Charlie is laughing and nudging his brother knowingly.

“Remember this song?” he asks, referring to the music coming from the radio.

Bill concentrates, grinning wide at the shared memory. “Merlin… my seventh year—Brian Weston and that crazy kneazle!”

They laugh as they tell the story of a housemate dancing around the common room with his kneazle—that is, until the creature began hissing and screeching when a big-headed bloke from Charlie’s year came through the portrait hole. Seems the cat agreed with the rest of the house regarding the character of this particular boy.

I like listening to them, and I like how Molly relaxes into her chair with a genuine smile in her eyes. Moments like these are just that: moments, brief and rare. There’s only so long a person can sit still and straight, fighting the enormous weight of all-consuming grief. Laughter is a relief, even if guilt sometimes follows.

“Is George any better?” Bill’s face is childlike in hope despite the lines of scars and sorrow that march across his features.

I don’t know the answer, and I can’t speak for the tightness in my throat.

Molly fusses with her drink. “He works far too hard and says very little. But he comes around. He doesn’t want us to worry.” She says the last bit with an ironic laugh, like it’s an unfunny joke.

“What can we do?”

She swipes at a persistent tear. “I don’t know. Sometimes I want him to just go outside for a while. Then I think... rubbish. There’s not enough sunshine in the world.” She trails off, and silence falls again.

“Dad?” says Charlie. “You’re quiet. What do you think?”

I look up and find that all three of them are looking to me for answers. Sadly, I don’t have any. “I think… with Fred and George…” I stop, reorganizing my thoughts and trying again. “In this case, I think Death would like to get two-for-one… by taking George from us as well.”

There is a hard silence, but then I feel a soft, familiar hand on mine.

“Over my dead body,” she says fiercely.

And I remember: I am not alone. “Mine, too, dear. Mine, too.”

Title: Not Leaving
Word Count:490
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd yr; None

Dawn broke through over an hour ago. The expansive Ravenclaw common room is now softly lit by golden sunshine. There is warmth; there is chill, too. As several of the panes are gone, it isn’t just the rays of the sun that pour in without restraint. The morning breeze also sweeps in continuously.

I don’t mind it, though. Somehow, the air seems less oppressive, even though I’ve hardly felt oppressed here before.

I shiver from time to time, but I don’t move from my spot. Sprawled on an armchair, I’m presently scratching the back of my pet Kneazle, Menaka. Her warm, heavy weight on my lap and slow purring make me feel more alive than I have in the past few months. Terry, meanwhile, is snoring in the armchair next to mine, buried under a blanket. Michael and Cho are a bit further away, sitting in front of a fireplace.

They have their arms around each other. In a few moments, they’ll probably kiss. I feel envious, but I’m also trying to get rid of that particular emotion. I don’t have the strength for it. Not now.

Suddenly, music blasts throughout the tower, disturbing the quiet. Terry jumps awake; Michael and Cho break apart. Menaka, on her part, meows loudly, then with a hiss, jumps down and stalks away.

“Padma,” says Terry, wide-eyed. “Wuzzgoingon?”

“Someone’s playing the WWN upstairs,” I tell him. “It’s a song by the Weird Sisters.”

“Oh.”

I can see him deflating. “They played this at the Yule Ball, you know,” I say.

Michael and Cho get up and walk over to us.

“Isn’t it called Goblet of Fire?” asks Cho, summoning two armchairs to join us.

“Yeah,” Michael confirms. “They wrote it in honour of the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Okay,” says Terry without enthusiasm, eyes already glazing over as he settles under his blanket yet again.

I turn towards Cho to check if the mention of the Triwizard Tournament has evoked some kind of a reaction from her, to see if she is still affected by the memory of her ex- boyfriend’s death. To my surprise, she starts humming along to the song, the expression on her face calm.

Perhaps, I try to reason, as we sit there talking about mundane things, we’ll get over it like her. It might take time, but we could succeed. Today is only the third day after the battle. For now, we’ll try and deal with it by not talking about it. In our silence, and our unspoken decision to spend our remaining days at school together in the common room, we’re mourning our loss of Anthony. And others.

Perhaps, I tell myself later on, when breakfast magically appears on the center table, and we rush towards it, ravenous, life and hope and innocence and laughter will eventually find their way back to us. Till then, here we are, and here we will be in spirit, even after we've left.

Title: Enemies of the Heir, Beware
Word Count: 498
Ratings/Warnings: 1st/2nd, none

“Susan!” Ernie shouted, almost falling into the common room. Without hesitating, he rushed past the other students to the table where some of the Hufflepuffs in his year were sitting. They had been making use of the cancelled Herbology lesson by discussing the recent events in the library. Some had stayed there to finish their Potions essays, like Ernie originally had, but Susan, Hannah, and Zacharias had returned to the common room to work there. Hannah had said that the rain outside was depressing her – in their underground common room, they could at least imagine the sunshine. He skidded to a halt in front of their table, and the other three looked up curiously.

“Are you finished with the essay already?” Hannah asked. “Only because I’m having some problems with–”

Ernie shook his head vigorously and held up his hand to prevent any further questions. “This is more important than school,” he proclaimed, and Susan let out a squeak of surprise.

“What’s happened?” Zacharias finally seemed appropriately interested.

