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Thread: The SIXTH TTB DRABBLE BRAWL~ THE FINAL RESULTS!!!!!!!!!

  1. #21
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    WOOT WOOT - I'm EARLY!!!!!


    Here's the prompt for the last four

    Your prompt is to take one ghost and one Marauder and write a drabble about them. They must interact, there must be a conversation. They must mention cheese ... I lied, they don’t have to mention cheese at all. As a heads up, the Marauders don’t have to be school age but this conversation has to take place at Hogwarts.
    And here's the lovely linkie thing for you all to use (pretty please)



    And here are this weeks four fantabulous drabbles.

    And boy-oh-boy am I glad I don't have to vote.


    Title: Secrets
    Ratings/Warnings: 3-5th
    A/N: Takes place the year Remus teaches DADA.
    A/N:From the Lexicon: The Baron is the ghost of a man who a millennium ago loved Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw. When Rowena lay dying, she sent the Baron to find Helena and beg her to come back. Helena refused and the Baron lost his temper and killed her. In his remorse, he committed suicide with the same knife, and now carries the bloody evidence of his crime on his ghostly clothing.



    The Baron always meets my eyes. In the corridors and the Great Hall, everywhere. I’ve never seen him look at anyone else the way he looks at me, but perhaps everyone thinks that. Even in school, when he saw us sneaking around when we should have been in bed, he used to shoot daggers at my friends only to look at me with curious appraisal. Only now do I understand this: He knew what I was.

    Only a fool would underestimate a Hogwarts ghost—least of all, the Bloody Baron. I think he must see everything, know everything that happens in this place. And yet he is silent.

    Some say he can’t talk, but I don’t believe it. Some even claim to have heard him hiss warnings in a grim, hoarse whisper, but that sounds like rubbish to me—the sort of thing James and Sirius used to invent in our darkened common room in the early hours of morning to make Peter twitch.

    I wonder why the Baron is on my mind as I walk toward the kitchens for something to eat. Walking the halls takes my mind off things… and tonight, after spending time with Harry, I need a distraction.

    The Baron startles me even though I’m thinking of him. He hovers near the wall opposite the kitchens, and suddenly, I know why he was so strong in my thoughts: he’s often down here, moving between the dungeons and the Slytherin Common Room. He roams these corridors slowly, intimidating Peeves and whoever else may have the insight to cower at the sight of his crimson stains.

    Despite his tragic, gruesome history, I’m not afraid of him. He’s a ghost, and there are far worse evils that have roamed these halls. No, I think I pity him. His love was too great, his anger beyond control. The Baron wears the stains of crime and love and hate and murder and shame. And when he looks through me, into me… I see what I could become. I, too, must shield those around me from my own potential to rage and kill.

    The ghost looks around, up and down, and back to me. “You judge me, Wolf?” His voice is low, but nothing like the one the students pretend to have heard from him.

    His words rouse something inside me: We are very much alike, the Baron and I. A shiver whispers against the back of my neck and I reach to rub it away. His eyes are hard but I look into them, through them to the wall behind. “I’ve no right to judge any man, Baron. I think you know that.”

    He looks about to say something nasty, but instead, his lips smash together in a thin line. He'll say no more, and yet, he has given me something: a kind of secret, and one I’ll be certain to keep. I owe him that much. After all, he seems to have kept mine.


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

    Title: Settling In
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd/none
    A/N:


    For a person inclined to solitude, Hogwarts could be hell. You just couldn’t seem to escape the crowds. But, if you knew where to look, there were little nooks where you could sit alone for hours, with only your thoughts for company.

    Sirius had already discovered many of these places, found certain ones matched certain moods. This one – a small alcove overlooking the grounds down towards the front gates – was one of his particular favourites for brooding in.

    He had never once been discovered or interrupted in that particular alcove, so he was astonished and rather peeved when Nearly Headless Nick floated through the wall beside him.

    With a scowl, he grudgingly responded to the Gryffindor ghost’s greeting. The scowl only deepened when Nick showed no inclination of leaving.

    “Not with your partner in crime causing chaos in the common room, Mr Black?” asked Nick, completely unperturbed by the less-than-friendly welcome he had received.

    Sirius shrugged non-committedly under the shrewd gaze of the ghost.

    A slightly uncomfortable silence descended as Sirius kept his gaze fixed firmly away from Nick. It wasn’t that he disliked the ghost – they’d had several enjoyable conversations in the first few weeks of term – he just got the impression that he wouldn’t particularly enjoy this conversation.

    “I’ve heard the things your family has said to you about your sorting,” Nick said, confirming Sirius’ impression, “and I’ve seen you shrug them off like they are nothing. Yet, here you are, hiding from the stares and whispers of the common room.”

    Sirius glared. “I’m not hiding!”

    The awkwardness of silence threatened again, pulling words unwillingly from Sirius’ lips.

    “It’s just- I’m not like that. What they all say about me. I’m not! And they always watch, like they’re waiting for me to slip up and do something ‘Slytherin’. None of them think I belong in Gryffindor – they don’t want me there.”

    “None?” Nick replied. “I think James Potter would be rather upset at being included there, and he wouldn’t be alone.”

    Waving off Nick’s words, Sirius continued. “They don’t count. The others, though, they just look at me and see a Black, not me. I just want them to know that I’m not like the rest of my family – getting into Gryffindor is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

    “They’ll see that.” A sigh escaped Nick. “It will just take time. Have patience.”

