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Thread: Audiofictions - The Contest Archive

  1. #11
    Nagini Riddle
    Title: A Pint of Firewhiskey
    Author's name: Nagini Riddle
    Ratings: 3rd-5th yrs
    Warnings: for some drinking, implied sexual situations, and implied character death
    Summer: He takes a "holiday" in the tropics for Halloween to clear his mind, but it only furthers his depression...

    A Pint of Firewhiskey

    He was seething over the pint of firewhiskey set before him, pondering the best method for revenge against the headmaster. His lank greasy hair brushed the top of the counter as he hunched over, vindictiveness in his body language, his hooked nose protruding slightly from the thin black strands he hid behind.

    The other patrons gave him a wide berth, but they did nothing to dim their boisterous shouts and antics, reveling in the Halloween mood. They toasted with foaming butterbeers (or else something stronger) to skeletons, to cakes, to pasties, to drinking, to women... The list went on, many dancing and singing to the warbling of the Wizarding Wireless Network, others stuffing themselves with savories and sweets.

    But he blocked out their idiotic merriment, brooding over his drink, counting down the time that he would be able to return to the castle and give Dumbledore a piece of his mind.

    It had all started with Dumbledore reading too much into his sour mood. As the weeks had drawn closer to Halloween, the headmaster thought- foolishly- that one certain potion's master needed a break, time off to "recollect his thoughts" and "come to terms with his feelings." Preferably far away from Hogwarts. Far, far away.

    Of course, he had done his best to argue and refuse. Argue didn't seem strong enough of a word to describe the shouting match that had ensued. But, as always, the headmaster used blackmail and now the teacher found himself holed up in a bar somewhere in the tropics.

    Sun didn't suit him. He preferred the cold, dark, unfeeling sense of his dungeons. He supposed that's why Dumbledore had sent him here, of all places. He wished his staff to be as uncomfortable as possible.

    He growled inwardly. He would never admit it, but he wished to be back in the castle, docking hefty amounts of points from the cheeky blighters in the halls, partaking in the delicious Halloween feast, and the feeling of, well, home. At least there, he was less inclined to nurse his wounded soul inside of him that constantly lived in a stone cage of guilt. Well, maybe. He wouldn't admit it this, either, but he thought of her continuously. Of the betrayal, their severed friendship, the debt he now owed.

    Coldness engulfed him, and he immediately brought the pint to his pale lips and drank deeply. He tried to drive the unwelcome thoughts from his mind. If he allowed them accommodation, he knew it would end with morose regret and an empty, hollow heart.

    He perceived the celebrations around him a little more fully, sneering at the laughter and stupidity that abounded. He snorted at their wild abandonment, their lack of discipline, of simple worries and cares.

    Simple. It was something he lacked and yearned for. He was anything but simple. An intricately woven man with stressful duties, hauntings of what-ifs, and internally clashing ideals. And now, the festive spirit of Halloween threw it all into scrutinizing light brought on by blasted candles and lamps and jack-o-lanterns.

    He shuffled his feet against the bar stool and quickly glanced around at the overly cheerful house. His stomach quite suddenly deserted him.

    He was staring at Lily. Deep red hair, a winning smile, soft freckles, green eyes... And she was laughing in his direction, beckoning him to her.

    He stonily stared, rational thought no longer existing. How he craved her so! Longed to be with her again, gain the woman of his dreams...

    He groggily awoke in a soft bed and had the sensation of a cold body next to him. Perplexed, he glared at his left side and saw red hair splayed onto a pillow, but it wasn't Lily. Her features were too sharp.

    And then he noticed one of the most horrific things- a thin black cloak gliding onto the bed, its silence eerie and foreboding- the carnivorous lethifold. If he strained his ears, he could only hear her labored, frozen breathing.

    He groped for his wand, his dark eyes never leaving the movement of the silky creature. It was too late to save the girl, but he couldn't force himself to look away.

    A hollow deadweight settled on him and, he stumbled off the bed, wand raised. He couldn't save her. He couldn't save her. He couldn't save Lily...

    He groggily backed out of the blackening room, the walls suffocating as they closed in, the imprint of the woman still present amongst the woolen covers...

    And the sixth anniversary of Lily Potter's demise drowned in a pint of firewhiskey.
    Last edited by Nagini Riddle; 09-29-2012 at 12:56 AM.

  2. #12
    Seventh Year Hufflepuff
    minnabird's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2009
    Title: Out of the Fog
    Author: minnabird
    Warnings: Character Death (sort of?)
    Ratings: 3rd-5th years
    Summary: They came out of the fog, surrounding and closing her in, bringing hopelessness in their wake.

    29 October

    It started with the shadows. They appeared in my peripheral vision, and then they were gone before I could look and see. Passing through the woods, I suppose. I was more careful after the first few. You get strangers up here now and then, but best to be safe.

    This evening the fog set in. That's not odd in itself, of course. I’ve always rather liked it - nothing more lovely, in its own way, than the world softened and blurred, odd shapes appearing suddenly. But this brought with it cold fingers of dread that slipped in under the sleeves of my jumper.

    I suppose you’d say I’m just being fanciful, but I’ve never felt like that about fog. It wasn’t right.

    And then they came out of the fog. They were in fancy dress, and at first I thought they were just kids from the village up to their tricks. I’m not supposed to have a shotgun, but a woman living alone in the middle of nowhere - I need it. I went out to scare them off, but it didn’t work. They just kept coming, crowded me back against the house. Eventually, I let off a shot to show them I was serious. Still they moved forward.

