Login  
 
 
Go Back   Chamber of Secrets > Harry Potter > Flourish and Blotts

Last Author Standing - Entries v.2



Reply
 
Thread Tools
  #41  
Old March 19th, 2011, 4:52 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Viktor Krum's Largest Mistake in Life

Entry #1


Good Fun

"I hate my school."

A phrase that is used far too often by children (particularly teenagers) in a flippant manner; usually when complaining about teachers, doing homework, or even to break an awkward silence in a coversation.

But, Viktor Krum did hate his school. Every single bit of it.

He wouldn't dare admit this to anyone; not his mother or his father (Merlin forbid!), or any of his classmates and certainly not the Headmaster: Karkaroff.

He hated the bitter cold that seemed to chill the place constantly and how not one of his Professors seemed to feel the need to cast a simple Warming Charm. "A test of character" seemed to be the daily excuse for this lack of action.

He hated that the lessons, while suitably varied, still had a single subject at their core: Defence Against The Dark Arts. The Defence part was all very well for Viktor but the Professors (and sometimes, even the students) were sometimes now subtly introducing just The Dark Arts- more obviously so as each day passed.

But, looking past all of the hatred, Viktor could see that his real displeasure of Durmstrang stemmed from one thing: his love of flying.

Ridiculous though it sounded, everything seemed different to Viktor when he was up in the air and all of the dull facts that had been drummed into his bored skull didn't seem to matter anymore.

And then came the Bulgarian Quidditch Team and all of the fame that came with it.

And still, he stayed on at school.

Viktor couldn't quite understand it, but whenever he approached Karkaroff and opened his mouth, the words, "I would like to leave," seemed to die in his throat.

But one day, Karkaroff summoned him to his office and, far from being intimidated, Viktor saw this as an oppurtunity to gather all of his courage and do what he had always wanted to do: fly.

But, instead of his voice failing him, his own voice was interrupted:

"They are thinking of reviving the Triwizard Tournament this year. It is to be hosted at Hogwarts."

Viktor knew that, being a Durmstrang student, the word that should have stood out for him in that terrific announcement was: Tournament.

Instead, he thought of Hogwarts and instantly remembered an old, dusty textbook, and a glorious picture of a maginficent castle, stone burnt orange by the setting sun.

His heart leapt.

"Now, I know the contestants are chosen a random, but I say that you would be the worthiest candidate to represent our school. ...Should be good fun, eh, Viktor?"

He still remembered Karkaroff confidently sticking out his right hand, and thinking how amazing it was that a Headmaster was addressing him like this; like an equal.

As he shook the hand, Viktor Krum took in the dark eyes, the weathered face, and the crooked, yellow toothed and believed him.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
Sponsored Links
  #42  
Old March 26th, 2011, 5:13 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: A Trelawney Story

Entry #1

A Divination Tradition

During her time as Divination professor at Hogwarts, Sybill Trelawney had made dozens of predictions concerning students, professors, and the weather. Unfortunately, they very rarely ever came true, especially the ones about the weather, which was so undecided in what it wanted to be that it was impossible for her to figure out what it was going to be that day. Nevertheless, Sybill remained unwaveringly confident in her Inner Eye, certain that one day people would finally recognize her talent for the unknown.

But there was a time when Sybill strayed from the honest practice of divination. It was shortly after she had begun teaching, on the first class of the year. That day, Sybill made a certain prediction that would not be forgotten for a very long time.

The day was unusually hot, making the natural stuffiness of her classroom unbearable. Most of the students were struggling to remain awake, and she was quite certain that the two girls in the back had passed out entirely. Nevertheless, she carried on with her start of term speech, hoping to connect with those in the class who might possess the Sight. Although she had not met any yet, a few had showed potential, and she held out the hope that one day she would meet a student truly gifted in the art of divination.

“In this class,” she continued, “you must learn to look beyond the here and now, and to open your eyes to the great expanse of the future!”

Two more heads dropped. She was losing them.

“Only by broadening your minds, can you see a world limited to the select few who control the arts!”

Sybill flung out her arms for effect, but she could tell that no one was paying attention. She may as well strip off her robe and dance a jig on one of the tables, it would make no difference. There had to be a way to grab their attention. She needed to do something big and dramatic.

Her eyes settled on a boy in the front row. His eyes had glazed over, his mouth open, and she could swear she saw a thin line of drool oozing out of the corner of it. He showed absolutely no potential at all, yet for the next year she would have to deal with his poorly-written homework, meager essays, and half-hearted attempts to pay attention in class. How she wished he would just drop the class and save both of them a lot of trouble.

Perhaps it was the heat, or the lack of attention from the majority of the class, or the barren look in this boy’s eyes. But whatever it was, Sybill snapped.

“You!” she cried, pointing at the boy in front. He jerked to attention, his hand slipping from his chin and banging onto the table. “I sense something very grave about you, my boy!”

“H-huh?” The poor boy looked very startled, but at least she had his attention. Now all she needed to do was hold it.

“Yes!” she cried. “I can hear the forces of the beyond calling to me, they have something to say about you!”

“Me?” he asked, dumbfounded. “What are they saying?”

She had about half of the class’s attention at this point. A little more, and they would hang on to her every word. No holding back then.

