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Thread: April challenge ~ we are proud to present ~

  1. #41
    Gwen Evens
    Name: Gwen Evans
    House: Gryff
    Character Used: Sirius Black
    Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th, Language
    Lyric used: It doesn't matter if we never meet again, / What we have said will always remain.
    Word Count: 320
    A/N: This was impossibly hard for me to write . thank you to Caroline for betaing and hope you enjoy.

    Chapter 6 The Order Begins Again

    It doesn't matter if we never meet again~

    “Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd." (HP Goblet of Fire)


    Sirius was running on all fours through a dark woods somewhere in the highlands of Scotland towards an old shack on the outskirts of the next valley, where Remus was staying for the moment. He was near exhaustion, having to Apparate... How many times? He had lost count.This time he had Apparated outside the forest and decided to run the rest of the way because he really did not wish to splinch himself sence he had never been here before.

    Finally, he arrived and Remus opened the door.


    Sirius was siting on the couch warming himself by the fire. Remus was looking at him, concerned, and it was getting on Sirius’ nervous. “What?” he barked at Remus.

    “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question.

    “Well, Hell I am! He’s my godson, and I had to make him go back to those... people, and after all he has been through...”

    “I now but, Dumbledore...”

    “Dumbledore, Shmunledor. Damn it, Moony, I can’t just leave him there.”

    “Padfoot,..” Remus began again.

    “I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that it feels a bit like Lily and James died for Harry just so, that Voldemort would . . . would. . wo. .” Sirius’s voice cracked; the grief that had plagued him ever since Lily and James’ death poured out once-more in tears. Remus squeezed his shoulder and Sirius looked up to see tears in his eyes.

    “I miss them too, Sirius. I miss them too. But we have to remain strong for them, for Harry.”

    “Yes, you are right Remus, you are right.” At that Sirius leaned back and closed his eyes, falling into a sleep full of good times and happy memories. For the first time in a long time, Sirius smiled in his sleep.

    ~What we have said will always remain
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 04-27-2012 at 05:05 PM.

  2. #42
    Fifth Year Gryffindor
    I See Dead People... In Mirrors
    lucca4's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2010
    With Teddy <3
    Name: Ariana/lucca4
    House: Gryffindor
    Character Used: Bellatrix Black
    Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th years; violence/sexual situations/slash/profanity
    Lyric used:
    'For knowing that someone in this life,
    Loves with a passion called hate.'

    Word Count: 499
    A/N: Loved this prompt! <3

    When Bellatrix kisses men, it is full of sharp edges and perfunctory movements. She closes her eyes and smiles because she can taste their want on her tongue, feel the sweat on the nape of their necks, and know that she is in control (no matter that it feels like she is kissing a lamppost).

    When Bellatrix kisses
    her it is much different – soft (but not gentle), urgent (and it makes her heart race), warm (uncomfortably so).

    Bellatrix can’t stand the girl and her mousy brown hair and haughty red smile and the way she seems to bubble to the brim with self-righteousness (— and perhaps, she hates the way they are in every way so much alike, and yet so strikingly different).

    But she loves the taste of hesitation – so different than the blind desire of men.

    She loves that the girl leaves and washes every inch of her skin where Bellatrix’s lips touched and can’t fall asleep because of the guilt.

    And she loves that it’s the kind of thing that burns hot and bright for a few moments and then fizzles and sizzles and burns out.

    The kind of thing that’s so wrong it feels right.

    It’s beautiful, in a way, to watch the buildings crumble – the slow and dusty collapse of brick and concrete into a pile of rubble. The screams of the men and women are covered by the roar of brick (and so is Bellatrix’s laugh, though she can still feel the hum in her chest).

    The eyes of the Order members burn with rage.

    A bright purple jet of light grazes the side of her arm.

    A battle has begun, and Bellatrix’s heart is pounding because she knows it is one that they will not lose.

    They cannot lose.

    Rodolphous is firing curses at lightning speed behind her (protecting her, he probably thinks, but Bellatrix doesn’t need to be protected).

    And one by one, she watches their opponents fall.

    It is then that Bellatrix spots her – one of the few strugglers who hasn’t fallen.

    She’s kneeling down beside the rubble and tears are falling down her cheeks and her hands are caressing the face of a man buried beneath the bricks. She looks up as Bellatrix approaches.

    “Bella, don’t do this,” she begs hoarsely.

    Her tone irks Bellatrix.

    “I killed him,” Bellatrix says, and the words pierce a perfect hole in the silence. She raises her wand.

    “I have a son. I have a f*cking son!”

    “If you’re lucky, he won’t live long enough to know what a little wh*re his mummy was.” Bellatrix grazes the woman’s lips with the tip of her wand. “Are you going to fight me, darling?”

    She stands and watches Bellatrix with soulless blue eyes.

