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Thread: January Challenge - The Janus Challenge

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  1. #1
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
    Kill the Spare
    Equinox Chick's Avatar
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    January Challenge - The Janus Challenge

    The Janus Challenge


    For the first challenge of 2013 in TTB, your barmaids would like you to try invoke the spirit of Janus into your drabbles.

    Janus, as you know, was a two-faced god in Roman mythology, who saw in the new year, whilst waving goodbye to the old one. So, to celebrate 2013, we would like you to write not one, but two drabbles.

    Here's the deal. The two drabbles have to be about the same incident, and you can go two ways here (I'm really pushing the Janus theme, I know)

    Option 1 - Two drabbles about the same incident from two different characters.

    For instance, Cedric dying from Peter's POV will be vastly different from Harry's.

    or

    Option 2 - Two drabbles about the same incident but the perspectives are affected by time.

    This option involves writing the same character, so you could write Harry stabbing the Basilisk, and then write him recalling it years later. For this option, there has to be a time delay, and it must be one of at least a year.

    Rules


    +Each drabble must be at least 250 words, and not more than 500.

    + The incident used must be canon. (I will allow Pottermore if you let me know, or any other JK books, but not movie canon.)

    + With option 1, both people must witness the exact same incident. You cannot use Cho and Peter talking about Cedric's death, because Cho wasn't there when it happened.

    + You may enter more than once, but please post both sets of drabbles in the same post.

    + 5 participation points per entrant.

    + The usual 15, 10 and 5 points for winners and places, but this can and will be amended if there aren't enough entries or if the entries aren't up to scratch.

    + The competition will close on 31st January at 8pm GMT.

    + Use the form below.


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    Have Fun!


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

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  2. #2
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    hem hem

    You don't want to see an angry and disappointed barmaid. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Dr Bannaman has nothing on the rage and destruction I can wreak.

    And if I have to resort to blackmail, then I will.

    (Devising fiendish scheme now)

    This competition is still open with participation points 'n all.

    ~Carole~
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 01-25-2013 at 01:01 PM.
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  3. #3
    First Year Ravenclaw
    In the Rubble at Godric's Hollow
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    Name: kneazle_on_a_hot_tin_roof, or just Kneazle for short.
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Laughter
    Warnings and ratings: 3rd-5th Years. Character death, substance abuse, violence and mild profanity.
    Word Count: 469/499
    Author's Note: Some dark and angsty drabbles to start the year off... Also, this is my first drabble so I'm not expecting much!

    “He was Voldemort’s creature all along…”

    Sirius had known that Peter had been the one who had betrayed them when he had heard of an attack on Godric’s Hollow. Inexplicably, and amazingly, Harry had survived the attack and Voldemort appeared to have fled. No one could call Sirius a coward, but he had been unable to bring himself to look at the bodies of James and Lily to confirm that they were dead. He had tried to persuade Hagrid to give Harry to him to look after, but Hagrid had been adamant that he was acting on Dumbledore’s orders and as such was going to deliver Harry into the care of his relatives.

    Sirius looked at Harry, nestled in Hagrid’s vast arms, and the empty feeling of shock in the pit of his stomach was now joined by a wrenching pain in his chest. Unable to control himself, Sirius felt his shoulders quake as he broke out into violent sobs. Cradling Harry in the crook of one enormous arm, Hagrid wrapped the other around Sirius and enveloped him in a hug that felt more like a headlock. After a while, they broke apart and Sirius entreated Hagrid to borrow the flying motorcycle he had used to get to Godric’s Hollow. He watched them speed away into the night and felt a powerful hatred and rage course through his veins like poison. It was if a fire had erupted in him and animated him with fresh purpose: he had to find Peter Pettigrew.

    Sirius Apparated to a narrow brick alleyway lined with dustbins and sacks of rubbish, near the street where he had tracked Peter to. He sprinted out onto the street and turned his head sharply to the right. He saw him, past the groups of Muggles congregating on the pavement outside a fish and chip shop. Their eyes met, and Sirius took out his wand.

