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Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread



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  #1  
Old November 7th, 2009, 6:02 am
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Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

Since kala_way will be away for the next few weeks, this thread will be used as a temporary holding place for the entries in the Last Author Standing competition.

The thread will be identical to the other thread in that it is only for the entries for this competition and no other posts are allowed.

Eventually this thread will be merged with the original Last Author Standing Entries Thead.



Last edited by Lord Godric; November 7th, 2009 at 6:42 am.
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  #2  
Old November 7th, 2009, 6:05 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Bellatrix and Narcissa finding out their sister is going to marry a mudblood

Entry #1



The door slammed. In walked a middle-aged man with shockingly blonde hair. He threw off his cloak onto a nearby house elf and made for the kitchen.

“Narcissa, you simply must do something about your family. They’re--” but he quickly stopped when he saw two women sitting at the table. The two women were oddly contrasted against each other. Narcissa’s hair was as light as her husband’s and her skin nearly as fair; but Bellatrix was dark and her hair matched her attitude.

“We’re so what Lucius? Do finish,” Bellatrix cackled.

Lucius turned to Narcissa and continued “I only meant that your sister--” Bellatrix stared at him. “Your other sister has greatly displeased the Dark Lord.”

“What now?” Narcissa sighed.

“Andromeda has been no sister of mine. She showed she was loyal to that blood traitor Dumbledore. I told the Dark Lord he should have disposed of her years ago.”

“Bella! Dromeda is still our sister. How could you dare say such a thing?”

“I am loyal to no one besides the Dark Lord.”

“While your sister suggests drastic measures,” Lucius intervened, “the sentiment is true,” he turned toward Narcissa again. “We are loyal to the Dark Lord first, and your sister has proven her disloyalty.”

“How about you quit the school girl gossip Lucius, and tell us what you’re dying to say.”

“Your sister has married the muggle, Ted Tonks. The Dark Lord was not impressed and believes this reflects poorly upon all the Blacks.”

Narcissa gasped, but Bellatrix simply looked amused. “That’s your big news Lucius? Andromeda is loyal to that old fool, Dumbledore; and if anyone’s a muggle-lover it’s him.”

But Narcissa ignored her sister “Dromeda would never do such a thing. She knows the values of this family.”

“Apparently they mean nothing to her,” Lucius said. “The Dark Lord has mocked your family Narcissa, you should be outraged at the actions of your sister. Surely Walburga will be.”

“But she’s my sister,” Narcissa pleaded.

“She is not a Black. We are true Black women! We carried on our family motto –Toujours Pur—It is only that foul sister of ours who laughs at us. The Dark Lord is right to mock us, if our own sister would. We should fix this problem for the Dark Lord. Narcissa surely you agree with me; even your thick husband knows.”

Lucius glared at Bellatrix but did not object.

“I will never harm my own sister,” Narcissa shrieked.

“Then you are just as bad as her,” Bellatrix screamed back before grabbing her wand and fleeing out the door.

Silence flooded the room as Narcissa sat in tears and Lucius knew no way to comfort her.

Finally Lucius broke the devastating silence “she’s right you know.” He turned on his heel and headed into the manor.

Narcissa sat alone in tears thinking of how horrible her family truly was.


  #3  
Old November 7th, 2009, 6:06 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Bellatrix and Narcissa finding out their sister is going to marry a mudblood

Entry #2


The violent wind passed through the narrow opened gap in the window. Causing a non-stopping loud whistling noise. As well as disturbing the flames of the torches hung around the wall. The occupants of the room grew accustomed to the noise and the dancing light. For they didn't show any sign of willingness to shut the window properly.

A young woman was sitting in an armchair. Her feet dangling from one arm of the chair. Her dark silky hair falling off the other. She was focusing hard on her heavy leather-covered copy of Endless creativity: The Dark Arts.

Lying on the couch was her young blonde sister. She was holding a book too, which held pictures of dresses and shoes. In fact it was Madame Malkin's latest catalogue of Party costumes.

" .. make sure you tell Rodolphus and Rabastan to come," the young sister was saying. "I'm sure Lucius has already invited them. Mind you, he's really generous.. Just make sure they're coming."

She threw her catalogue aside and stretched her arms yawning.
"I'm not sure which dress to choose, yet. A good variety this time, if you ask me. You need to choose something, as well Bella. You don't have anything cheerful enough for my party.
Have a look, will you? Bella? Bella!"

Untill then, the blonde sister had been oblivious to her sister's oblivion.

"Yes, Cissy?" Bellatrix raised her eyes from her book. "Sorry, Cissy. What did you say?"

Narcissa was glaring at Bellatrix, " I said; have a look at this. You need to choose a dress for the party."
She threw the catalogue toward Bellatrix who caught it with the tips of her fingers.

Bellatrix skimmed through it: frilly pink, bright blue, ivory satin dresses..

"Dunno, Cissy" Bellatrix handed Narcissa the small book, "You can pick something for me. I like your taste."
That wasn't completely truthful. Bellatrix knew she would regret having Narcissa choose her a dress.

Narcissa watched as Bellatrix's attention shifted from their surroundings to the book in her lap, once more.

Narcissa knew the reason behind Bellatrix's behaviour, lately. Her initiation as a Death Eater was two weeks away. And she didn't know the nature of the initiation, how she'd be accepted in the Dark Lord's order. Whether there'd would be some kind of a test. New Death Eater initiation; was something former Death eaters were forbidden to talk about. Their cousin and Death Eater; Evan Rosier said enigmatically, "You need to leave a good impression,"

So Bella clutching at the straws spent her whole time holding the book. Apparently trying to muster every spell in the book, without much success.

Narcissa didn't know how she felt about the Death Eater stuff. She only knew that she'd rather watch than be in action.

Narcissa knew Bella wouldn't resurface from her book soon. So she fell into her own thoughts, holding a strand of blond hair and started braiding it.

Half way through braiding her long strand, the door of the drawing room was opened and their sister, Andromeda stepped in. Her brown hair was wind-swept. Her cheeks slightly red.

Narcissa was delighted. As much as she loved Bellatrix, she had to admit Andromeda was more talkative.

"And! Come over here! You need to look for a dre--"

"Just a moment Cis!" Andromeda said. Her tone caused Narcissa's face to fall, Bellatrix's head to rise.

"Your party, tell me. When is it?" she asked.

"Next Thursday.." Narcissa answered uncertainly. She didn't want to put it off for any reason.

"That's perfect. Could we have a co-party?"

"Co-party" Bellatrix and Narcissa echoed her.

"Yes. I just .. well.. Just got engaged.. And I thought of.."

"Andromeda!" Bellatrix shrieked and jumped knocking her book away, and threw her arms around her sister. "That's great, And! Congratulations. I'm so happy to hear that."

Andromeda looked less uncomfortable. Apparently she hadn't expected Bellatrix to act like that.

Narcissa was on the other hand was outraged. Bellatrix wasn't that delighted when she heard of her engagement to Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps because Andromeda never showed interest in any boy..