    I was scared by then, and finally I took aim and fired at one.

    It didn’t stop him.

    The door’s bolted behind me. I don’t know if it will hold them. They haven’t tried to get through yet.


    30 October

    They’re still out there. Just standing there. Watching. Waiting? I don’t know for what. I don’t know what they are. If it was just a prank, I doubt they’d still be here, and there’s the one who didn’t even stir when I shot him...

    Every time I look out the window, even the window in the loo, I see just a line of them, half hidden in swirls of fog. They’ve circled the house.

    I feel so hopeless. I’ve never felt like this before, so drained of life.

    I can barely bring myself to write.


    31 October

    If I stay here a moment longer I’ll go mad. I’m stuck inside this house, stuck inside my head, hemmed in by nightmares. That’s what they are, out there, or something like it. See what they brought with them.

    To tell the truth, if I stay here a moment longer, I’m afraid I won’t move again.

    Making a run for it.


    From the Dementor Restraint Unit’s files:

    Rogue dementors found near Dendles Wood on Dartmoor. Victim found: Helen Burton, aged fifty-three, Squib, unmarried, no family. Dementor’s Kiss administered, based on victim’s writings, on October the thirty-first as she attempted to escape the house. Dementors subdued. Passed victim onto St. Mungo's and the Office of Misinformation.
    Last edited by minnabird; 10-06-2012 at 11:09 PM.

  3. #13
    Seventh Year Ravenclaw
    Attending a Deathday Party
    Gmariam's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2006
    Wales (I wish)

    Title: Jack O'Lantern James
    Author: Gmariam
    Warnings: None
    Ratings: 1st-2nd years
    Summary: A Halloween prank turns against James and Sirius - not once, but twice.

    The Great Hall was bustling with the sounds of hundreds of students tucking into the annual Halloween feast. Shimmering pumpkins grinned from the windows, and the castle ghosts floated about in their best finery, wistfully staring at food they could never eat. At one end of the Gryffindor table, two dark heads leaned close, whispering.

    "What are they up to now?" asked Peter, sitting down across from James and Sirius. Remus rolled his eyes as he helped himself to more treacle tart.

    "Halloween prank, of course," he answered as he reached for the pumpkin juice. "Apparently we'll get to experience it in just a few minutes."

    Peter shook his head and began to serve himself. "I hope we don't all get in trouble like the time they turned everyone—"

    He was cut off by shriek from the Slytherin table. Within moments Severus Snape was glowering behind them, red-faced and furious. He was also covered in straw: it was sticking out from his pants, his sleeves, and his collar. A large floppy hat fell across his eyes.

    "Potter!" he shouted. "I know you are responsible for…for this!"

    James hid a grin, turning around to gaze with a straight face at Snape’s ridiculous appearance. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied as blandly as he could. "Ask Black."

    Snape turned on Sirius, who raised an eyebrow. "A Snapecrow, then? Wish I had thought of it. Think he'll scare away the pixies, Prongs?"

    James burst out laughing, and Sirius quickly joined in. Instead of infuriating Snape even more, their laughter had the unexpected effect of calming him down. Snape appeared to manage his anger as he slowly nodded. James and Sirius stopped laughing immediately, thrown off by the unusual reaction.

    "Good one, Black," said Snape. "But easy enough to overcome." His lips moved silently, and the straw disappeared; apparently Snape had mastered wandless magic far ahead of the other sixth-years. James felt the tiniest bit of admiration tinged with jealously. Sirius looked irritated.

    "Show-off," he muttered.

    Snape smirked and moved his lips once more. Then he gave them a small bow and left the hall without another word.

    James felt a strange sensation in his bum. It was growing—very fast, very large, and very round. He glanced at Sirius and saw a look of panic on his friend's face. They quickly stood and excused themselves. By the time they reached the Entrance Hall they were running, and the sound of laughter followed them.

    They hurried back to Gryffindor. Just as they shouted the password at the Fat Lady, however, the last person they wanted to see stepped out from behind her: Lily Evans.

    James felt his face flush. He brushed by her without looking up and barely heard Sirius mutter a greeting. Evans was sharp, though, and knew immediately that something was wrog. Being stubbornly curious as well, she followed them back into the common room.

    Walking behind them, she could hardly miss it; even under their robes it was obvious. She laughed. James spun around and pulled his robes tighter, but to his horror, she flicked her wand and they flew right off. She cocked her head, green eyes dancing merrily.

    "Turn around, Potter," she ordered. “I have to see this to believe it.” James looked desperately at Sirius, who simply shrugged.

    "Maybe she knows the counter-curse,” Sirius replied. “It would save us from having to look it up."

    "Do you?" James demanded, suspecting that even if she did know the counter-curse, he was probably the last person she would give it to.

    "I might," she answered. "I’ll need to see it more closely, though."

    Once again, James felt his face redden. He was not used to being in this position: he was both the victim of a prank and hostage to Lily Evan's superior wandwork. He could not have imagined a worse Halloween.

    Slowly he turned around to reveal his backside. His bum had now burst the seams of his pants, magically charmed into an orange pumpkin that was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He hadn't altered any of Snape's body parts; turning a man's buttocks into a large fruit seemed unfair revenge for a bit of straw.

    Evans burst into laughter, and even Sirius cracked a smile. A small part of James really wanted to join them, but his pride was too injured, and his sense of humor couldn't compensate. "Can you fix it?" he snapped.