“They are speaking to me with words, words of great caution. But one word stands out among all the rest, and it calls out to me amongst the black and terror of the unknown!”

Every single eye in the room was on her now. The boy in front had eyes as large as saucer dishes, his mouth agape. This was it.

“What word, Professor?” a girl in the second row asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“It is the word . . . the word of . . . of . . . death.”


Dumbledore was able to settle the subsequent crisis within a week’s time. The boy was given several calming draughts from Madam Promfrey, and his parents were written several owls reassuring them that their son’s life was in no danger whatsoever. Sybill was reprimanded, and asked to refrain from predicting students’ deaths “without proper prior consultation of the Inner Eye.” But Sybill couldn’t forget the feeling she’d had in class that day, with every single eye fixated on her, completely spell-bound. So perhaps, maybe just once a year . . . she could do it again.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #43  
Old March 26th, 2011, 5:15 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: A Trelawney Story

Entry #2

"What if she's, you know...right?"

"Ah, Wormtail, she's a right old fraud."

"You're not the one who had a moon in their teacup."

"Not you too, Moony!"

"Sirius, I'm being--"

"What, serious?"

"Silence, my valiant comrades!"

"Oh, Merlin. Here he goes."

"No stopping him now."

"Ssh, let Prongs speak!"

"Thank you, my dear Wormtail...C'mon guys, are we really going to believe someone like her? If what she says is true, then we're all doomed. Doomed, I tell you! Mooohahaha!"

"...It's like moving from one nutter to the next."


~A Conversation Between The Marauders After A Particularly Eventful 5th Year Divination Class

Dodging Curtains

"Now, really. You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!"

Sybill scowled as Potter blinked at her innocently from behind his spectacles. "Erm-yeah, sorry, Professor," he gabbled quickly, then went straight back to chattering with Black, Lupin and Pettigrew around the circular table.

She tutted quietly, the bangles on her bony wrist shaking along with her in irritation. Really, there was no point in bothering with people who simply did not possess the sight.

However, Sybill decided to be in a most stubborn mood.

"Pettigrew! What do you see in your cup, dear?"

Pettigrew started in alarm, Potter and Black started snickering.

"Ah, yes, Wormtail. Are you in the beyond?!" Black blurted out overdramatically, waving his arms this way and that; nearly knocking over Lupin and Potter's teacups in the process.

The boy shook himself and stared into the murky mess of tealeaves with little understanding- no understanding. "I see-erm...I see..." he began uncertainly, frantically beseeching Lupin silently for help.

Fortunately, Sybill had forgotten him almost in an instant, and had swanned over to Lupin's side. "Let's see your cup, then," she announced but Lupin- with an unnerrving speed similar to that of a Seeker's- stuck out his hand, covering the cup from view. The Prefect Badge is most misleading, Sybill thought grumpily.

Lupin's face turned a rosy shade of pink. Black seemed to have noticed for he said loudly, "Professor! Come and have a look at ours--"

"--They'll be most entertaining!" Potter chipped in cheerfully. During this, Sybill missed the mouthed, ever grateful, "Thank you," from Lupin.

Potter's cup did not seem to conceal anything of great importance. He pouted and then said, "Bet yours will be brimming with drama, Padfoot- suits your personality, you daft blighter."

"Prongs! I am wounded by your cutting words. Here endeth our comradeship."

Sybill paid no attention to this, for she was staring at Black's cup (not with horror- that was far too predicatable), but with a vague kind of puzzlement. "How strange..." she murmered and double checked "Unfogging The Future", just to make sure. She had never seen this sign before.

"What is it?" Potter asked casually, peering into the teacup. He laughed. "Oh! A wedding on the horizon, eh, Padfoot? You certainly kept that quiet."

"What you on about, idiot?"

"You have a veil in your teacup."

"A veil?" Pettigrew questioned curiously. Sybill did not reply; she was still gazing at the teacup as if it were made of solid gold.

"I am never getting married, Prongs," Black stated firmly, folding his arms tightly. "You have made me sick of marriage with your fantasies about Evans. Who, I might add, is single, i.e, not going out with you."

Before Potter could manage to think of an indignant but all the more witty reply, Lupin cut in: "Me thinks the man doth protest-eth too much!" His voice was light hearted, almost musical- a tone he rarely used unless he was feeling incredibly and wonderfully upbeat. Which he was.

Sybill sighed and past the teacup back to the troublesome four, already dreamily planning her next class. So, unfortunately, she missed the last word of Sirius Black's on the subject:

"No, no, it's alright, my lads, I have figured it out. Obviously, I'll be dodging my Mum's curtains for the rest of my life..."


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #44  
Old April 2nd, 2011, 5:16 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Luna Lovegood Meets Rolf Scamander (her future husband)

Entry #1

Of Newts, Notes and Nargles

Charming little things, cobblestones are, Luna thought with a glorious kind of wonder as she meandered through Diagon Alley. Such a lovely way that the warm sunlight almost danced lightheartedly upon them- flitting from bronze stone to bronze stone.

She supposed that the years of the Wizarding War had limited her chance to spot some of the more pleasant aspects of life but she was eternally grateful that the War was now over and she had the opportunity to do so again. Everything seemed much brighter and clearer and real.

