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Thread: The Scheme Unveiled

  1. #1
    MithrilQuill
    Guest

    The Scheme Unveiled

    The Scheme Unveiled

    *drumroll*


    There’s a thread that contains the best drabbles some of our talented authors have some out with. They were submitted by the authors themselves or others that really loved them over the past couple of weeks. It’s been renamed The Eternal Glory thread… (because I’m getting really unoriginal like that…)


    Those Drabbles will not receive points and no winners will be chosen, but we’re now going to put them to good use.


    Your challenge is to take any of these drabbles (not your own) that really moved you for some reason or another or one that you really liked and write a “drabble response” to it…


    The response can be a continuation of the events, an alternate theory where you show what you think is more likely to happen in a situation like the one described in the drabble, or even an attempt to try a new style or literary tool that you felt the author of that drabble used very well. Your aim is to try and touch the readers of your drabble somehow, all in five hundred words!


    When this thread begins to fill up a little more you can use some of the drabbles in here to respond to as well.


    Points will be awarded for any Drabbles that show a good effort etc. (ie no official "winners" or anything)


    Please use the following form for submissions:


    Name:
    House:
    Title:
    Drabble you’re responding to: (title and original author)
    Why? (what inspired you to respond to it, what did you like most about it, etc)
    Warnings:
    Words:



    I hope you all have loads of fun with this. Also, let me know(in the Questions thread please) if you have any suggestion or if you just liked this idea, because as some of you may have guessed this is a pilot trial for something else I’ve been planning for a while.

    *hugs*

  2. #2
    Sly Severus
    Guest
    I decided to try a continuation of one of the wonderful drabbles in the Eternal Glory thread.

    Name: Sly Severus
    House: Slytherin
    Title: One of Them
    Drabble you’re responding to: Her Eyes by hansolohpfrk
    Why? I loved this drabble. I was drawn into Narcissa's pain and the OC was handled very well.
    Warnings: None
    Words: 499 (I had to crop it )


    My eyes locked with his pale blue ones. Narcissa had spoken the truth; he had her eyes. There was no denying who he was. The look way he looked at me caused my heart to break. His eyes held the same fear and despair that I had seen in hers the last time I spoke to her—when she realized that it was over.

    We were left alone. The young man remained a safe distance away, clearly unable to trust me. This seemed reasonable. The way Narcissa had spoke, he was taking a big risk just to be out in the opened.

    “I knew her,” I told him, knowing that simply speaking could cause him to flee.

    He said nothing, watching me suspiciously. However, he did not turn to leave. This told me that it was safe to continue.

    “She spoke about you a lot,” I went on. “It was clear how much she loved you. She would be happy to know that you’re safe.”

    “How do you know who I am?” he finally spoke, although suspicion remained etched on his face.

    “You have her eyes.”

    In that moment the mistrust and fear left his pale blue eyes, but it was replaced with something worse—pain and loss. Tears formed in his eyes and he looked away from me as though he was ashamed. I wanted to comfort him, but I was worried that it would finally cause him to run. For some reason, I wanted him to stay—I needed him with me.

    “She was always so proud of that,” he said at last. “She told everyone that I had her eyes. I think it was because other than my eyes, I am a complete replica of my father. She liked to see a part of herself in me. I loved her, but I let her rot in Azkaban while I went free.”

    “That was what she wanted,” I told him. “She loved you. Knowing that you were safe kept her going for a long time.”

    “She didn’t deserve to be in that cell, but I do. It’s not fair.”

    I wanted to keep talking to him. I wanted to help him, but I wasn’t given the chance. Before I could say anything more we were greeted by the sound of heavy footsteps.

    The look of pain and longing was again replaced with fear. He may have felt that he deserved Azkaban, but it was obvious that he was not ready to go there. I was glad. It was the last thing that Narcissa would ever want for her child.

    “Go,” I whispered. “I’ll hold them back.”

    A look of surprise crossed his face, revealing his shock that I would want to help him. Quickly, he mouthed the words, “Thank you,” and then he was gone.

    I smiled as I walked towards the approaching footsteps. Narcissa had been wrong about one thing. There were people who wanted to help her and her son. I was one of them.

    Mithril Says: Nice, 5 points to Slytherin!