“It’s Justin,” Ernie said, and paused for a moment before continuing. “Potter finally got him.”

“What?!” the others exclaimed, and started bombarding him with questions.

Again, Ernie held up his hand, then pulled up a chair and leaned in close.

“It happened just now. I was walking along the corridor, and then suddenly I heard someone shouting “ATTACK!”, and then this great noise, like lots of people. I ran there as fast as I could –” At this point, Zacharias snorted “– and when I turned into the Transfiguration corridor, there was Potter, with Justin and Nearly Headless Nick!”

“He got the ghost, too?” Zacharias said, his eyes wide.

Ernie nodded grimly. “Apparently you aren’t even safe in death.”

“But...,” Susan began hesitantly. “You didn’t actually see him do it?”

“He was right there!” Ernie exclaimed. “It couldn’t have been any clearer! And Peeves witnessed the whole thing. You should hear the song he is spreading around the castle now. Only right, too. At least others are warned now.”

None of them commented on Peeves’ reliability in such matters. With what Ernie had said before, and the dueling club, and Justin petrified, it was beginning to seem like the only possible explanation.

“So, what about Justin?” Hannah finally said in a small voice.

“Petrified, McGonagall said. Like the others.”

“So he’ll be all right?”

“Who knows,” Ernie said in a dark voice. “But Potter can’t be too happy that another one didn’t die on the spot. And he knows that we’re on to him. So no matter whether we’re purebloods or halfbloods, we’re all in danger now.”

Hannah shrank back in her chair.

Although he was a half-blood, like Hannah, Zacharias showed no sign of fear, but rather seemed determined.

“Maybe we should each start bringing our own goblet to meals,” he said. “In case he tries to poison us.”

“I doubt it – he’s got the monster.” Ernie leant back, frowning. “But still... I’ll eat my Kneazle before I trust Potter!”

GOOD LUCK, BRAWLERS!

[Equinox Chick]

RESULTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hestiajones Not Leaving <2,6>
karaley dargen Enemies of the Heir, Beware <4,4>
the opaleye, The Game That We Play <5,7>
Weasley Mom, New Normal <6,0>

Wow, so close, so close. It was basically the last two votes that decided this.

Leaving us this week is Natalie,( hestiajones) who takes 5 participation points as well as 5 for winning a stage. Hugs and squishes for the brave badger, please.

Once AGAIN the tenacious badger, Lori, topped the poll. Can anyone stop her? Will the snake slither to victory? Can the lion possibly stop combing her mane and overtake the badger?

Well ... maybe. This could be the prompt that does it.

WEEK 11

We’re down to the final three, and here’s the deal. The task is in two parts.
First of all, I’m not setting the prompt – you are. Yes, you heard me correctly. You must write two prompts – one for each of your opponents – and send them to me. You may, of course, tailor your prompts as you see fit. Remember, you’re trying to win. However a prompt that is too ridiculous or impossible will result in me setting your victim a different prompt.

Example of an allowable (and a rather nice prompt) prompt:

The Slug Club is not Harry's favourite club, we know that from the Half Blood Prince. But if he'd known that his mother and father were members, would he have been more inclined to go to the parties? Old Sluggy's Christmas party of 1976 is one to remember - but why? The Marauders are in their sixth year. Not all of them are in the Slug Club but at least one other Marauder will be there with James. Other party goers are up to you. Remember club members can take a guest.

Example of an evil (but allowable) prompt:

I challenge you to write a drabble in which Ginny Weasley falls in love with Vincent Crabbe. It must be set in Ginny’s sixth year. Also, it should be canon compliant – apart from the obvious, of course. AND it must be written completely in dialogue, and don’t make it as if someone is telling a story – what I mean is that both Ginny and Crabbe should be talking to each other, in present tense. IC characters are a must.

Example of a ridiculous prompt that shall be disallowed:

Write a drabble where every third word begins with a B. Or anything that ships the Giant Squid with ... anything.

Send your prompts to me by Tuesday 10th 8pm BST. You will be required to write TWO drabbles this week. You will have extra time to write your drabbles.

EDIT: A Timetable for the brawlers
You will have until Tuesday 17th May 7PM (BST) to send me your two drabbles.
Voting will last four days.
The final will start on Saturday 21st May.
Final voting Wednesday 25th May - Saturday 28th
Winner announced: (with much celebration) Saturday 10pm (BST)

Good Luck


Oh, and here's a present from the lovely Russia Snow for our three finalists


And play nice (but not too nice)

[Equinox Chick]

~ BRAWL WEEK 11 ~

This week the challenge was different. The brawlers set each other the prompts, showing how truly evil they really were. I quaked when I saw some of them, I must admit, but the three finalists stepped up and wrote six wonderful drabbles.

This week you need to vote for TWO favourite drabbles and TWO least favourite.
Please bear in mind the prompt set and how well the brawler dealt with that prompt. Some are truly ebil!

You have until Saturday 21st May 10am (BST) to vote.

Then we will be down to the final two.

Here we go then.

VOTE HERE

(apologies if I screw up the formatting. I am Arthur Weasley.