    Sirius laughed darkly. If anyone could talk of patience, it would be the ghost who had to endure forty-five axe strikes.

    “But perhaps it might help,” Nick went on, “if they could actually see you, which can’t happen while you hide yourself away in a corner.”
    Nick turned, and made to float back through the wall, but paused.

    “Oh, yes, James did mention that he would appreciate another pair of hands in distributing the bulbadox powder, not that I would dream of aiding such mischief-making.”

    With a wink, the ghost was gone, leaving Sirius with some new thoughts for company.


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

    Title: Guilt and Betrayal
    Word Count 495
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd, none
    A/N: Tried to work in cheese, but no luck.


    Sometimes in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep, Peter sneaked out to the Shrieking Shack. At first, he had gone to be alone. Remus hated being there when it wasn’t the full moon, so the Marauders went other places. He would pace, practice his magic, and worry about the upcoming war. The others didn’t understand. He wasn’t ready to die. They were only seventeen. He had a whole life ahead of him. He wasn’t like Sirius who needed to take a stand against his family, or Remus who needed a cause to fight for, or James who needed to protect Lily... not that she needed it. He was just Wormtail, the smallest and least of them in every single way.

    Now, the Shrieking Shack is the only place that he can be human. After making sure no one is there, he transforms back into his human shape. It’s been nine years since James and Lily died... nine years since Sirius tried to kill him. Harry will be coming to Hogwarts in September. The Dark Lord is still out there, somewhere. Peter is sure of it. And when he returns... Peter will be there. Because he is still afraid to die. Because he still isn’t James, who died for his wife and his son, or Sirius who went to Azkaban, or Remus who is probably working on some other cause now.

    He closes his eyes and tries to think back to happier times. Back when being friends with James and Sirius made him feel like he was someone important too. Back when they were first learning how to become Animagi. Back when the most important thing to them was a great prank on Snivellus or going on the pull in Hogsmeade.

    Unbidden, his mind summons a distant memory. During their first year, James had dared him to ask the Bloody Baron why he was covered in blood. He had wanted to look cool, so he agreed. They had tracked down the Baron in the dungeons after class.

    “Go on then,” James urged him.

    “Do it,” Sirius added.

    When he hesitated, Sirius pushed him forward.

    Peter walked up to the Baron, trying not to shiver too much. “Excuse me,” he said, voice cracking at the worst possible moment.

    The Baron turned around, chains clanking, and gazed at him, but said nothing. His eyes were blank, almost as if he had not heard Peter at all. The Slytherin House Ghost was known to be reclusive, so Peter pushed on: “Why are you covered in blood?”

    Vaguely, he heard James and Sirius high-five each other.

    For a moment, Peter had thought the Baron was just going to leave, slide through a wall and refuse to answer.

    Then the Baron replied, “Betrayal.”

    “What?” The word escaped him before he could stop it.

    “Guilt and betrayal,” the Baron intoned, before vanishing.

    Peter opens his eyes and transforms back into a rat. Scabbers should return to Percy soon.


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


    Title: When A Good Man Goes To War
    Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years - mild profanity.
    A/N: 'When a good man goes to war' is taken from the Doctor Who episode, A Good Man Goes to War. All credit to Steven Moffat.


    They were four boys who went to war and none of them really survived. One gave his life, one gave his mind, one gave his finger, and the other sits in the empty Great Hall twelve years later. Remus isn’t sure what he gave the war, can’t quite decide on one particular thing.

    (One: he gave his friends. Two: he gave his trust. Three: he gave his trust in his friends. The war took all of these things.)

    Every day, Remus sits and thinks, trying to list everything he sacrificed for that bloody victory—the victory that has never felt like a victory, not even when he met the living, breathing, full of blood and beating heart Harry. It’s an act of selfishness that he likes to indulge in, just to push the knife into his heart a little more.

    Sometimes, he will find a quiet corner of the library while the students are at dinner. Sometimes, he will go to the lake, watching the half-hearted moonlight and smoke from Hagrid’s hut. Sometimes, he’ll just walk, not thinking about where he’s going until he finds himself standing before the Fat Lady.

    Tonight, though, he’s sitting in the Great Hall at midnight, watching the enchanted ceiling from the comfort of a hard, wooden bench.

    “Hello, Professor. Sickle for your thoughts?”

    He’s managed to ignore the Fat Friar for five minutes since the ghost first floated in through the entrance. Now, Remus looks at him and gives a weary smile. “It would seem far too self-indulgent to a man such as yourself, I’m sure.”

    The ghost smiles back, chortling lightly. “After the centuries, self-indulgence is both my friend and my foe. I know plenty about self-indulgence, but I also know plenty about the living. The look on your face is not one of self-indulgence, young man.”

    That’s not a word Remus hears too often in relation to himself. He’s heard old, haggard, scruffy, thin, unlucky, and sickly. Never young.

    (Four: he gave the war his youth and the war took it gladly.)

    Remus closes his eyes briefly.

    “Tell me,” he asks, “what look is on my face?”

    The ghost’s smile falters and he looks at Remus with a piercing sadness.

    “You look like you miss someone.”

    Remus’s hands clench the seat until he’s sure he could claw his way through the wood, into the floor and the dark beyond.