Unfortunately (or rather, in this case, extremely fortunately), Luna Lovegood was paying so much attention to the subtle little details of the now sparkling cobblestones that she lost her footing on the uneven ground, wobbled, and watched with a dazed kind of detachment as her whole body moved closer and closer towards the enchanting things.

But, just before the expected moment of impact, she felt a firm but gentle hand clasp on her upper arm and pull her upright, saving her from the fall.

"Watch yourself there!" a refreshingly sincere voice called from somewhere above Luna and she looked up- seeing a pair of deep blue eyes and a roughly shaven face.

"Are you alright?" the young man said again, searching her again with the eyes that Luna decided she quite liked.

"Oh, yes, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she replied happily, beaming characteristically.

A trifle startled from witnessing such an upbeat reaction from a person who had recently just (almost) fallen over, the man grinned back; a little bit shyly and awkwardly, but a true, well meaning grin all the same.

"I'm Luna Lovegood," Luna continued.

"Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Rolf Scamander." And he held out his hand for Luna to shake.

She always thought that this shaking hands business was odd, a bit too formal; she much preferred a wave or a smile but she took his hand and shook it, remembering on old, faded textbook in the back of her Hogwarts Trunk as she did so. "Your father wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them," she pointed out simply, as if she was the only person who knew this fragment of knowledge.

Rolf flushed a little, shuffling on the balls of his feet. "Erm, yes, that’s right," he replied, "You’re the first person who’s recognised me by name."

"It's a very good book," Luna continued, smiling. "But some of the notes seemed to be missing; particularly the ones about Nargles..."

His eyebrows rose in interest. "Nargles? Well, you learn something new everyday." He coughed and his head tilted to the side in curiosity. There was a small pause, then:

"Listen, I'm heading out of here to go to Hogsmeade...Care to join me for a drink in the Three Broomsticks? You could tell me all about those-Nargles-were they called? They sound fascinating."

It was Luna's turn to be surprised, now. Over the years, people had said many things about Nargles but "fascinating" was certainly a new phrase for someone to describe them.

"That sounds nice, thank you," Luna replied, letting Rolf lead her through the winding streets, thinking that a Butterbeer was most definately in order.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #45  
Old April 9th, 2011, 5:26 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Free-write, Harry Potter, himself, must be featured in the story

Entry #1

This Difference

It absolutely wasn't fair, Sirius thought stubbornly. It was the most despicable form of foul play in the history of the entire World (both magical and muggle), even more appalling than when someone (alright, maybe it was him) jinxed the Quaffle in the deciding match of Quidditch so it repetitvely bounced on top of the Slytherin Captain's rather large and hollow head.

In all seriousness, if James didn't stop with the maddening puppy dog eyes (now that was definately unfair, considering that he was the actual dog between the two), Sirius was contemplating leaping over and punching him right in the nose. Perhaps his glasses would break. Again. That would be a laugh.

Except, this was something that Sirius would've felt comfortable doing in the Gryffindor Common Room, or the Gryffindor Boys' Dormitories, or both.

But, he didn't even belong in Hogwarts anymore, not really.

The truth of the matter was that Sirius Black was 20 years old and he was in St Mungo's Hospital and Lily Evans was holding out a baby (a baby!) for him to hold and James Potter was watching, trying not to laugh at Sirius's ridiculous expression.

Merlin, what had he gotten himself into?

"Oh, honestly, Sirius," Lily quipped, amused but firm, and Sirius marvelled briefly at how, apart from the dark shadows under her eyes and her slightly paler than usual face, she was not acting at all like she had given birth a few hours previously. "He isn't going to bite."

"He might. You never know."

The retort was quick and quite clearly a desperate ploy to stall for time. Sirius chanced half a glance at James, grimacing at him in a "Help me out here!" kind of way, to which James shrugged, grinning, wordlessly meaning: "Just do it, Padfoot."

Lily was still expectedly holding out the baby to him, who Sirius was blatantly not looking at, feverishly muttering, "I might- I might break it-erm-him."

James and Lily had both roared with laughter at that, and some sort of invisible weight of stress was lifted from the scene and Sirius was struck by the incredible thought that they were all so young but if something as wonderful as the squirming little boy in front of him could come into existence during this stupid, stupid War then maybe, maybe everything was worthwhile.

But, what they didn’t realise was that his comment wasn’t even meant to be a joke at all. His hands seemed to be suddenly far too big and far too clumsy- far, far too rough to hold something as delicate as a baby.

Sirius vaguely remembered the first time he had seen a baby, and realised it was Regulus, but his mother would not let him hold her second (and better) son. Funny, that. Perhaps there really was something wrong with his hands. Yes, that must be it. But, how could he tell James and Lily this, without them thinking him as being a complete-

Lily coughed pointedly, but then said, in a voice that was much softer than usual (perhaps she could decipher his muddled thoughts to some extent), "Sirius, just keep your arms out...yeah, just like that, you see?" And her own arms were lowering the little child into his arms in such a way that he just couldn't pull back, lest the baby should fall onto the floor. And we can't be having that, Sirius reasoned.