  3. #3
    MissPurplePen
    Guest
    Name: MissPurplePen
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Into the Field
    Drabble you’re responding to: Dragon Crazy by Masked One
    Why? I'd never thought of what Charlie's job might be like, or, on another note, what his life in general might be like. I liked the way MO portrayed him, and the humor of the original drabble was just right, without being overbearing. It really investigated Charlie's character, and in such few words, so I was really drawn to it. This is simply continuing what happens after 'Dragon Crazy' ends.
    Warnings: None
    Words: 499

    Into the Field
    All day they’d put me to the beginner jobs; after I’d finished the manure-removal, I’d worked in the labs collecting magical bacteria for the Welsh Green’s scale rot, and then I’d sat through the most agonizing lecture ever written. But not once all day had I been allowed into the field—sure, I got to summon dung for a few hours, but I wasn’t let inside the pens. But I wanted to get in…so badly. I’d heard the dragons’ roars, seen their fiery breath shooting straight into the air. And I wanted to be with them, to see their rage and their beauty, but I couldn’t.

    It was about six-thirty now, and all of us were gathered in the dinner hall. It was less a dinner hall and more of a camp cafeteria, complete with long, rickety wooden tables and a stuffy room temperature. The food was hot, though, and it tasted good, no matter how fooling its appearance was.

    I sat at the farthest table, which ran along a wall of open windows. The night breeze hit me perfectly, hugging me in its cool arms as I dug into the steak-and-kidney pie on my tray. From where I sat I could see streams of fire bursting upward against the black sky.

    Just then someone sat down across from me. I focused on the newcomer: a woman. She had thick, wavy, auburn hair that fell about her shoulders and clear, blue-grey eyes. I glanced at her left wrist and saw a rag tied around it. Hers was yellow, unlike my white one. She’d been here a few years.

    She smiled. She didn’t show her teeth; it was a very nice smile. “You’re a white-rag,” she remarked, taking a swig of butterbeer.

    I nodded. “S’my first day…spent a wondrous time removing manure and listening to Jenkins ramble on for hours. Are all first days like that?”

    She laughed. “For the most part. You won’t get into the field for a few months.” She smiled again; she was very pretty.

    When she looked down and started into her own food, I looked behind her out the windows again. Above one of the pen-walls I saw the tip of a long, black, scaly tail swish upward, shimmering with the reflections of the stars.

    “Let me guess,” she said, apparently noticing the expression of longing my face had undoubtedly taken. “You want to get into the field, right?”

    “Is it that obvious?” I asked, still gazing toward the pens.

    “Everyone does when they first start out,” she said. Then she smiled in a secretive, mischievous way. “You know, not everyone has to wait a few years to get into the pens. If you know the right people, I mean.” She kept her eyes fixed on mine.

    “And what do you mean by that?” I asked, cottoning on.

    She took another swig of butterbeer and stood up. “Meet me outside the kitchen doors at midnight.” And she picked up her tray and walked away.

    Mithril Says: 5 points to Hufflepuff!

  4. #4
    nysuperstarz
    Guest
    Name: Nysuperstarz
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Understanding
    Drabble you’re responding to: Only Us by: mspadfoot89
    Why? I really truly loved it. It was a wonderful piece of work that really just showed Hermione's feelings so well. I really thought it was an awesome piece of work
    Warnings: None
    Words: 274

    Understanding


    I watched her as I lay on the ground, huddled up in a ball, leaning against a tree. It was a cool summer night, quiet and undisturbed. She sat on a rock, the bushes around her engulfing her in shadow. Her head was bent as she wrote something in that journal of hers. Every free moment that she had seemed to be spent writing in that journal. She titled her head deep in thought and continued to write. The war seemed to have taken a toll on her, her forehead was etched with frown lines and her eyes seemed to reflect all the horrors she has seen through the past few months. All because of me. She was strong and I was seeing more and more of that as the war went on. War was a horrible thing but she understands that it sometimes it's the only way. We are all fighting for our rights and others rights, something that we shouldn't have to fight for. Most people just leave at that, but she understands. She understands what this means to me, I guess this means something to her too. We've watched too many human beings murdered ruthlessly right in front of our eyes; they were hopeless, weak and unwilling to fight. No, I will not be like them, I will not be another sad story, another one of those helpless people who have lost the will to fight, who've lost a reason to live. She understands that, she understands me. "You have no idea how much that means to me." I whispered as I closed my eyes to go to sleep.
    *its told from Harry's point of view of the original drabble*

    ~Roop


    5 points to Slytherin!

