Hooray, it's May! ~Anniversary Challenge~

[minnabird]

Name: Minnabird
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Endings and Beginnings
Word Count: 492
Ratings/Warnings: mention of character death
A/N: I've been meaning to write this thing for so long. Also - why am I so obsessed with the WWN now?



1999

The fourth-year Gryffindor boys were all gathered around Nathan Crowley’s battered wireless.

“Good evening.” Lee Jordan’s voice over the radio sounded uncharacteristically solemn.“Thank you for tuning in for this special Victory Day edition of Potterwatch. But first, a moment of silence as we remember those we lost in the war that ended a year ago today.”

In the staticky silence, Dennis Creevey thought unhappily that he could never stop remembering.

Dennis felt like he’d lost an essential part of his soul when Colin had died. The pair of them had always been inseparable, with Colin always playing leader. Everything had been an adventure with Colin around. Dennis hadn’t been surprised to learn that Colin was a wizard; he always could bring magic to life. What had surprised him was that he was a wizard, too. His parents had just laughed and said he’d wished it into being so he could follow Colin to that school of his.

Dennis had wondered, in more morose moments, if his magic would eventually disappear without Colin around. It felt like everything else good had.

Next year he’d have to start thinking about the future. He had no idea what he wanted. Oh, he and Colin had talked about it plenty: they’d be a dynamic journalistic duo, Dennis penning the articles – he had a way with words, Colin said; he’d always been the one to talk Mum round when they got into trouble – and Colin taking the pictures.

He’d never planned for a future without Colin.

Lee Jordan’s voice had come back on while Dennis was thinking, but he had been tuning it out. He jerked back to attention when he heard his brother’s name, followed by “Dirk Cresswell.” A list of the dead, he thought. He’s dead.

Why did it still hurt so much to think that?

2003

“Good evening, and thank you for tuning in to Potterwatch.” Lee Jordan smiled, though his audience couldn’t see him. “As Friday is Victory Day, we would like to take a moment to remember the dead.” He let the silence drag on for about ten seconds, and then he spoke again. “The end of the war was a beginning of a new world for us all. Now, I would like to announce another ending and another beginning. One of our regular correspondents, Alicia Spinnet, will be leaving us for good today to manage the Ballycastle Bats. Good luck, Alicia,” he added to her.

“Thanks, Lee,” Alicia said, grinning. “I’ll miss this, but I never intended to work in radio all my life.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Lee said. “And to all of you wondering who will fill Alicia’s place, I’d like to introduce our newest correspondent: Dennis Creevey. Welcome to Potterwatch, Dennis.”

“Thanks, Lee,” Dennis said. “I’m glad to be here.” He wondered, for a moment, what Colin would think of him now, pursuing a career neither of them had dreamed of.

He grinned. Colin would be proud.

[TM_WandStick]

Name: TM_WandStick
House: Gryffindor
Title: They'll Never Know
Word Count: 476
Ratings/Warnings: 1st/2nd Years, none
A/N: Thanks go, as always, to Sarah for beta'ing.

***

In the sweet-scented garden of a quaint cottage tucked away on the edge of a wood, two small boys were playing make-believe.

“You be the Death Eater,” one brother commanded. “And I’ll be an Auror, and I’m in the Order of the Phoenix, too.”

“No, I want to be in the Order of the Phoenix,” the other boy complained. “I’m always the Death Eater.”

“Nuh-uh,” the first boy said, shaking his head and crossing his arms resolutely. “I was Death Eater last time.”

“No, I was,”

“No you weren’t,”

“I was!”

“Wasn’t!”

“Was!”

“Wasn’t!”

“Boys!”

The two brothers looked up guiltily as a man’s head materialised around the kitchen door.

“What are you doing?”

“Just playin’,” one boy said, scuffing his foot against the ground.

“It sounded more like fighting to me,” the man said sternly.

“We’re sorry, Daddy,” the other boy said. “We won’t fight anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

The brothers nodded their heads enthusiastically.