************************************************** **************

Title: Snakes and Cages
Words: 499
Rating: 1-2, none
A/N:

Prompt:

Write a drabble in first person plural (= we) form. You can use any characters that we know from any kind of canon (books, chocolate frog cards, interviews, ...) but NO characters that are complete OCs. Also, this drabble must fall into the "historical" category.

We should have known from the beginning how it would end.

We were all different, but what set him apart had less to do with personality or individual strengths than it did with a malignant belief system that colored everything he touched. But we were full of ourselves: we believed we could overcome these differences for the educational good of the wizarding world. We imagined children from all walks of life, many discovering for the first time that they possessed magical ability, walking wide-eyed through massive doors into a world they would come to cherish as a second home.

That was the dream, and it came true.

Together, we were unstoppable. We were the brightest, but it was our combined energy that pushed our dream into reality: intelligent planning, endless drive, bloody hard work, and sheer guts... these were the parts that came together to create Hogwarts.

Still, we needed a degree of separation; the differences between us were too great to be ignored, and certainly the students could only benefit from learning to hone the keenest of their skills and temperaments under our influence. So we instituted the House system, and it functioned brilliantly. Each student found his or her place among those of a similar mind or disposition. And as an additional benefit, Salazaar was contained to his own space. He didn’t have access to every Hogwarts student, but only to those who were already of a mind like his.

But as time went on, we realized this was not enough.

Snakes do not like to be cornered, and Salazaar’s influence could not be contained to his cage under the lake. He would only consider purebloods for teaching positions, no matter who was most qualified or best-suited for teaching. And the way he looked at the half-blood students… we knew he was dangerous. The three of us gathered many times to find a solution. Helga wrung her hands and Godric raged—each of us angry and concerned, and in the end, there was only one thing to do.

We’d expected a physical battle, but he surprised us by smiling and saying his bags were already packed. We were briefly relieved, but knew him too well to think that would be the end of it. He departed that afternoon, but not before announcing that he’d left something behind for us, something to remind us of him… a chamber in the castle that caged a monster. He said his work was not finished at Hogwarts.

No one would ever know the castle like we did; we searched every bit of it and found nothing. Yet, there was no relief, for not one of us was fool enough to under-estimate our former friend’s magical ability, arrogance, or determination to best us.

We carried on, but when our eyes met in the corridors, we were afraid of what we knew, of what might come someday when we are gone.

If only we had seen from the beginning how it could end.

****

Title: For Him
Prompt:

Write a Next Gen drabble involving two characters. One of them must be a canon Weasley offspring and the other must be an OC. The setting is Hogwarts, but you may choose the specific space. There must be a confrontation and a sincere apology.

“Thanks for coming,” Louis says. He is sitting on a table in the empty Charms room. Looking around, he feels a short pain in his chest. Maybe this isn’t the best place to do this; he remembers many stolen nights that the two of them spent on the cushions here.

“Is it true then?” Eva is still standing in the doorway, as though ready to run.

Louis looks at her, somewhat baffled. “Is what true?”

“You and Maggie Longbottom. Everybody is talking about it – for your information, it makes me look like an idiot.” She looks quite angry now, and Louis can tell that she has been building up a lot of frustration.

For a moment, he doesn’t really know what to say, because there is no way he can fully deny her accusations.

“You should have said something sooner,” he finally murmurs. “I had no idea about those rumours. I could have told you there’s nothing going on.” She snorts. “Honestly, I don’t even like Maggie that much! And anyway, she’s with Lorcan.”

“You say that as though this settles everything – but you’re with me, and still the rumours do get around. And don’t pretend that you don’t know what happened in the Great Hall this morning.”

“I... don’t. I had to finish my Runes essay.”

“Well,” Eva says, lifting her chin slightly. “Lorcan dumped her, probably for some other girl. They had a shouting match in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast. So when Sue told me you wanted to see me here, I assumed it was to dump me, too, now that Maggie is officially free.”

A thousand thoughts start running through Louis’ mind at full speed. Lorcan dumped Maggie. He has finally had the heart to do it. But what does that mean for them? One thing he does know is that he needs to go through with what he came to this room for.

“So,” Eva’s voice interrupts his thoughts, “if you didn’t ask me here to dump me, what do you want?” She finally takes some steps closer to him and glances at the cushions on the floor.

This makes it so much harder, but he can’t go back now.

“Eva, I honestly am so sorry. I can’t be with you any longer. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

“Fair!” she suddenly shrieks. “So you are dumping me! You could have thought about fairness before you started sneaking round behind my back with that– that–”

His insides seem to contract; every part of his body is telling him to run.

“It has nothing to do with Maggie. I’m not the same person that I was eight months ago. I’ve... changed. I truly am sorry, you have to believe me!”

“I don’t have to do anything, especially not for you,” she says, turns on her heel, and storms out of the room.

First, he doesn’t know what to do, but then all his thoughts focus on one thing – he needs to find Lorcan.

*******

[Equinox Chick]

Title Unwelcome Disturbance
Ratings 3rd-5th years; no warnings.
Word Count 500
Prompt:

Write a Snape-centric drabble set in the trio era. It must be from his POV, but not necessarily first person, and should include a student who is not a Gryff. Remus Lupin must be mentioned, but need not appear.