    She sniggered again, eyes twinkling. "Of course. Just stand still." She took out her wand again and made a few elegant gestures. James felt a warm touch, but did not feel his backside return to normal proportions. He looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened in shock, for instead of removing the curse, she had carved a large, grinning face into the pumpkin.

    "Jack O’Lantern James!" she exclaimed, and Sirius doubled over with laughter. A few quick flicks of her wand and Sirius's backside matched. With a sly smile and a parting wink, Evans hurried through the portrait hole, leaving them alone in the common room with their newly decorated pumpkins.

    “Merlin and Morgana,” said James, almost sick with disbelief. “Please tell me the last ten minutes did not just happen.”

    Sirius, however, seemed to be enjoying the prank. “Jack O’ Lantern James!” he cackled. “That’s even better than Snapecrow. We were just bested, Prongs—by Evans!”

    “Then why are you grinning like an idiot?” demanded James, irritated with his friend’s flippant mood.

    “You have to admit they both got us good,” replied Sirius cheerfully. “Besides,” he added with a wink, “We have every reason to get them back now, and I’m already thinking of how. Something to do with a Sleepwalking Curse, perhaps.”

    James couldn’t help it: the thought of getting even made it much easier to accept their botched Halloween. “And perhaps a Repelling Jinx.” With a grin, he hurried upstairs with Sirius to find the counter-curse and begin the settling of scores—with both Severus Snape and Lily Evans.
    Last edited by Lupinpatronus; 10-27-2012 at 07:17 AM.

  4. #14

    Title: An Act of Chivalry (or what would later be known as the Pumpkin Plummet)
    Author: Hokey/Jen
    Warnings: Butterbeer influence
    Ratings: 1st-2nd
    Summary: It’s Halloween. It’s Hogsmeade. Three girls attempt to make their way back to the castle on the spookiest night of the year.

    “No, no! We really should be heading back to the castle…” Alicia giggled. She shot a glance at Angelina and Katie as the handsome Hufflepuff boys, whom they had shared perhaps one Butterbeer too many with, pleaded earnestly that they stay just a few moments more.

    “You won’t regret it,” one of them said with a wink, smiling mischievously.

    Tempted, the girls lingered, but Angelina was the one to rise determinedly from her chair. “No, we should leave. Really, we’ve already stayed too long! Come on, girls. It’s already past dark.”

    The threesome made their way towards the door, staggering slightly and holding on to each other for support. Wearing her sweetest smile Katie managed to wave back at the whistling group of boys before Alicia dragged them all out the door and out on the street.

    Hogsmeade village was dark and quiet apart from the laughter and music issuing from The Three Broomsticks behind them. Alicia did her best to steer her two best friends in the right direction while Katie and Angelina still stumbled about in their fits of giggles.

    “The tall one was cute,” Katie exclaimed, her cheeks flushed and her voice shrill. “And Alicia… that dark-haired, mysterious one was obviously staring at you the whole evening…” she smiled.

    “He was!” Angelina added as Alicia was about to object. Then she stumbled slightly sideways and the three girls nearly fell over, laughing, grabbing hold of the back of a wooden bench to stop themselves.

    After regaining her breath, Katie said, “This is by far the best Halloween ever.”

    Her statement was followed by the howl of a faraway wolf.

    “There’s even a full moon,” added Alicia. She then joined in the wolf’s howling, turning her face toward the night sky and stretching to her full height.

    “Shh!” Angelina giggled. “Do we really want to be accompanied by werewolves as well? I think we’ve had enough action for one night…” With a firm grip around each of her friends’ arms, she proceeded to steer them further down the cobbled street, towards the castle looming before them.

    “Ooh!” Katie suddenly called. “There’s supposed to be a short-cut, I think it’s here, come on!”

    Katie maneuvered them into a narrow alley between two residential stone buildings. With no lights, the girls blindly stepped on each other’s feet and accidentally kicked something that sounded like a tin can, causing them all to resume giggling and hushing at each other.

    Suddenly, a loud bang made the three girls stop abruptly in their tracks.

    “What was that?” Angelina whispered.

    “I dunno,” Katie breathed back. The girls stood still for a moment.

    “Boo!” called Alicia, causing the other two to jump, and laughed as she dragged the girls along further down the alley.

    Finally, the girls glimpsed the eerie glow of the castle lights looming above as they neared the end of the alleyway. They were all about to draw a collective sigh of relief when they were met by a disturbing sight.

    Next to the small hut where Professor Hagrid lived, a large, dark shape was taking form. It was round, enormous and seemed to be swelling more and more by the second.

    “What…” Alicia started, but was interrupted by another loud bang.

    The ground beneath them started to rumble. Something sounding like either a thunderstorm or an oncoming train reverberated in the air, growing ever louder. The girls’ clench on each other’s arms tightened as they realized that the great, dark shape was heading towards them, tumbling down the hill from Hagrid’s hut towards Hogsmeade village.

    If the girls screamed, their cries were drowned in the deafening crash of the figure reaching the end of the slope and colliding with a solid tree trunk.

    All three stood rooted to the spot, mouths open and eyes wide, unable to see more than the silhouette of the wreckage. The sounds of coughing and sputtering reached them. Angelina fumbled to retrieve her wand, and uttered, “Lumos.”

    Huge chunks of bright orange were spread over the stretch of grass before them. Most of it had accumulated at the tree trunk, and from the large pieces of gooey mesh emerged two figures, equally orange.

    “Well, that didn’t exactly go as planned,” one of them called to the other.

    “I wouldn’t say that. We did get to Hogsmeade,” the other answered, picking chunks of the orange off his face, “and we found the girls!” he added as they looked up and noticed the confounded threesome.