"Whom are you getting married to?" She asked as Bellatrix leaned against the desk her face glowing.

"It's .. Ted.. Ted Tonks.." Andromeda was uncomfortable again.

"Tonks?" Bellatrix and Narcissa said.

"That sounds familiar," Bellatrix added.

"But isn't it that Mudblood from Gryffindor?" Narcissa exclaimed, her eyebrows raised.

Bellatrix's eyes moved quickly from Narcissa to Andromeda. The happiness was replaced by utter disbelief.

Andromeda bit her lip, "It's Ted Tonks. From Gryffindor."

"A Mudblood?" Bellatrix whispered.

"A muggle-born, yes."

Narcissa was watching Bellatrix's narrowed eyes, Andromeda's wide ones.

"You're marrying filth? A Mudblood?" Bellatrix said with revulsion and disdain.

"Even if he's not.. I mean.. Well, I thought you'd have some respect for my choice.."

"Respect!" Bellatrix shrieked. Her hand rummaging in her pocket for her wand, "You wait till I've told our parents, they.."

Andromeda sensing the danger, pulled out her wand, too. "Tell them, then. If all of our family has.."

"Silence! Don't you dare speak of our family when you're committing such an act of.. of.."

Narcissa pulled out her wand. She didn't want casualties, not when her party was three days away.

The words seemed to fail Bellatrix. And before Narcissa could act, Bellatrix raised her wand and a flash of violet blinded Narcissa momentarily. She saw Andromeda dive away, turn on the spot and disappear.

Bellatrix's snarls of rage filled the room as she ran toward the spot where Andromeda had just been standing as if hoping to get hold of her from thin air.
Narcissa willing to be in a fit state for the party, picked her catalogue and hurried out of the room. Her eyes wet with tears.
---

Two days later Andromeda hadn't shown up again as Bellatrix had expected.
Bellatrix was standing alone in the drawing room. She was facing the family tree. Her wand pointed at Andromeda's name. Bellatrix had just burnt her name out of the tree. And was now tracing the golden lines of the tree, marveling at the purity and nobility of her family..

Narcissa entered the room, "Bellatrix! Cheer up! I've brought you a dress for the party!"

Bellatrix's mouth fell open as she turned around to see Narcissa holding up a pink dress with butterflies at the shoulders, and large bow ties around the waist..


  #4  
Old November 7th, 2009, 6:07 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: What Malfoy thought when he was slapped by Hermione

Entry #3


What Malfoy thought when he was slapped by Hermione

Dew stood neatly upon the irregular rocks that protruded sporadically along the path leading down from the castle. Patches of fog lingered just above the ground on the cool morning as a group of students made their way down the path toward the edge of the forest. Smoke rose from a thatched hut near the end of the path, and the air reeked of wood too green to be burned.

“I still cannot believe that I have to take a class from this oaf”, Draco muttered with a sneer as he made his way down the path and gesturing with his head toward a large shadowed figure just beyond the end of the path where the other students had started to collect. A thick clumsy looking boy behind Draco grunted in agreement in a slight delayed reaction as the group reached the end of the path and intermixed with those who had already arrived.

“Welcome to Care of Magical Creatures Class,” cracked the weepy voice of the shadowed in an almost disinterested manner, obviously trying desperately to hold back a breakdown of tears, “today, we are studying flobberworms.”

Draco laughed as he made his way to the back of the group several other Slytherins, close behind. “Once that joke of a bird is gone, I’m sure the Oaf will be next on my father’s list,” Draco boasted while the others joined in his laughter as he slithered up through the group of students, making similar comments.

Draco stopped in his tracks, the grin on his face growing to enormous proportions, there in front of him stood Potter, the pathetic ginger haired Weasley boy, and the mudblood. The mudblood’s hair was only about a foot in front of him; he could smell her perfume, and it made him sick.

“Hagrid, maybe Dumbledore can do something,” Hermione said in a comforting voice.

“No,” Hagrid said, fighting back tears as he moved amongst the students inspecting their flobberworms, “Dumbldore has already done enough.”

“Hermione, I’m sure Dumbledore will think of something,” the ginger haired boy added, trying to locate flobberworms in furry book while it growled and wiggled in an uncooperative manner.

“Ronald, you seriously need to learn how to handle that book. After all, it is just a book,” Hermione noted as she opened her identical, better behaved book that cooed as she opened it. Harry and Ron exchanged bemused glances as they prodded the flobberworms with their wands.

The sound of weeping began to grow louder again. Hermione looked up from her lifeless flobberworm, searching the near area to see if Hagrid had worked his way back to them already. Hagrid was standing over several unenthusiastic Gryffindors on the opposite side of the group, looking dismal. The weeping was getting louder and more pronounced, but she quickly realized that it was coming from behind her. She turned around to investigate.

“My poor bird, oh my poor bird, whatever am I going to do without him,” Draco mocked, pretending to wipe his eyes on Crabbe’s robes, “Boo, hoo, hoo.” Hermione’s face went blank as Harry and Ron turned around to join Hermione.

“I’m just a brainless oaf, and I can’t live without my bird,” Draco continued, rubbing his eyes and sniffling.

Without warning and before he could react, searing hot pain flashed across his cheek. The side of his face felt like it was on fire. What happened? Draco asked himself blinking in shock as he came to realize what had happened.

“How dare that mudblood lay a hand on me,” Draco thought to himself. His hand immediately shot for his wand, and then faltered. He couldn’t show anyone that a mudblood had unsettled him. His father would disown him. He would become the laughing stock of his fellow classmates. No, he had to play this just right. He had to give the impression that he was the one in control of the situation. That is what his father would do. That is what his father would want. That is what he must do.

He had to act quickly and decisively. He had to keep the witnesses down, but he had to maintain some control of the situation. Being a Slytherin depended on it.

He couldn’t let his father know about this, though. He would certainly be laughed at or even punished for letting the mudblood touch him. His father and his father’s friends would ridicule him for years. He could never live this down if they found out. He noticed that several more Gryffindors and Slytherins had turned toward them. He had to act quickly and he had to get out of the situation. He tried to collect his rambling thoughts as he stared at Hermione.

Her face had changed yet again. This time it was filled with resentment and anger. He knew that if he pushed her she would strike again. Given how many eyes were now focused on him, would certainly not be an easy situation to recover from. He had to choose his words carefully, both to protect his image and not solicit another strike.

“Just wait until my father hears about this, mudblood,” Draco said in a disgusted voice, slowly backing away, and then almost bolting up the path, nearly slipping on the wet path.

“Any mention of this to anyone,” Draco threatened those Slytherins who had accompanied him up the path, “and you and your family will be sorry.”


  #5  
Old November 7th, 2009, 6:07 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: What Malfoy thought when he was slapped by Hermione

Entry #4


My great-grandmother Malfoy is insane. That's what father says at least.