  5. #5
    Gonz
    Guest
    Name: Gonz
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Alone on Christmas
    Drabble you’re responding to: Black Christmas by Madame Marauder
    Why? I was drawn to this drabble byMadMar's style. I was impressed with how by calling the narrator you, she brought the reader into the drabble and made them emotional involved. I really liked that style and the story so I attempted to tell the tale from Sirius' view using the same style. All the dialogue is MadMar's, and as for the rest, my hope is that I have managed to retain some of the magic of the original in my retelling.
    Warnings: None
    Words: 383
    You are sitting, sitting in a cell; a cell in the most infamous prison in the world. You are thinking, not yelling crazed sayings or shaking in your sleep or wishing that you would die, you are just thinking.

    You are thinking that today should be a day of celebration, a day spent with friends now dead or lost to you. You look and see that you are not the only person stuck in this prison, maybe you’re not the prisoner after all.

    “Merlin,” you say. “You’re stuck here on Christmas too?”

    You see the shocked look on the guard’s face. No surprise, you are not supposed to talk to them. You are supposed to be like everyone else. But you know you’re not. You are innocent. You are trapped in this prison, just like the guard. No, the guard isn’t trapped, the guard can go home. You laugh when you realize this, because that makes your first statement false.

    Still laughing, you continue talking, “But you’ll go home tonight, see your wife… your kids… You know, I have a godson. His name is Harry.”

    You are confusing the guard now, but you don’t care. You need to talk. You need to talk about Harry, your previous godson who you would give the world to see.

    “He’s in an orphanage now, I ‘spect,” you continue, your voice cracking. “Merlin, would I have liked to have adopted him…”

    “Black,” the guard says, finally speaking. “You really shouldn’t be telling me this.”

    “But I want to,” you say softly. “I need to.”

    You can’t really even explain your need to talk, your need for human companionship. You would think that deprived of it for so long that it wouldn’t matter to you anymore, but it does. You watch as the guard leaves to comfort another who will never even notice. You need comfort, can’t they see? You are still sane.

    “I’m not like her, you know,” you say when the guard returns. “I’m not crazy. I am innocent.”

    Your words sound desperate to you and they are. For a second you think that they may have had an affect, but the second passes and the guard leaves. Probably going home, just like you said. Now it’s just you. Alone is how you celebrate your Christmas.

    Mithril Says: Great drabble and nice use of a slightly "different" style, you handled the second person POV very well. 10 points to Hufflepuff!

  6. #6
    phily
    Guest
    Name: Phily
    House: Hufflepuff!
    Title: All too aware
    Drabble you’re responding to: 'Unaware' by Mind Games
    Why? Well, when I read this drabble I found it very powerful. It had an ironic quality to it due to Sirius' oblivious view and at the same time this made it particularly sad to read. Also, as it was in the first person but with a hint of looking back at the situation years later, it allowed a comparisson of the parent/child relationship then to the one of now.
    Warnings: None
    Words: 287


    This is from the point of view of Sirius' mother, and is her take on what Sirius described in Mind Games' drabble. Enjoy!

    We have brought him this far. We have taught him everything he needs to become a credit to our family; the deeply honoured, and greatly respected Blacks.

    We come into sight of the Hogwarts Express, other children crowding the platform. They all look excited, yet sad to leave their families. As I look down at my son I know that I will not fuss. I have not made sandwiches for his journey, nor did fold his clothes neatly into his trunk for him. My son is not to be wrapped in cotton wool all his life, for now he faces his future on his own and I will leave him to do so.

    An apprehensive expression begins to creep into Sirius’ young face. I look to his father to set an example. He stands straight and proud, and in response to my prompting look, he claps a hand on his son’s shoulder. The boy’s back immediately becomes as straight as a ruler. He is now ready to leave.

    “Make us proud,” says his father in an almost commanding manner.