Severus Snape was standing behind a wrought-iron fence, waiting. He would come here when there was nowhere else to go. He didn’t like the place, as such, but he could tolerate it and that was all he could ask for, really. Sometimes, he wondered if it would be easier to stay at Hogwarts over the summer holidays. He wondered how would it feel to be alone in the castle with only brief exchanges between Dumbledore and Hagrid for company. Unbearable, he concluded. Severus preferred to be alone.

The cemetery was quiet this morning, although, it always was. It was old and forgotten. Perhaps that’s what had drawn him to it in the first place. He knew what it was like to feel old beyond his years. He knew what it was like to feel forgotten.

This past year at Hogwarts had been particularly wearisome. Remus Lupin’s arrival did not help. In all honesty, it only served to remind him further of what he had lost and what he would never have again. The echoes throughout the castle’s corridors of four irritating boys and that girl, that one girl, seemed particularly loud that year.

He closed his eyes, and as he did so, the sound of sandals slapping upon the pavement reached him. His eyes remained firmly shut, and he let his mind wander to memories of summers when he could escape home and run and run and run. The familiar creak of the cemetery gate sounded through the crisp morning air and he finally opened his eyes.

He watched as the girl settled down on a stone bench, as she pulled out her sketch pad and pencils. Her back was straight and her red hair fell across her face. She looked like Lily. That was the reason he returned time and again.

Lily.

Someone coughed and he looked up with a sneer. He had never been disturbed here. It was his place.

“Professor Snape?” He looked down at the girl standing beside him on the pavement. She was wearing a cropped teeshirt and shorts of an inappropriate length.

“Miss Chang,” he observed with a sneer. “If you were at Hogwarts I would deduct ten points from Ravenclaw for your current choice of attire.”

Cho Chang flinched at the admonishment and Severus felt that brief, thrilling flush of control. She sniffed and glanced over at the girl in the cemetery.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Professor,” she said. He recognised the look on her face, the judgement. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were… well… goodbye.” Severus turned from her before she could finish.

She could judge him, spread the rumours around Hogwarts. He was used to it. He had never known anything different, after all. But Severus was annoyed at one thing—he could never return to this place again.

The girl with red hair had been seen by another pair of eyes. She was no longer what he wanted, who he wanted. She was no longer tolerable.

****************

Title: Above Us
Wordcount: 499
A/N: The weather is significant near the end.
Prompt:

Sometimes it is easy to get caught up with the Marauders, the Trio, or the Next Generation but how different their stories would be without Hogwarts! For this drabble you are to go back in time and a write a conversation between two of the four Hogwarts Founders. The two Founders present must be of the opposite sex. The weather must be central to the conversation and you may allude to romantic connections between the Founders but they cannot be the focus of your drabble. One of the Founders must tell a joke and the other must be eating a boiled egg by the end of the drabble (which he/she was not eating at the start of the drabble). However, there is a catch! Someone is eavesdropping on their conversation and you must tell the drabble from the point of view of the eavesdropper. The eavesdropper cannot be another Founder.

I is cleaning the armour in the entrance hall. Nothing more. I cannot help that the Masters speak so loudly when I is cleaning nearby. It is Master Salazar and Mistress Helga who is talking in the dining hall. It is too big for them and what they say echoes through the hall. I isn’t eavesdropping. I is always hearing things. They says house elves has big ears.

“I must say, Salazar, I am quite satisfied with our work here. In my opinion, we are ready for the first group of students if they arrive in a fortnight.” This is Mistress Helga. She is always kind to us. Master Salazar doesn’t reply. Then, Mistress Helga sighs and I briefly forget cleaning. “What bothers you still? The castle is perfect for our needs, and more – it offers an opportunity to accept a far greater number of students in the future, and–”

Master Salazar makes an odd sound, and Mistress Helga is saying nothing for a moment. “I know what you’re thinking, Salazar,” she continues. “But we have come to an agreement regarding the students, and there is no reason why you should have anything to do with someone you consider to be beneath you.” She is never speaking in that tone to us, and I is thinking that I doesn’t want to be Master Salazar right now.

“Still, this castle concerns me as much as it does any of you,” he replies. “And I cannot help but feel that we are in a Muggle’s house. The students arrive by coaches; they walk up staircases; the rooms are lit by fires. Are we, or aren’t we wizards?”

“I, for one, am a witch. And I agree with Godric and Rowena. The students have to be taught magic. Until they have learnt their magic in the traditional way, they should not use it for their day to day business. They will walk before they can fly, and they will sit around the fireplaces before they can cast a warming charm. It is part of a process.”

“Yet I don’t see why we should suffer, should surround ourselves with less magic than we are used to, just for their sakes!”

Mistress Helga sighs. “Then this is where we differ. I would gladly give everything up for their sakes. Oh, do lighten up, Salazar. Maybe a bit of sunlight is all you need. My niece told me an excellent tale, about a troll, who, having lived under a dark bridge for many years–”

“Are you likening me to a filthy troll?” He is taking an egg from the basket and nearly crushes it.

“No, not even remotely. But maybe we can get more magic into the castle without hindering the students in their learning. I have often felt that this hall was rather bleak.” She is whispering now, and I is not hearing anything. I looks around the corner, and sees Master Salazar taking a bite from the boiled egg. He is looking satisfied.

