Entries Thread- CoS Writing Contest v3

[hermy_weasley2]

Feedback, rules and questions for this contest go in CoS Writing Contest v6.

[hermy_weasley2]

** Contest 47**

Entry #1


Peter Pettigrew shifted his books from one arm to the other anxiously, his eleven-year old eyes looking around the big red train. He was eager to be going to Hogwarts, something he had looked forward to since he was five, but actually going terrified him. He hoped that he would do well; it was all his sisters could talk about when they came home for the summer. That, and how badly he was going to fail. His father had been convinced that he was a Squib since birth, and his mother was no better. They had almost sneered when his letter came in—he could still remember their harsh eyes, one pair grey, the other like his own blue, staring and laughing. They had treated it as a joke, and Peter had to beg for them to allow him to go get his wand, at the very least. So, here he was, on the train, friendless, abandoned by Emmilie and Victoria, and with a trunk barely big enough to hold his clothes, much less his books and cauldron. He shuffled down the aisle fearfully, a million and one thoughts running through his head, most of them consisting of What if they send me back home? What if I end up in Hufflepuff, or worse, Slytherin? What if I trip over my robes on my way to the Sorting Hat and then I break the stool and everyone laughs at me and then they send me back on the train, and then when I’m on the train it stays there forever and everyone forgets about me? When the latter ran through his head he reprimanded himself sharply, telling himself that of course the train wouldn’t stay there forever…it had to take the students home, too, right? Right?
He kept walking until he ran into something solid. He dropped his cauldron and his books, and immediately began squeaking apologies. He stopped when a kind someone handed him a book he could’t quite reach, and he looked up into the eyes of a green-eyed girl with red hair. She smiled prettily, and Peter found his tongue tied in knots.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled again.
“Don’t be.” She grinned again. “It was as much my fault as yours. I’m Lily, by the way, Lily Evans.”
“Peter Pettigrew.” Peter held out his hand to shake hers, which she did kindly enough.
“There’s an empty compartment next to mine, in case you were interested.” Lily bent to pick up his cauldron. “I’ll take you there, if you want.”
“Yes, please.” Peter smiled gratefully. The two first years wound their way around students, and she helped him get situated in a new compartment.
“If you need anything, I’m next door, okay?” Lily patted his shoulder and left him with his belongings and a somewhat consoled state of mind.
He sat down just as the whistle roared on the train, and it lurched into motion. He was content to look out the window at the slowly more rural surroundings, and jumped when someone tapped at his door. Startled, he looked over at the door and saw a boy with brown hair a few shades lighter than his own, honey-wheat-colored eyes, and a long scar running across his cheek. He waved slightly, and Peter waved back before hastening to open the door.
“Hello.” The boy held out his hand. “I’m Remus Lupin. I was wondering if I could sit here.”
“I’m Peter Pettigrew, and I don’t mind if you do.” Peter stood aside to let Remus in. The boys talked for a while, until Lily came in.
“Oh, hi, Lily.” Peter smiled. “This is Remus Lupin. Remus, Lily Evans.” The boy and the girl nodded at each other politely, and Lily left.
“ Are you worried about school?” Peter asked, not long after Lily had gone.
“A little.” Remus looked down. “Peter?”
“Yes?”
“Would you be my friend?”
Peter was at a loss for words; no one had ever asked to be his friend before. He stared for a moment, then walked over to Remus and put his arm around him.
“As long as you’ll be my friend.” The new friends smiled at each other, unaware that in the course of the next ten years, that new friendship would be tried and tested to the limits before, finally, it would be broken by evil. But, for now, Peter Pettigrew lay confident that maybe…just maybe…Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #2

Red. No blonde.

A coppery colour results from her indecision. Her finger wraps round the stray strand. So like…

Footsteps creak on the wood floor not covered by carpet, distracting her from her thoughts.

‘Tonks? What are you doing up still?’

She doesn’t turn round. She knows the voice better than her own.

‘Wotcher, Bill.’ The quickened heart beat is almost familiar, the smile involuntary. Bill takes a seat beside her on the worn sofa in the empty common room; everyone’s gone to bed. Legs tucked underneath, Tonks sinks further back into the squashy cushions.

‘So, how was it?’ Her voice falls flat. The Yule Ball she hadn’t been invited to. (And Charlie didn’t count – seeing as it had been Bill’s idea that he ask her.)

He threads his fingers through his ginger hair, looking half-asleep. Adorably so. Tonks stills the itch in her hand to smooth down the hair sticking up in places. Not something a mate would do—one rule worth following, one boundary she wouldn't overstep.

‘You didn’t miss much. Only Filch dancing with Mrs. Norris.’

‘He does that often enough in the corridors. Caught him at it once. Gave me a week’s worth of detention.’ Tonks lifts her shoulders, trying to seem casual, trying not to notice how his hand falls next to hers.

‘Are you sure that wasn’t because of the hurling hex you threw at Flint?’

An impish smile plays on her lips as she explains with a shrug. ‘We can’t all be prefects.’

‘Or head boy.’ Bill nods in agreement. Swot. ‘You’re lucky I don’t give you detention for getting caught out of bed.’ He smiles teasingly at her.

‘Yeah …lucky.’ Her words die out. She wasn’t feeling very lucky. More rejected really.

‘This isn’t about Charlie is it?’

‘No.’

‘Oh really?’ Bill takes a ginger strand of her hair between his fingers. It’s so like Charlie’s. Or Bill’s.

‘Really.’ Tonks turns away; her cheeks burning. Bill wrongly guesses the reason as to why.

‘I’m sorry I said anything to him. I didn’t realise he’d be such a tosser to not even ask you.’

‘He did ask. I said no.’ Was it so incredible that she’d turned down someone? Or did Bill think she was in love with Charlie?

‘You said no?’ Surprise wrinkles his brow. ‘Poor Charlie.’ Bill drags a tired hand over his face, ruffling his already messy hair. ‘And here I poured Belch powder into his punch, thinking I’d taught him a lesson.’ He steals a sideways glance. ‘Best to leave the meddling up to mum, I reckon.’

‘Thanks for trying to meddle anyway.’ Tonks closes her eyes partly from tiredness and for a moment she’s pretty. Not just pretending. Inky curls replace mousy brown hair. Green eyes take the place of hazel ones. ‘Maybe, if I looked like this I wouldn’t have trouble getting asked out.’

Isn’t this the sort of girl Bill fancied?

Unexpectedly, Bill reaches out and traces the soft curve of her cheek with his finger. He holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up towards him. It’s real. A mantra that runs endlessly through her head. Bill leans in to kiss her. Her heart beats so quick she forgets to tilt her head, causing their noses to bump awkwardly. Ow. Why did she have to be clumsy at a time like this?

Bill smiles widely, the spell broken. And kisses her softly on the cheek instead. A kiss a friend would give. Worse, a kiss a mum might give.

‘You shouldn’t try to be someone else, Tonks.’

‘Oh, yeah, why not?’ She’d rather be anyone else.