“Okay, you can play nicely, then.”

The father leaned against the doorframe and watched as his sons waved twigs and cast pretend enchantments on each other. The sinking sun cast deep shadows on his sober face. After a moment, a slender, blonde woman followed him through the doorway and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“What are you playing?” she called to her sons in the garden.

“Aurors and Death Eaters,” one called back before throwing himself in the dirt to avoid an imaginary curse.

The couple watched their children play for a moment in silence before the man spoke.

“I wish they wouldn’t play that,” he said quietly. The woman merely looked at him, her silver eyes trained on his face.

“I mean, how could they ever understand? They’re never going to be able to even begin to comprehend what it was like back then. Back when nobody knew who they could trust, when there was another murder every week! They don’t have a clue what a Death Eater really is!”

The man clenched and unclenched his fists and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I just don’t think they should be playing that,” he said quietly.

The woman, who had been silent throughout her husband’s rant, turned to look at her sons.

“I think it’s a perfectly fine game to play,” she said calmly. Her husband fixed his eyes on her, a small frown creasing his face.

“Do you know what day it is?” he asked her after a moment of consideration.

“You mean National Plant-a-Dirigible Plum Day?” she replied with a voice totally devoid of inflection.

“Luna....” The man sighed and took his wife in his arms. “They have no idea what they’re playing at.”

“Yes, Rolf,” she said. She turned and took her husband’s hands in her own, pressing them against her face as she looked steadily into his eyes.

“That’s the point.”

[lttlebird]

Name:littlebird/lttlebird
House:Gryffindor
Title: Unlisted
Word Count: 748
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th, implied sexual situations
A/N:

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

The Prophet is heavy in the hand today. It is a special edition, complete with the sort of didactic front-page that will soon be framed and hung upon pub walls- or worse- tacked into family albums next to the smiling faces of those forever gone. Over a list of names centred on the page, the headline “We Honour the Fallen” looms bold, black, and unchanging, the ink stamped heavily into the thin newsprint.

Draco unfolds the paper and lays it where the candle light is brightest upon the table. He stands and reads, his eyes rolling over the list of names, lingering a fraction of a second on the ones he recognizes, then sliding onward. He reads the names under the sub-heading “Missing” as his fingertips glide across the smooth wood to touch the edge of the paper. “Missing“, as in, ‘gone‘. “Missing“, as in, ‘missed‘.

Of course, no one has wasted good ink adding her name to that list.

The fire behind him flares, and, at once, the room feels ten degrees warmer. Beads of sweat swell around his hairline and at his temples. When he looks down, he sees that the moisture of his palm has marked the surface of the table. He watches as most of the print fades, evaporating into the air as he wipes his hand against the outer thigh of his pants. The heat and the feel of the damp cotton starts a chain reaction and he is occupied with thoughts of sweat, of hot, hot hands, of the high-shine polish of manicured nails and glossed lips.

If he closes his eyes, the fire behind him could be the fire from that last night in the common room. He can recall those sharp, dark eyes, glancing at him through her lashes as she pretends to work. He can hear the ticking of his laces bouncing against his shoe as his leg jumps, pounding the floor with nervous energy. He can see her one leg draped over the other, her hanging foot rotating, her ballet flat dangling precariously from her toes. Once again, he can watch as she finally closes her book and slinks over in her non-regulation length school skirt.

That night he could smell her lip-gloss mingling with the remnants of her perfume. It was a strange scent, that of worn, leather gloves smeared with pulp from the fruit of some exotic tree. The effect had been too lush, too sticky and over-ripe, and ultimately too alluring for him to remain as detached as he had planned.

That scowl of hers, those storm cloud brows- even after she had abandoned his sinking ship in true Slytherin fashion, he couldn’t resist. For weeks, she had avoided him. For weeks, he had feigned indifference. But the truth was he needed her cold core of viciousness. He needed her untainted arrogance to counter the crippling fear he now carried.