    “Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?”

    Before Sirius could reply, before he could charge past the Muggles and strangle Peter with his bare hands, he was thrown backwards in a wave of heat, his head smacking on the tarmac. One of his ears rang, while in the other he heard the sounds of screams, glass smashing and masonry collapsing. Looking up he saw that Peter had vanished. But not before blowing up the street and killing the Muggles who, just minutes ago, had been laughing and talking outside the chip shop. Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad arrived moments later, pointing their wands at him. As he dropped his wand and put his hands in the air, he could hear the sound of maniacal laughter carrying over the screams of the Muggles and the blare of sirens. It took him a while to realise that the laughter was coming from him.

    * * *

    It was almost Midnight and Sirius sat at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place. Months before, it had bustled as both the Weasley family and members of the Order had sat down for dinner. Human contact had made being a prisoner in this mouldering pile of bricks slightly more bearable, he almost missed the arguments with Molly Weasley. He poured himself another measure of Firewhiskey and ran a hand over his unshaven jaw.

    “Harry…”

    Thinking of his godson brought a sharp stab of pain and regret as well as a surge of fierce pride in the boy. He had initially thrown off Molly’s criticism that he regarded Harry as being another version of James and behaved as though his best friend were still alive. After all, what did she know? Now, he was starting to think again. One didn’t raise six boys and Ginny Weasley without learning a thing or two and, he forced himself to remember, had she not lost her brothers the last time? The memory of those who had died in the First Wizarding War came back to haunt him.

    “James…”

    There wasn’t enough Firewhiskey in the world to wash that memory away.

    One might have thought that twelve years in Azkaban would have forced him to remember that night over and over again as the presence of the Dementors turned his brain into sludge and his soul into an icy void. Truthfully, however, he had been too preoccupied with the daily task of maintaining his sanity, deliberately shutting that memory away. Now, however, it had returned. It seems that you don’t need Dementors to relive your worst memory, a house full of hatred is enough…

    He had been so suspicious in those days. He thought that anyone, even true friends like Remus, could be spying for Voldemort. When Lily became pregnant, he and James were both overjoyed and terrified, knowing that an innocent life was now at stake. Dumbledore had suggested that they go into hiding, only divulging their location to their most trusted friend. Oh, it has been so ingenious to suggest nominating Peter. What a brilliant red herring! Voldemort would pursue Sirius, while he stayed one step ahead in the game of cat and mouse. Voldemort would never guess that the real Secret-Keeper was in fact Peter. Sirius downed the Firewhiskey and grimaced as it burned its way down to his stomach, before promptly pouring another. It had been his bloody fault, thinking that he could trust Peter.

    He remembered how he had tracked Peter to that street. He had expected some latent Gryffindor courage to fire up in Peter and he would go out fighting in a ‘show down’ as the Muggles called it. But he hadn’t. He had set Sirius up for the murders and the ridiculous injustice of the situation had driven Sirius over the edge. The Magical Law Enforcement Officer had disgustedly declared that Sirius had lost his mind when he had gone quietly, laughing hysterically all the while.

  4. #4
    Fifth Year Slytherin
    People Hate Me for Losing Points
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    Name: Draco7052
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Hopeless
    Warnings and ratings: 3rd-5th years. Character death, violence
    Word Count: first 311 second 313
    Author's Note:the sentence in the first is from DH chapter 1. Not expecting much, since I never drabbled before. It was fun though.