‘Cause I happen to like you, just as you are.’ A weird mix of doubt and hope flickers over her features- not someone else’s.

‘Clumsiness aside, of course.’ He says, unrepentant, which earns him a playful slap on the shoulder.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #3

“ARTHUR!”

A shock of ginger hair and wide eyes peered cautiously around the shed door.

“Oh, it’s just Uncle Billy. Keep sticking Percy!”

“Daddy, this is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid Percy. It’ll be fun!”

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing Arthur?” Bilius sighed, warily nudging open the door.

“Where’s Charlie? He was supposed to be our lookout?”

“Charlie went to get cake with Bill. Are we almost done?” Percy complained.

“Can we hit Percy with the bats instead, Daddy?” Fred asked, giggling as he smeared glue all over the worktable, currently covered with tiny bits of paper.

Arthur smothered a grin, “Certainly not! You’d not get any sweets that way.”

“Arthur! Molly is having a fit in there. Aunt Muriel has been lecturing her for almost an hour about some baby nonsense, as though the first six survived on a fluke,” he laughed, then looked around in bewilderment at the mess spread throughout the shed. “What on earth are you doing?”

Arthur grinned broadly, “It’s a pen-ata. The muggles make these fancy containers filled with sweets and cover them with colored paper, and then you beat it with a stick until all the sweets fall out.”

Bilius stared at Arthur as though he’d gone mad. He opened his mouth to respond, shut it again, sighed, and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Of course, of course! You can take over for Percy. Percy, go tell Bill to bring me that rope from the broom shed.”

Percy was out the door in a second, ducking George’s practice swing.

“George! No bats until it’s time for the pen-ata,” he said, taking the bat from the smirking 3-year-old. “Fred, don’t eat the glue and don’t wipe it on your shirt!”

“What is it meant to be, Arthur?” Bilius asked, tilting his head to get a better view.

“It’s a baby doll! See, the little pink bows and the nappie.”

“You’re going to have your guests use a bat to beat the sweets out of a baby doll at your daughters naming ceremony?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh, there you are Bill. Wonderful! That should be strong enough,” he commented, testing the rope. “Can you stay here and help Uncle Billy finish up? I have to go rescue Mommy from Aunt Muriel.”

The twins shrieked with glee as he scooped them both up and performed a few quick cleaning spells while pushing the shed door open with his foot.
________________________

“Thank you so much for performing the ceremony for us, Albus. We really appreciate it.”

“It was my distinct pleasure, Arthur. I have a feeling Ginevra is going will be a very talented witch,” Dumbledore responded with a bright smile. “Now, young George was telling me about how his father is going to make sweets fall from the sky.”

He blushed a bit, “Yes, well, something like that. I’ll go see that everything’s set up in the garden then.”

Arthur made his way through the living room, nodding gratefully to the Fawcett’s and shaking Amos Diggory’s hand. “Ah, there you are Bilius! Did you string up the pen-ata?”

“I left it to Bill and Charlie. They said Molly’s cake was almost gone!”

Arthur’s eyes went a bit wide, “Do you have your wand with you?”

“Of course I …blast,” he patted his pocket and glanced around to check if it had fallen out. Arthur was already rushing toward the kitchen. He could hear the laughter of both children and adults from the garden.

“What’s wrong Arthur?” Molly questioned, shifting the baby to her other shoulder and following him across the room along with Bilius and Dumbledore.

“Umm…not now Molly.”

As Arthur threw open the back door, he saw Cedric Diggory taking a wide swing at the piñata. “WAIT!”

*BOOM*

As Cedric’s bat connected, the piñata exploded, showering the crowd with confetti and sweets. Shining words hung in the air above the garden, “Welcome Ginny!” All the kids laughed and threw themselves at the scattered sweets, while the adults clapped and cheered.

Arthur let out a breath, seeing that Cedric was unscathed.

“Oh, Arthur! How lovely!” Molly gushed, watching Ron toddle around and pick up sweets.

Smiling, Arthur put his arm around Molly’s shoulders and winked at Bill from across the garden. “Yeah, turned out well, didn’t it?”

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #4

Dearest Lovage,

I hope this finds you well. I’ve been keeping you in my thoughts since I heard about that mess with that wizard friend of yours. Is he still in St. Mungo’s? Honestly, Lovage, you never know what sort of people you’re going to meet these days. If he’s not a friend of someone you trust, don’t ever get on a broomstick with him, that’s what I say. Well, at least no one got hurt too badly.

Hope you are enjoying your summer! I’m working hard, but having so much fun doing it. It’s wonderful to have some freedom during the break, but hotter than Hades in the Hogwarts greenhouses this time of year. If you’re not too busy, stop by and see me some time very soon.

You wouldn’t believe the fun I’ve had filling up greenhouse four this past year. I’ve been in correspondence with some wonderful witches from Costa Rica. It took an age of Sundays to get all the paperwork pushed through the Ministry, but finally, the right people signed the right papers and we got some results. There are some amazing orchids here you have simply got to see – one that smells just wonderful, something like raspberries and chocolate, I think, but it knocks out anything that gets close enough to really get a good whiff of it. Seems there are some nasty ants nearby in the jungle that will literally eat a person alive while the victim lies there, blissfully unaware. To get the orchid, you first have to bribe the ants with a strong cup of coffee. Wonderful symbiosis. Ministry would only import the orchid, of course – and so I have it here at Hogwarts. You must see it!

You know, Lovage, you ought to settle down again, honestly. Especially now that You-Know-Who is back… you just don’t know who to trust. I worry about you. I know what it must be like for you. Don’t get me wrong - I like being here, with the plants and the kids and the dragon dung. But when it’s quiet like this, and there’s no one here, that’s when I miss my dear Orval the most. He was a good man. And it’s a scary place out there. What you ought to do is move some place closer to Hogwarts. Some place like Hogsmeade. As long as Dumbledore’s here, you know that You-Know-Who’s going to keep his distance.

Oh, one more thing: I was wondering if you’d send a cutting of one of your passiflora foetida plants, as our own specimen was recently devoured by my venomous tentacula. While the passifloras are not magical plants in the strict sense, they nonetheless have medicinal properties that are useful in some of our best remedies and potions, and it’s always good to have some growing nearby. I’ve enclosed a few puffapods for your troubles, freshly harvested!

Write back soon, and let me know about your visit as soon as you can by owl, one way or the other.

Your Dearest Friend Always,
Pomona Sprout

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #5


‘You done with that paper, Moony?’

Remus jumped a little, and looked up with bleary eyes. He hadn’t realised anyone was still around when he’d finally managed to settle down in front of the common room fire with that morning’s newspaper; but there, over in the corner, was Sirius Black, arms leaning heavily on the table he’d probably been dozing on not thirty seconds before.