    They fight.

    Bellatrix slits her throat and stands and waits until the blood is a dark purple colour.

    When she kisses the woman’s lips they are cold and stiff and Bellatrix can’t remember being so unsatisfied with a kiss in her life.

    Thank you to Hokey for the beautiful banner. And thank you to everyone who nominated and judged --I'm so grateful to you <3.

  3. #43
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    using rare and complicated words


    And here we are; the final journey of our mini gauntlet.

    And here's the prompt.


    Your character must be affected by a memory. A memory so strong it makes them act in an uncharacteristic manner. It might only be a momentary blip, it might set them on a different path altogether - that is up to you. (they don't have to use the actual Pensieve, but you may include it if you wish)

    Usual rules apply, my barflies.

    PHP Code:
    B]Character Used:[/B]
    B]Word Count:[/B]
    All drabbles must be between 300-500 words. This thread will close next Sunday 29th April at 8pm GMT.

    Good Luck.

    ~Madam Carmerta~

    (set slightly early as I have to run off for a while. The week three thread will close late at around 9.30/10 ish - barmaids need to cook occasionally.)
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 04-27-2012 at 09:21 PM.

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  4. #44
    Seventh Year Gryffindor
    First Brush With A Dementor

    Join Date
    Mar 2009
    Name: Kara
    House: Gryffindor
    Character Used: Lucius Malfoy
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st/2nd
    Lyric used: B - 'For knowing that someone in this life,
    Loves with a passion called hate.'
    Word Count: 483
    A/N: This is not my best work, but at least I made it!

    A newborn child. If anything is a symbol for hope, for joy, surely that must be it.

    That is why we smiled through the party. It is what is expected of us. We have a healthy child, a son at that. What can I ask for when I have an heir? But after they all have left, I look at Narcissa, and she averts her gaze. The mask she has put on for our visitors fades, and all that is left is emptiness.

    How can I love our son when he will always stand as a reminder for the other child that we lost? How can he bring joy when the woman I love has barely smiled since she brought him home from the hospital?

    Of course it is unfair towards the child. I don’t want to hate my only son. But all I can think of is how much I love Narcissa, and that because of what this boy represents, I might never be able to make her smile again.

    She often sits by his cot now, in the nursery, and just looks at him. Her back is always towards the door as her long, delicate fingers play with the owls on the mobile above Draco’s head. I never enter. If I disturb her, her attention will be on me, and I just don’t know how to help her anymore. I thought it was money that would ultimately determine whether I was a good husband and father. I would give every last Knut away if I knew how to make her happy.

    The nursery is painted blue, with the pink tendrils Narcissa wished for. She added them herself; it kept her occupied for one afternoon. I can see her sitting in there again, on her chair beside the cot as always. She has her wand in her hand and is making three beautiful silver lights dance in front of her. There is a small blubber and something resembling a laugh from within the cot, and I realise that Draco is awake. I feel a sudden stab at my heart. How can I love him?

    For the first time, I step into the nursery, carefully and silently. I don’t know yet if I want her to notice me. But my steps take me to the cot, and before I know what I’m doing, she is right in front of me.

    She still doesn’t see me though. Her eyes are on our son as he laughs and reaches for the silver orbs.

    She is smiling.

    Suddenly, it all becomes clear. This small, tiny child is not what is causing her grief. Draco is all that is still keeping her going. He makes her smile.

    He’s the only hope that’s left. For her. For us. And one day, possibly, he will have given her enough happiness that I can make her smile again as well.
    This completely gorgeous banner, which makes me happier than a squirrel, was made by Hokey

  5. #45
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    using rare and complicated words
    Posting for hestiajones whose internet connection has been hit in a Nargle attack. But they failed to seal off the old email portal - Mwahahahhahhhahahahhahahah.

    Name: hestiajones
    House: HUFFLEPUFF!
    Character Used: Albus Dumbledore
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd yr; None
    Lyric used:
    'For knowing that someone in this life,
    Loves with a passion called hate.'
    Word Count: 360

    It was quite late in the evening when Albus reached The Hog’s Head. The clientele was as colourful as ever: drunken, rough looking wizards who could barely string two words together, an old witch who had silvery grey hair that fell to the ground, a few young men who were gambling with Gobstones, their voices filling up the air with much shouting and swearing. Perusing all of them under two greying, bushy eyebrows, was the barman.

    “Good evening, Aberforth,” Albus wished him.

    The barman frowned in reply. He didn’t seem very pleased to see Albus there. “What brings you here?”


    Aberforth’s bright blue eyes didn’t waver as he appraised Albus’ answer. Albus, on his part, took a stool, and folding his hands on the desk, politely waited.

    “What do you want?”

    “A pint of mead would be incredibly nice.”