The sensation of this warm, fragile being lying contentedly; almost peacefully in Sirius's slightly shaking arms (sentimental berk) was so overwhelmingly different to the things Sirius understood and held, like the handles of a certain flying motorbike or a temperamental broomstick, that he nearly gasped at how it felt to carry this difference, this miracle, this light.

He looked down into the baby's eyes. They were a murky kind of blue and Sirius somehow knew that they would turn into Lily's eyes soon, and that he would be cursed with James's wild hair and that he would be both his father and his mother and also something quite special, quite different, and quite, quite wonderful.

Sirius cleared his throat, and with a nod from Lily and a grin from James ("You're doing it right, mate"), murmered, "Hello, Harry. I'm...I'm your Godfather..."


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #46  
Old April 9th, 2011, 5:27 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Free-write, Harry Potter, himself, must be featured in the story

Entry #2

Godfather and Godson


Harry shuffled his feet, clutching his jacket more firmly around him. The wind was bitingly cold, and although he had considered using a warming charm, he wasn’t quite as good at it as Hermione was, and besides, the cold felt right.

He found his mind surprisingly blank as he stared at the stone in front of him. At the same time, all of his senses felt heightened. He could hear the wind whistling through the trees, smell the promise of a coming rain, and see every tiny detail etched onto the smooth surface at his feet. It had taken awhile before he had been able to get it, but it was only proper after all.

“Harry! Are you still staring at that rock? I’m beginning to worry about you.”

Harry half-turned as a tall, dark-haired, scruffy but still fairly handsome man walked across the lawn to stand at his side. His godfather, Sirius Black, had been a wanted escapee from Azkaban, that is, until he had finally been proven innocent, and received a full pardon from the Ministry of Magic. A nice thought, Harry supposed, but it didn’t erase all those years of suffering Sirius had gone through. And it didn’t really change anything.

“Come on, let’s go back, it’s freezing out here,” Sirius said, blowing onto his hands and making exaggerated shivering noises. Harry turned fully to face him, one eyebrow raised. Sirius stopped shivering, putting a hand to his head and grinning. Harry laughed and shook his head.

“You know, you look exactly like James when you make that face,” Sirius said. “Now that you’re older, you two look even more alike.”

Harry looked away, his smile slipping off his face. In all the years that had passed, Sirius never seemed to tire of pointing out that fact. At first it had been a great compliment, almost a praise to hear how much he resembled his father, but now he just wished people would stop comparing them. Sometimes, Harry just wanted to be Harry.

Sirius sensed the change in his godson’s mood, and his face grew serious.

“You’re very different from him too, though,” he said. “A lot more mature, for starters, especially for your age. And you’re far more civil than we ever were. Kinder too.”

Harry said nothing, but simply stared in front of him, listening as Sirius went on.

“I know that people always tell you how much you resemble James, and how proud of you he would have been. And it’s true, but I know it’s not fair to keep thinking of you in terms of who your parents are. I, of all people, should know that. Molly was right.”

Sirius stretched out a hand towards Harry, but pulled it back at the last minute. It fell against his side, and he spoke again, much quieter this time.

“I’m sorry. About what I said, in the Department of Mysteries, when I called you--”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Harry said. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. It was my fault--”

No.

Sirius waited until Harry looked him in the eye. They were almost level in height now. Harry had done a lot of growing up over the years.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” Sirius said, slowly but firmly, making sure that every word got across. “I could never blame you. And don’t you dare blame yourself, or I really will get angry with you, understand?”

Harry nodded. Sirius’s words didn’t instantly relieve him of the guilt he’d carried around for years, but they did help.

“Besides, I would have done the same exact thing, you know that.”

Harry nodded again. He did know.

“Thanks, Sirius,” he said.

“Harry?”

Harry turned, startled by the new voice. He saw Ginny making her way toward him, her ginger hair shining even without the sun’s light, blowing wildly across her face. When she reached him she put her arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Harry took one final look at the white marble stone at his feet. Then he turned.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of them walked away, out the gate, turned a corner and then disappeared, leaving the stone behind, upon which were etched the words:

Sirius Black
1959-1996
Beloved Godfather and Friend

“To live for those you love is to live a full life.”


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #47  
Old April 9th, 2011, 5:27 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Free-write, Harry Potter, himself, must be featured in the story

Entry #3

She watched him carefully, a young, red-headed man, stalking away from an apparently empty clearing in the forest. He had emerged from nowhere, out of thin air, and appeared murderously angry. His face was hard and grim in the moonlight, every line tinged with rage. She knew him, or rather, had known him, and more intimately than she cared to remember. She watched him come closer, yet, she could remember watching him leave the tent back there in that clearing. She had always wanted to see his face, as he'd barged out, had always wanted know whether there had been regret there, but now that she saw it, that ugly, enraged face...

“Ron Weasley!” She shouted, stepping out into his path.

He stopped short, hand flying to his pocket and pulling out his wand, eyes bright with suspicion. She moved closer and he watched her come, standing his ground.

“Who are you?” He growled. “If you want Harry Potter, he's in that clearing back there. Take him. Hell, even take that traitor who's with him!”

She stopped, two meters from him, taking care to remain in shadow. Slowly, she brought her own wand out, disguising the movement by raising her other hand in a placating gesture.

“I'm here to help. I'm a friend.” She said soothingly.