‘Er …’ he replied intelligently. He was finished, had just read the last article before the damned Quidditch section at the back, but he wasn’t quite prepared to relinquish it yet. He knew why Sirius wanted it – he used any excuse nowadays to transform into his recently-acquired dog form – and Remus wasn’t in the mood to pick up strewn-about bits of paper in an effort to avoid awkward questions from the house elves the next morning. ‘No, not yet … aw, no, not the puppy-face, Sirius!’

For Sirius had pouted his lips, cocked his head and made his eyes as big and pleading as possible; it was a look no-one should have been able to get away with, but this was Sirius, after all, and his patented ‘puppy eyes’ expression (which he’d recently joked about getting trademarked, there were only so many coincidences in one’s life, after all) worked a treat with women and girls of all ages – even McGonagall had been known to succumb to its charms – not to mention Remus and even James, when he was feeling giving.

Remus rolled his eyes and twisted the Daily Prophet into a tight tube before throwing it haphazardly across the room. ‘Sirius Black,’ he grumbled as he made himself comfortable again, ‘determined to spoil your plans and your paper since 1959.’

But to his surprise, the other boy did not become the large dog he’d become so fond of recently and proceed to rip the paper to shreds. Instead, he shook it out, flipped to a page near middle and took a quill from his pocket.

‘What …’

‘Crossword.’ Sirius grinned, turning to Remus and holding up the Prophet to point out the black and white grid. ‘I noticed you never fill them in and I quite like ‘em, though the cryptic ones are much better …’

‘So you decided to steal my paper?’ Remus didn’t attempt to hide his broad grin. ‘You insufferable git.’

‘You know you love it,’ Sirius replied distractedly, tickling the corner of his mouth with the quill-feather before diving to fill in a clue.

Remus watched him for a few minutes, highly amused that the Prophet’s simple puzzle seemed to elude his supposedly genius friend, before settling his head against the arm of the oversized chair he was sat in and allowing eyes to flicker shut. It was only a few days since full moon, and though Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail were already having a marked effect on his monthly transformations, no amount of animals were going to help his erratic sleep patterns – not even sheep. Satisfied that Sirius was engrossed in his crossword, he let his body catch a few winks of sleep.

He awoke later, not exactly refreshed but grateful of the rest, to a dying fire and low mutterings and groans from Sirius’ corner of the world.

‘Need some help over there, Padfoot?’ he yawned, savouring the word as he said it. The nicknames were new – came with the Animagus territory, James insisted – and Remus rarely used them still, his fear that they would grow old and stale on his tongue, or worse, be revealed as a mere daydream, a sham, far outweighing the fear of an authoritarian overhearing and demanding to know their origins.

‘No,’ came the short reply. ‘’M fine.’

‘If you say so,’ Remus murmured, rubbing his eyes, and he curled up, as a cat might, to watch the hissing, dancing logs and sparks in the fireplace. For a moment he vaguely considered wandering off up to the dormitory, but decided against it almost immediately; Sirius’ unhappy grunts and mumbles were favourable to Peter’s snuffles and snores, and the red-and-gold of the fire was a more pleasant sight than James entangled in similarly-coloured covers and hangings.

He wasn’t sure when he dozed off again, or how long for, but he was suddenly aware of someone – Sirius – calling his name, and jerked awake.

‘Remus – Moony … wake up, will you.’

‘What?’ he answered sleepily. He could hear Sirius cracking his fingers, a horrible habit he’d developed when he was agitated, or else deep in thought. ‘Don’t, Sirius.’

‘Hmm? Oh, sorry,’ he amended quickly, and sat on his hands. ‘No, I just wondered if you knew another word, 7 letters … actually, nah, it doesn’t matter.’

Sirius was always too proud to admit when he needed help. Remus rolled his eyes. ‘Worked out the answer, have you?’

‘I wasn’t going to ask about the crossword anyway,’ Sirius replied, a sense of almost-haughtiness in his voice. Remus made a sceptical noise and turned back to the embers.

He could hear Sirius muttering – ‘Eight down, ‘anticipated safe row developing’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ – and thought complacently to himself that maybe his friend wasn’t as good at the cryptics as he liked to believe, before pulling another cushion behind his head and letting the comforting heat washing over him from the fire lull him into a deep sleep, Sirius’ low voice filling in the gaps of silence between each pop and crackle from the few remaining logs in the grate, until soon he could hear nothing at all, at least until James’ worried voice was rousing him the next morning; when he moved to get up from the armchair, joints clicking painfully, he found that someone had thoughtfully tucked a throw around him, and that yesterday’s paper was lying folded up beside him, all but one of the black and white columns and rows filled in with the chunky, straightforward lettering he knew so well.

---

The kettle was whistling angrily on the hob, hot steam billowing from its spout, but Remus paid it no heed, engrossed in the Prophet’s advertising section.

After a few minutes the door flew open and Sirius Black was suddenly in the kitchen, shifting the kettle from the hotplate and cursing as he scalded his finger. ‘Christ, Moony, d’you want to start my mother off?’ He pulled the cup standing ready on the worktop closer and sniffed disdainfully at its contents. ‘Tea. Dunno how you can drink the stuff.’ And he spooned some coffee granules into another mug for himself.

When the drink was placed in front of him, Remus murmured a ‘Thank you,’ but otherwise gave no acknowledgement of Sirius’ presence until the other man said, ‘You still not done with that paper?’ in an exasperated voice. ‘Your tea’s going cold.’

He blinked, then finally shrugged. ‘Never liked it hot anyway.’ He felt Sirius’ gaze on him, but stayed focussed on the paper in front of him until he heard Sirius replace his mug and move to leave the room; he quickly rolled the Prophet up and called, ‘Catch,’ before launching it through the air.

Sirius caught it, with reflexes James would have been proud of, and the black and white squares caught his eye as he unfurled it; he raised a curious eyebrow at the smiling Remus.

‘I’m sure you missed doing the crossword all these years, Padfoot. Maybe you could start with eight down?’

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #6


The HBP Ron/Hermione Incident From Hermione’s Point of View

Hermione rushed up the steps to the dormitory after a long day. She felt . . . different. Giddy, excited, nervous, totally absentminded: all of the strange feelings overwhelmed her. She took a deep breath and opened the door she had advanced to so quickly.

Walking in, she saw Parvati and Lavender. Lavender was whispering excitedly but stopped abruptly when she saw Hermione. She looked Hermione up and down, as if evaluating her, and then wordlessly sat down on her bed. Confused, Hermione looked at Parvati, who hadn’t noticed a thing.

“Ooh, Hermione, your face is all red, something the matter?” Parvati said nosily.

“My face?” she reached up and touched her cheek. Indeed it was warm and blushing. She could not help but grinning broadly. “Well, I was walking kind of fast up the staircase. I just returned from Herbology,” she mentioned.

“That smile! There is only one thing can provoke a smile like that, especially out of you. A boy. Well, who is it?” Parvati continued. Hermione’s smile did not falter at the question; somehow, her grin felt permanent. Lavender listened intently, acting as if she didn’t care. Hermione attempted pulling herself together and said,

“What makes you say that?”