    I just nod in the direction of the scarlet train and he turns to leave. As he reaches the train, he looks back at us. I keep my gaze expressionless, but notice that my husband has already turned his back upon the steam train. Unlike others, we will not show childish emotions in such a public place.

    As I too, slowly walk away from my son, there is no doubt in my mind. No choice was ever given to me, and in turn he must take up the name and reputation of the noble household from which we were raised.

    “There is no way he can falter, now.”
    Phily


    Mithril Says: Great Drabble and a very interesting POV, 10 points to Hufflepuff.

  7. #7
    Sly Severus
    Guest
    I hope it's okay to post again. Points were already awarded for the first entries and I didn't want this to me missed.

    Name: Sly Severus
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Alone
    Drabble you’re responding to: Small Green Dress by AstroFire
    Why? I loved this drabble. I particularly liked the way the relationship between the Black sisters was conveyed.
    Warnings: None
    Words: 499


    The attic looked the same. She knew it was foolish of her to believe that it would look any different. The house had been vacant for many years, but even when the house was a home, the attic had only been used for storage.

    She was uncertain as to why she was there. This had been her childhood home, but she had not darkened this doorstep in years, not since her parents had died. The Blacks had left three daughters, who had their own lives, marriages, and no use for the home.

    Of course, Andromeda wouldn’t have been able to inherit the house had she wanted it anyway. She had been cut from the will, and their lives, the moment she choose to marry a Mudblood. At the time, it seemed like the worst thing anyone could do. Since then she had seen far worse.

    Shaking her head, she tried to figure out why she was there. The house was reasonably safe, as it had been abandoned for so many years, but she no longer cared about safety. If she died, she would be reunited with her family. What more could she ask her? What reason did she have to cling to life?

    Sitting on the dust covered floor, she pulled opened one of the boxes. Reaching inside, her hand brushed across a soft and expensive feeling fabric. As she pulled it out, a smile crossed her face. The tiny green dressed looked almost as dastardly as it had the day her older sisters had decided to wash it.

    Andromeda had been so proud of herself when she arrived in their room, covered in dirt. It was probably her earliest rebellion. Even Bella had been proud of her little sister when she showed no fear of their mother’s wrath.

    Closing her eyes, she replayed the moment in her mind. She could remember the smell of the soap and squishy feeling of the dress as they played with the fabric. In that moment, she had felt so close to her sisters. She was certain that their bond could never be broken.

    But it was broken. It was broken by marriage and by Azkaban. She lost Andromeda to a Mudblood and Bella to Dementors. Now it was too late. They were both truly gone and she could never have them back. Her son and her husband were gone as well.

    Tears touched her eyes. It wasn’t fair. How could one lose their entire family to a war? Was her family really that disposable and unimportant to the rest of the world? Even the niece she never knew had been lost.

    She wished she had been closer to all of them. Happy memories of her family should have been plentiful, and yet there was so few. Clinging to the small green dress, she realized that she had wasted every opportunity to show her family how much she loved them. Now she was left alone, with nothing but a dress to for comfort.

    Mithril Says: Dude, if people keep up writing these characters so well I might have to start liking them. *shudder*...kidding, 10 points to Slytherin!

  8. #8
    Hermione Weasley xx
    Guest
    Name: Hermione Weasley xx [Emma]
    House: Hufflepuff. Go badgers!
    Title: Captivated
    Drabble you’re responding to: Ink Stains by Hel
    Why? First of all, I haven't written a Ron/Hermione story in some time and this gave me the perfect idea for one of my own! It was quite inspiring, the whole idea of Ron coming to Hermione and discovering the truth that way. I just liked the simplicity of it; it all seemed so complex and yet, beneath it all, it was quite simple. A very sweet story that I enjoyed reading and so I knew I had to respond to it.
    Warnings: None.
    Words: 498

    He was thinking about her again. She clouded his mind and his emotions until he could think of nothing else. Merlin, that was terrible – he was meant to be focused on the approaching war! He was meant to be focusing on anything but her, on anything but the way her skin would feel against his lips, her lips against his own. And yet, she’d seized control of him. She’d become so engrained in him that he found he could focus on nothing else.

    She was his soul. Oh, she’d mercilessly wrenched him from whatever ignorance he’d lived in before. No, that was denial. He couldn’t imagine not feeling this way for her; he couldn’t imagine his heart ever craving anything – anyone – else. It never had.