    “So do you.”

    The Fat Friar nods and drifts away, looking out of one of the windows and onto the grounds. Remus watches the ghost fiddling with the drawstring around his plain robes.

    “That’s what happens when a good man goes to war, Remus Lupin.”

    He breathes in with a sharp gasp but the Friar has already drifted out into the night.

    The next evening, Remus finds his way to a statue of a humpbacked witch, climbs in and curls up on the grubby dirt floor, waiting, waiting, waiting until the memories find him.

    (Five: everything.)

    This is what he gave the war.


    Madam Carmerta
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  2. #22
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    AidaLuthien – Guilt and Betrayal <2,4>
    Weasley Mom – Secrets <2,5>
    Free_Elf – Settling In <3,4>
    Theo paleye – When A Good Man Goes To War <6,0>

    So, sadly leaving us this week id the lovely Lori (Weasley Mom), who can hold her head high as she takes her points back to Hufflepuff. The comments I’ve received have let it be known that this was a very touch choice. Sadly someone has to go.

    The winner is JULIAAAAA (the opaleye), who seems to be on something of a roll (a slithering Slytherin roll).

    Can the Badgers stop the Snake? Well, this could be the round to do it!

    We’re down to the final three, and here’s the deal. The task is in two parts.

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

    Example of an allowable (and a rather nice prompt) prompt:
    The Slug Club is not Harry's favourite club, we know that from the Half Blood Prince. But if he'd known that his mother and father were members, would he have been more inclined to go to the parties? Old Sluggy's Christmas party of 1976 is one to remember - but why? The Marauders are in their sixth year. Not all of them are in the Slug Club but at least one other Marauder will be there with James. Other party goers are up to you. Remember club members can take a guest.
    Example of an evil (but allowable) prompt:
    I challenge you to write a drabble in which Ginny Weasley falls in love with Vincent Crabbe. It must be set in Ginny’s sixth year. Also, it should be canon compliant – apart from the obvious, of course. AND it must be written completely in dialogue, and don’t make it as if someone is telling a story – what I mean is that both Ginny and Crabbe should be talking to each other, in present tense. IC characters are a must.
    Example of a ridiculous prompt that shall be disallowed:
    Write a drabble where every third word begins with a B. Or anything that ships the Giant Squid with ... anything.
    If I think your prompt is too evil, then I’ll ask you to rewrite. EDIT: Due to time restrictions, if the prompt is too evil then I will rewrite as I said earlier.

    Okay, I have a small problem because I am going away on Wednesday, so I need your prompts by Tuesday evening. I will get them sent out as soon as I receive, but there might be a delay. I will also be without net access until 28th (host willing ).

    Send your prompts to me by TUESDAY 24th July 9PM BST. Make sure you tell me which prompt is for who.

    Once you receive your prompts, you will have around two weeks to write your drabbles. Whilst I will have net access, I don’t want to be reliant on it, so I’m giving you until my holiday return to get the drabbles sent to me. I will be posting drabbles on SUNDAY 12th August 3PM (BST).

    Word count will be between 300-500 words.


    Good Luck

    And play nice (but not too nice)


    Form for drabbles

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

    Madam Carmerta
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 07-23-2012 at 08:39 AM.
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  3. #23
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    And here is where it gets naaaaaaasty.

    This week the brawlers set the prompts for each other. And, wow, what a merciless trio you are!

    So, lovely voters, when you vote will you please take into account not only SPaG, characterisation and the drabble content, but also how well you think the brawler dealt with the actual prompt.

    Also, you need to pick 2 favourite drabbles and 2 least favourite.
    Hope that makes sense.


    Read and vote


    HERE


    I will close this on Thursday 16th August at 8PM BST



    Title: Had He Done Good Toward God and Toward his House?
    Prompt:
    During the Battle of Hogwarts we know what the Order and Hogwarts are fighting for, but much less about the motives of individual Death Eaters or their allies. And who said they were the ‘bad guys’ anyway? Tell us the story of a member of Voldemort’s side before and/or during the BoH: why and how they came to be there, and what they are fighting for. Make us feel empathy for our ‘hero’.
    Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd, character death
    Word Count: 499
    A/N: I didn’t create Harry Potter or the inscription on the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior. The Death Eaters were originally called the Knights of Walpurgis according to JK.


    He is fighting a mere slip of a girl. She could be his granddaughter. (He will never have grandchildren, his only son was murdered in the last war.) She’s too young for this hell.

    He knocks her against a wall, but she gets up, head bleeding. He tightens his grip on his wand. He has to remember what this is for.

    Never go out alone. If they hurt you, we are powerless. We’re not allowed to defend ourselves from them. The Statute of Secrecy takes precedent over our safety.

    He tries to disarm her, but she blocks him. Her blonde hair reminds him of someone else.

    Ariana... his father’s voice broke as tears poured down his face. They’re less than us, but they destroyed her. She could never use her magic again. They outbreed us. They rule over us. Not through skill but with numbers.

    (He never actually met Ariana. She had died before he was born, but he feels like he knows her anyway. She hangs over him, a bleak reminder of their place in the world.)

    He blocks the girl’s spells. She hasn’t known fear like he has.

    In their ignorance they are allowed to torture us and we have no redress.

    He keeps attacking. They don’t understand how it feels to be an outcast in your own country.