“Yep, it’s definite.” Parvati said, looking at Lavender for reassurance. She nodded. “So, who is it? Do I know him?”

“Um . . . I don’t really think that—,”

“Is he older? You seem like you would date someone older, like Krum.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable talking about this,” Hermione said. She bit her lip.

“Oh, please. You need to start getting used to talking to girls. It’s a wonder what having to guy friends can do to your self esteem! Is he handsome?”

“Well . . .” She thought about it. She really had never talked about this to anybody before. The only girlfriend she had was Ginny, who it would be awkward to talk about Ron with. “Yeah.”

“She admits it,” Lavender replied, smirking.

“He is handsome and funny, daring and trustworthy!” she closed her eyes and pictured him, then plopped down on her bed. “I just don’t know his feelings about me exactly. He is too shy to make the first move,”

“Why don’t you make the first move?” Parvati asked.

“I did. We are going to Slughorn’s party together, and he seemed pretty excited so I think we are on the same terms.”

“You think,” said Lavender.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t specifically say that it was a date but . . .”

Lavender and Parvati exchanged looks. Hermione looked at them questioningly.

“You see,” Lavender said knowingly, “that’s why you need to be a little more flirtatious.”

“Flirtatious?” said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

“Otherwise,” she continued, “Someone else could just . . .” she made a swiping gesture to the air in front of Hermione, “sweep him off his feet.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen,” She remembered the Yule Ball in fourth year, how Ron did not even pay attention to Padma and how Harry did the same to Parvati. But she knew that Ron would not treat her that way, they already had the strong bond of friendship. However, she did not want to ruin it. She faced the internal struggle of possibly losing their friendship if things turned ugly. She convinced herself that would not happen, despite Ron’s stubbornness. They could not do that to each other, they could not do that to Harry.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Parvati, “those older sensitive guys may like someone a little less upfront.”

Lavender glared at her and looked at Hermione. For some reason, her look seemed somewhat dangerous. Hermione thought she must be imagining things.

“I don’t know how to be flirtatious,” she said, “I just am myself and hope that guys like me that way.”

“I guess that works,” Lavender interrupted, “for some guys. But I think you’ll find that most of them are not that way. You need to laugh at their jokes, say mysterious things, strut your stuff, play hard to get, things like that to get them to notice you right away. Then before you know it, he’s holding you in his arms.”

“I’ll stick to my own tactics, if that’s okay.”

“Alright, but I’m warning you. If you do not act fast, he’ll be taken.”

Parvati glanced between them, and then decided to agree with Lavender.

“Flirt first. Be yourself later,” she said.

Hermione considered it as she grabbed the book she had come up to get. As she was walking out of the room she looked back and said,

“I might try that.”

Hermione could have sworn that she saw Lavender wink at her, smirking, as she exited.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #7

Entry ~ Week 47
Staff Meeting

“Honestly, Albus…” Minerva began. “I…I thought this was a staff meeting.”

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “It will be fun.”

“Come on, Minerva.” Madam Hooch coaxed. “Don’t you ever let your hair down and just go with the flow?”

“It has been a while since we have done this, Minerva.” Snape said. “I, myself, feel it will be refreshing.”

“Oh, alright!” Minerva snapped. There was a glint of excitement in her eye and Dumbledore noticed immediately.

“That’s the spirit!” Dumbledore said, heading for the broom shed. “Last one there, flies the Comet 260!” Everyone broke out in a run, toward the broom shed.

Filch and Madam Pomfrey arrived, just as everyone had chosen a broom. They sat on the sidelines, waiting for the staff to choose sides.

“Albus and Severus will be team captains.” Madam Hooch said decidedly. “I know there aren’t enough of us to form two full teams, but we will make the best of it. We won’t need a seeker, as we will only be playing until one team scores seven times. Argus, will you keep score?”

“Certainly, Rolanda.” Filch answered, rubbing his hands together.

“And, as always Poppy, you will treat any injuries our players might sustain during play.” Madam Pomfrey nodded. “Albus, would you like to choose your first teammate?”

Dumbledore looked around at his staff members, meeting eyes with each of them. Snape appeared to be doing the same.

“Cut it out, you two!” Minerva scolded. “No Legilimency!” Dumbledore and Snape met eyes. Dumbledore winked at Snape. Snape smirked.

“Cannot blame us for trying to see who wants to win the most, Minerva.” Dumbledore said, chuckling. “Since you were the first to protest, I choose you.”

“I choose Filius.” Snape said immediately. McGonagall joined Dumbledore and Flitwick joined Snape.

“Pomona, will you join me please?” Dumbledore said, coaxing her over.

“Well, Rolanda.” Snape said, grinning. “That means you are on my team. Perhaps we will do better than last time.”

“Perhaps.” Madam Hooch replied. “Perhaps, you will allow me to guard the hoops this time, Severus. Here comes Hagrid. Just in time, too.”

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore shouted to the approaching grounds keeper. “Would you be so kind as to toss the Quaffle in the air for us?”

“Of course, Professor Dumbledore, Sir.” Hagrid answered, as he hurried toward the center of the Quidditch field.”

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore began. “There is no need to call me Professor, as the children have gone for the summer.” He handed the Quaffle to Hagrid. “Everyone on their broom? Good. Let the game begin!”

[hermy_weasley2]

**Contest 48**

Entry #1


The sorting hat got it wrong. I tell myself for what must be the third straight week. Blacks had been in Slytherin for ages. Save for my great aunt Isla who’d been left off the family portrait (and who rumour had it had been a Hufflepuff). But I wasn’t to blame. It was the ruddy hat’s fault. At least, that’s what I sent back in reply to mum’s howler.

Why would I have no mates by my own choosing?

Hands shoved deep in my trousers’ pockets, I turn the corridor trying to remember how to find my way back to the boy’s dormitories. A map would be dead helpful just now. So would staircases that stood still.

The gas lamps cast flickering shadows along the stone corridor. Bit scary at night. Sort of reminds you of Grimmauld. Funny, you don’t ever call it home. But staying up at night, staring at the darkened ceiling and having to reassure Regulus the strange sounds above were only doxies or a boggart makes you a bit braver. Brave enough to follow what sounds like voices. Heart pounding so loud you can barely make out your thoughts; you take a few steps closer. You’ve no reason to be scared.

'Now, I've got you. You'll be expelled for this Potter. A new record you've set for yourself. The only first year to be kicked out in over a century. Wait 'til Dumbledore hears of this. Mark my words, boy. I knew you was trouble from the first time I set eyes on you.' You recognise the voice as belonging to that of the caretaker. Someone to stay well clear of. He’s standing next to an odd statue. A humpbacked witch. And he’s talking to a boy who looks about your age.

‘I got lost.’ The boy’s protests go unheard as the caretaker roughly pulls the student along by his arm.

‘After curfew? In a corridor that’s out-of-bounds? Likely story.’ Filch snorts aloud and doesn’t let go of his hold, dragging the boy behind him still.