    He was wrought with desire. It went beyond needing her. He breathed her. Merlin, if he’d known of love when he was young…. Ah, ignorance could not be so easily won back. Perhaps it was the wisest person in the world who told of ignorance being bliss.

    And yet – he could not imagine anything more blissful than being near her. Every time she leaned toward him – every time she got close, when her hair lightly tickled his shoulder – he felt she’d given him wings. And when she chewed on her bottom lip at those times when nervousness overcame her…Merlin, she drove him mad.

    Did she even know what she did to him? His mind was nowhere else and yet still he’d found no courage to tell her how he felt. Of course, how he really felt…that was impossible to put into words. He couldn’t explain how she captivated him or how she’d become a part of him, forever in his heart. He knew that it would take more than an eternity to dismiss her from his thoughts. And even then…

    Ron caught sight of her. A smile touched the corners of his lips as he watched her, unable to seek out anything else. With her there, all else faded.

    She appeared troubled. He ought to appear the same, though with her there the war seemed insignificant. He struggled to remember why he should be worried. Struggled to remember anything but the way her hair fell in front of her eyes and how she brushed it maddeningly away.

    Had she spilled ink upon herself? He stepped forward, whispering what he hoped was the correct spell. And – yes! He’d done it. A triumphant grin spread across his lips as he stood there, before her, unable to believe he’d remembered anything else. He nodded at her thanks, his eyes tracing the fine, neat handwriting with which she wrote.

    No. That was impossible. His eyes read and reread the words there, upon the page, written by herown slender hand. He opened his mouth to speak, couldn’t. Opened it again and finally spoke the words he’d always wished he had the courage to say. Somewhere inside him, he found the reservoirs of his Gryffindor courage.

    “I love you.”

    Mithril SaYS: 5 points to Hufflepuff!

  9. #9
    kumydabookworm
    Guest
    Name: kumydabookworm
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: For Sale
    Drabble you’re responding to: Mouse by Sly Severus
    Why? I wondered why Ted bought the house if he was ashamed of it.
    Warnings: None
    Words: 216

    Ted looked around the darkened rooms, footsteps creaking on the old wooden floor. Opening a drawer, he winced when he saw a spider scuttle across the papers inside. Meda hates spiders.

    He turned and nearly bumped into the realtor hovering anxiously behind him.

    “What do you think, Mr. Tonks? It needs some finishing touches, but you can afford it and I think it’s a good fit,” rushed the man.

    Ted frowned. He wasn’t going to get anything better at the price he could pay, but…Meda lived in mansions, for Christ’s sake – in the plural form, at that. He shook his head. How can I expect her to leave all that she has…for me?

    “It looks alright,” he muttered, watching the dust swarming in the sunlight of the opened windows.

    He pocketed the key, weighing it in his palm.

    Meda had been waiting so long – he wouldn’t let her leave her family to come with him until they had a home. Even this would be worth it…to be with her for the rest of his life.

    He signed the paper with a decisive sweep, biting his lower lip as if to stifle his thoughts.

    We’ll make it worth it. Together. He gripped the key tighter; his future, his family so close that he could nearly touch them.
    Name: kumydabookworm
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Lovers
    Drabble you’re responding to: He Cannot See by coppercurls (a recommended drabble, not posted one)
    Why? I wondered what happened after her drabble!
    Warnings: Sexual Situations
    Words: 491

    Helga immediately stopped as both men spun to look at her. Their eyes lit a fear inside her that made her footfalls flutter.

    Godric moved to sweep her aside by putting a hand on her bared shoulder, and Salazar hissed in warning. Helga brushed off her irritation – he still thinks I’m someone he can control – and straightened her back.

    “Salazar, please,” she said, meeting him stare for stare, “stop this before it tears us apart.”

    Salazar spat, “Did I start it? No, Helga, it was you that started it. Magic has never been passed to those not of our blood! There is a reason for that, and you violate all natural laws that have ever –”

    Helga shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. There is a better way to solve this than with wands.”

    Helga gestured at Salazar. “Put it away, Salazar.”

    “I will not,” he asserted.

    “You ask for this foundation to crumble if you hold your wand against friends.”