    The Weasley twins stepped briskly towards them with broad smiles on their pumpkin-smeared faces. “We were about to come and pick you up, Halloween style. We were going to engorge and bewitch a pumpkin, and have it as a carriage, but…”

    “A walking escort will do too, right?” they said, extending their pumpkin-covered arms towards the girls.
    Last edited by Lupinpatronus; 10-27-2012 at 07:17 AM.

  5. #15
    Second Year Hufflepuff
    Beset by Owls
    Lupinpatronus's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2006
    Exploring the corridors after dark

    Audiofictions - LeakyCon Portland 2013


    MuggleNet Fan Fiction's Audiofictions is making its convention premiere this year at LeakyCon in Portland! MerMuggle Readers Lupinpatronus and theGreatOm will be sitting down with you to share voice over techniques, discuss fan fiction and bring your favorite Harry Potter characters to life!

    You could have your story read, live, right before your eyes and ears at LeakyCon! Lupinpatronus and theGreatOm will be selecting one fan fiction submitted by a lucky con-goer to be read aloud during the panel!

    The rules for submissions are as follows:

    • Fictions must be no longer than 1500 words (if they go slightly over, that is acceptable, but must keep close to this length for time constraints)
    • Original characters (OCs), if included, must be secondary characters with few lines and minimal involvement in the plot. Please keep the focus on established, canon Harry Potter characters
    • Please include at least four established characters from the Harry Potter series
    • Ratings must stay at or below 3rd-5th Years (equivalent to somewhere between PG and a very gentle PG-13)
    • You may submit a previously written story, as long as it follows the above criteria
    • You may submit as many fictions as you desire, but only one will be read at the panel
    • You must be planning to attend LeakyCon 2013 in Portland; you do not need to be a member of MuggleNet Fan Fiction

    E-mail your submissions to! Please make sure to include your real name and a MuggleNet Fan Fiction screen name (if you have one; not required).

    Post questions in this thread or E-mail them to the above address.

    Deadline for submissions is Monday, June 24th at 11:00 PM Mountain Time.
    Last edited by Lupinpatronus; 07-08-2013 at 07:45 PM.

  6. #16
    Second Year Hufflepuff
    Beset by Owls
    Lupinpatronus's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2006
    Exploring the corridors after dark

    Name: Joe DeGeorge
    Title: Dudley Listens to Nirvana
    Ratings/Warnings: NA/NA
    Word Count: 831

    Dudley was staring at his pre-algebra homework. His father, Vernon, was plopped in his favorite sitting chair trying to absorb the evening news. Dudley received a curious glance from his father, who looked like he was about to say something, but must have reconsidered, because Vernon blinked and his chubby face seemed to chew the words he would have spit out had he not thought better. The tension between Dudley and his parents had been growing in the past few months. Dudley found this rather troubling, because for the last eleven years of his life he had very much enjoyed his relationship with his mother and father. He had mastered the balance of making selfish demands and manipulating his parents to get their love and affection as well as numerous material possessions. Something had changed in the last few months, however. Dudley glanced over to the cupboard under the stairs where his cousin, Harry Potter, had lived before he was taken off to some bizarrely strange prep school, by an extremely large bearded man, with a flying motorcycle. Dudley shuddered at the memory of his cousin's departure and felt the seat of his pants to make sure that the pig tail the bearded man had given him had been properly removed. There was a little scar - a scar that he wanted to hide forever. What would he tell his future intimate lovers about this scar? Why couldn't he just focus on his maths? He thought his family would have been so happy once Harry Potter had left. Harry Potter was a burden for their family, an uninvited child just placed at their doorstep probably by some weirdoes whose relationship with the Dursley family no matter how small, had caused deep embarrassment to his parents. But now that the burden of Harry Potter was gone the watchful eyes of his parents had seemed to increase their attention onto Dudley. No longer was Dudley able to use his cousin as a scapegoat for his benefit. Dudley was beginning to realize that he had to claim some sort of responsibility for his actions now, no matter how much he wanted to be as irresponsible, careless and greedy as he used to be.

    An advert had come onto the television station that Vernon was watching. Usually content to let the television dictate what to watch, he became frustrated with seeing the same advert for a dishwashing detergent for the nineteenth time that week. Vernon picked up the remote, secretly hating the device because it seemed somehow magical to him, but decided definitely that changing the channel with the flick of a button was far more preferable than actually getting up to push a button on the television itself. Vernon changed through a few channels. There was a man with a mustache ushering people through a hotel and telling witty jokes. There was a strange cartoon with yellow caricatured Americans concerned with donuts and eating shorts. Vernon grimaced at this channel, unable to appreciate any ironic similarity between himself and the characters on television screen.

    "You don't watch this program, do you Dudley?"

    "No, papa," said Dudley who was saying "sometimes," in his mind.

    "I'd hope not. It's absolute rubbish."

    More numbers flicked on the cable box. There was a BBC nature documentary, an advert for deodorant, and then a searing sound coming form the television speakers. Dudley jerked his head upward and an image of blond flying hair, flannel, loud guitars, wavy school uniforms, and a chaotic gymnasium burned a hole in in Dudley's eyes.

    "Absolute rubbish!" shouted Vernon Dursley. "57 channels and nothing on," he mumbled. And turned the television back to the station that was advertising dishwashing detergent.