    With a gruff nod, Aberforth turned away. Albus twiddled his thumbs as he waited; the faint hum emanating from his throat was lost in the noise of the crowd. A pint of mead was plonked without ceremony in front of him within seconds. He gave the barman a gracious bow which was duly ignored. There was no further conversation.

    Later, when it was time to leave, he put three Galleons on the counter and got up to leave, but his wrist was pinned to the wood by a firm hand.

    “Your drink,” said Aberforth, “cost less than that.”

    They stared at each other, and Albus was the first to break away. He pulled one of the three gold coins back with his finger. “My mistake,” he murmured with a smile.

    Aberforth let him go. As Albus turned to leave, he heard two distinct clinks issuing from his pocket. “Your change,” he heard the barman explain.

    Albus closed his eyes.

    “You weren’t the only stubborn one in the family, Albus,” Aberforth continued. “You ought to know by now that I will never need you or your particular brand of familial love.”

    A faint nod was the only response he returned. You’re right as always, my brother, he thought before the thought itself could be lost to the unsympathetic night. You are.

    Will close at 10pm - barflies!
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 04-22-2012 at 10:23 PM.

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  6. #46
    Name: Sorayers
    House: Ravenclaw
    Character Used: James Potter
    Ratings/Warnings: Violence
    Lyric used: A — 'It doesn't matter if we never meet again, What we have said will always remain.'
    Word Count:457
    A/N:This is crap. And written in about an hour. Fair warning, lol. Oh, and also, the asterisks (*) are the bits taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 17, I think. Which I of course do not own. Finally, thanks to Alex for betaing!

    James takes a deep breath, trying not to let his annoyance from a few minutes ago get the better of him as he amuses his son, producing coloured smoke with his wand. He tries to laugh along with Harry, but it is difficult when he is tense as a guitar string, ready to snap at any moment. Harry babbles away at him while trying to catch the smoke, oblivious to the argument his parents have just had, and James envies his son, envies the state of blissful ignorance Harry is always in.

    Sighing, James wonders why — why Voldemort is so intent on targeting his son, of all the children in the world, and not anyone else. Yes, it is entirely selfish of James to think in such a way, but he can’t help it. Especially when Harry, of course, is too young to understand how much danger he is in, or the reason he hasn’t been outside in months, or why his parents never allow him out of sight, even for a second.

    The sitting room door opens with a creak, and Lily comes in, an uncharacteristically timid look on her face.

    “Are you... angry at me?” she asks after a moment. “Look, James, I’m sorry...”

    “I’m not angry with you,” he replies. “But you know how I feel all cooped up here, Lily.”

    “It’s for Harry’s safety...” she begins to say.

    “I know it is,” James says patiently. “And yours.”

    “You as well,” Lily reminds him. She checks her watch. “I think it’s time for his next feed.”

    “Lily... you know I love you, right?” James says to his wife quietly, picking their son up and handing him to her. “You and Harry... you two are all that matters to me.” Then he throws his wand on the sofa and stands up.

    She smiles. “Yeah, James, I—”


    Without a second thought, he runs into the hallway, and the sight of the man before him — with his menacing smile and eyes which are mere slits on his face — is horribly familiar. They stare at each other, and James can’t quite believe his shock.

    They’ve been betrayed.

    And James is going to die.

    “Lily, take Harry and GO*!” James shouts, unable to look away from Voldemort, fumbling for his wand and then cursing when he remembers it is in the sitting room still. “Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!*”

    This can’t be happening. No.

    It is like his worst nightmare, but a hundred times worse because it is real. Voldemort slowly advances on James, wand raised, and the last thing James sees before he is blinded by the flash of green light is not the red eyes of his killer, but his beautiful family, safe from everything.

  7. #47
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    using rare and complicated words

    Thank youuuuuuuuuuu

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  8. #48
    Gwen Evens
    Username: Gwen Evens
    House: Gryffindor
    Word Count: 472
    Rating/Warning: 3rd-5th year/ None
    Yes, I got the named from The Lucky One the movie (film)that is coming out in theaters in the USA. Thank you to my lovely beta Alice and this experience was amazing hope to do it again soon.

    Chapter 3-5 The Lucky One

    Sirius woke up with a jerk and shocked himself. As he came to, he could hear the cries of his “cell mates.” Again Sirius woke and sat straight up. He was in a cave deep in the Forbidden Forest, hiding from the Dementors. In the distance he could he a wolf cry: a werwolf? Sirius fell out of bed, waking up in midair, panting, sweat pouring down his face and dripping off his nose. As he calmed down, his breathing remained shaky. He hated nightmares, and this one had been one of the worst. He dared not close his eyes for fear of a relapse. It was as if he had fallen into a Pensieve, reliving nightmare after nightmare. Sirius was curled into a ball, still shaking; he could still hear and see everything from Lily and James's bodies to Snape’s taunting face when he almost was to be fed to the Dementors.