Before Hogwarts I would be shipped away to her villa every summer while my parents made appearances in every noteworthy magical society in the world. Books and antiques inside and outside miles of landscapes to make an artist salivate--that's all there is. No quidditch, no horses, no nearby muggles to tamper with. Just dust and sunsets.

Gran has this thing for witty quotations. She plucks them from her books and stores them like antiques in her silver topped head, then pours them out on unsuspecting audiences at tea time. They're practically the only thing that comes out of her mouth any more. Mother says they keep her memory grounded.

The problem is that they have a habit of causing indigestion. They come back up at very inappropriate moments.

Father inherited Gran's wit, but he uses it with tolerable aplomb. He taught me that, "I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant" is the proper response to a blubbering shop assistant. Very useful that.

Not at all like Gran's. Her tidbits always come to mind when my plans don't work out quite as expected. Like while picking orange goo out of my hair after my less than successful potions prank last year. I almost broke the mirror after remembering her saying, "As long as you can laugh at yourself you will never cease to be amused." I was not amused. Laughter is for mocking and a Malfoy is never mocked.

That is why when I was simply noting with pragmatic criticism that "Professor Hagrid" was a snivelling simpleton not fit to teach and forming a further observation about how there aren't enough circuses to contain the freaks at this school, I was irritated to feel that chit Granger's hand swipe across my face. But I was enraged to hear my Gran's voice in my head, "Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold -- but so does a hard-boiled egg." Heart of gold indeed. I'm certainly under-appreciated, but as though I care about the judgments of peasants!

I was proud that I'd trained Vince and Greg well enough that they never brought up the event again. But in retaliation I plan to force a house elf to supply us with several dozen eggs and then make an omelette of that giants hovel of a house. Maybe no one will understand the symbolism, but it will make me feel better.



Last edited by kala_way; November 7th, 2009 at 6:26 am.
  #6  
Old November 7th, 2009, 6:08 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Ron and his father-in-law go fishing

Entry #5


Ron's Fishing Expedition

Ron Weasley stepped out of his home and pulled the door shut behind him. He locked it with his wand and stowed it away in his back pocket, and moodily started walking down the pathway. His wife had already gone to work, even though it was a Sunday, and had thoughtfully arranged for his amusement in her absence. He had been promised a day of fun and relaxation with his father-in-law and he most certainly did not like the ominous sound of that. ‘Male bonding’ Hermione had said, looking as though she had just announced that the Chudley Cannons were top of the league. Her face fell when Ron did not look properly enthusiastic.

“Oh Ron, how bad can it be? Dad feels left out, like he’s not a part of my world anymore. He’s really looking forward to it. And he’s a really fun guy, once the ice is broken. Please? I promise it won’t be as bad as you’re thinking. And I’ll be home when you get back and then we’ll have some fun of our own……..”

She let the sentence trail off, and Ron said, “Alright, I’ll do it. But this better not become like a weekly routine thing.”

The only reply he got was a purple cushion thrown smack in his face.

He reached the end of his lane, and looking around to see that no one was watching, he concentrated on Hermione’s parents’ house, and turned sharply on the spot. Hermione had not told him what they would be doing. Apparently dad wanted it to be a surprise. He rolled his eyes and then steeled himself for what was coming as the Cornwall countryside materialized around him, and headed towards the white gate in front of him.

Half an hour later found him back at that gate with his father-in-law in town, a long fishing rod and a large picnic basket in his hands, and wearing an expression of extreme dismay. Fishing. They were going fishing! Ron could barely believe it. He still recalled vividly the last occasion on which he had held a fishing rod in his hands. It had been on a camping trip his own father had taken with all six of his sons, and most unwisely, without his wife and daughter. He had been five years old at the time, and yet the entire experience had been imprinted on to his brain as one never to be repeated. That trip had involved several tangled fishing lines, squabbles over who caught which fish first, a few of the boys being tossed into the water, a narrow escape from a pet crocodile and its senile owner and a most embarrassing visit to St. Mungo’s. It still made him shudder sometimes. He wouldn’t be surprised if even Percy still got nightmares.

And here he was, now sitting in the passenger seat of Hermione’s dad’s car headed for a fishing expedition that would ostensibly end in tragedy. His dad would have been overjoyed to take his place. He paused in the act of strapping on his seatbelt, wondering why the thought hadn’t struck him sooner and if it was doable. Then he thought of Hermione and knew it was the right thing for him to do. But he resolved to suggest to Mr. Granger that he take dad along the next time. They could make it a weekly routine thing in fact.

The drive to the river side spot that Hermione’s dad had always taken her to when she was younger, was short, and was made pleasant by the fact that he and Ron discovered that they had a mutual liking for Simon & Garfunkel. Trepidation lessened slightly on both sides, Hermione’s dad parked the car and the two carried their fishing gear to the water’s edge. Mr. Granger demonstrated to Ron how to set up his rod, and Ron was able to get it right after remarkably few attempts. They had turned their attention to the picnic basket and Ron was just thinking that he had been quite silly in getting so worked up about the entire thing. He was telling his father-in-law about the saga of his earlier fishing experience and had subtly managed to suggest that Mr. Weasley would enjoy fishing as well when Ron suddenly felt a tug on his line. Mr. Granger showed him how to reel it in and Ron was elated at having caught his first fish! He set up the rod again and no sooner had he thrown the line into the water than he felt another tug. Eager to show his father-in-law how quickly he had mastered what he had been taught he started trying to reel it in but faced opposition from the other end. Undeterred, he kept trying to pull it in and he gave an almighty tug, the line snapped and poor Ron, standing far too close to the water’s edge in his enthusiasm, fell in. Cold, sputtering, and embarrassed Ron resurfaced and swam to the edge of the water, determined not looking at his father-in-law – who by now with difficulty, had managed to compose his expression to a kindly and sympathetic one.

“I should probably see where the line got stuck”, Ron suggested in a small voice.

His suggestion was agreed to and he followed the end of the line to a rock where it had been embedded. Feeling quite foolish he untangled the line, and not wanting to go back and face Hermione’s dad, he swam to a rock a little way out and sat on it, looking quite downcast.

Mr. Granger could commiserate with his son-in-law and said kindly, “Let’s go Ron, I think we’ve had enough fishing fun for this time.”

Ron couldn’t believe he was getting to leave already. He felt a surge of affection for Hermione’s dad but said, “No Dad, one more try, I won’t mess it up this time.”

“Nah let’s go back, grab a couple of beers and watch TV. You need recuperation.”

“Oh dad, I’m sorry I know you really wanted to fish.”

“It’s alright, besides you’ve scared all the fish here, we won’t get a bite for hours.”

Ron moaned and covered his face.

“I’m joking son, don’t worry. In only half an hour I’ve already had the best fishing trip ever.”

The only response he got was another groan.

“Uh Ron? Don’t look now but I think that rock you’re sitting on just moved its tail.”

Ten minutes later, he was being plied with scones and hot tea by his mother-in-law.