    What was it that Dudley had just witnessed? Sure he'd heard rock and roll music before, but this was something totally different. This was pure raw and energized emotion. This was a new sound. A sound that reflected and resonated deep inside Dudley's psyche. Dudley instantly pictured himself in the gymnasium of that music video, thrashing about, surfing over the sea of rebellious youths onto the ball court and grabbing a guitar. He closed his eyes and saw him screaming next to the flanneled man with flying blond hair. And then he pictured his parents walking into that gymnasium and immediately walking out with hands over their ears. Dudley wanted to turn his world inside out and backwards like that music video he had gotten a tiny glimpse of. Those images, those sounds, they were empowering him.

    "Dudley," said Vernon, bringing his son back to the reality of the Privet Drive sitting parlor. "Don't do your homework in front of the TV. It's distracting you."

    Dudley was about to whine some fake reason up for why the television helped him with his maths, but thought better of it. Instead he asked his father if he might please borrow six pounds. He was going to go to the record store the next day after school.

  7. #17
    Second Year Hufflepuff
    Beset by Owls
    Lupinpatronus's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2006
    Exploring the corridors after dark
    Name: Kirsten Kidwell
    Title: St. Patrick's Day
    Ratings/Warnings: NA/NA
    Word Count: 612

    Luna’s stomach growled hungrily as the smell of coffee, bacon, and eggs wafted into the bedroom. Fighting to get herself out of bed because due to a hit she received from the office last night about the whereabouts of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, Luna groaned sleepily as she got out of bed. Stretching her aching limbs Luna walked to the window and opened it to receive some fresh air. As she looked out the window Luna’s heart dropped as she spotted a beautiful rainbow in their garden with a pot of gold at the end of it. Tears began to flow down her face as she realized what day it was. How could she forget that today was St. Partick’s Day? Luna closed her eyes as she raised a shaking hand to a crescent moon pendant that hung around her neck.

    A nine year old Luna giggled as a woman with strawberry blonde hair and gray eyes tickled her.

    “Mommy stop.”

    “Not until you get out of bed.”

    “Okay okay I’m up,” Luna said as she got up from bed and giggled at her mother’s outfit. She was covered in clovers and hat a bright green top hat on.

    “Guess what today is?”

    Luna giggled as she gave her mother a playful puzzled look. “Well it’s not Christmas and it’s not my birthday so it must be St. Patrick’s Day.”

    “You’re right!” Luna’s mother screamed as she hugged her daughter and began to dance around the room. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day my Lovely Luna. I have a surprise for you. Turn around.”

    Luna gasped as if a beautiful crescent moon pendant seemed to come out of nowhere and placed itself around her neck. Luna put the pendant in her hands and attacked her mother with a fierce hug.

    “Thank you so much mommy.”

    “You’re welcome my Lovely Luna Happy St. Patrick’s Day.”

    Not knowing how she ended up on the bed sobbing her eyes out Luna didn’t care as she buried her head in the pillow drenching it with her tears. Through her tears Luna heard the door open and felt a warm hand rubbing comforting circles on his back. Lifting her head Luna found herself looking into beautiful green eyes that she knew so well and buried her face in his chest.

    “Luna my love don’t cry everything is going to be okay,” Harry said over and over again as his own tears hit the top of Luna’s head.

    Luna lifted her head from Harry chest and she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I-I’m sorry Harry I just.”

    Harry kissed Luna again and touched their foreheads together so that they were staring into each other’s eyes. “It’s okay Luna you have every right to be upset, but I might have something that will help you feel better.”

    Luna’s eyes widened as she looked upon an emerald green box that Harry produced from his pocket.

    “Here you go my love.”

    Luna found herself gasping yet again as she opened the box and looked upon the beautiful bracelet that was in it. The bracelet consisted of crescent moon and star charms, but as she looked closely at the bracelet she noticed that there were three four leaf clover charms that were moving portraits. The first charm was of Harry and Luna kissing, the second one was of Xenophilius and Luna dancing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and the last one was of Luna and her mother and father at her eighth birthday. Tears filled Luna’s eyes once again as she jumped into Harry’s arms.

    “Harry thank you so much. It is so beautiful.”

    “You’re welcome Luna. You will always be my lovely Luna.”

  8. #18
    Second Year Hufflepuff
    Beset by Owls
    Lupinpatronus's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2006
    Exploring the corridors after dark

    Our Halloween Drabble Contest returns for its fourth year, but with a twist; we want longer submissions! So, this time, we're stretching the word "drabble" to mean 2000 words. Send us your tales of terror for a chance to have your story read aloud on Audiofictions and receive a magical prize pack full of Harry Potter costume pieces valued at $90 from!

    • Story length cannot exceed 2000 words
    • Story must be Halloween-themed
    • This episode will add sound effects to the winning submission(s); keep this in mind when writing
    • Original characters are permitted, but the focus of the story must be on canon characters
    • No song lyrics for copyright purposes
    • Keep ratings at or below 3rd-5th Years, with minimal warnings
    • If you are able, have your story overviewed by a beta to avoid spelling/grammar issues (this is a preference more than a requirement)
    • Post your completed story as a response to this thread; you are not required to submit it to the main site, although you are permitted to do so
    • One entry per person
    • All stories must be submitted by 11 PM (MST) on Saturday, October 5th
    • Submit your story by posting it in this thread. When submitting, include the below information preceding the story in the following format:
      [B]Title:[/B] [B][U]Paste Title Here[/U][/B]
      [B]Author:[/B] (Your screen name and/or your real name: what you put is what we will credit you as in the episode)
      [B]Summary:[/B] [I]Paste Summary Here[/I]
    • Winner(s) will be selected by Audiofictions’s MerMuggle reader team
    • For winning, your story will be read aloud, with sound effects, and credited to you by a MerMuggle reader in the 2013 Halloween episode of Audiofictions
    • The winner will receive a Potter-themed costume prize pack from, including a Gryffindor adult robe, tie, scarf and wand, all valued at $90!