    Charity Burbage
    She could not move, she could not speak. Breathing was difficult and strained. Each short, quick breath was painful. Her battered body, lying still and unmoving above the table, shuddered at each intake of air. She moaned and cried. She could not help it, even though there was more pain when she made a sound. She waited for it. It soon came. A flash of blue light, and she was quiet once again. Only her pale blue eyes moved, searching endlessly around the shadowed room. Her gaze stopped, fixed on one person. He was here; he could still possibly save her. Hope rose in her heart for the first time in weeks. She could still be safe. In the back of her mind, she could hear the Dark Lord speaking.
    “Yes . . . Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all
    about Muggles . . . how they are not so different from us . . .” his voice mocked her.
    She did not pay attention, as it was all treacherous lies. He was wrong; he needed to be defeated. That was what she was dying for. All her focus was now fixed on the expressionless man in front of her. He must do something, yet he did not. He just gazed at her, saying and doing nothing. Using all her strength, she spoke quietly, trying to claim his attention. He stared back at her, his face void of all feeling and emotion.
    “Severus,” she whispered. “Help me” He was her last chance, her only hope. He must do something, anything to help her. He stared back at her, but did nothing. She barely saw the Dark Lord raise his wand. There was a flash of green light, and then, there was nothing. Charity Burbage was dead, her only chance had abandoned her in her greatest need, and


    Severus Snape
    He stared at the bruised and bloodied body that was slowly revolving above him. He saw her hanging there, motionless except for her roaming eyes. He knew her, knew her well. She had been a good friend, as far as he had friends, and now he could do nothing, except watch her die needlessly. Sorrow rose up inside of him, forbidden thoughts entering his mind. He could still save her, perhaps rescue her from the Dark Lord’s clutches. Impossible. He could never pull it off. He took a deep breath and banished the dangerous thoughts to the darkest corners of his mind. No, he could not do anything to stop this horrible thing. It must go on, no matter what he thought about the matter. The fat of the whole world was more important. He must put Dumbledore’s dying wishes first, his feelings and opinions aside.
    Her glazed eyes locked on him. He stared back, struggling with all his might to keep his face emotionless. He could not betray his allegiance, he had to keep his cover. So many things depended on him. To show pity or sorrow at her quickly coming death would be foolish. He was not a foolish man. He would surely be killed, and then no spy would remain for the Order. He must keep his calm. He saw her mouth move slightly, and struggled to hear her rasping voice.
    “Severus,” she pleaded. “Help me.” Her eyes were despairing, willing him to do something, anything. He did nothing, just gazed back at her. His heart ached. Human life should not be disposed of so easily. It was wrong and unnecessary. He saw the Dark Lord raise his wand. Green light; and then she was gone. He had done nothing to help her. She was dead, yet the world was still safe. Sacrifices must be made in times like these.

  5. #5
    Sixth Year Hufflepuff
    You Need Some Driving Lessons, Ron
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    Name: WeasleyMom
    House: Hufflepuff!!
    Title: A Fresh Blade
    Warnings and ratings: 6th-7th, strong language
    Word Count: 428 and 442
    Author's Note: Two perspectives on a scene from DH: Malfoy Manor. Thanks to Karaley Dargen for her mad beta skills. <3



    Ron scraped his hands desperately against the walls of the cellar, pushing stone after stone, digging his fingers into the crevices, searching for he knew not what, except that there had to be a way. A way, a way, a way.

    Because it couldn’t end like this.

    Her screams went through him like a fresh blade and he cried out for her again. The taste of salt was in his mouth but it didn’t make any sense to him. Nothing made sense – he couldn’t think properly. His heart slammed its rhythm hard against his ribcage and in his temple, and for a moment, he wished he could die with her. Right here, from this. He would prefer it a thousand times to surviving her.

    There’s no way out, Ron.

    Hadn’t Luna spoken those words only moments ago? But it couldn’t be – there had to be a way. Because she hadn’t forgiven him yet. At least, he didn’t think so, not completely. And he hadn’t told her anything, not really. And though he’d always known they might die, believed they likely would before the end came, he’d never imagined it like this: screams like he’d never heard before and himself powerless to do a damn thing to stop it. He couldn’t even comfort her.

    There’s no way out.

    He couldn’t have imagined anything worse than the sound of her pain, but there was something worse: the silences in between.