Twenty years, Mr. Granger was telling him, twenty years he had been going to that place and never had they managed to lay eyes on so much as a frog. But Ron had managed to locate the only crocodile in the entire county.

He shook his head.

Never again.


  #7  
Old November 7th, 2009, 6:09 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: A Madame Rosmerta story

Entry #6


The New Neighbor


By nature, Aberforth Dumbledore would never be described as jolly, but today, he was positively grumpy. He slammed the door to the Hogs Head behind him and pulled the front of his heavy coat tight around his tall, wiry frame. He paused for a moment to wipe the frost from his spectacles, revealing his piercing blue eyes, which were fiery with anger. He picked up his feet and trudged through the new fallen snow up the back alley that led from his dilapidated establishment and onto the main street through the village of Hogsmeade. He huffed for a moment and started walking towards the edge of town, where Hogsmeade Station (and the road to Hogwarts, incidentally) lay.

He approached the building that once housed Burmeister’s Robe and Wand Repair Shoppe. For a moment, Aberforth shook his head slowly. Who would have guessed that squirrelly old man Burmeister was a smuggler specializing in importing Dark Arts objects? When Alastor Moody, Auror extraordinaire, showed up with the Ministry Hit Team and took the old man away, the building and the business had been allowed to fall into disrepair. That had been almost two years ago.

As Aberforth neared the building, he saw that it had been given a make over of extraordinary proportions. The thatched room had fresh hay and the stucco walls had been painted a bright baby blue. The shutters had been repaired or replaced and there was an air of festivity around the old building. Aberforth grumbled to himself. What Mundungus Fletcher had told him seemed to be true, at least from what he could see. His musings were interrupted by the crash of the front door of the building, as it was thrown open. A woman with a bramble of reddish blonde hair came striding out, her arms full. She stopped in front of the building and shoved a wooden sign into the ground and pulled a large wooden mallet from the front pocket of her apron and began hammering it into the ground.

Aberforth looked closely at the woman. She was young, no more than twenty five with long hair and a curvy figure. She was wearing a thick jacket lined with fur and her cheeks were bright red from the combination of physical effort and the cold. His eyes traveled to the sign which declared the name of her establishment, “The Three Broomsticks.” He felt his eyebrows crease in annoyance and then he returned his gaze to the woman. She finished tapping the sign into the ground and spun around on her heel and faced him. She placed most of her weight on her right leg and tossed her hip to the side, placing a hand on her hip and pointing a long, gloved finger from the other hand at him.

“Am I wearing something of yours?” Her voice was a clear soprano with the subtle hint of attitude.

“Excuse me?” Aberforth sputtered.

The woman rolled her eyes and laughed gently. “I must be wearing something that belongs to you, because you’re staring at me.”

His face flushed a bright crimson and he coughed into his fist, trying to regain his composure. His eyes wandered back to the sign. “What kind of place is ‘The Three Broomsticks’ anyway?”

The woman tossed her head, causing her hair to fly over her shoulder as she looked back at the sign. “It’s my place. It’s a pub, meeting place, what have you. I’ll serve butterbeer for the underaged and firewhiskey for the rest. We open next Saturday. You should come. The first round is on me.” She extended her hand. “My name is Rosmerta.”

He almost missed her name. A pub? He had the only pub in Hogsmeade. Absently, he took her hand and shook it. His voice echoed the question in his mind. “A pub?”

Rosmerta nodded. “Yes. This town could use a good place to congregate. Honeydukes is too sugary and I hear tell that there’s a run down place down the way that attracts an unsavory element. I don’t remember what it’s called.”

“The Hogs Head.” Aberforth mumbled, his initial anger coming back.

Rosmerta snapped her fingers. “The Hogs Head, that’s it! My friend, Cornelius Fudge, he’s the head of the Office of Magical Business Assistance, he told me that the Hogs Head was a place best avoided during the good times and completely rancid at night.”

“Mr. Fudge said that, did he?” Aberforth’s voice was remarkably calm and smooth. His blue eyes smoldered, as he remembered how Cornelius Fudge tended to darken the door of his pub almost twice a week meeting with “associates”. Aberforth grunted. “So you opened this at the request of Mr. Fudge?”

“Oh no.” She smiled and its warmth caught him by surprise and for a moment, he forgot his anger. She continued. “I wouldn’t have done it, but Cornelius introduced me to a couple of people from Hogwarts and they convinced me that Hogsmeade needed a place like mine.”

“Who, pray tell, might that be?” Aberforth had a good idea, but he wanted confirmation.

“Well one was the Assistant Head Mistress, Minerva McGonagall. She’s a wonderful sort, if you get past her severity. I had her for Transfigurations when I was at Hogswarts. The other was the Head master, Albus Dumbledore.”

Even though he was expecting the response, he started. “Dumbledore?”

“You know him? He’s a wonderful man.” Rosmerta did not seem to notice the tension in Aberforth’s shoulders.

“I know him.” That was all he could eke out in his anger. His own brother was trying to put him out of business. He knew he should say something, but when he looked at her, he simply couldn’t. The spell was broken by a voice from nearby.

“Ah, Madame Rosmerta, I trust everything is going well?” A kindly man with a long flowing beard and long hair, shaded gray with streaks of auburn smiled through half-moon spectacles that seemed to magnify is brilliant azure eyes.

“Why yes, Professor, I’m quite ready. I was just talking to,” She paused and looked up at Aberforth. She did a brief double take, seeing how very similar in appearance Aberforth was to Dumbledore. She let the detail pass. “I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Aberforth.” He grumbled. “I’m the owner of the Hogs Head.”

There was a pregnant silence. She should feel a bit of shame, Aberforth thought. She should feel bad that she was cutting into his business. Instead, the biting cold air was cast aside as her warm, ebullient laughter danced in his ears.

“Oh my! That’s why you’re here! How amazing!” She reached up and touched his shoulder. He jumped, as if electricity had leapt from her hand. She smiled even wider. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll fix you a drink? Then we can talk and discuss how we can help each other.”

She turned and winked at Albus, who nodded with a smile and then sauntered to her front door. Despite his apoplexy, Aberforth caught himself watching the sway of her hips and then he shook himself and turned his face towards his older brother.

“You convinced her to open this place?” His voice was a mix of anger and confusion. “What did I expect from the great Albus Dumbledore, who knows everything.” He folded his arms together and glared at his brother.

Albus smiled warmly and then his eyes grew serious. “I wanted an establishment that was more open, more up front. That would leave the Hogs Head with, shall we say, less scrutiny.”

Aberforth considered the point and then spoke. “I still think you’re overreacting. No one has seen Tom Riddle in quite a long time.”

“I have.” Dumbledore responded and watched as Aberforth’s eyebrow arched. “Yesterday. He came by to ask about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. I turned him down.”