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  9. #19
    Seventh Year Hufflepuff
    minnabird's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2009

    Title: Voices from Beyond the Veil
    Author: minnabird
    Warnings: Suicide, Character Death, Mild Profanity
    Ratings: 3rd-5th years
    Summary: It's Halloween night - the night when the veil between this world and the next is thinnest. Deep below the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries, Millicent Bulstrode might finally find some answers about her former partner.

    It was the hundred and twelfth day of rain in Millicent Bulstrode’s office. Not because she had angered Magical Maintenance, but because she had requested it. The sky through the single window was an angry grey-purple, lightning flashing soundlessly in the clouds. It cast a flickering, bluish light over the office, otherwise unlit except for a small oil lamp on Millicent’s desk.

    The desk across from hers was empty, dust fuzzing the dark wood. She had cleared it herself the same day she’d requested rain. The qualifications for Unspeakables were even more stringent than those for Aurors - it would probably be a while before someone new came to fill it. Millicent was glad of that.

    As she gathered a roll of parchment and the Dictaquill, her eyes lingered on the desk, her mind wandering again to the past.

    * * *

    “I’ve got something!” Justin bustled over to his desk, spreading bits of paper across his desk. Millicent got up to look, her interest piqued. Some was the thick parchment and scrawling script she was used to; some of the papers were flat and bright white, the ink of the printed letters oddly shiny. She picked one up and looked at the heading.

    “Electronic Voice Phenomena?” she asked, looking up at Justin. “You know electronics don’t work here.”

    “No, but listen.” Justin’s brown eyes were level, a depth of seriousness in them that told Millicent he’d thought this over before bringing it to her. “When I was watching my cousin’s kid, he put on the telly, and there was a program about ghosts. They used an electronic recording device to pick up the voices of whatever spirits were haunting the place - voices speaking in a frequency human hearing couldn’t pick up. It was probably fabricated - those sorts of programs are really meant to entertain - but it got me thinking. I looked into it.” He gestured to the paper Millicent held. “It’s fringe science at best in the Muggle world, but they don’t know ghosts are real. I was thinking...why don’t we try it?”

    “Electronics,” Millicent pointed out again.

    Justin’s serious look dissolved into a smile. “Well, obviously not using electronics. Let me finish.” He sorted through the papers and handed her a cutting. “Dictaquills. They pick up whatever’s said in a room and record it, right?”

    She glanced down at the parchment, a catalogue listing. “Yes…”

    “They pick it up even where a person might not catch every word?”

    “Do they?”

    Justin nodded. “I tested one in the Leaky Cauldron on a Saturday night. It picked up several conversations I could never have separated out.”

    Millicent took a deep breath. She could see where this was heading. “You want to test it in the Death Chamber. On those whispers from the Veil, the ones no one can quite understand.” She met his eyes, goosebumps breaking out on her arms. “This might work.”

    * * *

    After seven months on this project, four of them without Justin, she had gleaned little of use. A word here and there, never more than two or three in a row. She remembered the breathless wonder the first time she had watched the Dictaquill lurch into motion. By now it was wearing thin. Still, she persevered; that she was getting anything at all was of immense interest to the Department of Mysteries, and the experiment would have continued with or without her. She had been adamant: with Justin gone, this project was hers.

    Millicent glanced up at her bulletin board, filled with jotted notes. One stood out, no notes pinned within two inches of it. On it was a single word: Goodbye.

    She turned away, her jaw clenching, and left the office. Tonight was Halloween, and even the Department of Mysteries was nearly empty. But Croaker stood waiting for her, hunched and ancient though he was. Death was not his line of study, but he need not do much.

    He nodded in greeting, and his dark eyes swept over her. He had seen so much in a long career down here that such a glance seemed to penetrate far below the surface of her appearance. But Millicent was used to such looks; she merely nodded back and turned to look down at the Veil, waiting at the bottom of the tiers of stone benches.

    * * *

    “How can you stand it, Mill?” Justin asked one night as they sat in their office looking over their findings. His hair, usually so neat, was in disarray; he’d been pushing his fingers through it. It was starting to go grey a little at the temples, she noticed. When had that happened? “Day after day, year after year, and we’re coming no closer to any real answers.”

    “That’s what this job is,” Millicent said.

    “No, it isn’t. It’s trying for real answers, and sometimes getting them, but most of the time wasting your life looking and getting nothing.” Justin looked up at her. “I thought this was going to tell us something. I really did, that first time the quill started moving. But all we’re getting is rubbish. Fragments, and not even ones we can put together to make something.”

    He didn’t bring it up again, but Millicent watched him after that, and saw the signs of strain. Sometimes this happened to Unspeakables. Some got drawn deeper and deeper into their studies until they lost themselves in the pursuit of answers. Some simply left, leaving that chunk of their lives behind. She didn’t much like either idea.

    * * *

    “You think tonight will be a good night,” Croaker said, his voice soft, reminding Millicent of the rustle of pages.

    “The whispers have always been strongest on Halloween night,” she said. “Going all the way back to the first records from the Death Chamber.” She glanced at Croaker, and he inclined his head, looking thoughtful. No reply came, so she started the climb down the stone steps. Croaker came behind her, wheezing slightly.