    I could be defending you and them and the Ministry would only care that the Statute of Secrecy was broken. They would throw me in Azkaban for protecting you, my child.

    He spits out his spells, keeping her on the defensive. She is young and ignorant. She doesn’t realize what they fight for.

    Your brother died for the King. A king who isn’t even allowed to know we exist!

    (His brother is buried somewhere in France under a false name. He used to visit the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior in Westminster Abbey and mourn for the brother who was determined to prove their father wrong about Muggles.

    (He read the words over and over, “The Many Multitudes who … Gave the Most that Man Can Give: Life Itself, for God, for King and Country, for Loved Ones Home and Empire, for the Sacred Cause of Justice and the Freedom of the World … Greater Love Hath No Man Than This.”

    She hexes him and he falls.

    His body aches. He is too old for fighting. But he has to keep going.

    I vow to protect wizarding kind, to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. I am a Knight of Walpurgis. The government refuses to protect us, so we will protect ourselves!

    (The pain of receiving the Dark Mark was intense, but worth it. Nothing important comes without pain.)

    He pushes himself up, then stumbles. His vision blurs.

    His allies are old men, and they are fighting children.

    Where had they gone wrong?

    Somehow, the world had changed... and he had not.


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

    Title: Hogwarts: A Tale
    Prompt:
    Write a drabble about the Founders of Hogwarts and their construction of Hogwarts. All four must appear, be sympathetic and there must be no romance between them. No flashbacks. None of the future Horcruxes can be mentioned. Be canon compliant. A Fwooper must have some significance in the scene.
    Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd/none
    Word Count: 496
    A/N:

    A surprising amount of work was needed to prepare a castle to become a school of magic, especially when the castle wasn’t exactly in the best condition to begin with. It was incredibly satisfying, though, to watch it slowly morph under hands and wands, until it matched the dream conjured in four minds. More than once, one of the four became so engrossed in a particular task they went days without seeing the others.

    But it was only a matter of time, and eventually, when each could find no room, corridor or staircase in need of repair, the four gathered and prepared to inspect their work.

    They walked the castle. Four sets of footsteps rang through the corridors; accompanied by the echoing steps of the imagined students yet to come.

    Progress was slow, with many stops to examine each other’s work, yet their pride grew with every step. The imagined castle had become real. Reaching the beginning of their tour, the four turned and congratulated one another.

    But it felt like a hollow victory. The work was done, but something was missing. None of the four knew exactly what. They left the castle and went their separate ways, hoping the answer would be soon become clear.

    Returning the next day, three of the four were despondent; no answer had come to them. The fourth, however, knew what had been overlooked.

    “This castle is like an owl,” Rowena Ravenclaw declared, “when it should be like a Fwooper.”

    She had even brought the two birds with her in order to make her point.

    “An owl is practical.” Here she gestured to the bird in question. “It is kept strictly for a purpose, and while it has a certain grace, it is plainly coloured and built. And so is this castle. It has rooms and corridors and towers, but they are plain and functional.

    “Now a Fwooper is a different matter.” She gestured to the other bird. “It is bright, striking. There is more to its song that first seems – the beauteous melody bringing madness. And so should be our castle. It should be filled with objects to interest the eye, and there should be more to it that what first appears.”

    Helga Hufflepuff’s eyes lit up. “Yes, character is what this castle needs. I shall tend to the grounds and the forest, too. With just a little care, they could be as grand as that Fwooper’s feathers.”

    Godric Gryffindor’s lips curved into a smile. “Yes, the castle is simply too bare. I shall decorate it, inside and out – a great collection of paintings, statues, tapestries. It could be just as intriguing as that Fwooper’s song.”

    Salazar Slytherin’s eyebrow rose. “Yes, the castle needs to be more ingenious. I shall add secret passages and false doors and all manner of tricks. It will drive the unwary into madness far faster than any Fwooper.”

    Rowena beamed. “Let’s get to work then, my friends, and turn this owl into a Fwooper!”


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


    Title: Confessions of a Young and Old Gryffindor in the Night-Time
    Prompt:
    Write a drabble about Charlie Weasley and one of his nephews at the Burrow. Must take place during that nephew’s first year at Hogwarts. No mentions of dragons, Quidditch or Charlie’s relationships (or lack thereof) are allowed.
    Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd years; Mild Profanity
    Word Count: 498
    A/N:


    He wakes with a dry mouth and a desperate need to be out of the dark. Charlie shifts the sticky sheets back and winces as the winter night hits his bare skin. He hasn’t stayed at home for such a drawn out length of time since the Battle. There is something about sleeping in this room, the way it is too quiet and still, which puts him on edge. The room above is silent, and his childhood memories of lying in here with Bill while listening to the strange bangs and clunks from the twin’s room upstairs shine far too bright.

    Charlie needs a drink and he needs to get out of this bloody room. He pulls on some jeans and a woolly jumper before stumbling downstairs to the kitchen.

    The Christmas lights on the tree glow dim and soft and it is just enough light for him to breathe again.

    “Uncle Charlie?”

    He turns to see Fred hunched over the kitchen table, an empty cup in his hands.

    “Hey, Fred. What are you doing up?”