*******

[Equinox Chick]

Title: Nothing Like Lily
Ratings 1st-2nd years; no warnings.
Word Count 495
Prompt:

Pair Petunia up with anyone but Vernon. However, this must be a person that appears in the books (however briefly). Also, your drabble must somehow fit into canon (i.e. it can't be AU, but it can be set before the books, or after the books, or in a 'missing moment'), but still seem believable.

The first time she saw him, he was leaning against the brick wall outside Tesco, paper in one hand, cigarette in the other. His clothes were tattered and old, the sleeves of his corduroy blazer frayed, and his trousers far too short. She felt a familiar, unsettling pang of vague recognition.

He didn’t look up from his paper as she passed, but when she began to load the shopping into her car she felt him watching her. Petunia, ignoring Harry’s cries as Dudley hit him with a can of baked beans, turned around. The man was gone. Only an abandoned cigarette sending plumes of smoke spiralling up from the pavement left any trace of his existence.

The second time, Petunia was pretending to garden whilst listening in on the row between Mr and Mrs Rimple next door. When she glanced up the street, she saw him walking towards her with a limp. Surely he did not live around here? This was a respectable neighbourhood. He caught her eye and she scowled, turning away slightly so as not to encourage conversation.

“Good evening.” His voice was thick and deep and Petunia’s head whipped back around as that vague familiarity sparked within her again. That voice, his voice… it reminded her of trains and steam and London. It reminded her of something lost. Petunia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him properly. He wasn’t nearly as dirty as she had first thought, just shabby. In fact, he was rather young and good-looking once you got past the general scruffiness of his appearance.

“Good evening.” Perhaps she had an admirer? Petunia blushed at the thought, coughing slightly to cover her embarrassment.

“Nice day out,” he said. Petunia nodded and offered a small smile, wondering if he was new to the area. “Your sons should be outside playing.”

Petunia opened her mouth to correct his assumption but noticed that his attention was elsewhere. She turned in the direction of his gaze and huffed with irritation as she saw Harry’s small face peeking out at them from behind the net curtains.

“He’s not mine,” she told him. “I’m looking after him for… a friend.”

“I see,” he said, smiling faintly. The man looked at her once more, and she felt a sudden urge to touch his face. There was something calming about his eyes that left her rather weak at the knees.

“He’s frightful child,” she continued. “No manners!”

His smile seemed to fade with the dusky light.

“You’re nothing like her, at all.”

Petunia’s forehead creased at the sad disappointment of his tone. A cold sense of resentment slipped from her throat and down, down, down to her stomach. He glanced over her shoulder at the window one last time before turning away.

“Wait!” she called after him, annoyed. “Like who?”

He stopped walking, his hand resting slightly on the Rimple’s fence.

“Lily,” he replied.

Stunned, Petunia watched in silence until he rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

******
Title: Everything and Time
Word Count: 499
A/N:
Prompt:

Epilogue? What epilogue?! In an alternate universe, Harry is engaged to Hermione and Draco is with Ginny. On the eve of Ginny’s wedding day, she and Harry meet in a Muggle pub to say goodbye to what could have been. There must be no dialogue (although you can allude to past dialogue through internal thought) and a Muggle clown must feature significantly. It must be canon compliant up to the Final Battle in Deathly Hallows.

I probably shouldn’t be doing this.

Having a beer with my ex-fiancé in a Muggle pub on the eve of my wedding would almost certainly be frowned upon by… well, everyone. But I came anyway. It seems that after everything and time, I still can’t refuse Harry.

We push both our weights against the rusty gears of conversation until we remember how to talk to one another. We discuss Quidditch, work, and other “safe” topics: Neville, Teddy, George and the shop. More notable are the things we don’t discuss: the wedding, of course, and the ring that is sparkling on Hermione’s finger even now wherever she is. We don’t mention the war, or the time after, or the time after that. Yet those subjects hang heavy in the silences.

We finish our beers and walk toward Picadilly Circus as I wonder why Harry wanted to see me. Does Hermione know he’s here? I certainly didn’t tell Draco, and likely never will.

We pass a street musician, and are then stopped by a clown who has taken an interest in us. I laugh at his clothes, his demeanor and his red balloon, and he dances to make me laugh harder. Harry, for his part, sighs impatiently, and just like that, we are back in an old pattern: he won’t lighten up, and then we argue. Immediately, the comedy of the moment is gone, and I know I want to stay, if only to prove something… to show Harry that these are the spontaneous moments of life, the moments you don’t have to miss because of a meeting or an assignment or some warped sense of embarrassment. I plant my feet and give him a look. He studies me for a moment before giving in, finally relaxing his shoulders and smiling a bit.

The clown draws our attention; he seems sad, and I wonder if something about us has made him so. Something about us makes me sad, too. He holds the balloon between us, wanting us to take the string. I do so, and Harry eventually follows suit—our two hands holding it together without touching. The clown gestures toward the overcast sky, and I know what he wants us to do. I look at Harry to find he is already looking at me, and inexplicably, a lump forms in the back of my throat. We let it go together, and watch it rise. Memories flood my mind: that first kiss after Quidditch, stolen moments in the Hogwarts grounds, flying, reading the paper in bed… and laughing. So many times, we laughed.