Aberforth nodded slowly but said nothing. Albus continued. “There’s something nefarious about that man. I have a feeling that we’ll be hearing from him again, and not in a good way.” He looked over at his brother, but knew better than to touch him. The wounds between them were still too great. “That’s why I need you and the Hogs Head to be discreet and that’s why the Three Broomsticks is here. Come on, let’s get out of this cold and take Madame Rosmerta up on her offer. After that, I wanted to talk about creating a passage to the Room of Requirement from your place. That should come in handy one day.”

Aberforth nodded and followed his brother into Rosmerta’s new pub, and part of him was actually looking forward to seeing the manner with which she served drinks. Of course, he wasn’t disappointed.


  #8  
Old November 19th, 2009, 6:08 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Harry's Proposal to Ginny

Entry #1

Ginny sat up in her bed as she heard a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in!" she said loudly.

The door was pushed open and Hermione stepped in, slightly panting.

"Hi Ginny," Hermione said brightly, "How come you're still in the bed?"

Ginny lied back in her bed saying, "There isn't much to do outside bed,"

After a little pause Ginny asked Hermione who was eyeing her with concern. "Seen Harry this morning?"


The Burrow was now empty except for Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione who had just come. Ginny didn't know what Harry was up to that morning. And the rest of the family were at work, except Harry who had the whole week off from his Auror training sessions. Harry and Ginny spent everyday of that week together, either in the yard or somewhere up the hills. That morning Ginny woke up looking forward to spending another day with Harry. However she couldn't find him anywhere in the house. And when she asked Ron he said wouldn't tell her and set off for work.
So Ginny, after a few attempts to know what was Harry doing that day, had returned to her bedroom. When she was done with feeding the chicken for her mother.

"Oh.. " Hermione said with an understanding smile, "I'm sure he'll be around soon. Don't worry Ginny" Hermione added gently when Ginny looked somewhat stubborn.

"Not worrying.. But I thought he'd be around today," Ginny's voice had an unmistakable note of disappointment.

"Um.. Quidditch Ginny?" Hermione asked awkwardly.

"What?" this immediately threw Ginny out of her worries.

Hermione looked embarrassed as she answered, "I was wondering if you wanted to play Quidditch. I mean.. the weather is nice out there. And you could do with some training.."

Ginny was puzzled. Why on earth was Hermione asking her to play Quidditch? Anyways, she wasn't going to let her down. Not when it was her first time to suggest playing Quidditch.

Ginny looked outside the window. The sun was visible between the thick grey clouds. Its rays showering the hills with warmth and light. With the light breeze ruffling her hair, Ginny couldn't help but accept Hermione's offer.

The two of them set off toward the hills after picking two brooms out of the shed, mounting them and kicking off the ground.
They were flying so low that they were almost touching the over grown green grass. Ginny sped off and reached the spot where they usually played Quidditch before Hermione had done.

Their One-on-One game went on for no more than an hour. They played with a single ball trying to get it through each other's low hoops. It wasn't actually Quidditch but they both had fun. At least Ginny did.

Ginny was putting the brooms back in the broomshed when she heard noise in the nearby shed where her father kept his muggle stuff. She was about to open the door when it was wrenched open from inside. Ginny gave a gasp when she saw Harry emerging from the dusty shed.

"Harry!"

"Ginny!"

"What were you doing here?"

"Um.. Got something to show you.."

Ginny followed Harry in her father's shed as Hermione retreated back in the burrow.
Ginny's mouth literally fell open as she saw what was standing in there.
It was Sirius' huge flying bike.

"Its been here since ages. Ever since --" But Harry didn't go on.

"Ah," Ginny said.

"Your dad has mended it and I was testing the extras Hagrid had installed," Harry said. "What about a trip?"

After a while Ginny was holding tightly on to Harry. The bike was roaring in life and they were flying.

Ginny was exhilarated. The bike was by no way close to a broomstick. It was a bit closer to flying a Thestral. Except that it wasn't invisible. And the Thestral didn't cause so much noise.

They flew so high and Harry pushed Hagrid's buttons more than once. Ginny expected Harry to turn around and return to the burrow but he kept flying in the same direction.

"Harry, where are we going?" Ginny shouted loudly after what seemed like long hours. Harry didn't answer her question but merely reassured her that they'd reach their destination soon enough.

They landed somewhere in London, in a deserted street. Harry got off the bike followed by Ginny who was looking around her in surprise.

"What do you think?" Harry was asking about the bike.

"Huh? Nice, but brooms are more.. stable, I'd say. Where are we exactly?"

Harry took Ginny's hand without a word and to her surprise he was turning on the spot, disapparating.

Opening her eyes, Ginny found herself in a familiar place. It took her a while to realise that Harry had taken her to the old house; Grimmauld Place.

"Harry, why are we here?" She said cautiously. She knew Harry wasn't fond of that place.

"You'll see in a moment."

Harry unbolted the door and to Ginny's surprise the house didn't seem to be as unfriendly as it used to be. The surfaces were shining and not covered in layers of dust as she would've expected. Everything was tidied and polished. Someone must've been here, she thought.

They took a tour around the house. Harry told her that it was Kreacher who got all that cleaning done.

"And that thing.. The portrait?" Ginny was whispering pointing at Mrs. Black's portrait.

"Oh.." Harry laughed, "Not sure if it had worked, but I've permanently stuck that curtain. Don't mention it in front of Kreacher though." Harry added tensely.

"What's all this about? Why have you cleaned that house, brought us here.."

"Do you approve of it?"

"Me? Oh yeah, it's fine now that its cleaned and all.."

"I.. Wanted to ask you. Will you marry me Ginny? We can live in this house, if you like it. If you don't. This can be easily arranged. What say you?"

Ginny felt colour rise to her face. She hadn't expected that at all. She looked into Harry's face, his green eyes looking expectantly into hers.

"Yes, Harry." Was all she could manage.

-----

They went out of the house. It was getting darker and colder. Harry suggested that they apparate straight back to home and get the bike another day. Ginny agreed. As much as she enjoyed their trip in the morning. She doubted she'd manage to take another one.

They turned on the spot and after a moment they reappeared in the familiar garden of the Burrow.

Ginny was telling an amused Harry about her Quidditch match with Hermione, when she suddenly stopped walking, half way through the garden.

"What is it, Ginny?"

"You? You sent her after me?"

"Sorry Ginny. I had to keep you away." Harry laughed.

Everybody was back in the Burrow waiting for them in the crowded kitchen. Their news added a festive air around the kitchen. Hermione was beaming and ran forward to hug them both. Mr. Weasely shook hands with Harry. Mrs. Weasley was crying into her handkerchief. George set off fireworks in the kitchen which finally landed in Ron's soup causing it to explode in his face.



Last edited by Lord Godric; November 19th, 2009 at 6:15 am.
  #9  
Old November 19th, 2009, 6:09 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Harry's Proposal to Ginny

Entry #2

Harry came up the stairs hearing the girls talking in Ginny's room.

"Can I borrow your blue jumper, Hermione?"

"Sure, but it's getting a bit old. I have a new red one that my mum just sent me. Do you want to wear that one?"