    Fred blinks at him and doesn’t reply. Charlie frowns. Fred has always seemed completely unaware of the concept of peace and quiet, just like his dad. Just like…

    “You want a hot chocolate?” Charlie walks over to the kitchen bench and prepares the drinks, ruffling Fred’s hair as he passes the table.

    “You’re quiet, tonight,” he says, planting two steaming mugs on the table before sitting down. Fred shrugs, avoiding Charlie’s eyes.

    “I couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles. “I’ve got to go back to school, tomorrow, and Mum and Dad have to work so Granny and Grandad are taking me and Roxy back to the station and—”

    He stops, suddenly, as if he’s said too much. Charlie takes a sip of hot chocolate and sits back in his chair.

    “You know, I miss home when I’m away. I love my friends and my work back at the reserve but there’s nothing like home.”

    Fred looks up, eyes wide, and mouth slightly open.

    “Really? But your job is so exciting. And Hogwarts is, too, but—”

    Charlie nods, smiling.

    “It’s normal, mate. I happen to know James wrote to Harry and Ginny three times a week in his first year.”

    Fred’s lips twitch at this and Charlie’s smile widens. He points at Fred’s untouched drink.

    “Go on, I haven’t poisoned you. Your dad, on the other hand… Did I ever tell you about the time he once put some gnome poo in my pumpkin juice?”

    Fred snorts and picks up his mug. Charlie closes his eyes for a second, remembering George and Fred as they sat beneath this very table, sniggering at their unsuspecting older brother. The night doesn’t feel so lonely, anymore.

    “No. That’s a good idea, though!”

    The Christmas lights flicker across Fred’s face, but they are not as bright as his smile.

    “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell your mum where you got the idea from. I rather like my buttocks.”

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




    Title: What Maudie Saw
    Prompt:
    A time-travelling Hermione ends up in Knockturn Alley. How did she get there? Who is she supposed to meet? And what does young and fresh-out-of-Hogwarts Tom Riddle do when she wanders into Borgin and Burkes? Your drabble must be from the perspective of someone other than Hermione and Riddle, and cannot feature any dialogue.
    Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd. Just a little implied Knockturn Alley, er, unpleasantness
    Word Count: 498
    A/N: Maudie might not know exactly what happened, but can you guess?


    The letter came first; addressed to me, clear as day. Maudie. Got worried as it was from the Ministry – never good when Ministry folk come nosing– but it only said some witch needed a room. Not the first time I’d been asked to house someone who couldn’t stay at the usual places, but never by the Ministry. Could’ve knocked me over with a quill when it said she was coming from the future with some new-fangled spell.

    Looked pretty normal when she turned up –like your everyday Portkey – but when I looked at her I could tell. She’d tried, but any blind Squib could see she was an outsider. The tangled hair was too clean. The way she held herself – oh, she’d handled herself in rough spots before – but she didn’t duck into shadows like us Knockturn folk. And how she spoke, more educated than all my girls put together.

    I fixed her up – dirtied her down a little – and asked her business. She was Ministry after all. Ministry bring trouble, and I keep trouble away from my girls. She rattled on about this lost book, last seen ‘round this time in Old Man Flint’s place, so she was to go see him and copy it. Plus all this rubbish about not changing things I didn’t understand. Figured she actually knew what she was doing.

    She still didn’t quite pass for Knockturn folk, so I followed her to know if trouble was coming. Figured she’d head straight to Old Man Flint’s, but when she got to Borgin and Burke’s she stopped. The place meant something to her, it seemed. She looked in the window, dithered about a bit before going in.

    Young Tom was working. That boy could charm gold out of goblins – he’s charmed half my girls to pieces. Never fails. But the most he charmed out of her was a polite smile. Tell the truth, she looked downright uneasy. That was peculiar. There’s nothing in Young Tom to make a body upset.

    He got all bothered at that. Bit silly of him, really. She was obviously searching for something in particular so he hardly needed to charm her into buying. Couldn’t make out what they talked about though – perhaps something she said put him on edge? I don’t know.

    He took her through to the back of the shop, which was more peculiar. No one ever goes into the back.

    And that’s the last I saw of her. No idea what happened, but I tell you now, I won’t ever believe Young Tom was involved, he’s a good lad–Head Boy at Hogwarts, you know.

    But I’m not about to go looking. Plenty of people disappear ‘round here, after all. Enough trouble ‘round here without sniffing after more. And I was only supposed to give her a room. I did that, didn’t I, even if she never properly used it? I keep my girls out of trouble, but push come to shove, she wasn’t my girl.



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




    Title: Something is Rotten in the Middle Kingdom
    Prompt:
    It’s not often that we get to see the wizarding community outside of the British Isles. Your drabble must be set outside of Britain and Ireland. The only canon character you can include is Snape, although you do not have to feature canon characters if you don’t want to. There must be a death under mysterious circumstances, a botched potion, and a kite featured somewhere within the drabble, not necessarily as prominent plot points, though.
    Warnings/Ratings: 3rd-5th, character death, sexual innuendo if you squint and turn your head in just the right way
    Word Count:
    A/N: Kites were first invented in China, 2,800 years ago. I do not own Harry Potter or Judge Dee, I’m just playing in the world of the former and have borrowed the name of the latter.

    When Dee arrived by Portkey, the sky above the Phoenix Tear Academy was filled with kites. He admired the colorful silk creatures fluttering in the sky, magically bound to the ground without strings. Most of them were phoenixes, their long tails trailing multicolored flames, though a few dragons, unicorns, and tigers were among their number. None of them were turtles.