One of the portraits starts moving and falls to the floor with a loud crash, stopping them in their tracks.

‘Peeves?’ Filch looks around and his scowl deepens. ‘Gone invisible have you?’ Another portrait falls to the ground. He mutters something I don’t quite catch under his breath and stalks off down the corridor. The boy’s looking pale and shaken but glad he’s not about to be expelled.

The boy looks over his shoulder, looking somewhat scared.

‘Close call there.’ You whisper.

‘W-who’s there?’ He looks around in the darkness.

Oh, you forgot. He still can’t see you. With one hand, you toss the invisibility cloak off.

‘Sorry. Forgot the cloak was still on.’ You say by way of apology.

‘Cool, an invisibility cloak.’ His eyes squint beneath his glasses, trying to work it all out. ‘So the portraits, that was you then?’

Your smile is answer enough.

Potter’s face lights up in gratitude. ‘Cheers, mate. You really saved me back there. Filch has got it in for me, he’s already given me two detentions this week alone.’ Smug smile. ‘Although the tripping jinx on Snivellus was well worth it.’ He drags a hand through his messy hair. ‘Name’s Potter by the way.’ He holds out his hand and I take it.

‘Sirius Black.’

‘So what were you doing by that weird statue?’ I nod towards the stone witch with the bad posture.

‘Want to find out?’ Potter’s eyes crinkle up in a smile.

‘As long as we don’t get caught.’ I toss the invisibility cloak over both of us.

Maybe, the hat had got it right.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #2

“But Professor! It really wasn’t my fault—,”

“Don’t give me that Mr. Potter, detention. Do not pretend like you had no involvement in this matter,”

“It is only the first week of school! How on earth does a first year get detention within the first few days of school?”

“You might try answering that yourself, James. As a matter of fact, why don’t you come tonight after dinner? I have another student who also earned a detention; you might keep each other company.” Dumbledore winked and departed.

“But I— ugh!” James stated as Dumbledore rounded a far corner. Unexpectedly, a voice came from behind him.

“You have detention? On our fifth day of school?”

James turned and nodded. He looked at the boy he had spoken to politely. He had black hair like his own, but his was entirely greased back. He had a hook nose between two angry looking eyes and was staring almost admirably at James.

“I’m Severus, Severus Snape. And you?”

“James Potter.” They shook hands. James then had the urge to run to the bathroom and wash them. “Well, I better get going. I have to eat dinner before detention.” And he too departed, following the same path as his Professor and leaving Severus Snape somewhat disappointed.


Later that night, James journeyed to the trophy room, where he had been sent. The room was large and full of glimmering awards. Some of them were big and some were small but they were all illuminated in all of their glory. James had not been through the castle so far (it was only the first week) so he had not entered this room yet. He examined the curious trophies with amazement while he waited for Dumbldore's arrival.

After a few minutes Dumbledore strode through the door followed by another boy, who, by the looks of it, was in James’s year. He had flowing jet black hair and dramatic eyes; he was the kind of guy girls fawned over. James recognized him as being from a prestigious pure blood family.

“This evening,” Dumbledore began, “you will be polishing the many awards students have earned in honor of our school.” He waved his wand and polish with brushes appeared out of thin air. “You may begin. I will come and fetch you in a few hours.” And with that, he exited. There was an awkward silence before the other boy spoke up.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

“James.”

“I’m Sirius.”

“So am I.”

“Ha, Ha. No, that’s my name. Like the constellation.”

“Oh. Right.” James smiled. They picked up the cleaning materials and began buffing. “So what are you here for?”

“Here for?”

“Detention? What did you do?”

“I got caught sneaking around the school searching for secret passageways and whatnot after hours. It is a bit silly to me. It is not like I was doing any damage . . . yet. So how about you?”

“Me? Well, let’s just say I got on the wrong side of one of my teachers. She was trying to teach us how to turn a match into a needle, and it was nothing. Piece of cake! So I flipped through the book to try something a little more advanced and it did not turn out the way I had planned. The professor turned into a pumpkin. Don’t ask me how. Then, in a panic, I attempted helping her. She turned into a lawn chair. Again, but this time she turned into an odd sort of creature. It looked like a cross between a toad and a bear so I figure I screwed something up. Anyway, some girl named Lily ended up racing to find another teacher who helped me out. Then I got in detention. Can you believe that?”

“Yes, actually I can.”

“I can’t. How was I supposed to know?”

“Are you telling me you didn’t expect something like that to happen?”

James thought about it. “No, I did. I just thought that it being the first week of school, and me being a first year, would exempt me from punishment.”

“Nice tactic,”

“Yeah, well, I try.”

“Magic has so much to offer. And with our knowledge, how can they expect us to follow by these rules?”

“Really,”

“And are punishments like this supposed to keep us from it?”

“I guess. It seems punishment enough to me.” He scrubbed harder at the medal he was working on.

Sirius put down his brush and looked at all of the trophies in the room. “You know he is going to keep us in here until they are all finished, right?” James nodded. “Then let’s just speed up the process.” He pulled out his wand and muttered a simple incantation. Instantly, the trophy gleamed gold and was sparkling clean. James looked at Sirius in awe.

“You see, Dumbledore did not expect a couple of first years to be able to clean magically. But when you grow up in a family like mine, they do not care about ‘underage wizardry’ or whatever it is. Me and my brother learned spells like this before I even came here.” Sirius explained.

“Wow. You must really like your family.”

“No, they are the worst. I am so glad I am in Gryffindor. Try it!”

James tried and was amazed at the stunning results. Together, they finished polishing the trophies within thirty minutes. They stood back and observed their job well done.

“Looks like we’ve got two and a half hours to spare,” said James.

“I never did finish investigating the castle. And Dumbledore won’t be back anytime soon . . .”

Somehow James knew that with Sirius at his side, there would never be a dull moment. There was so much to do and so much to discover that they subconsciously made it their goal to become legends of Hogwarts. They grinned at each other and burst through the doorway to explore their new home, as friends.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #3


James sat there and uprooted small tufts of grass and threw them into the lake with vengeance. His hazel eyes were burning with a fierce intensity that was unexpected from a young boy of eleven. He was frowning darkly as he wallowed in self pity, angry with an unfair world.


It was very very very unfair, James thought to himself over and over again.
Suddenly the little figure stood up and with admirable grace and flexibility plunged into the depths of the great lake. It was only after a good ten seconds that the dark messy head surfaced, the twinkle reinstated in the hazel eyes.

“You could be a baby whale”, said a boy who was standing near the edge of the lake.
“Humans aren’t supposed to be able to stay in that long.”
James shrugged non challantly.
“It comes with the package”, he answered grinning.
He liked the look of the boy. He had light brown hair and his eyes had a gleam of sincerity and genuine caring. James racked his brains trying to remember a name. He knew the boy was in Gryffindor. They shared the same dormitory for Pete’s sakes.