“You know how many people have said that?! You can all just eff off! Now get out of my way!” He said quietly,dangerously, every word dripping with cold rage.

“If only you knew, who the real traitor is.” She said, and raised her wand.

All it took was one flick. He did not have time to cry out, or move, or even think. Her wand glowed briefly, faintly like a half-imagined Will-o-the-wisp, and he collapsed to the ground, dead. Another flick, and the corpse became dust. She felt no regret. She had no time for it.

She approached the clearing, pausing at its edge. She could clearly see magic, rising like a dome, enclosing an area the size of small cottage. She could also see the ramshackle tent at its center, and the shadowed figure of a woman striding out, calling Ron's name. She knew that woman, knew her as well as she'd known Ron, and for a moment her breath caught, her mind caught up in the anguish on that young woman's face, anguish she remembered very well. But now was not the time, not when so much was at stake.

“He is gone, if that young man with the red hair is the one you are looking for.” She cried out, and the girl stopped dead, her hand going to her wand.

“Please,” she said gently, “I am not here to harm you. I am here to help. Here,” she took her wand out and laid it on the ground at her feet, “I am unarmed. And before you ask; If I had wanted to kill you, I'd have called the Death Eaters, or killed you and then killed your companion.”

The girl did not move, clearly struggling between a desire to shout a warning, or to fight.

“Hermione, what is going on?” A voice called from within the tent, followed quickly by a young, dark-haired man, this one also brandishing a wand. The girl glanced at him, unsure.

Before either of them could react, she picked up her wand, aimed it a the man, and uttered a string of complex words within her mind. A blinding white jet of light shot from the her wand, hitting him square in the chest and hurling backwards. The girl cried out in alarm, raising her wand, but she was far too slow. One more word, and the girl's wand drifted through the air, where she caught it easily. She spoke quickly, then, before the girl could run or fight.

“The last thing you thought while being prepared for the Second Tri-Wizard task, before you lost consciousness, was that you would have rather it had been Harry who was coming for you, not Viktor.” She said, as loudly and clearly as she could. The girl did not move. She seemed still as stone. “And when you kissed him on the cheek at the end of that year, you meant it as more than what it seemed to be.”

“Who are you?” The girl breathed, almost too softly to be heard.

Throwing the girl's wand back to her, she raised her hands to her hood and lowered it. The girl said nothing, did not even bend to pick up her wand.

“I am you. Hermione. Or rather, I am you as you will be in a few years.”

“Impossible.” The girl, her younger self, whispered.
She fished within her robes and brought out a tiny golden object shaped like an hourglass. It sparkled in the moonlight, and the girl sank to her knees.

“Impossible.” The girl shook her head.

She felt sympathy for her younger self, but there was no time for explanations, or commiserations.

“No, just very many turns. Listen to me. I don't have much time. Harry will wake in five minutes, and when he does he must not know of me.”

“You killed him.” The girl said, softly, crying.

“No. I simply destroyed the piece of Voldemort's soul within....”

“Not Harry. Ron. Why?”

That tied her tongue. Of course, her younger self would have put two and two together; after all, it was what she would have done. And she also knew, that the answer to two questions was now expected.

“Yes, and no. The Ron that walked out on you two, he is dead. The other Ron divorced me, took my children away from me, and left me penniless. As to why; Ron never overcame his jealousy over your...mine and Harry's relationship. Harry and I became even closer than you two are now. Ron couldn't stand it. Maybe he sensed the regret I kept hidden, or maybe he was just heartless. What I do know is that he was not the man I, you, thought him to be.” She paused. Those days were now meaningless. The girl did not need to know more. “And now you know why I came back. You had to know. I could not let that happen again.”

“Ron would not...”

“Walk out on you? Like he did just now?”

The girl's crying slowed, then stopped. She stood up, and stared at where Harry lay sprawled on the ground.

“You mean me to marry him. Is that what happens?” She asked, her voice hoarse.

“He marries Ginny, out of infatuation. What we become...Hermione...those days, these days,” she said, gesturing around her, “drove us mad. The impending doom. The death. We did not think beyond it, and so we all made the wrong choices. But we kept silent, and never mentioned the regret. Ron was the first to admit he'd had enough. His one saving grace.”

“How can I do that, after this?” The girl said, looking at her, and though her face was lost in darkness, Hermione could imagine the sudden anger there.

“What you two will have, will eventually soothe the pain of it away.”

“You know that for sure?” Hermione could hear the scorn.

“I do.”

Somebody moaned, and they both looked down to see Harry begin to stir. Hermione could not see it, it was too dark, but she knew that his scar would be gone. Her first gift to him. It had taken her years to realize that spell, and she had only cast it with her Harry's blessing. She felt a moment of warmth surge through her, but there was no time to dwell on it.

“The Horcrux's. One is at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement, Ravenclaw's Tiara. The other is in Bellatrix's vault, Hufflepuff's cup. The locket is worn by Umbridge. The other is You Know Who's snake – the name is tabooed – and Gryffindor's sword will destroy them. It is in the Forest of Dean. I am not sure where.” She said quickly.

“How am I ever supposed to make this work?” The girl asked, softly.