He kisses me softly on the lips, goodbye. And when I open my eyes, he’s walking away. I turn and find the clown is gone as well, and question whether anything really happened at all. But then I look up and see a tiny red dot moving across the clouds. I stay until it disappears, then slowly retrace my own steps back to where I belong… Malfoy Manor.

Barmaid's Note: Phew!

[Equinox Chick]

RESULTS

Wow, this swapped a few times. And it’s got to the stage where I really didn’t want to see anyone leave because the last three are incredible drabblers.

Sadly, we have to say goodbye to

Julia (the opaleye) who has been the most amazing contestant writing lyrical drabbles that made me ache at times.
And once again, Lori (Weasley Mom) takes the stage win for Hufflepuff.

Here is a breakdown of the results.

Weasley Mom -Snakes and Cages <4,3>
Karaley Dargen- For Him<2,5>
The Opaleye -Unwelcome Disturbance <2,8>
Karaley Dargen -Above Us <3,2>
The Opaleye - Nothing Like Lily <6,5>
Weasley Mom -Everything an d Time<7,1>

Weasley Mom <11,4> + 7
Karaley Dargen <5,7> -2
The Opaleye <8,13> - 5

Prompts set ...
Lori set:

Write a Next Gen drabble involving two characters. One of them must be a canon Weasley offspring and the other must be an OC. The setting is Hogwarts, but you may choose the specific space. There must be a confrontation and a sincere apology..

for Kara

and

Write a Snape-centric drabble set in the trio era. It must be from his POV, but not necessarily first person, and should include a student who is not a Gryff. Remus Lupin must be mentioned, but need not appear.

for Julia

Julia set

Sometimes it is easy to get caught up with the Marauders, the Trio, or the Next Generation but how different their stories would be without Hogwarts! For this drabble you are to go back in time and a write a conversation between two of the four Hogwarts Founders. The two Founders present must be of the opposite sex. The weather must be central to the conversation and you may allude to romantic connections between the Founders but they cannot be the focus of your drabble. One of the Founders must tell a joke and the other must be eating a boiled egg by the end of the drabble (which he/she was not eating at the start of the drabble). However, there is a catch! Someone is eavesdropping on their conversation and you must tell the drabble from the point of view of the eavesdropper. The eavesdropper cannot be another Founder.

for Kara
and

Epilogue? What epilogue?! In an alternate universe, Harry is engaged to Hermione and Draco is with Ginny. On the eve of Ginny’s wedding day, she and Harry meet in a Muggle pub to say goodbye to what could have been. There must be no dialogue (although you can allude to past dialogue through internal thought) and a Muggle clown must feature significantly. It must be canon compliant up to the Final Battle in Deathly Hallows.

for Lori

Kara set

Pair Petunia up with anyone but Vernon. However, this must be a person that appears in the books (however briefly). Also, your drabble must somehow fit into canon (i.e. it can't be AU, but it can be set before the books, or after the books, or in a 'missing moment'), but still seem believable.

for Julia

and

Write a drabble in first person plural (= we) form. You can use any characters that we know from any kind of canon (books, chocolate frog cards, interviews, ...) but NO characters that are complete OCs. Also, this drabble must fall into the "historical" category.

for Lori

Please let us hug and squish Julia for being a great brawler. She takes participation points (5), stage winner points(10) and third place points(5) totalling 20 points for the house of snakessssss.



Moving on (sorry for the indecent haste)

THE FINAL

Sometimes the simplest prompts prove to be the hardest ...

We’re down to the final two, and that can only mean one thing:

A DUEL

We’re all familiar with the duels in the Deathly Hallows. Molly’s immortal words as she felled Bellatrix Lestrange, for instance, are the stuff of legend.

However, duels do not have to involve wands and fighting for your life. They can be a war of words (James and Lily), or a battle across a chess set (Ron taking on McGonagall).

For your final drabble, brawlers, I want you to write a duel of some sort. It has to be between two people and two people only.
They need to be canon characters, although they can be minor characters.
There needs to be a winner.
It must be a Missing Moment duel, and thus take place outside of the canon that we have read.
Example: You cannot write your duel taking place at the Battle of Hogwarts, but you could write Crabbe and Goyle having an argument just prior to Harry turning up.

I am upping the word count to 750 words. You have until Wednesday 25th May 8PM (BST) to send me your drabbles.

The Winner will be announced on Saturday 28th May at 10PM (BST)

You have both been brilliant brawlers.

GOOD LUCK!

Madam Carmerta

[Equinox Chick]

THE FINAL ~ DUEL

Perhaps it was inevitable, but both brawlers for this incredible competition have chosen the truly, truly awesome Molly Weasley as one of their duellers. (Yes, I did use that word. I think it’s fitting, for once.)

Two very different situations, both exquisitely executed. I couldn’t begin to tell you which one to vote for – even if I wanted to – but please vote for the one that you think not only fits the prompt but is your favourite.

Vote here

You have until Saturday 28th May 10pm BST.

The winner will be announced very shortly afterwards.

Lori and Kara,
You have both been amazing, as have all the brawlers who entered this competition oh-so-many weeks ago.

Good Luck!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Tarte Poire
Word Count: 750

She. Is. Not. Right. For. Him. With each word, you slash your wand through the air, hacking the onions into coarse pieces. Next to you, Fleur has finished peeling the pears. The fact that she has done this absolutely beautifully, far more neatly than you ever had the patience to do it, triples your anger.