And maybe it was because he needed it, that he had to destroy it.

Or maybe it was the way she looked at his Mark, always as if it were the best part of him. But, that night, when she stroked her thumb over his forearm, he had grabbed her wrist, wrenching her arm up between them.

“You think you know what this is,” he had whispered. “You’ve no idea.”

She had tried to back away, but he pulled her in closer.

“Listen,” he said, leaning in, his lips brushing her ear. “There are two sides… and then there’s just you. You don‘t owe anything to anyone.” He let go, but held her gaze as he picked up his shirt from the chair. “If you're smart, you'll keep it that way.”

As he moved past, he had glanced at her, finally seeing his own fear mirrored in her face.

He had heard it in her voice as she rose up in the Great Hall later that night, pointing at Potter, blurting out what every Slytherin had probably been thinking. The tips of all those wands, all that self-righteous vitriol, had turned her way, and Draco had seen those brows snap together. He’d seen that haughty tilt of her chin, the condemnation of all those fools so ready to die, and he knew. She had listened.

He watched her stalk into the darkness, never once looking back.

Now, a year later, he can only wonder if she’s still breathing. He can only wonder if today, wherever she is, she thinks of sweat, of hot, hot hands.

[Black-Sand]

G'day


Name: Sandy
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Colin Jr
Word Count: 750
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-4th
A/N:

A foot swung out and kicked a rock. Unfortunately for the foot, the rock, though fairly small, was firmly imbedded in the ground, making the body-part in the strappy sandals pulse with pain. The owner of the foot let out a small string of non-magical curses, glaring at the offending object. The object of course did nothing, seeing as it was a rock.

“I hate this stupid ceremony, I hate this stupid day, I hate my stupid looks.”

This was a ritual. Every year, on the same day, all day, the blonde haired figure would retreat from the family and recite those three things. They wouldn’t have done so if they didn’t love their father so much.

Technically their name was Colin, Colin Creevey, though no-one but family knew that. They were named after their uncle who died at sixteen in the Battle of Hogwarts. He was blond, like Colin Jr, had mousy features, like Colin Jr, and had pale, watery eyes, like Colin Jr. However, one thing the two Colins didn’t have in common was that Denise didn’t used to tear up at the site of his brother. He could look at his brother fine back then. His daughter was another case.

Denise loved his brother. Colin was his idle, his role model. Denise lived to make his brother proud, and then he was taken away when Denise was only thirteen. It had crushed him. He had delved into depression which he didn’t come out of until he met his future wife, Willow. She had been his guide to a happier life and he had thought he had moved on from losing his brother, but he was wrong.

He had vowed when Colin Snr died that he would name his first born after him and he had thought he was able to handle it. However, he could only handle it on the surface... he also didn’t take in account that his first born may have been female.

The site of his daughter, who looked like a female version of his brother, always made him misty eyed, but never as much as it did on this day, May 2nd. It was the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the day everyone died. Every year, on this day, they went to Hogwarts and listened to a speech on those that lost their lives and then had a formal lunch.

It was sometimes a sombre affair, and sometimes not. Every few years Mr. Weasley would grace his brother’s death with a fireworks display and stories of their old misdeeds. Those were days that her father would retreat to other parts of the castle and that she would relish, especially when those stories had her uncle in them. It was the only time she was allowed to hear about him. It was also how she found out why her father went off at her for showing an interest in photography.

She still liked photography, she just didn’t show it in front of her father. Her boyfriend kept her secret. Both of her love for photography and her christened name. He was the only one who knew how much it hurt to be the constant reminder to her father’s pain. She had broken down in front of him many a time, babbling about how she was a horrible person for causing her beloved father heartache.

He of course had embraced her and told her that it was not her fault but she would never stop believing it was true. That was why, every year, when she was dragged to Hogwarts for this ceremony, she would slip away and stand by the lake, saying the same phrase she had spoken on the same day for many years. I hate this stupid ceremony, I hate this stupid day, I hate my stupid looks. It was the ceremony that made her father tear up, it was this day, many years ago that caused the problem to begin with and it was her looks that made it all the more worse.