“Tell him the truth, not all of it, but enough. You know what to do. I know you do. I must go. As for Ginny, leave her to me.”

“What about you? You cannot go back.” The girl said, turning towards her. Harry was slowly waking up, one hand feeling his head, ironically where the scar used to be.

“I will be fine. Besides, this is why I came back. I made the wrong decision Hermione. I hope I will not make it again.”

And with that, she turned and strode from the campsite, away from her former life, and away from her former self. She hoped the girl would do the right thing, but she could not choose for her, only give her a chance. As for herself, well, she had business to finish, and then, then she would vanish, and watch the new future unfold.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #48  
Old April 16th, 2011, 5:06 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Vernon and Petunia's first date

Entry #1

First Date

Petunia Evans sat ramrod straight in her chair, tiny hands clasped firmly onto her purse, eyes darting from side to side as she took in her surroundings. The restaurant was small, sparse, and rather plain, and all in all not what one would expect for a first date.

Even so, Petunia found that she rather liked the location that had been chosen for dinner. There weren’t any of those tacky “romantic” decorations draped over every ledge, table, and chair in the building, and it was just the right sort of setting for dinner with a man she had never even met before. Anything remotely romantic ought to be saved for couples who had known each other for a fair amount of time.

Petunia glanced at the clock on the wall. It was seven, their designated meeting time. Just then a man walked into the restaurant and, after glancing around briefly, approached her table. At least he was punctual.

Petunia said not a word, but merely watched as he walked over. He wasn’t a very handsome man, not too fat but not quite in-shape either, and his bushy mustache almost hid his mouth entirely from view. He was dressed simply, but elegantly, suggesting that he had money at least but he was not well-off. Petunia fingered the edges of her dress. It was silk and rather expensive, and she had worn it on all of her first dates. Finally, the man reached the table, waited to see if she would offer some sort of greeting, and when she did not, he shrugged off his overcoat and took a seat.

“Ah, you are Petunia Evans, then?” he asked.

“I am,” Petunia answered. “You are Alfred Dursley’s son?”

“Yes, Vernon,” he said, looking at her, then at the tablecloth, and then back at her again. His fingers drummed on the edge of the table, which Petunia found highly annoying. They were both silent for a few minutes until she spoke up, if only to cease his relentless tapping.

“I heard you just started a job at a new firm,” she said.

“Ah, yes. Grunnings, as a matter of fact. We manufacture drills.”

“I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Oh.”

They were quiet again. Petunia shifted in her seat, still fingering the clasp of her purse. As far as first dates went, this was turning out to be the worse by far. The men she had seen before had all been avid talkers, yet this one seemed hardly able to utter a word. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, as she had never really cared much about events in the corporate world, but this silence was unbearable.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how I feel about working there yet,” Vernon said, the words spilling out of him in a rush. “My supervisor, Nathan Vale, seems hardly qualified for the position. The man is very unorganized, and I think he has family problems that distract him from his work.” Vernon stopped, his face turning a little red. He had clearly not meant to say all that he had but had just rambled on in an attempt to end that oppressive silence.

“Did you say Vale?” Petunia asked. “They actually live next door to me. I know his wife, Clara. She has a horrid taste in clothing, and I think she’s involved with a co-worker. I see him over at her house all the time, absolutely no shame.”

“Is that so?” Vernon leaned forward, hands under his pudgy chin and elbows on the table, which Petunia normally would have frowned at, but she found that she didn’t mind in light of his surprising interest. “You know,” he said, “he always seemed a bit dodgy, when it came to his wife. Didn’t like to talk much about her. I always suspected something, but of course it wouldn’t be proper for me to bring it up.”

“Naturally,” Petunia said. “Although he ought to be keeping better tabs on his wife if you ask me . . .”


It was actually a very enjoyable dinner. Vernon, unlike most other men she had seen, was truly interested in what she had to say, and seemed to share her liking for sticking her nose into other people’s lives. It was first time anyone had really indulged her in a conversation like this.

Eventually, they came to the subject of their families. Vernon was the only son in his, with one sister whom he saw occasionally on holidays. He was actually looking forward to his new job, a perfectly respectable occupation, in his opinion, and one that would make him very successful one day, he was sure. Petunia at first wasn’t eager to talk about her own family, but after a little prodding from Vernon, she finally opened up.

“I was always the second-favorite,” she said. “My mother and father loved my sister, practically worshipped the ground she walked on. They’ve always been so proud of her, and her . . . special talents. I’ve always felt unimportant, standing next to her.”

Petunia bit her lip and stared down at her plate. She had not meant to say this much, especially to a man she had only just met, but Vernon seemed different. He was so easy to talk to.

“Your sister doesn’t sound as great as all that,” Vernon said. Petunia looked up, her eyes meeting his. “Your parents must be blind, if they can’t see that you are every bit as special as she is. And I, I definitely prefer talking to you, than I’m sure I would with her. You are a very important person, Petunia.”

“Really?” Petunia smiled, suddenly feeling very warm inside.

“Really,” Vernon said.

There were a lot of firsts that night. Their first date, first kiss, and it was also the first time either of them had really felt a connection with another person. They had no idea at the time what that spark would eventually turn into, but they both knew they had finally found someone who understood them.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #49  
Old April 16th, 2011, 5:06 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Vernon and Petunia's first date

Entry #2

Glad

Vernon Dursley.