"No, I like the faded one. It's more comfortable."

Harry cleared his throat as he reached the landing, "Molly sent me to call you for dinner." He called, peering through the half open door.

Ginny pulled the door open and gave Harry a kiss. "You're back! Did it go all right?"

He smiled and leaned against her door frame, "Yea, I didn't pass the vision test of course, but they said there are some things they can do to work around that."

"Here, Gin," Hermione said, tossing the jumper to her. "If Moody can outstrip younger aurors with all his hang ups I should hope they can get around a pair of glasses."

"That's the truth!" Ginny replied, pulling it on over her Holyhead Harpies t-shirt.

"I got an owl from Coach Griffiths. Seph's knee is still not fully healed so I'm starting Seeker this Sunday!"

"That's amazing, Gin!" Harry said, glancing at Hermione. "I guess we won't be able to dance all night at the wedding."

"I'm sure Mum will keep the boys from getting too wild, but I'll be happy to escape before the parting prank."

Hermione paled, "Don't joke about that, Ginny. Bill promised me he'd keep the others from ruining anything."

"I'm kidding! I'm sure it will all go off without a hitch. You have every moment planned so I don't know how it could be otherwise."

"I can't believe I'm getting married in two days!" she moaned.

"Hermione! Harry! Ginny!" Ron's voice echoed up the staircase. "There won't be any food left if you don't hurry up."

______________________________________


Harry sat in the top box at Harpy stadium waiting for the game to begin. Neville was beside him, but after yesterday's wedding everyone else was either busy or in no shape to be going out for a morning game.

They both cheered as Ginny and her team flew out and circled the field.

"I never knew Harpy fans were so crazy!" Neville yelled over the din.

"What?"

"Look!"

Harry looked down to the cheaper seats where a sea of men with painted faces and bright jerseys held signs mocking the Wasps or encouraging the Harpies. Most were funny, but one said in shining purple letters, "Marry me Ginny Weasley!" Scowling he sunk back into his seat. After a full day yesterday of being asked by every second cousin and family friend about when he and Ginny would be tying the knot, Harry was more ready than ever to give it some time. He loved Ginny, make no mistake, but all the pressure reminded him too much of the "Chosen One" business.

Harry didn't enjoy the game. Oh, he loved watching Ginny fly, but the rowdy fans and shrill announcer were getting on his nerves. He should have accepted that headache potion Mrs. Weasley had offered. Ginny stayed on the other seeker's heels the whole time, ignoring the screams and signs like a pro and dealing with some brutal beaters. At the last second she snatched the snitch from between the Wasp seeker's fingers. The Harpies were now 7 and 2, two of those wins thanks to Ginny. Harry stood and applauded with Neville.

After the game, they sat in the players transport room waiting for Ginny. Through the glass walls they could still hear and see the fans. They were currently showering their love on the Harpies star keeper, and she was lapping it up and signing autographs.

Ginny came through the locker room door with another player and the fans moved to press against the glass wall, hoping they'd come out to join the fray.

"Great game, Ginny! Congratulations on the win!" Neville said kindly.

"Thanks Nev! Bye Paris," she said waving as her teammate exited through the floo.

"That was a wonderful catch, love," Harry said, smiling and giving her a kiss.

A chubby fan with his face painted banged on the glass, "If he won't marry you I will, Ginny!" His friends surrounding him pushed and laughed, and Ginny turned with a smile to wave at them.

"We'll see you, Nev," Harry bristled. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Sure thing, Harry." But Harry barely heard him as he'd pulled Ginny against him and spun on his heel, apparating back to the Burrow.

He opened the gate and walked up the path, "Why do you encourage them?"

"They're just fans, Harry. They're only having fun. Come on!" She grabbed his hand, "Don't take it so seriously. There's only one person I want to ask--"

"Ginny, Harry, you're back! How was the game? I heard on the wireless that you won. That brute of a seeker wasn't rough was he?" Arthur called through the front window.

"No Dad, it was a great game."

______________________________________

"Because Twilfit & Tatting's is having their annual blowout sale and wearing Hogwarts robes every day for seven years really stunted my fashion sense and now that I have some money of my own I want to get a few things for Mum. I’ve never been able to get her a proper birthday gift.”

With her big brown eyes blinking up at him he knew he didn't have a chance, but he'd go down fighting. "But this is our first free weekend in a month."

He could see she knew she'd won though. She smiled sweetly and gave him a parting kiss calling, "We'll be back this afternoon," over her shoulder.

He sat back down and took another bite of his cereal. He saw that someone had left the paper and he flipped it open, reading about the Minister’s new policies on Azkaban and how a charity dinner for war orphans had gone. As he flipped to the center page he saw the full page advert for Twilfit & Tatting’s. His hand jerked as he read the headline, and his cereal and milk spilled out over the page. As he tried to mop it up he adjusted his glasses, “TWILFIT & TATTING’S ANNUAL BRIDAL BLOWOUT SALE!! All dresses reduced by 40%! Gown today, gone tomorrow! Even if you aren’t engaged, there’s nothing like a white dress to give him a hint.”

“B-b-bridal?”

“What, Harry?” Arthur strolled straight toward the pantry and pulled out the cookie jar.

Harry snapped the Prophet shut as quick as he could and stood up, tossing the paper in the trash and the soiled rag in the sink. “Nothing. Nothing!”

“Ron and Hermione are coming for dinner tonight. Hermione said she’s been practicing with those cookbooks Molly got her last Christmas, wanted to surprise Molly for her birthday. Though from what Ron tells me it’ll be a night for happy nods and closed mouths.” He stuffed a cookie in his mouth and one in each pocket and shuffled out.

Harry needed to fly. Nothing like being 100 yards in the air to get your mind off things.

A few hours later, he landed in the back garden and made his way around toward the kitchen door. He could hear Hermione banging pots around and huffing while Ron protested, “Maybe he wants more time to just be free and have fun. Pushing him isn’t going to help.”

Hermione scoffed, “Oh, your cell is very comfortable though, Ron, and I always leave plenty of books within reach of the chains.”

“Oh, haw, haw,” Ron faked. “I just mean that Harry hasn’t really had a chance to just be a normal guy.”

“If he doesn’t want to date anyone else, there isn’t any reason they shouldn’t get engaged. It doesn’t mean they have to get married next week. It’s just a promise. A comm--”

Harry stepped through the door and they both went silent.

Ron cleared his throat, “Good fly?”

__________________________________

Harry sat on the bed in Ron’s old room and thought about what Hermione had said. He wasn’t brave enough to see if Ginny came home with any giant packages.

He jumped a bit when someone knocked on the door. “Come in.”

Ginny walked in and sat beside him on the bed, “You okay?”

“Yea, fine. Buy some good stuff.”

“A few things.”

“That’s…good.” He swallowed. Opened his mouth to speak. Closed it again and bit his lip.