“Coleen.”

She turned at the familiar voice, seeing Louis, staring at her with worry in his Weasley blue eyes. To try and calm him, Colin gave him a smile.

“Louis, what are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you, love. Uncle George is telling stories like you like.” Louis held out his hand to his girlfriend. “Come inside, the rocks have had enough glares for today.”

Colin smiled quaintly, thinking: at least I get to hear stories.

...xXxLove SandyxXx...

[Maple_and_PheonixFeather]

Name: Maple_and_PheonixFeather
House: Gryffindor!
Title: Today is Victory Day
Word Count: 750
Ratings/Warnings: First-Second/None
A/N: I wrote Next-Gen I may make this a one-shot I think

Today is Victory Day

Today is Victory Day. There is a huge celebration going on later tonight, and already people are coming into the school, ready to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Voldemort’s death. I look out the window of the Gryffindor Tower, and watch as yet another person arrives, waiting for the greatest celebration since the death of the evil man himself.

I slowly make my way downstairs to the common room. It’s full of chatter as my classmates look forward to a celebration and to seeing their family. The chatter is too much for me, so I head out into the grounds, hoping for some sort of relief from all the noise. I wander aimlessly, with no real goal in mind.

Victory Day has always been very bittersweet for me. It’s hard for my sixteen year old self to really comprehend living under someone as evil as him, waiting for some boy only a year older than me to save the world, to rid us of a reign of terror. I can’t imagine a Hogwarts where the students lived in fear of hearing that their friends, family, parents have been killed; where one wrong move subjected you to torture I can only dream about in my worst nightmares. I can’t imagine being subjected to prison simply because I was born without magical parents, and yet here I am, celebrating the death of an evil I never experienced.

It’s not as if I know nothing of the war. Every Victory Day, for as long as I can remember, my mum spends a good hour in her room, crying, looking at the pictures of her family from before the war. I watch her put on a brave face, I watch her celebrate, but I know for a fact that all she can think about is the brother she lost. I watch my uncle just sit in silence, mourning his other half, unable to celebrate without him. On Victory Day, Dad broods. I know that today means a lot to him, and for the most part it’s a happy day, for it was the first day to a life of freedom, yet the freedom came with a cost, and I know he blames himself for the loss of so many. I’ve watched Teddy grow up without his parents, wishing he had met them, knowing that his father died in order that he could grow up in a world free of fear and prejudice.

Today is Victory Day. I end up by the monument that solutes the fallen of the final battle. There are over 50 names, and I know that many more died in the struggle. I’ve never taken the time to read the names, so for the first time, I look. I see some names I recognize, such as Remus and Nymphadora Lupin who were Teddy’s parents, and Lavender Brown, the girl my Uncle Ron once dated. I see other names which I do not recognize. Names such as Colin Creevy mean nothing, and that shocks me. I do not know most of these names. When my children come, they will not recognize these names, and Voldemort will be simply a name...the fact that my dad was willing to die so that they could be free will mean nothing to them. As time goes on, Victory Day will lose its meaning, it will simply be a day where the faceless, fallen heroes are honoured.

Scorpius comes up behind me, and slips his arm around my shoulders. I look at him and smile. “Today is Victory Day,” I whisper. He smiles at me. Victory Day is the only reason we can even be together. Before the Battle, our dad’s hated each other, but the Battle allowed them to move on. Wars, it seems, allows even the greatest of enemies to put aside differences. The war, it seems, allowed us to love, regardless of our heritage.

We walk back to the castle. The celebrations have already started. I see Dad. I walk up to him and give him a big hug. “Happy Victory Day, Daddy,” I whisper. He hugs me back, and it’s then I realise that perhaps Victory Day is more about celebration, and less about what we lost, for it allowed families to live in peace, and it allowed for new bonds to be made. The sacrifice of many, including my Dad’s, should be celebrated, for it is what made the world the place it is now. Today is Victory Day. Today, I celebrate.