    And then he knew where the salt was coming from, because his face was wet and his body was shaking with sobs of fear and futility and Hermione hurt or worse. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to see her somewhere else, someplace where nothing could touch them… but where was such a place anymore? The Burrow or the Hogwarts grounds, maybe Hogsmeade… but the pictures wouldn’t come together.

    She screamed again, worse than ever, and then again, and he was ashamed of the white, hot relief that burned in his gut at the sound: she was still alive. It ignited him. He lifted his wet face to the ceiling and called out to her again, louder than before, and repeatedly. If he were free, he would do anything for her, whatever was necessary to save her. But if Luna was right, if there really was no way out, he would make her hear him now. He would make her hear that he was still here, that he was trying to get to her. She would know she wasn’t alone, not really.

    And maybe, maybe she would know everything.



    ****



    It was worse than usual.

    It was a lot worse, and Draco didn’t know why. He hated her, after all. He’d always hated her, and not just because of what she was. She’d been a bloody unbearable know-it-all from the first day they’d set foot on the Hogwarts grounds, besting everyone in every subject and winning praise from teachers and staff like she was some sort of celebrity. And she was, wasn’t she? Going round with Harry Potter year after year was enough to make anyone a celebrity, even that fool downstairs.

    She screamed again, long and drawn out, and the sound went through Draco like a fresh blade. He’d seen his aunt torture dozens of people -- she was always terrifying when she was like this -- but she seemed to take special delight with Granger. He could not watch. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the place where the carpet met the stone floor in front him and tried not to think about Greyback salivating only meters away.

    He used to play here. Right here on this carpet, with his mother having tea in the next room, he’d learned to play Wizard’s Chess and Gobstones. He tried to call up the image, but somehow… it wouldn’t come.

    Weasley was screaming from the cellar, blasts of her name shooting up the stairs and rattling the painting above the hearth. (Or maybe that bit was his imagination.) A quick glance around the room revealed nothing but passive faces, expressions long ago dulled by desperation and fear and what-was-necessary. At first, he thought he was the only one who could hear the shouting, but he quickly realized that wasn’t the case. He was simply the only one who was bothered.

    Draco closed his eyes and pushed the fingers of his left hand into his forehead. Merlin. He wished Weasley would shut the f*** up. He opened his eyes and caught Granger’s shoes in his peripheral vision. He could hear her wimpering, see her legs shifting, moving feebly on the floor. The heel of one of her black shoes scratched at the edge of the carpet, and when he saw it, he feared he would vomit.

    All the while, he clutched his wand in his right hand, thinking it heavier and heavier with every passing moment. For every ounce of power it contained, every spell he knew, any mite of potential he might have had to do something right… none of it mattered now.

    The Devil was coming, and until he did, there was nothing Draco could do but set himself against the noise and hold on to a wand that felt like lead.
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  6. #6
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    Challenge Extension

    I'm extending this challenge and will close at 10pm on Sunday 3rd February.

    There will be a new challenge coming up in February, so keep your eyes peeled.

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

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  7. #7
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    Closed. Judging will be quick, Results today or tomorrow.
    I'm a BARMAID. I write. I drabble. I duel. I poet. I'm a BADGER!!!

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  8. #8
    Wizengamot Hufflepuff
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    Despite the dearth of entries, I loved reading all of these drabbles and each had their merits. Just to reiterate my esteemed barmaid's earlier post, use of a beta is strongly advised.

    As there were only three entries, I'm awarding only a first place, with a reduced points of 10 rather than the usual 15, and that goes to:



    Weasley Mom ~Hufflepuff~ A Fresh Blade
    What struck me the most here was how well characterised both Ron and Draco were. Ron's emothions were so raw and real; Draco's terror was palpable. And the contrast in hearing Hermione scream was jawdroppingly good. Lori - You must write more Draco.

    Participation points for you all

    Gryffindor - 0.o
    Hufflepuff - 15
    Ravenclaw - 5
    Slytherin - 5


    ~Carole
    Last edited by Equinox Chick; 02-17-2013 at 08:39 AM.
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