“Remus Lupin”, the boy said somewhat shyly, almost as if he had read James’ mind.
‘James Potter” returned the dark haired kid as he ambled over to his new found mate. The boys grinned at each other and began to walk balk towards the castle.

Inspite of a shy demeanor that might indicate to the contrary, James found that Remus was extremely interesting and fun to talk to.
By the time they were walking up the staircase that lead to the Gryffindor common room he could already feel a growing sense of comfort that comes only with an old comradeship.

“Why did you come to get me?” asked James suddenly.
Remus bit his lip.
“It was Sirius’ idea”, he said slowly. “We were all rather outraged by what happened.”
“Sirius Black?” asked James surprised.
Remus nodded.
“Why, he hasn’t said a pleasant word to anyone since he arrived in the castle” exclaimed James.
“He’s not all that bad” protested Remus loyally. “Infact he has a tremendous sense of justice and fairness. Let’s wait outside the common room for sometime. Sirius said he’d join us.”

James nodded still feeling puzzled and began to fiddle with the dungbomb in his pocket.
Just then they heard the sound of running footsteps and a panting Sirius Black arrived.

“Mission accomplished” he said grinning at Remus.
“Good one” retuned Remus looking genuinely pleased.
“Could someone please fill me in”, cut in James slightly impatient.
He hated being left out of things.
“Bit impatient aren’t you mate?” asked Sirius lazily
James looked at Black with a frown.
But he didn’t see an accusation in Sirius’ eyes. He just saw plain sparkling excitement and a friendly knowing glint.
Normally James would have given a cutting reply. But this time he decided to cut down on the snobbery and settled for a sheepish grin.
“We decided to give Severus a taste of his own medicine”, said Remus quietly.
James looked at them surprised.

Severus Snape was a fellow Slytheirn first year and he’d been practicing dark arts on innocent ignorant students that morning. James passionately despised the dark arts. When he had tried to stop the git, he had hexed James.
By the time James could return the favour the teachers had got involved. Stupid teachers James had thought to himself.
“Do you want me to believe that an eleven year old was practicing evil spells Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall had said with a look of incredulity.
“Enough of this nonsense, Mr. Potter. Detention for the rest of the week. Meet me tomorrow at 5 pm sharp.”

“What did you’ll do?” asked James with mounting excitement.
“Hexed him into oblivion”, answered Sirius Black rather seriously. “We happen to believe you.”
“You what!” exclaimed James.
“It was a piece of cake”, said Sirius airily.
“The greasy Slytheirn hasn’t got enough backbone to last him for more than a minute. It was loads of fun. Infact I got to try out some new spells I’ve learnt.”
James’ expression changed from awe, to gratitude and back to awe again.
“Wow! Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it mate. What are friends for?”
Three eyes met. Mentally they were accepting each other and welcoming themselves into the fold.

Just then a wheezy voice stole up from behind them.
“First years out of bed. My chains have been oiled just last night!”
With a yelp the three first years turned to face the caretaker.
Without thinking James pulled out the dreaded bomb and threw it at the caretaker with all his might.
Sirius grabbed his two friends and the three boys ran for their lives with triumphant glints in their eyes and broad grins on their faces.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #4

“Sirius dear, please tuck in your shirt,” said Mrs. Black, with a stern look at her son.
“There is no need for the scruffiness. Your father wants you to give the school a good impression of what the Black family stands for.”
“Yes mother,” said Sirius with a hint of a scowl in his face.
He had no intention to stay so unnaturally stiff and prim once he boarded the train where he would be free from the clutches of his mother. And he certainly had no plans to give the school any kind of impression of the family he comes from. He had decided to be his own person, make his own friends, do whatever he likes once he set foot at Hogwarts.
But then again, thought Sirius miserably, I’d probably be sorted into Slytherin where it’s littered with my dear parents’ friends’ children, not to mention my loveable cousins who would surely make it their personal duty to see that I make pureblood friends with the kind of attitudes that would make me sick to my stomach.
Sirius looked around miserably as his mother steered him through the crowd in Platform 9 ¾.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m sorted in Slytherin, thought Sirius desperately. What if I turn out like the Lestranges? Mother loves that pair of dimwitted brothers. Or even worse, like Narcissa or Bellatrix!
No, he thought to himself firmly, I’ll never be like them. I’ll never be like my family. And I’ll hang out with whoever I like. Family honor be damned.
Sirius looked around the platform. He noticed a pretty red haired girl with the brightest green eyes he had ever seen, boarding the train looking slightly nervous. A few feet away from her was a small, thin boy with jet black hair sticking out in all directions. Just looking at it made Sirius automatically run his fingers through his silky black hair.
“Very good, dear,” said Mrs. Black, who had spotted him combing his hair with his hand. “Tidiness is the key.”
Sirius gave a resigned sigh. After several torturous minutes of his mother’s tips and advice on how he should behave in the Great Hall, in the Slytherin common room (she had taken it for granted that Sirius would be sorted there) and how he should ask Narcissa if ever he needs help, and of course the usual rants about muggleborns and halfbloods and how he should choose his friends according to what his family stands for (at this, Sirius rolled his eyes at his mother) he finally boarded the train, thoroughly grateful for getting away from his mother. He found himself an empty compartment, untucked his shirt and looked out of the window.
He saw the messy haired boy being hugged and kissed by his parents. What Sirius wouldn’t give to be hugged and kissed by his own mother and father instead of being subjected to pointless lectures about wizarding bloodline.
Sirius looked down at his knees, feeling thoroughly put out. The compartment door opened and Sirius looked up only to find the messy haired boy dragging his trunk with a great deal of effort. He hurried up towards him to help. They struggled to put the trunk up on the luggage rack and sat down, panting and slightly red faced.
“Ruddy trunks,” murmured Sirius.
“I know,” said the boy. “Whatever made them think that we’ll be using half of those books?”
“I have no idea,” shrugged Sirius, and he looked out of the window.
There was silence for several minutes and then the train started moving.
“Do you play Quidditch?” asked the boy.
“Sometimes,” said Sirius, without looking at the boy and staring out of the window.
“I plan on playing for the House team,” continued the boy.
“Good for you,” said Sirius.
They remained silent again for a while and then the boy said, “Any idea what House you might get sorted into?”
“No,” lied Sirius.
“It’ll be great if I get into Gryffindor,” said the boy excitedly. “They’re supposed to have a good Quidditch team.”
Sirius finally looked at the boy.
“You think you’ll be in Gryffindor?”
“I dunno, maybe,” said the boy. “My parents were sorted there, but then I don’t know where I’ll end up. Anywhere but Slytherin!”
Sirius grinned inwardly.
“A few of my cousins were sorted into Slytherin,” continued the boy, “and the way they were going on about the House, you’d think it was reserved only for royalty! I don’t think I can ever make friends if I’m stuck with people like them.”
Sirius laughed.
“Right,” said Sirius, smiling. “By the way, I’m Sirius Black.”
“Nice to meet you, Sirius. I’m James Potter,” said the boy shaking Sirius’ hand.
“So Gryffindor Quidditch team’s good eh?” said Sirius.
“Yep!” said James, getting excited again. “Heard it’s the best in Hogwarts! But then there are other things to do as well! I’m planning on finding out how to get into the Hogwarts kitchen because my dad told me that the school has the best food ever! He also told me that Hagrid has coolest creatures under his care! Maybe we can persuade him to take us into the Forbidden Forest, although we might get into trouble if we do that. But who cares! Not to mention going around the entire school. . .”
Sirius merely looked at James, not listening to him. Here is a person who thinks people like his family consider themselves a cut above others for no reason at all. This person also thinks that he can never bond with people like that and he certainly didn't give a damn about upholding any kind of family honor by abiding rules and giving off an aura that he was extra special, something that Sirius knew that he certainly was not. At that moment, Sirius knew that he had found a friend.
What say you to that, mother? he thought, smiling to himself.
“. . .wanna do that together Sirius?” said the boy.
Sirius jerked out of his thoughts and then looked at the boy with a broad grin on his face.
“Absolutely James,” he said, feeling a rush of happiness mixed with excitement. Absolutely.”