Those onions certainly won’t do. You don’t think rationally enough to realise that while her pears will be on top of the tarte, no one will even notice the shape of the onions once you’ve worked them into the stuffing. But this has stopped being rational a while ago.

You try to make the most of the coarse pieces by cutting them into finer bits. Just as you reach the last pile of mishandled onion, Fleur moves to a cupboard. It shouldn’t anger you this much that she knows her way around your kitchen. If anything, it should make you happy that she remembers all those small things, like where you keep the pans. It doesn’t. In fact, it bothers you, angers you, to have this other witch here. You are not used to this situation. None of your other sons has brought girls back home, and certainly not any that they were serious about. True, Hermione has been around as Ron’s guest, but that is hardly the same. They are still children, and she, although keen to help, is never really interested in seeking out work in the kitchen. And if she ever were to ask, you would willingly show her. But why her, and not Fleur? Doesn’t that make you a worse mother to Bill than you are to Ron? Certainly not. Hermione would be right for Ron – although that is, of course, none of your business – and right with your family. And she would ask if she wanted to learn from you. Fleur has never asked, and you don’t feel like she wants to learn either. She moves around your kitchen as though it were hers, and she seems to think that she already knows everything she will ever need to know to take good care of your son.

Fleur melts butter and sugar in the pan, and then uses her wand to sprinkle cinnamon over the mixture in unnecessarily beautiful twirls. Then, she even has the insolence to start humming. You levitate the onions into the bowl and let the board fall back on the table with quite a clatter. Fleur doesn’t even twitch.

“Do you need help, dear?” you ask, maybe more sweetly than would have been necessary.

“Ah, no zank you. I ‘ave made zis tarte many times before. Eet ees very easy.”

You return your attention to the chickens – plucked by the twins – and start preparing them. Behind you, Fleur places the pears in the butter.

Somehow, this feels like a contest to you. There is no special event tonight; quite a few people from the Order are coming, but no one expects an extravagant dinner, and you aren’t planning one. But when Fleur asked whether she could make part of the supper, and Bill insisted she make the dessert (she gets so bored on Fridays), something stirred inside you. Dessert has always been Bill’s favourite part of a meal. If he wants his fiancée rather than you to make it, where does that leave you? You need to be needed. She is not right for him, and you know it. To prove this, you have to make the main course so good, so filling, that her dessert won’t stand a chance. With an almost grim vigour, you push the stuffing into the first chicken with your bare hands, when suddenly Fleur stamps her foot behind you.

“What’s the matter?” Unexpectedly, you feel guilty for sounding hopeful.

“Eet ees all wrong!” she exclaims. The circle of pastry with which Fleur wants to cover the tarte is too small and has torn. “Zis has never ‘appened before!”

After an easy flick of your wand, the pastry mends itself and falls neatly on top of the tarte. “There you go, dear.” You feel deeply satisfied.

Fleur, however, still stares at the tarte as though angry with it and herself in equal parts. “I am too nervous. Bill loves zis tarte, but ‘e ‘as never asked me to make it for ozzers. Eet ‘as to be perfect!”

“I’m sure it will be now,” you say soothingly.

You’ve won this battle, yet something stirs inside you. Does she really care this much?

********************************************

Title: For Safety's Sake
Warnings: none
Word Count: 748
A/N: This duel/fight is a missing moment from Deathly Hallows. It takes place late the night of Harry's birthday dinner, the night before the wedding.


“We need to talk, Molly.” He was in his bed clothes, standing very near the mattress they had brought into the sitting room so Fleur’s family could sleep in their bedroom.

She continued counting the table linens for the third time. “Everyone in bed?” Without giving him time to respond, she launched into a detailed description of the work they must finish in the morning to be ready for the wedding at three. “We’ll have to be up early,” she concluded, magically lifting the pile of clothes onto a nearby chair.

“Molly.”

She sighed, recognizing a tone he didn’t use very often. Molly squared her shoulders and faced him, knowing this conversation could no longer be avoided.

“You are making a mistake.”

His voice was gentle, but the words provoked her to anger just the same. “A mistake? I don’t suppose we’re talking about seating arrangements?”

“You know very well what I’m talking about. They’re going, and it’s time you accept it. Molly, please.”

“No,” she said firmly. “They are children.”

He sighed in frustration, but said nothing.

“Your children, if I may remind you,” she added pointedly, her voice rising in volume and pitch.

“Muffliato,” said Arthur, slicing the air with his wand. “I know you are scared, but don’t you dare suggest that I don’t care about my son.”

She looked away from him, mildly repentant. She had not meant to suggest that, only to wake him up a bit.

“Molly, we raised them for this! We taught them to stand up for what is right, for those too weak to protect themselves. How can we stop Ron from doing exactly that?”

“He’s too young!”

“He’s of age!”

She took a step closer and narrowed her eyes. “Arthur Weasley! You may be able to distance yourself—to see this from the larger view of the war and what’s good for everyone. But I can’t. Someone’s got to be a parent to those three!”