    He frowned and fingered the embossed turtle on his glass wand.

    Everyone knew that the Turtle and Phoenix clans were traditional enemies, but the emperor believed that Dee was the best investigator in the Middle Kingdom. So here he was, a son of the Turtles, assigned to investigate the death of Guo-zhi, a Phoenix and the (former) headmaster of the Phoenix Tear Academy, the exclusive Phoenixes only school. The Phoenixes believed that certain clan secrets were forbidden to outsiders. The separate school was one physical manifestation of that idea: it was huge and forbidding, with a massive gate.

    The gossips in Chang’an said that Guo-zhi had ingested a botched tiger organ potion. Certainly, it was very difficult to brew correctly, but Dee dismissed the notion of such a salacious rumor actually being true.

    Finally, an officious man hurried up to the gate. “You must be Dee of the Turtle Clan! I am Hui of the Phoenix Clan. I was the one who found the headmaster. Such a tragedy.”

    Dee was shown inside. Hui was almost running through the school in his haste. “These were the headmaster’s rooms. He was found here on the floor.” Hui indicated the spot and then scurried away.

    Nothing was right about the situation. First, the Phoenix Clan actually obeyed the emperor and let an outsider come and investigate. Guo-zhi was the emperor’s uncle by marriage, but it was still unusual. Second, Dee had not even met the current headmaster before being set upon his task. Third, he had been left to complete his task unobserved. Fourth, he had been dispatched to search the room without looking at the body.

    He looked around. The room was well furnished with many antiques. Phoenixes were carved into the furniture, into the walls, almost everywhere he looked. He rubbed the turtle on his wand, then he started searching.

    Everything was astoundingly well ordered, almost unlived in. Dee frowned.

    Then he checked under the bed. Maybe they had missed something. He squinted. An empty potion vial had rolled under there.

    Dee Summoned it and looked for the Potion Master’s mark. A stylized set of three orchids had been stamped onto the side: Zhu-ge Liang’s symbol. The headmaster of the Dragon Pearl and his radical experiment were the talk of the court.

    Now he was implicated in the death of his ideological rival. Guo-zhi had opposed the experiment from the start, claiming it was much too dangerous, though the emperor had approved the test.

    Dee knew this was no accident. He clutched the vial tightly. He would get to the bottom of this. The future of the nation might be at stake.


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




    Title: Mirrors
    Prompt:
    Many important events have taken place in the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts, witnessed by the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses. They aren’t shy about expressing their opinions on such events, either. Write your drabble from the perspective of one (or more) of these portraits, in any era, as they observe a particular canon situation in the Headmaster’s Office.
    Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd years; no warnings
    Word Count: 490
    A/N:

    We watch, we listen, we wait.

    This is what we are built for.

    From living hands, we come alive upon canvas, although ‘alive’ is a loose term. We are reinvented, rather, with magic and little pieces of old soul. We are spread across blank space, our faces moulded with brushes into something that faintly resembles who they think we are supposed to be. Who we were doesn’t seem to matter.

    A portrait is not so much a prison as it is a mirror.

    Things never change, not really. People come and go, disasters happen, happiness slips into despair, life ends. Then, it happens again. We must watch this, over and over.

    It’s not easy to watch time shifting past. Sometimes, it feels like a gramophone stuck in loop, the skip-skip-skip tearing through the dusty air. Sometimes, it is like the crackle of radio static, not quite reaching our ears because when you’ve heard it before, it all sounds the same. Sometimes, it is silent.

    In his time, Albus Dumbledore has known noise. He has also known the soundless drip of seconds into minutes into hours. We have watched him for too long, we know him too well. We don’t know him, at all. Now, he is on his way to joining us on the walls.

    We have seen many men and women pass through this room, but none like Albus Dumbledore. Time moves around him in unrelenting currents, as if he is trying to rewind what has come before. Now, as he staggers to the floor, blackened hand clutched tightly to his chest, he slows. He moves backwards and forwards, rocking, rocking, rocking and hissing a name that we’ve never heard slip from his mouth.

    Ariana.

    The ring on the desk spins, and as we listen, it whispers silent vitriol. Some of us gasp and titter, others look on with the solemn frowns of knowledge, lips pressed tight. Some of us are too tired to do anything but watch.

    Severus Snape arrives in a flurry of black robes and dispensable trust. We know him, too. He thinks he knows us, he thinks that he is above us and our unwelcome comments. He doesn’t know how much we’ve really seen. He doesn’t know how naked he is.

    The ring stills, and the two men murmur hushed words, deliberately soft and hard to catch. We have seen this moment many times through the centuries, when time starts to bleed, when the end begins and the beginning ends. Albus Dumbledore will soon hang above the desk and Armando Dippet will move to the side, but this is slightly different. The walls seem to tremble, the air seems to still. The castle knows something that we do not. And as the future falls into place, the men look graver than we’ve ever seen.

    But, whatever is coming, we will watch, we will listen, and we will wait.

    This is what we are built for, after all.
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  4. #24
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    OH!!!! What a contest! This was fantastic and I want to thank my three brawlers for being so amazing.

    Okay, here are the results and who wrote which prompt. And weren’t they evil prompts?