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #5

Fast Friends

“I’m a first year, as well.” One dark haired boy said to the other, as he eyed the other’s armload of books. “Names Sirius Black, what’s yours?”

“James Potter.” The other boy answered, running his fingers through his messy hair. He turned to Sirius and reached to shake hands, almost dropping his books. “Nice to meet you.” The two boys continued through Flourish and Blotts, gathering the remainder of their required books, stopping occasionally to leaf through non~required books, such as Curses and Countercurses, and Wanderings with Werewolves. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books such as these. As they made their way to the front of the shop to pay for their books, Sirius grabbed James’ arm.

“Hold up, mate.” Sirius said to James. “It sounds like my cousin, Bellatrix is up to no good, as usual. Dump your books and follow me.” He sat his books on the counter, as did James. They turned swiftly and hurried toward the taunting voice, near where they had picked up their copies of History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.

“Oi, Bella!” Sirius bellowed. A small crowd had gathered around the commotion. A very dark hair and skinned girl turned toward James and Sirius.

“Ah, little Sirius, my dear cousin.” The girl smirked. “Care to join me and Narcissa? We’re just teaching a lesson to a couple of your soon to be classmates.” The crowd parted, to let the two boys in, then closed the gap around them. A small ratlike boy with mousy brown hair was cowering in the corner, directly in front of Bellatrix. She was pointing her wand at him. Just to his left was a sickly looking boy with sandy brown hair backed up against a bookshelf. A fair hair and skinned girl, pointed a wand toward his face.

“Buy your wand yet?” Sirius whispered to James.

“Yeah, why?” James whispered back.

“Just follow my lead.” Sirius pulled his wand from his pocket and proceeded toward Bellatrix and the cowering boy. He pointed his wand toward the boy. He stopped, directly in front of his cousin, turned and waved his wand in her face. James produced his wand and aimed toward Narcissa.

“What do you think you are doing, dear cousin?” Bellatrix asked, still smirking. “Think you two can take on the Black sisters? Who do you think you are?”

“Just two first years, defending fellow first years.” Sirius retorted. “Don’t forget that I’m also a Black. This here is James Potter. I remember seeing a Potter listed on Black tapestry. Do you think a Black and a Potter wouldn’t know a hex or two to use on you two, if it came to that? And what would dear Auntie Druella say if she knew her precious daughters were foolishly waving their wands around in a public place?”

Bellatrix and Narcissa looked at each other for a moment, then lowered their wands. “I won’t forget this, dear cousin!” Bellatrix said, through clinched teeth. “Come, Cissy. We have better things to do.” The crowd parted, as the sisters strolled away arm in arm.

“Th~thanks!” the sickly looking boy said as he helped the cowering boy to his feet, as the crowd dispersed. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“My name is Peter.” The other boy said in a squeaky voice. “Peter Pettigrew. Thanks for helping us."

"You said his name is James Potter.” Remus said, pointing at James. “You said you are also a Black. She called you cousin. Are you actually related to her?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Sirius replied, helping Peter gather his books from the floor. “The name is Sirius Black.” James and Sirius shook hands with Peter and Remus.

"Weren't you scared of them at all?" Peter asked, giving a shiver just thinking back on the incident. "Those cousins of yours are much older and b~bigger than any of us."

"Not really." Sirius admitted. "They are mostly talk. They like to scare their underclassmates. They love intimidation. Most of my family is like that. It must run in the family." He looked around at the other boys and gave a shrug, as they made their way to the front of the shop and paid for their books.

“I feel like an ice cream.” James said, as they exited Flourish and Blotts. “Fortescue’s isn’t far. My treat.” Sirius, Remus and Peter nodded. James and Sirius lead the way, with Remus and Peter just behind them. By the time they had finished their ice cream sundaes, they knew they wouldn’t be alone when they entered their first year at Hogwarts. They had friends.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #6

The Marauders Meet

On the first of September, there were four of them that stood in the middle of the Gryfinndor boy’s dormitories.

The boy with light blonde hair and watery blue eyes shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other while staring at the floor. The one with the messy black hair and hazel eyes moved his eyes intensely to each of them. The boy with light brown hair leaned casually against the bedpost and sighed. The last one had long black hair and stood with his arms crossed.

Finally, the boy with messy black hair broke off his stare with the blonde boy and spoke.

“I’m James Potter.” He stuck his hand out in front of the boy with brown hair, who shook it and replied, “Remus Lupin.”

The air in the room changed and all of the sudden all four of them were grabbing another’s hand, shaking it up and down, and introducing themselves.

“Hi there, I’m Sirius Black” the boy with long black hair said to Remus.

“Peter Pettigrew” said the blonde one to James.

“Nice to meet you.”

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #7

Sirius Black wobbled uncertainly away from the top table, the stool, and that curious old hat; not across to the table second from the right, as he’d been expecting and had resigned himself to, but the one on the far left, the one he’d never really imagined he’d sit at yet had always secretly hoped ...

He scuttled into the nearest seat, not noticing the scattered applause from purebloods who knew of his family and their traditions, instead glancing to the table beside his, which he’d correctly identified as Ravenclaw’s, to catch the eye of his older cousin Andromeda, who grinned at him with a wink. He weakly returned the smile, before looking up to the enchanted ceiling of the Hall so he didn’t have to look at anyone else.

It was quite comforting, actually, to see the silvery dancing stars nestled amongst the folds of the cloudless velvety-black sky. It made him feel very small to see everything that surrounded them, though not small in the way his parents has often made him feel; seeing that universe that was out there made him feel comforted, safe.

Silently, he began pointing out namesakes of the family to himself, as his father had been wont to do with him when he was younger, before he caught himself. He was a Gryffindor now, a disgrace to the family no doubt; an outcast, like Andy. The thought made him feel a little better. I’m not like those nutters after all.