    They walked all the way to the dais where the Veil stood. Also on the dais, there was a chair with chains wrapped around the arms. Beside it was a spindly table. Millicent stepped up and settled into the chair, setting the parchment and Dictaquill on the table. Croaker joined her on the dais, checking that her arms were lined up properly on the chair arms. At a flick of his wand, the chains twined around her wrists, holding them firmly in place.

    “Thank you,” Millicent said.

    Croaker met her eyes for a moment. “I will return for you in a few hours’ time.” Millicent nodded, and he turned and left. She waited until she heard the door click shut to whisper a command. The Dictaquill leapt into the air, ready to record whatever was said, and trembled, as if on the verge of writing something.

    “Hello,” Millicent said. The whispers from the Veil, already audible, grew louder at the sound of her voice, and she heard the quill scratching across the parchment. She looked to see what it had written.




    She’d never seen so many words at once, so quickly. Even as she watched, more words formed: Listen; love you. But a shiver crawled down her spine at the next word: Mill.

    * * *

    The day Justin failed to show up for work, Millicent went to Croaker to see if he’d perhaps owled in sick. Croaker had only frowned at her, and she had hidden her sudden fear behind an impassive face. It was unlike Justin, sure, but he hadn’t quite been himself lately. She settled into work she could do on her own, indexing their findings.

    It was when she received an owl late that night from Ernie Macmillan that she truly began to panic. None of Justin’s friends had heard from him, and Ernie had gone round to check on him and found his flat empty and his bed not slept in. Did she know where he was?

    She took the Floo to the Ministry immediately and ran through the corridors, through the round Entrance Chamber, through the Death Chamber, and into their office. A search of his desk found nothing, and on an impulse she went back into the darkened amphitheatre. She glanced down at the dais, and frowned. There was something on the table.

    She went down the steps, her heart in her throat, and mounted the dais. On the table, she found a paperweight from Justin’s desk and, underneath it, a small square of parchment bearing a single word: Goodbye.

    * * *

    Millicent stared at the parchment, her breathing harsh in her ears. The quill kept scribbling.

    Speak. Connection.

    “Justin,” she said.


    The whispers seemed to have faded a little, except for the one thread, as if the dead who waited for her had stepped back, or been pushed back, to let Justin speak. She found herself drawn to the Veil as never before, straining for the sound of Justin’s voice.

    “Why?” she asked. “Why did you go through?”

    Had to see. Beyond.

    “And lose your life?” Her voice rose, surprisingly loud in the heavy air of that room.


    Millicent stared at the parchment, the words blurring as tears came to her eyes. She blinked furiously to make them go away. “Can you at least tell me what you found?” she asked, her voice hard, almost angry.

    No words.

    “Look how bloody useless that stupid plunge was! You can’t even tell me what you found! Just what were you trying to prove?” Millicent clenched her fists. If he was alive - if he wasn’t speaking to her from Death’s kingdom - she might have strangled him herself. He hadn’t seen his friends’ faces at the funeral. He wasn’t the one who had been asked to explain why he had done what he’d done, when she didn’t have the answers herself.

    He wasn’t the one staring at the Veil that had taken his partner day after day.

    Wasn’t trying to prove, the quill wrote. Wanted to know.

    Millicent had no words for him. None that weren’t full of anger or hurt, anyway, and what could he do to fix them? Even the Department of Mysteries accepted that there was no way back from death that wouldn’t produce a twisted, hollow semblance of life.

    The quill scrawled two words: Speak. Connection.

    She supposed he couldn’t form words as well without the connection of a living voice to latch onto. They had theorized as much before. But she had no words.

    Or perhaps she did.

    “Goodbye, Justin,” she said, looking at the Veil rather than the parchment. The quill scratched beside her, and when she looked, she saw a single, familiar word:


    * * *

    The next day, Millicent handed in her resignation. Croaker looked up from the parchment to her, his eyes solemn. “If you wish to return, you need only send me a letter. I hate to see such a good researcher go.”

    “I may,” she said. “But for now, I need a break.” She’d seen and heard of too many Unspeakables broken by their studies. She needed time to deal with what Justin had done before she returned to work.

    Croaker only smiled at her a little, startling her. He rarely smiled. “You know your limits,” he said. “A valuable trait. I hope to see you return.”

    “So do I,” she said, offering him an awkward smile, and turned to go. She walked through the Time Room, among the ticking clocks, took a last glance at the strange symmetry of the Entrance Chamber, and then she left the Department of Mysteries for what might be the last time. When she finally reached the street outside the Ministry, she lifted her face to the sun. She had pursued Death for too many years; for now, it was time to pursue life.
    Last edited by Lupinpatronus; 10-31-2013 at 09:21 AM.

  10. #20
    Queen of Foals Slytherin
    Kill the Spare
    the opaleye's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2009

    Title: In The Gloaming
    Author: the opaleye
    Warnings: none
    Ratings: 1st-2nd years
    Summary: The moors are not a pretty place to be on a cold, windy Halloween night. For Theodore Nott, nothing is as it seems.

    He stares up at the blushing sky. It is early evening, and the ground outside the pub is a stinking, muddy mess from rain that very afternoon. As the sun sets, it sends strange fractures of light across the moors. He shouldn’t be here, he really shouldn’t be here, but Theodore Nott hasn’t belonged anywhere for a while now.

    The moment he’d stepped back into Malfoy Manor barely an hour ago, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last the night. Perhaps it was the ridiculously gothic decorations, or Astoria’s terrible vampire costume that she’d prepared for him, or the way Draco winked when telling him about the lovely witch he’d arranged as Theo’s date. For pity’s sake, really?