    Aida set for Bec
    Write a drabble about the Founders of Hogwarts and their construction of Hogwarts. All four must appear, be sympathetic and there must be no romance between them. No flashbacks. None of the future Horcruxes can be mentioned. Be canon compliant. A Fwooper must have some significance in the scene.
    And this for Julia
    Write a drabble about Charlie Weasley and one of his nephews at the Burrow. Must take place during that nephew’s first year at Hogwarts. No mentions of dragons, Quidditch or Charlie’s relationships (or lack thereof) are allowed.
    Bec set for Aida
    During the Battle of Hogwarts we know what the Order and Hogwarts are fighting for, but much less about the motives of individual Death Eaters or their allies. And who said they were the ‘bad guys’ anyway? Tell us the story of a member of Voldemort’s side before and/or during the BoH: why and how they came to be there, and what they are fighting for. Make us feel empathy for our ‘hero’.
    And for Julia
    Many important events have taken place in the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts, witnessed by the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses. They aren’t shy about expressing their opinions on such events, either. Write your drabble from the perspective of one (or more) of these portraits, in any era, as they observe a particular canon situation in the Headmaster’s Office.
    Julia set for Aida
    It’s not often that we get to see the wizarding community outside of the British Isles. Your drabble must be set outside of Britain and Ireland. The only canon character you can include is Snape, although you do not have to feature canon characters if you don’t want to. There must be a death under mysterious circumstances, a botched potion, and a kite featured somewhere within the drabble, not necessarily as prominent plot points, though.
    And for Bec
    A time-travelling Hermione ends up in Knockturn Alley. How did she get there? Who is she supposed to meet? And what does young and fresh-out-of-Hogwarts Tom Riddle do when she wanders into Borgin and Burkes? Your drabble must be from the perspective of someone other than Hermione and Riddle, and cannot feature any dialogue.
    It was generally agreed that the last prompt was the most evil, (what do you expect from the ssssssnake?) closely followed by the second from last prompt >.<

    Here are the scores

    Aida
    Had He Done Good Toward God and Toward his House? <3,6>
    Something is Rotten in Middle Kingdom <3,8>

    Bec
    Hogwarts: A Tale <0,6>
    What Maudie Saw <5,3>

    Julia
    Confessions of a Young and Old Gryffindor at Night Time <4,1>
    Mirrors <9,0>

    So I declare Julia to be the winner for this week and gains even more points for her house. Sadly, because she’s been a great competitor, Aida is leaving us. She takes home lovely points and this fabulous banner (please credit minnabird).





    ANNNND

    On
    To
    The
    Final!

    Here is the prompt.


    There are no real catches except your characters have to be canon. No OCs. It is the message you need to take your inspiration from and not the address.

    You have until Thursday 23rd August 8PM BST to send me your drabbles.

    Good Luck.


    Madam Carmerta.
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 08-17-2012 at 12:06 PM.
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  5. #25
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    THE FINAL



    Well, well, well (three holes in the ground), it has been a tremendous competition. From the highs of Draco Malfoy in week one, the scrap of a brawl in week four, the peevishness of the word beads, and then the evil of your own prompts. It has been quite a contest - well fought and points well-earned.

    We're down to two. Both Julia and Bec have written and brawled to their utmost.

    So please, read well, consider the prompt, the characterisation and the SPaG, but most of all vote with your heart. (Barmaid has a little tear in her eye)




    In all the excitement, I forgot to say that I will be closing The Sixth TTB Brawl on Sunday 26th August at 3PM.




    Title: Stay Close To Me
    Warnings/Ratings: 3rd-5th years; Mild Profanity
    Word Count: 500
    A/N: No, I have not made Cedric an imprint of a departed soul. He is merely wandering in some sort of parallel afterlife thing.




    Cedric Diggory walks through Hogwarts as it falls around him, as the walls crumble, as the portraits flee, as the magic seeps from bones and into dust. The corridors are familiar, so achingly familiar, and he thinks that if he just reaches out and touches the stone that he will really, truly feel it. He doesn’t, though.

    Instead, he walks until he finds the boy he’s looking for—the brave, brilliant, chosen boy, who never wanted Cedric to die. He follows him from the Great Hall to the grounds and back again, all the while thinking: come on, mate, don’t let the bastard win.

    Cedric follows him because he’s tired of watching the world go on without him, and he’s tired of wishing he’d known Harry before death got in the way.

    He doesn’t dare try to touch the walls of the castle but, for one moment, he reaches out and places his palm on Harry’s shoulder, and as the boy’s eyes shudder close in a tired blink, Cedric Diggory feels alive again.


    ------


    (He has a mind full of sorrow, a list of regrets, a skeleton that no longer creaks with age.)

    Sometimes, Albus Dumbledore wonders how the world would be different if he’d truly known Harry Potter—if all the layers of war and death and prophecies had been stripped away to leave the sleeping babe he’d delivered to the Dursleys all those years ago. A student is a student is a student and Harry was anything but.

    (He has notebooks full of theories on alternate universes, the essence of time, and the way it warps at each new moment, but theories are never enough.)

    Sometimes, Albus Dumbledore wishes he’d made more of an effort, but Voldemort was forever rising, and there is only so much weight one mind can hold.

    There is only so much of the world that one mind can know.