    “When that ring on your hand stayed and your husband left, it began to crumble.”

    She turned white. “Godric, leave.”

    He was scarlet with rage. “Helga, he goes too far.”

    “Leave,” she commanded. He did.

    Salazar turned his back. “You’ve done this all, not I. If you had not chosen to take my bed, perhaps I could have overcome this. ”

    Helga took a shuddering breath. I have this kindness in me yet.

    “We can disagree, Salazar. It does not mean that we should attack each other on the grounds that we have created!”

    Salazar turned to her. “You betray me, Helga – with every move that you make to put Godric and Rowena on your side.”

    Helga breathed, “It’s not about sides. None of us are taking sides!”

    “Aren’t we? Didn’t Godric come here to defend your honor?” He laughed bitterly. “Your husband left and you took my bed, and now your honor must be preserved.”

    Helga slapped him and his mouth froze in the middle of that terrible laugh. “I did not take your bed alone, Salazar,” she spat. “It was comfort. Do not hold that against a friend.”

    “A friend,” he mused. “Is that what you would call yourself?”

    Her eyes blurred but she stepped back. “I will always love you as much as I love Godric and Rowena, no matter what you think.”

    The rage left Salazar’s face, leaving flushed cheeks and raw edges. “And I only love those who I trust. You have betrayed me, Helga.”

    Helga reached a hand out. “Will you see it no other way? Can you not see it as one night of comfort instead of a romance, or as a compromise for the school instead of betrayal?”

    Her hand was left in the air, unanswered. She pulled it back and Salazar’s face took on a hard mask that made him look a stranger. My poor, poor boy. He cannot see.

    Rage left her, leaving only the hollow space of regret.


    Mithril Says: 10 points to Gryffindor

  10. #10
    pheonixflame
    Guest
    Name: pheonixflame
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: A Father's Strength
    Drabble you’re responding to: Love I by mugglemathdork
    Why? I loved its repetition; it gave the drabble a lot of power. It also left room open for Draco to relay the "phrase" to his own child. Basically, it just caught my eye.
    Warnings: None.
    Words: 499

    You look down at the newborn in your arms, at his chubby cheeks and rosy nose, and your heart softens immediately. “Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you,” you whisper to the boy, your eyes glazing over in childhood memories.

    You recall how your mother had oft repeated these two simple lines, murmuring them to herself, or speaking them aloud to you. A vivid memory of a screaming woman, followed by a cold voice and flash of green, surfaces up to your eyes, and you shake it away, startled.

    The baby in your arms fusses, yearning for attention. Short arms wave around in front of your gray eyes before they close over your nose.

    You smile.

    ***

    Your young son toddles around the house, and you follow, always right behind him, making sure he finds no sharp table edge and no trinket to swallow.

    The boy nears the knife you have carelessly left on the kitchen table earlier. Just as he reaches out with his small hand and even more delicate fingers, you scoop him up into your arms out of harm’s way and tickle him. A smile and a laugh escape his lips, his eyes lighting up happily.

    “Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you,” you murmur, more to yourself than to your child.

    ***

    Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you.

    You have to tell your son the truth. At school, he’ll only face hardships if he doesn’t hear it from you first.

    “Son.”

    The boy looks up at you with ice-gray eyes. You avoid them, steeling yourself for what you’re about to tell him.

    “There’s something you should kn— ” You finally meet your son’s gaze and your courage fails you. “I love you. Make us proud at school,” you end lamely, forcing a weak smile.

    ***

    You find yourself sitting at your twelve-year-old son’s side one cloudy day.

    “How come you never told me?” the boy snarls.

    You look away, unable to come up with an answer. Thoughts race through your mind as you wonder why you’ve kept it from him for so long. Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” you finally whisper.

    Your reply is ignored. “A Death Eater,” your son spits, the words like venom on his tongue.

    ***

    You walk out of your bedroom to find your son standing in the hall, a trunk and bags at his side. You sigh, but keep a strong mind.

    “You’re ready?”

    He nods.

    You knew this was coming. You had your warning, and yet the blow is no less painful than before.

    You pull him into a hug as he says, “Goodbye, father.”

    Your heart pains you. You are just barely able to make out, “Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you.”
    ~Mari


    *cries* 10 points to Gryffindor

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