    He’d always hated Halloween as a child, but the last few years had been fun. The last few years had been more than fun despite his father being sent to Azkaban, despite his difficulty finding employment as the son of a known Death Eater, even despite his inheritance being seized by the Ministry to investigate all the dark artifacts belonging to the Nott estate. And this was the first year since all those fun years, the first Halloween since all those fun Halloweens. The first Halloween without Susan Bones.

    The pub is busy, and people push past him coming and going. He can hear laughter and shouts, arguments and clinking glasses, a wife nagging her husband, and a particularly bad rendition of Celestina Warbeck’s latest hit. To a Muggle it would look like any other costume party but it’s really just a wizarding pub full of the usual old hags and warlocks that like to frequent it. This was where they’d met. He and Susan. He thought it might be nice to come back, stay the night here like they had three years ago, rub her absence from his life into his skin even further… but the sky is blushing and the mud smells and apparently the rooms are all full. Maybe he should have stayed at Malfoy Manor. Maybe he should just go home.

    He’s about to Apparate back to his flat when the publican gives a hoarse, “Oi!” through the open door.

    “There’s a small cottage five miles up the road if yer really want it,” the old man says, coming to stand outside with him. His teeth are yellow and there are several missing. Theo isn’t quite sure what to make of him. The light is growing dim and the man’s eyes look black and hollow, his grin almost malicious in the dying day, but perhaps Theo’s had one too many Firewhiskies already. “Had a grisly murder up there not twenty years past so it don’t get many visitors, but yer welcome to take it for the night… or more.”

    Theo imagines himself sitting in his flat−alone again−looking at the pictures on the walls, the empty couch, the single mug of tea on the kitchen bench. Dealing with a slightly inebriated Draco when he eventually Floos in an effort to drag Theo back to that infernal party. Theo stares up once more at the blushing sky and briefly wonders what tonight means to Susan now.

    Grisly murder, eh? Who cares? It’s Halloween, after all. Brushing off the uneasiness he feels at the old man’s leering smile, Theo nods.

    “One night, then. How much?”

    It’s not until he’s walking back out of the pub after settling his bill in advance that he sees her. Her face is covered in a black veil, and she is slim, her hands young and pale. Black lace covers her arms right up to her neck. She sits by the door as if waiting for him, and when he reaches out to open the door into the rising night, her fingers grip his wrist, cold and hard.


    Her voice is so soft, so low, that he wonders if she even said anything at all.

    “I beg your pardon?” he asks, trying to wrench away his hand.

    “Stay. Don’t go.”

    He’s about to argue, about to ask her who she thinks she is when her grip loosens, and she stands without another word. He watches her walk towards the toilets in the back. There is something unsettling about her, something so familiar that he can feel it tripping along his tongue like a long-lost name he cannot remember. And then she is gone.

    The sun is gone too. There is a cold drizzle outside that sweeps across his cheeks in the shrieking wind. He walks quickly across the moors in the direction the publican pointed out towards the cottage. His wand sends shafts of light across his path, broken in the misty spittle like wisps of smoke. Clouds shield the moon so all around him is nothing but the dark.

    His cloak whips to and fro, and for the first time in a year Theo laughs, thinking about how ridiculous he must look in this flipping vampire costume walking across a moor like some godforsaken banshee-lover. Professor Snape! He must look like Snape. That makes him laugh even harder, like the other students used to when their Head of House flapped past them all bat-like and sour in the dungeons.

    But Snape is dead. Snape is dead and so is… Suddenly--dreadfully--Theo is no longer laughing.

    The cottage is nestled, empty and derelict, amongst a sea of long, sweeping grass. He can no longer see the glinting light of the pub in the distance and there is nothing else for miles, just black grey moor stretching out in every direction. He fumbles with his wand, slipping it back into his cloak when the door finally opens with a click. A rush of cold air hits him. It smells musty and damp, and just as usual, Theo feels utterly and hopelessly alone.

    “Stay. Don’t go.” He hears her voice again, feels the ghost of a grip around his wrist.

    It’s with a jolt that he recognises the woman’s hands, the lilting gait of her walk, the soft low voice that he hasn’t heard for nearly a year. The door slams behind him with a shuddering crack that goes right through him.

    He jumps, tears leaping into his eyes, and he pulls at the door, trying to open it, trying to run back into the night and to the pub and to Susan. Oh! To Susan! He is sobbing now, hard and loud, just like the laughter not minutes before.

    It cannot be Susan. It’s been a year, nearly a whole year. She’s gone, gone like Snape, gone gone gone.

    But it was her hand. It was her voice. Or was it the drink playing tricks on him again? No, no, he felt her, he really felt her, and it doesn’t matter if the publican was strange, no, no it doesn’t matter at all. And it doesn’t matter if Susan is dead because it was definitely, most certainly her and he has to go back! He has to get back to her!

    Theo pats his pockets desperately. He needs light, he needs to unlock this flipping door, he needs to leave behind this dirty shack and return to Susan. But his wand is gone. It can’t be. He had to have lost it out on the moors, but he’s sure he used it to unlock the front door just now. Where on earth is it? He needs light. He needs his wand. He needs Susan. He needs light. He needs his wand. He needs Susan.

    Theo screams in frustration. “I NEED LIGHT!”

    Out of the darkness, someone hands him a match.
    Last edited by Lupinpatronus; 10-31-2013 at 09:22 AM.

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