[princessbipolar]

Name: princessbipolar
House: Ravenclaw
Title: I'm Worthy of It
Word Count: 497
Ratings/Warnings: First-Second/None
A/N: From Scorpius' POV.

I'm Worthy of It

Ever since I was a young child, my parents often reminded me that our family was different from others. For most people, Victory Day signifies a day whereby one celebrates a joyous occasion because they’d finally regained their freedom thanks to Harry Potter. As for me, it was completely different.

Whenever I suggested commemorating it, my dad would shrug it off and pretended that he hadn’t heard anything while my mum would only gaze at me with a desolate expression on her face.

Every year, Victory Day started out in a relatively boring fashion for my family. My grandparents, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, would come over and have a solemn gathering with my parents. During this occasion, none of them speaks. They would only reflect and think about what had happened so many years ago. Occasionally, I would see Grandma wiping away a teardrop while Grand Dad’s face would always remain impassive and calm. Nobody ever knew what he was thinking about.

I tried pestering Mum to let me go out and play with the rest of the children. After all, Rose had invited me to her house from time to time. Yet, Dad would never allow it. He said that it wasn’t appropriate for me to go over to the Weasleys on this particular day.
And always, with that usual childlike innocence I possessed, I would ask, “ But Dad, why can’t I have fun like the rest of my friends for once? ”

He never gave any reply.

Up till the day I turned eleven, I finally understood Dad’s intentions. I had sneaked out without my parents’ permission and had run all the way to the Burrow to find Rose. When I entered it, a deadly silence settled on the crowd of people. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley looked slightly shocked whilst James Potter glared angrily at me.

I realised that only Rose seemed happy to see me.

I finally figured out why everyone despised our family. I finally understood why Dad wouldn’t allow me to go to the Weasleys’ house- simply because I wasn’t welcomed.

Everyone remembered my dad’s and grand dad’s evil deeds. Most people believed that they had repented but a few still bore a huge hatred for them. Sometimes, I wondered why. Grand Dad and Dad were the two kindest people I’d ever met. They doted on me and gave in to my every wish.

But then some things just can’t be explained. I would never be able to understand the survivors’ pain and unfortunately, their dislike for my family was justified.

Being the heir to the Malfoy family, I’d to live with it. However, I wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

I will prove to everyone that I, Scorpius Malfoy, am worthy of celebrating Victory Day with everyone else-be it rejoicing with the survivors or grieving for the lost. My family has paid for the crimes we had committed.

It's time that we are forgiven for what we had done.

[Equinox Chick]

Closed

Results and points soon ...

Thank you for entering.

[Equinox Chick]

RESULTS!

This was tough in some ways, and easy in others. Before I announce the results, I should mention that I had to discount at least four drabbles for canon spelling mistakes on names. *sigh* Shame, but I am nitpicky when it comes to things like that.

Okay, the hard part was deciding the order, but finally I decided on this.

1st Place - eternalangel - A Letter Unsent. ~15 points~
Superb characterisation of Narcissa and an original take on the prompt.

2nd Place - littlebird - Unlisted.~ 10 points~
Loved Draco in this and the relationship between him and Pansy was beautifully portrayed.

3rd Place - Liandrin - Time. ~5 points~
Mystery pairing - a Slyth and ... an anonymous girl. I have my suspicions, but I'll leave it up to your interpretation. This drabble was well written and intriguing.

Honourable mentions to both minnabird and T.M. Wandstick for their drabbles, both of which hovered on my place list for a while.

Well done, everyone. I will get the participation points sorted out very shortly and edited into this post.

Edit - didn't take as long as I thought

Gryffindor - 10 points second place, plus 25 participation points - 35 points
Hufflepuff - 20 points participation
Ravenclaw - 15 points first place, 5 points third place, plus 30 points participation - 50 points
Slytherin - 0.o

~Madam Carmerta~