    (King’s Cross is white, white, white, but Harry is just Harry, and, for the first time, Albus sees the boy as the boy was always meant to be seen.)


    ------


    The forest is too dark until she sees Harry. He looks so old, and he looks so young, and he looks so very calm at the prospect of death.

    What pains Lily the most is that she never grew to know her son. Instead, she watches from afar as he lives, lies, and dies, over and over. She knows him, she knows him, but she never got to grow along side him. She never got to buy his first wand, or help him choose his school subjects, or tell him off for not replying to her letters. She never got to lie in bed at night and worry about what he was up to with his friends, or knock on his bedroom door when he slept in too late.

    Stay close to me, he asks, and, at that moment, she sees his fear. She doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t need to—instead, she thinks:

    always.



    Title: Broken
    Warnings/Ratings: 3rd-5th/profanity
    Word Count: 493
    A/N: She told Ginny that she wanted to stop fighting and go home. But instead, when the battle was over, she got stuck in a room with Lavender as they tried to heal more wounds than can be seen.



    They put us in this room together because we were next to each other in the Hall. They thought we were friends. But the only reason we were ever there was because we were both too exhausted, too hurt, too broken to move from where chance had put us.

    Oh, I knew of you – everyone had heard the rumours, after all – but I’d never met you before that night. It’s funny, we spent years at the same place without ever crossing paths, and now we’re stuck with each other. I’ve got to know you quite well now. Well enough to know that you aren’t really you anymore.

    You aren’t the dumb blonde reading fashion magazines in class. You aren’t that girl followed by whispers and lewd mockery. You aren’t the even the mother hen hugging the first years after their first detention and promising them it’ll all be okay.

    You’re my fellow ‘survivor’, trapped with me in this room until one of us finally gets released or gives in to the bitterness and pain.

    Some days I really hate you.

    People would be so shocked to know that. They all think us ‘survivors’ want to help each other. Truth is, we’re too selfish for that. We don’t give a f*** about anyone else if only our own pain stops, our own hellish nightmares are drowned, our own bodies are made whole again.

    I don’t want to hear you complain about how your wounds hurt, when yours can never, ever be as painful as what I feel. I don’t want to hear you talk about your lost dreams, when my own have flown forever out of reach. I don’t want to hear you moan about how you people pity you instead of admiring you, when I don’t even have any visitors to pity me aside from my parents.

    Some days though, I can’t hate you, even if I try.

    Days when you send away reporters with one tart sentence, just because they’re bothering me. Days when you refuse to make a sound as they change your bandages even when I know it’s excruciating. That day when you told me sometimes all you had wanted was to go home too, and weren’t ashamed of it.

    It’s times like those when I see the you that I used to hear about. The girl whose laugh could fill an entire tower, who kept enough emergency chocolate to supply all the Gryffindor dorms, who kept the DA in line when the testosterone threatened to take over brainpower.

    It makes me think, we would have been friends if only we hadn’t been there, fought that battle, ended up here as broken shadows. I think I would have really liked you, that person you used to be.

    I can’t like you now. I’m too broken to like anyone, and you are too broken to like. It’s too hard to build friendships when you only have bits and pieces of people.




    Thank you to all the brawlers. You've made this fun, and it has been a great pleasure running this for you.


    ~Carole~
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 08-24-2012 at 08:38 AM.
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  6. #26
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    RESULTS



    Whoa!!!! Did you see that, barflies, two brawlers at their very best. What a contest. What drabbles! What larks, young Pip!

    Err, okay, t’will stop getting all Dickensian. I want to say a big thank you to the brawlers and voters for making this such a great competition. All these points have been well earned.

    Without further ado, here are the votes:


    Broken – 4
    Stay Close to Me – 10




    Oh ........ you want to know who wrote which?


    Why didn’t you tell me?








    I declare the winner of the The Three Broomsticks Sixth Drabble Brawl to be


    JULIA – THE OPALEYE!!!!!!!!



    Now let us shower her with shiny things and pink marshmallows dipped in chocolate.


    But .... let us not forget Bec-the –Brave who took on the mighty snake, shared two stage wins with her and proved most valiant. A true badger!

    Take these glorious banners, the pair of you, and wear them with pride. Please credit the fabulous minnabird for these creations.






    Participants/ points

    Lost Robin (R) - 5
    Eleanor Lupin (H) -5
    Karaley Dargen (G) – 5+5 (stage win and participation)
    Lolly Lovesick (H) – 5 + 5 (stage win and participation)
    The Owl (H)- 5
    Majestic ginny (H)-5
    Broken Promise (R)-5
    AidaLuthien (H) 2+10 (stage win, participation and third place)
    Weasley Mom (H) 5+2+5 (stage wins and participation)
    Maple_and Phoenix_feather (G) 5
    Free_Elf (H) 2 +2+15 (stage wins, participation and second place)
    Theo paleye (S) 2+2 +2+5+5+20 (stage wins, participation, eventual winner)
    Skarlett (H) 5

    Zach Smithed – No points.
    SapphireatDawn (G)
    Sainyn Swiftfoot (H)
    Appollonius (H)
    Sly Severus (S)
    The Cursed Quill (G)



    Gryffindor 15 points
    Hufflepuff – 73 points
    Ravenclaw – 10
    Slytherin -36
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 09-04-2012 at 08:05 AM.
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