    His head was playing games with him and he wanted out. He yelled but quickly covered his mouth - too late, as footsteps resounded, running up the stairs. A few minutes later, Remus was in the room next to him, looking beyond worried.


    Remus looked down at his friend. He had never in his life seen Sirius like this. He had always been the first to make a joke out of something, the first to laugh, but never hid in fear or terror. Yet there he was, on the floor in a complete mess and for the first time Remus realized what a toll Azkaban had had on his friend. And, according to Sirius, he had been LUCKY?

    Sirius couldn’t smile or even say anything; he was still too scared. He was stunned. Harry looked so much like James that now his brain was playing tricks on him. But that wasn’t the worst part; he kept waking up in the dreams to a new dream that he was starting to have trouble making out reality and that scared him the most. Was he going insane or something? Like Azkaban hadn’t made him crazy enough.

    He had been lucky in a-lot-of things including the fact that he was alive when he should be dead. Luck, right; sometimes he just wished he could die but then he would remember Harry. Blinking, he slowly came to; he looked up at Remus and smiled, saying, “Ol’ Prongs would have had a field day about this.”

    Remus chucked and added, “And he would have made sure you never forgot it.”

    Sirius let out his bark of a laugh and smiled at the image of James imitating him in a humorous manor yet knowing that ifJames had teased him, he would have done it in a way that would in turn make him feel good and that was one of the thing he missed the most.

  9. #49
    Name: Aida
    House: Badgers!
    Character Used: Albus Dumbledore
    Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th, mentions of slash
    Lyric used: ... no lyrics this week
    Word Count: 406
    A/N: Thank you for the fun competition barmaids. I'll be trying to put my drabbles into a one shot. Drabble is partially inspired by the discussion of smut.

    One of the benefits of aging is that people no longer ask him when he’s finally going to settle down with some nice girl and bring the next generation of Dumbledores to Hogwarts. Now that he is old, people believe that he is functionally asexual or that he, like a priest, has given up earthly desires for some higher calling.

    For the most part, they are correct. He gave up romance when he was eighteen and devoted himself to Hogwarts, to the education of the young minds who would solve the next great problems of the world. He curbed his youthful ambition under a strong yoke of hard work and devotion. He locked up all his desires under his need to serve, his need to try and absolve his sins.

    Now that he is old, it is easier to be alone. He has good friends, trusted colleagues he can rely upon, and he doesn’t ask for more than that.

    But for all that, he is still a man. Sometimes, he can’t help himself.

    He is walking in Diagon Alley on his way to Gringott’s, when he catches a glimpse of barely tamed golden curly hair. For a moment, he is transported back to the summer of 1899. One afternoon, he had stared at Gellert’s hair for so long, that it left after images in his eyes. His hair was spun gold, the most brilliant blonde he had ever seen. Gellert was all light, all fire, uncontrollable, everything that he had wanted, had needed after growing up in a household filled with secrets, where everything always had to be strictly controlled. A ready smile, bright blue eyes, and an even more brilliant mind... he had loved Gellert from the start.

    He follows the golden hair through the crowd not knowing why. His blood is pounding in his head, in his ears, in his chest. It’s throbbing. He can’t tell anything about the owner, not even whether the person is male or female. He is walking away from Gringott’s. He is supposed to go to Gringott’s. He forces himself to stop. Whoever he is following is not Gellert. Even if he catches up to whoever they are, what is he supposed to say? “Your hair reminded me of my long lost love, and I had to follow you?”

    He forces himself to take a deep breath. He watches the hair fade into the crowd, and then turns around.

  10. #50
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    using rare and complicated words
    Results - Week 1

    Okay, this was blooming difficult. Not only were there sixteen drabbles to read, you all gave your characters excellent fears that they had to face. I was particularly impressed with the characterisation here - so YAY!

    Unfortunately I had to pick a winner and a second place, and here they are.

    (and I just realised that I never gave you a space on the form for a title - ooops)

    First Place -hestiajones - Hufflepuff. - 10 points (+ 5 for participation)

    Natalie's drabble was an excellent insight in Albus' worst fear. Yes, we know this from the books, but Natalie also weaved a great story and reason why Dumbledore tells Harry he sees thick socks in the Mirror of Erised.

    Second Place - acaciacarter - Hufflepuff - 5 points (+ 5 for participation)
    Poor Neville. Jamie's characterisation here was also excellent. The fact that he had to face the man he was scared of every week for so many years, and yet had the realisation at the end that the anticipation was the worst part, summed up Neville to a tee.

    Honourable mentions (but sadly no extra points ) for Weasley Mom for her drabble about Neville, and LollyLovesick for her story about Pansy.

    Well done, everyone. This was tough.


    (I will be totting up points at the end, barflies.)

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