Ginny sighed, “All right. Obviously I’m pants at hints. Old, borrowed, blue jumpers, convincing every cousin I’ve ever met to mention our getting married to you, messing around with those stupid fans, leaving that silly advert out for you to find—so I’m just doing to do it.” She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye, “Harry Potter. Will you marry me?”

Harry’s jaw dropped, he blushed, then burst out laughing. “YES! Of course!" He grabbed her hand, "Will you marry me even though I’m an idiot?”

She laughed too, “Of course!”

He kissed her soundly, and then pulled back, his thumb caressing her cheek, “Good.”



Last edited by Lord Godric; November 19th, 2009 at 6:15 am.
  #10  
Old November 19th, 2009, 6:12 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

LAST AUTHOR STANDING

Topic: Gilderoy Lockhart wining an award for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile

Entry #3


Gilderoy’s Gift

If it weren’t for his gorgeous dimples, he knew he’d be experiencing a prodigious amount of pain. As it were, his cheeks were burning from the rigidity he’d been imposing on his jaw muscles to maintain the impressive width of his smile. The Witches’ Gardening Club was buzzing with excitement as he stood atop the dais erected in the main lobby of the Ministry of Magic. He turned and posed from time to time, his robes rustling quietly, a veritable rainbow of forget-me-not blue, periwinkle, lilac and mauve. His wavy golden hair bounced, every curl in perfect placement about his neck and shoulders, a perfect frame for his two best features, his riveting azure eyes and his radiant, and now award-winning, smile.

As Gilderoy Lockhart absorbed the adulation of the middle aged witches that comprised the Gardening Club, he allowed himself a brief glance at the table in the back of the room, where stacks of his new autobiography, “Magical Me”, were literally flying into buyers’ hands. (He’d charmed them, of course. Whenever the five galleons hit the tray, the book would sprout wings and spring into the air and into the purchaser’s bag.) He placed his well manicured hands on his hips and thrust his chin forward, turning in profile to show that the wattage of his smile was as brilliant from the side as from the front.

In retrospect, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d won the Gardening Club’s “Most Charming Smile” award. In fact, the prize hadn’t been in any real doubt, save for one brief instance where serendipity intervened. The curve of his lips dropped ever so slightly, not even enough for anyone to notice, yet he knew and he reminded himself to force the smile wider. In the back of his mind, he remembered the precise moment he nearly lost and then won the prize.

Halloween in Hogsmeade was a festive time. The Witches’ Gardening Club, by happenstance, was a sponsor of the annual festival and Lockhart certainly knew that if he wanted to win the prestigious prize, he had to make an appearance. It was a simple enough thing to convince the proprietors of Honeyduke’s to sponsor his appearance, and ensured that he would be able to display his gleaming smile to the ladies who made up the voting committee, without actually lobbying for the award. (It was very bad form to actually TRY to win the award. It was, after all, a “spontaneous” vote.) Everything was in place. Honeyduke’s had set up a kiosk right outside their shop where every one of his bestsellers was on display, next to a life size, living image of him. He stood atop a raised platform, posing for pictures with his fans, most of them female, which gave him the opportunity to bedazzle one and all with this smile.

As the day wore into night, Lockhart was convinced that he’d locked down the award. His head danced with thoughts of completing his autobiography in time for the award presentation the following spring. Here and there, he saw members of the Gardening Club, pointing at him and then murmuring amongst themselves. Lockhart used those moments as an opportunity to direct his dimpled grin their way, causing them to giggle in excitement. The prize was as good as his.

However, movement in the crowd caught his attention. As if by magic (considering they were all wizards and witches, perhaps it was magic) the throng parted revealing the figure of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of nearby Hogwarts. For a moment, the ever ebullient adventurer (perhaps he could patent that moniker?) felt a tinge of doubt in the very pit of his stomach and with good reason. Dumbledore, by now, was nearly as famous and definitely more accomplished as he was. The current struggles against “He-who-must-not-be-named” had, among other things, elevated Dumbledore to new heights of attention because of his leadership of the opposition. Now, Dumbledore’s notoriety seemed to be standing him in good stead.

The amiable headmaster made his way through the crowd, shaking hands and nodding his head. Much to Lockhart’s chagrin, Dumbledore was granting his well wishers an adorable smile of his own. Lockhart hated to admit it, but Dumbledore’s smile had many things working in its favor. It wasn’t wide and overpowering, but its subtlety and understatement was powerful in its own right. The gleam of Dumbledore’s blue eyes looking over the top of his half-moon glasses lent an air of charm and familiarity that made the recipient of the smile feel appreciated and loved. Most of all, Dumbledore’s smile was sincere, without a whit of being forced or fake.

Immediately a plan formed in Lockhart’s brain. He stepped down from his stand and began walking towards Dumbledore. Perhaps if they stood together, the sheer glow of his pearly white teeth would outweigh the slight grin of the headmaster. As he neared Dumbledore, he felt the pit in his stomach grow deeper. Members of the Gardening Club were huddled around Dumbledore, where he was regaling them with stories about knitting patterns. The damage was worse than Lockhart had anticipated. Dumbledore could actually relate to the old biddies. Now Lockhart was convinced he had to take desperate action. He sidled up beside Dumbledore. Before he could wrap his arm around the tall, bearded wizard, a severe woman in dark green robes and a tall green hat pushed her way through the crowd to Dumbledore’s side. She leaned in and whispered, where only Dumbledore, her and because of his proximity, Lockhart could hear.”

“The Dark Lord has killed the Potters.” Minerva McGonagall’s voice cracked and her lips pursed together. A dark cloud covered Dumbledore’s face, his friendly smile disappeared, replaced by a laconic frown. He ignored the ladies around him and faced McGonagall. The Transfiguration teacher nodded.

“Their son survived and the Dark Lord is gone.”

“Gone?” Dumbledore finally spoke, but he could not hide the sadness in his eyes. He waved McGonagall ahead of him, all thoughts of chatting with the Gardening Club gone. “We have much to do. Let’s go find Hagrid.”

He left a befuddled gaggle of witches in his wake, momentarily stunned at his sudden departure. Lockhart took a brief second to watch Dumbledore’s receding back and then turned and faced the abandoned women. He broke into his most patented devil-may-care grin and spread his arms wide.

“Ladies…”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The current head of the Witches’ Gardening Club was finishing her longwinded presentation. Lockhart was more than practiced in standing and posing in one place for extended periods of time. He picked random faces in the crowd and gave a salutatory wink, causing rampant flushes from the attention. Yes, his cheeks burned, smiling so much was such a tedious chore, but when one’s most important avocation was the promotion of one’s self, smiling was a small price to pay and the exposure from the award of “Most Charming Smile” was already paying dividends in book sales and promotion.

It was a sure thing, after all, that he did, indeed, have the best smile in the world. He shook off the doubts from that cold October evening. He buried the images of the shock and sadness he’d seen on Dumbledore’s face in a place far away. The Dark Lord was gone, after all, and the smile on his face was his gift to a recovering world. The fact of the matter was that Dumbledore hadn’t stood a chance. Sure he was a charming old man, but Lockhart was the whole package. He was the perfect specimen of wizard kind. The roar of applause snapped him to reality and he waved with a flourish as he approached the podium. Despite the discomfort, his smile grew wider.