The name still seemed foreign to Petunia's own lips and if you had asked her about Vernon only a mere couple of days ago, she wouldn't have had the faintest idea who you were talking about.

It was incredibly ironic, Petunia thought, smoothing down her ridiculous overly formal coral skirt (she couldn't resist 'dressing up', in a sense, but she didn't dare admit it) that she had met this teenage boy in one of the places that she loathed the most.

'Loathed' may have been far too strong a word to use, given the circumstances, but to Petunia Evans it felt quite right so she was very well going to use it.

The first glance exchanged between her and Vernon had been in the corner shop, where Petunia had been encouraged to work by her parents. Lily, who was coming 15 in the following January, had been exempt from embarking on such a task, for she had stacks of Summer Homework to finish due to her sitting some stupid set of exams at her stupid, freak school; she had called them 'Owls' which, again, like everything related to Hog--that school was, stupid.

Most grievously, Petunia's parents did not share her views. Far from it. But her teeth ground at this very thought, so Petunia forced herself to drown out the repetitive 'click, click, click' of her heels sounding off the pavement and focus simply on Vernon.

He was buying some sort of magazine or other when she first saw him. He didn't go to her school; she recognized the bright orange uniforms that belonged to the one and only Smeltings. She was about to sniff and make some snide remark about his stupid (yes, that word again) uniform when he gave her a wide grin, along with a cheerful wink when she handed him his change and she immediately decided that his uniform was not that bad, after all.

The second time he entered the shop, he didn’t even buy anything- he browsed through the magazine stand like before, looked at her, opened his mouth, closed it again and left. Most disappointing.

But the third time, ah, the third time, he approached her just as she was struggling to open the till. The conversation, spanning roughly 30 seconds, consisted of precisely this:

"I'm Vernon."

"Oh...Petunia."

...

"Fancy coming a walk with me tonight?"

"...Al-alright, then."

It was a date Petunia told herself firmly. It was my first date.

Vernon Dursely was good looking- a little stocky but good looking, all the same. He had dark hair and jovial eyes and...even if their 'date' was made up of a brisk stroll through the town and endless, mind numbing talks of some firm called "Grunnings", it was-

"Tuney?"

Petunia blinked, abruptly realising that her feet had carring her back home, into the living room. In her half startled state, she forgot to snap at the dreaded nickname; settling for an almost sneer like purse of the lips.

Lily was sprawled on the couch, reading an ancient looking leather bound book with peeling letters.

"What?" Petunia replied waspishly.

Her little sister shrugged, and in that shrug alone, Petunia remembered that she hardly knew anything about Lily- if she liked a boy in particular or if a boy had asked her out or even the silliest of things, like what was her favourite colour...

"Did it go alright? With-er-Vernon, wasn't it?"

Petunia paused, considering, and decided with a firm, "Yes." The unspoken, "I suppose so" was left behind.

Lily closed the book and took in Petunia's flushed face from the walk and the heat of the day. She hesitated, then she asked softly, "And he made you happy?"

Competely unsure about what she was getting at, Petunia only nodded.

Lily stood up, the book held casually by her side. "Good. I'm glad." And she smiled in a sad kind of way and left.

Petunia stared after, suddenly feeling the crushing weight of an invisible loss. She opened her mouth, feeling the greatest of desires to call Lily back but no words were uttered.

The next day, she arranged another 'date' with Vernon, just to distract herself from the sinking feeling in her chest.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #50  
Old April 23rd, 2011, 5:08 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: A tribute to one of the four founders of Hogwarts

Entry #1


Helga Hufflepuff
Medieval
(precise dates unknown)


One of the four celebrated Founders of Hogwarts, Hufflepuff was particularly famous for her dexterity at food-related Charms. Many recipes traditionally served at Hogwarts Feasts originated with Hufflepuff.

That was all that survived of Helga Hufflepuff- two (precisely two) sentences that told one absolutely nothing about Helga Hufflepuff.

Oh, yes, knowing about the food and the feast and the sparkling, golden plates was all very well but any Witch or Wizard who picked up Helga's Chocolate Frog Card would be deprived of sparkling pieces of knowledge; incredibly significant snapshots of life that made her a human.

No-one would know that she and Rowena Ravenclaw were laughing as they chatted together in the Hogwarts kitchens and, eventually, started flicking flour at each other, shrieking and giggling like children- not the stoic, stiff shadows of people that so many Magical historians depicted them as. The moment when both Rowena and Helga’s hair was covered in the ghostly white powder, and when the sounds of Godric and Salazar laughing raucously could be heard from the floor above was the only moment when everything was perfect...Hogwarts was just that: Hogwarts.

***

Godric only wished for the brave.

For Rowena, the intelligent.

And for Salazar, the cunning.

Helga shrugged slightly when the other founders looked expectantly upon her, and said she honestly wasn’t sure and, really, if anyone wanted to join her house, then who was she to deny them entry?

The rest rolled their eyes fondly and then Salazar decided to add on that pure Magical blood would only be permitted into Slytherin House. Helga bit her lip but didn’t say a word.