Arthur began to speak, but then stopped and sat down on the makeshift bed instead. “Being a parent isn’t only about protecting them, Molly,” he finally said in a pained voice. “Dumbledore gave Harry a mission, and—“

“Dumbledore!” she roared, approaching her breaking point. “How could he lay all of this on Harry? Did he want them to leave school? Did he expect them to lay down their lives so casually?” She wanted him to rear up, to fight with her, but she could see he would not be provoked. Instead, he stared straight ahead at an unknown point on the wall. Molly reached behind her back and untied her apron, lifting it over her head. “Someone’s got to stand up for their safety.”

“Safety,” he repeated quietly.

The sad resignation in his voice unnerved Molly.

“Have you considered that the safest of all our children right now is probably Percy? That’s what safety looks like, Molly.”

Percy. She’d been pushing against every thought of him for weeks, and could not bear to think of him now either. She folded the apron and left the room without a word. She washed up, brushed her teeth, and changed into her bed clothes. She avoided herself in the mirror, but kept catching bits of her reflection by accident in the silver handles of the sink. Finally, she closed her eyes, unable to hold back the truth: she was proud of Ron—proud unto bursting. And she certainly couldn’t bear the thought of him distancing himself from the cause as Percy had done. Not even for the sake of safety.

When she returned to the sitting room, Arthur was in bed with the lights out. She slipped in next to him, close enough to feel his warmth.

“I don’t like fighting,” he said quietly.

Molly chuckled under her breath.

“What?”

“I only mind it when I lose,” she confessed.

He rolled to face her. “Are you admitting defeat?”

“There was no need to bring up Percy,” she pouted.

“I expect they’ll go soon.”

“Do you know for certain?” she whispered.

”No, just a feeling.”

She felt his hand cover hers under the blankets. “I’ll speak to him after the wedding,” she promised, knowing deep down that she couldn’t keep Ron from being the man he was, the man she had raised him to be. She could never want that for him.

Tomorrow, after the wedding, she'd pull him aside and tell him how proud she was of him.

Tomorrow night… she would make things right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you, brawlers and voters, for making this competition worthwhile and sticking it out to the end.

Carole

[Equinox Chick]

RESULT

It has been a fierce contest, lasting twelve weeks, and the brawlers have been taken through every possible evil machination of a twisted barmaid’s mind. (Although the last prompts were nastier than anything I could have conceived.)

The votes have been cast as follows:

Tarte Poire – 11 votes
For Safety’s Sake – 7 votes

Without too much blathering on, I therefore declare that the winner of
THE THREE BROOMSTICKS BRAWL 2011 (Round 4)
to be

Karaley Dargen

Who wrote the wonderful Tarte Poire.

Kara made a very ordinary situation come alive with superb characterisation and a plausible plot. The domesticity of the story could have put people off, but, instead, Kara entranced you with her drabble.
Brilliant drabble, Kara.
She takes away 15 winners points and 5 points for participation.

Let us raise our wand skywards and shoot purple stars into the air in the style of Dedalus Diggle.

*** *** *** *** *** ***

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA


Whilst we cheer and offer our best Butterbeer to the Mighty Lion, let us not forget the wonderful runner up

Weasley Mom (Lori)

who not only wrote the sublime ‘For Safety’s Sake’, (which brought a tear to my eye) but she won an unprecedented SIX stages of this competition!
This means Lori has been awarded 45 points (winner of stages 4,5,8,9,10 &11, 10 second place points and 5 participation points)

Roll call of entrants and points
The Fallen
Miss Meg -5
Maple and Phoenix Feather -5
Fawkestotherescue -5
Midnight Storm - 5
Sainyn Swiftfoot – 10 (winner stage 2)
AidaLuthien -5
leahsm2 -5
Apollonius - 5
Cinderella Angelina -5
Sapphireatdawn - 5
inspirations -5
welshdevondragon - 5
Gwendalynne -5
FlightOfSong -5
ToBeOrNotToBeOrNotToBeOrEverBeAGryffindor -10 (winner stage 1)
coolh5000 -5
hestiajones-10 (winner stage 7)
the opaleye -20 (winner stages 3 & 6 and third place finalist)



Disqualified/Zach Smith
OliveOilMed
melody 98
mugglemathdork
majestic ginny
minnabird
h-vic (Andromeda Tonksed )

Points:
Gryffindor: 45
Hufflepuff: 95
Ravenclaw: 20
Slytherin: 30

Finally, this barmaid would like to thank you all for participating and/or voting in the brawl. I loved competing in this competition so was extremely pleased that so many of you signed up. The quality of the drabbles was amazing. This is such a talented bunch of writers on the boards at the moment.

Look out for September
There could well be another chance to flex your brawling quills.

(HUGE APOLOGIES TO MY LOVELY FINALISTS, BUT THE BANNERS FOR YOU AREN’T QUITE FINISHED DUE TO YOUR BARMAID BEING VERY BUSY THROWING OUT ALL THE WAIFS AND STRAYS)

I leave the thread open for you to offer your congratulations to our valiant brawlers and ultimate winner

KARALEY DARGEN

[Weasley Mom]

Kara, you ROCK! I bow to your incredible use of second person, which I would not touch with a ten-foot pole. I am now giving you that "I didn't win" obligatory nod/smile/clap thing they do at the Oscars. Only I'm way more sincere than most of them. It was so much fun brawling with you!!