“This is so surprising.” His false modesty was applied with just the right measure. “I’m not even prepared to speak. I jotted a few notes down in haste.” He pulled three full pages of rolled up parchment and flattened them out on the podium. He cleared his throat and looked up at the crowd.

“Mother Theresa once said, ‘Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.’ I can only be so humble that the world has seen fit to accept my gift, my smile.”

Gilderoy Lockhart, the latest recipient of the Witches’ Gardening Club’s “Most Charming Smile” award, ramped up the shine on his charm and promoted his most prized product, himself. All the while, a toddler orphan with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead began a life where his own smile would be over a decade in coming, but that’s a story for another time.



Last edited by Lord Godric; November 19th, 2009 at 6:24 am.
  #11  
Old November 19th, 2009, 6:14 am
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Re: Temporary Last Author Standing Entries Thread

Last Author Standing

Topic: Gilderoy Lockhart wining an award for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile

Entry #4


Gilderoy, Uninterrupted

“And the award this year for Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile goes to................What’s that? What’s the crowd chanting? Oh we’ll find out soon enough, as soon as I open this envelope............And yes! Everyone’s right, it is our eternal favourite - Gilderoy Lockhart!"


There was pandemonium as a tall thin wizard with wavy blonde hair stood up and made his way to the stage. His progress was slow as he kept turning in completely different directions to wave and blow kisses to the audience. At long last he made his way up to the head of the stage where the compere who had announced the award, and three witches holding a small medal were awaiting him. He clapped the announcing wizard on the back and winked at the witches holding his medal. Turning to face the audience he looked around, training his bright azure eyes (which contrasted quite oddly with the fuchsia robes he was wearing) at a few individuals in the audience.

“Gilderoy, let them pin the medal on you first”, interrupted the wizard just as he had opened his mouth to speak.

“Of course!” beamed Gilderoy. “How could I forget? I’m still not fully back to my splendid former self, Magellan old boy.”

“Not at all, Gilderoy. You look positively marvelous.”

“You were always too kind, Magellan.”

The three witches with six trembling hands managed to pin the medal to Gilderoy’s lapel with some difficulty. One of them looked faint when her hand made fleeting contact with Gilderoy’s and fled off the stage looking as though she would gladly cut off her hand and have it stuffed and mummified for posterity.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, returned from horrors unimaginable, Gilderoy Lockhart!”

The applause was deafening, and there were shouts of “Speech!” from the back.

“I think they’re right Gilderoy, you certainly must tell the world what happened in Hogwarts all those years ago. I am sure it must be a thrilling tale.”

“Oh I do wish you hadn’t brought it up Magellan, I didn’t want it to be made public. Now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is no longer here, such things are best not spoken of. I would like to thank everyone at Witch Weekly and of course my ever-loyal fans, for conferring this great honour upon me once again. I can see Gladys Gudgeon right there at the front, bless you my darling. Your weekly letters were such a comfort to me as I lay in St. Mungo”, he said, blowing her a kiss.

“What happened in Hogwarts all those years ago, I have never told anyone. But since you’re all so insistent tonight, I will finally break my silence. It isn’t a pretty tale, but it must be told.”

“As you all know, that was the year Albus Dumbledore personally requested me to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Perhaps he had an inkling of what was going to happen and that is why he was so keen to have me on the scene, who knows. But as things would have it, I left for Hogwarts ten years ago; ready to make it my humble home. My best student of course, was Harry Potter, only twelve years old at the time. I take credit for him, you know. I taught him and his class fellows everything they know, and today they are the backbone of our fine Auror Squad. It really humbles me sometimes, thinking of what a profound difference I made to those children’s lives.”

He stopped to wipe away a single tear and then continued.

“That was the year the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. I kept telling everyone to let me have a free reign with the monster, but of course they were too noble to let me take such a grave risk alone. But when little Ginny Weasley - Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies today - was taken right into the Chamber, I could stand it no more. I made investigations and discovered the entrance to the Chamber. Taking care that no-one would find out, else they would have stopped me from going alone, I secretly prepared for my foray inside. I was determined to do it alone, I didn’t want anyone else getting hurt of course. But just as I feared, Ginny’s brother Ron Weasley and the Boy-Who-Lived himself, Harry Potter; both rushed in headlong after me. I tried to make them see sense but they were adamant. Resigned to fate I entered the Chamber, in front of course, shielding the two boys from any and all harm.”

“It was a long and arduous journey but we found Ginny Weasley. As we revived her and prepared to carry her out, we were faced by the dreaded Monster of Slytherin who was controlled by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. I will not speak of the monster, it still gives me nightmares sometimes, and we wouldn’t want my young fans to be frightened, would we? But I fought the monster bravely, and was grievously wounded in the effort. It is not new to me, fighting creatures that terrorise humanity. I consider it my calling, of sorts. I defeated that creature too, how I will not say. I was exhausted but my only thought, of course was to get Harry and his friends out of the Chamber. I led them back to the entrance rejoicing at the thought that I had succeeded once again, but there was a curse on the Chamber. If the monster was destroyed, it would collapse to prevent the destroyers from leaving. As ancient stones started falling around us, I knew there wasn’t much time. I cast a powerful shield all around us and quickly brought the children outside. But as all three of them were safely out, I let my shield falter and I was struck down, remembering no more.”

“Of course the children ran and got help for me, and I was transferred to St. Mungo’s , but alas, I had lost my memory. I had no inkling of who I was and what great feats I had accomplished. My Healer Miriam Sprout took excellent care of me, and I painfully slowly started to get my memory back. I suppose there was such a lot to remember, that’s why it took ten years.”

“And what do I find, in my absence? That there was such chaos in the wizarding world, that a mere child had to do what in normal circumstances, I would have done. But I am immensely proud of Harry, he learnt well from me. Miriam told me, they would often come to visit me in my ward. Harry and Ron would weep over me, asking for advice, that alas, was not forthcoming-------------“

He stopped, apparently overcome.

“Other heroes of today – Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, even Ginny Weasley, whose life I had saved, they all came to visit the man who had sacrificed himself for their safety.”

“You all can testify to the fact that I hardly like blowing my own trumpet. If the Minister were to confer an Oder of Merlin, First Class, on me, I would politely decline. It is these awards that I cherish, the ones that show me the love and respect I have garnered from so many people. I am indebted to Witch Weekly for this lovely token of appreciation, and I would only like to say – Thank you, I will always keep smiling.”

There was thunderous applause as the audience rose to their feet, many wiping away tears. Gilderoy Lockhart put his arm around Magellan Bonaparte and smiled his famous smile for the benefit of the cameras.



Last edited by Lord Godric; November 19th, 2009 at 6:24 am.
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