***

Helga Hufflepuff usually delighted in the event of rain thundering down; it meant cleanliness and life and all the wonderful things in between.

Now, however, with the droplets freezing her skin and a drenched Salazar standing stubbornly in front of the school gates, one hand on the latch, she wasn’t so sure.

“Salazar, please don’t...he didn’t mean what he said, trust me.”

And that in itself was a blatant lie: if there was one thing that was crystal clear about Godric Gryffindor, it was that he always meant what he said. Always. There was no biting of the tongue; just the entire truth and nothing else- whether it was a blessing or a curse, Helga couldn’t say.

There was another hurried, pleading conversation but it was basically a game of circles: never getting anywhere, just repeating the exact same thing in different ways and skirting the sinister issue at the heart of everything.

Helga never saw Salazar, her friend, the man she even thought of once as a brother, sniff and hold back a well restrained sob, before leaving forever. She had given up and returned to the school long before that.

She was still wet and cold and somehow had the horrible feeling that the cold would never go away, no matter how many Warming Charms she cast upon her person. Instead, she forgot her wand for a mere moment, and brushed one of the stone bricks of Hogwarts absently with her fingertips.

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please...” Helga murmured, swallowing thickly.

If Helga lived to the day when her Chocolate Frog Card was published, perhaps she would agree that it was somehow better this way:

A couple of meaningless lines about Food Charms was far better than a striking confession that she knew Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would eventually end in disaster once Salazar left...and only the students, the children would be able to save it.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
  #51  
Old April 23rd, 2011, 5:09 pm
kala_way's Avatar
kala_way  Female.gif kala_way is offline
Snape Lover
 
Joined: 4170 days
Age: 33
Posts: 1,423
Re: Last Author Standing - Entries v.2

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: A tribute to one of the four founders of Hogwarts

Entry #2

All the Rest

“It’s decided then,” Godric said. “The students in my House will be bold and brave. The most chivalrous and daring of witches and wizards.”

“Not to mention rash and thick-headed,” Salazar mumbled.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake do not start that again,” Rowena said, putting a hand to her face and glaring at Salazar through her fingers.

“I’m just saying that if it’s a question of brains over brawn--”

“Then it doesn’t concern you because as discussed my House will consist of students filled with wit and a thirst for knowledge, so will you please lay this argument to rest?”

“Fine,” Salazar said. “It’s just as well, because the students in my House will be of cunning mind and filled with ambition, so that they may one day achieve great success in their lives.”

Godric opened his mouth but with a flick of her wand Rowena silenced both him and his opponent in what seemed to be a never-ending battle between the two.

“And what about you, Helga?” she asked, turning to the fourth founder as Godric and Salazar engaged in a silent shouting match, apparently using exaggerated hand gestures to make up for their lack of volume. Rowena ignored them entirely, directing all of her attention to the blonde woman who had sat quietly throughout this entire ordeal. Which was rather odd, seeing as normally Helga, while an endearing and well-meaning person, never shut up. But throughout their entire discussion, which thanks to the mens’ fighting had lasted for several hours now, she had not said a single word.

“Helga?” Rowena asked again. “What sort of students will you select for your House?”

Helga looked up, and smiled that little half smile that Rowena found oddly cryptic. “I suppose I’ll take all the rest,” she said.

“All the--you mean to say you won’t assign any standards to your House?” Rowena asked. She had always known Helga to be kind and generous when it came to others, but to allow just anyone to be a part of her House? “I don’t understand,” she said. “Do you mean to say that you will take those who do not fit into our three Houses?”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Helga said, smiling that strange smile. “But there are other reasons too. You, Godric, and Salazar are all looking for specific qualities in a person that you believe will help them become the best witch or wizard. But I will look for those qualities that every person possesses. Those that are often overlooked, but are just as important as bravery, brains, or ambition.”

Rowena listened intently to her friend. Helga said a lot of things, and not all of them were the most intellectual pieces of knowledge she’d ever heard, but every now and then she would say something that really made her think, and Rowena had a feeling that this would be one of those times. Even Godric and Salazar had stopped their bickering to listen to the fourth founder.

“A good student will need all of these qualities, certainly,” Helga continued. “But also the far more basic traits that define a person. That’s why the students in my House will be sorted based upon their hard work, loyalty, and sense of fair play. They may not seem like the most glorious of traits, but I believe that no good student can exist without them.”

And thus it came to be that the four founders of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, chose the qualities that each of the students in their houses would possess. Naturally, each House thought of itself as the best, and rivalries formed and reformed over the years. But none were so proud as the Hufflepuffs, who loved their House and all that they represented. Even if some people didn’t see them as such, Hufflepuffs thought of themselves truly as the greatest of all the Houses. Because after all, all good students should have a little bit of Hufflepuff in them.


__________________
The Giant Squid of Anger's more popular older brother...
Reply With Quote
Reply
Go Back  Chamber of Secrets > Harry Potter > Flourish and Blotts

Bookmarks


Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
 
Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off


All times are GMT +1. The time now is 4:14 am.


Powered by: vBulletin, Copyright ©2000 - 2017, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.
Original content is Copyright © MMII - MMVIII, CoSForums.com. All Rights Reserved.
Other content (posts, images, etc) is Copyright © its respective owners.