He glanced back down the line of unsorted first years before him; a pretty girl with red hair had just hurried over to his table, and he belatedly joined in with the applause before wondering if he was to be the only male Gryffindor that year.

He wasn’t. A pale, thin boy pulled the hat off his head after it declared him a ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ and sat in the seat opposite the clapping Sirius. He flashed him a quick, tired sort of smile and Sirius thought how ill he looked. He tried hard to remember what this boy’s name was as ‘McKinnon, Marlene!’ joined his cousin Andy at Ravenclaw.

Lupin. Remus Lupin, that was it. Funny sort of name, not that Sirius could talk; he was named after a billions-of-years old star, for goodness’ sake.

He had just made the decision to say something to this sickly new Gryffindor when the table around him burst into applause; a very nervous ‘Pettigrew, Peter!’ had finally been told to join Gryffindor table after a few minutes under the Hat. Sirius joined his housemates’ clapping, but Peter scurried further down the table, despite the fact that the seat beside Sirius was empty.

No doubt he’s heard of the Blacks, he thought dully, abandoning his resolve to say hello to his other fellow first year, instead raising his eyes to the slowly dwindling line again.

A girl whose name he didn’t quite catch was sorted into Slytherin, where he noticed that one of his other cousins, Bellatrix, was watching him with a nasty expression on her face. Their eyes met for a moment; Sirius shivered and pulled his gaze away just as ‘Potter, James!’ was called up to the Hat.

As had happened with Bellatrix, Sirius and James caught each other’s eye for an instant as the other boy sat on the stool; but instead of a feeling of dread filing him, Sirius suddenly felt inexplicably cheerful. James, too, wore the slightest smirk as the Hat was lowered onto his head.

It only took a few seconds for the Hat to announce ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ and then the next thing he knew, James Potter was sat beside him, the little smirk still on his face.

‘Hullo,’ he said, sticking out his hand. ‘James Potter.’

The Potters were a old pureblood family, Sirius remembered as he shook James’ hand, and he vaguely recalled seeing the name crop up a couple of times on that dratted family tree back at home. But they’d never been invited to one of those stupid dinners his parents insisted on having every couple of months; blood traitors, it seemed they were, and Muggle- and Mudblood-lovers to boot. Sirius felt a distinct lack of contempt for the boy in front of him, and a total derision towards his parents. He was a Gryffindor now, and consorting with blood traitors as well! His mother would be so proud ...

‘Sirius Black,’ he replied, with a little disgust, as ‘Shacklebolt, Kingsley!’ sat down at Ravenclaw and ‘Snape, Severus!’ was immediately declared a Slytherin. ‘White sheep of the family, apparently.’

James guffawed, and Sirius quickly added, ‘And this is Remus Lupin,’ pointing opposite him. The boy looked a little startled, and Sirius belatedly remembered that he hadn’t actually spoken to him yet, but James happily leaned over to heartily shake his hand too.

After the Sorting finally ended with a Hufflepuff, Sirius and James tucked into the food, talking and laughing animatedly with full mouths, and trying to persuade Remus to come out of his quiet shell a little.

Pulling a few dishes of pudding closer to him, Sirius suddenly remembered the Sorting Hat’s final words whispered into his ear before it broke his family’s sacred tradition once again and proclaimed him to be a Gryffindor – ‘Good luck.’ He grinned widely, manically, as he pulled a bit of everything onto his plate, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’d already found it.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #8

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

Remus was worried. When he had sat on the edge of his bed earlier, trunk neatly packed and thought about all the palm-sweating, heart-racing, stomach-lurching things he would have to go through today, this hadn’t been on his list. But everything else had been fine; he hadn’t got rejected by the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, the embarrassment of his mother bursting into tears and wailing at the top of her voice that ‘her little Remmy was all grown up now’ had long worn off and the Sorting Hat hadn’t decided that they needed a new house, with its traits being stupidity, just for him. Plus, not tripping over his own feet on the long journey to the stool had to be a major success.

But the even the most awkward, horrifying scenario he had managed to imagine this morning hadn’t included this. He looked around him, his eyes darting from one face to the other. Pale skin. Olive skin. Emerald eyes. Hazel eyes. Blond waves. Black curls. Tall. Short. Fat. Thin. Enveloped in a sea of people he felt dizzy, disorientated. How he hated this, surrounded by people, all trying desperately to make a good first impression. And he had to make one as well. It was the only thing that mattered. How could he have not considered it this morning? To be shunned and avoided again... At this school it would be different, he decided firmly. He would make friends, be popular and no one would know about his…condition.

Briefly he allowed his mind to wander. Him stretched out with a book by the lake, not reading like usual but talking, laughing, just as he’d watched other people do. From a distance, of course. No one had wanted to be near to him, not after that night.

He tried to imagine the friends he joke with, but this jolted him back to reality. The friend (he didn’t dare hope for friends) he would make would be someone sitting in front of him now. And he had to make a good impression. He just had to.

He looked around, trying to decide whom to approach. He would just say hi, he decided. That was short, easy to remember. And much cooler than hello. On his left a girl was twittering on about anything and everything she had read in the numerous books they had to have brought. Normally Remus loved to discuss books, but this girl appeared to talk without pausing for breath (or food) and her high-pitched, almost squawky voice, punctuated with violent hand gestures had him quickly looking across the table. Opposite from him sat an extremely handsome boy. His dark hair was long, and fell casually into his eyes whenever he looked down at his plate. He looked much older than eleven, rebellious in a Robin Hood or Dick Turpin way. Charismatic, charming and captivating, Remus decided. Definitely main character material. Probably in an old muggle legend, the sort of book Remus loved. Boys would aspire to be him. girls would worship him. But he would shun them all, glancing at them with the same haughty look that he was wearing now.

The handsome boy opposite was now leaning back, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Watching out the corner of his eye, Remus saw him glance, almost imperceptibly at the Slytherin table. What he saw there seemed worry him and he quickly flicked his back towards the middle of the table, an unreadable emotion across his face. This interested Remus and trying not to be obvious, he glanced towards the furthest table himself. There he saw a collection of older students, heads bent together, listening to a girl with the same handsome features as the boy opposite. He saw her glance up towards where he was sitting; before he could look away she caught his eye, sneering. He looked quickly back down and caught the boy opposite watching him.

“I see you’ve met my cousin.” His voice dripped with distain.

“Oh…you mean that girl? With the dark hair? Beautiful? Not that I like her or anything, I’m not really into girls. Unless that’s not cool…do you like girls? You would know what’s cool, you’ve got that…”

“The name’s Sirius.” His voice cut across Remus’ babble.

“Remus”. He shook the offered hand. “Sorry about the babble, I was just nervous and when I’m nervous I…”

“I get the idea.” Sirius looked up and smiled. “Sorry about Bellatrix.”

Remus frowned slightly, not understanding.

“Cousin.” Sirius jerked his head over his shoulder towards the Slytherin table. “Horrible. Actually believes all the pure-blood rubbish our family forces down our throats. Stupid. They’ll kill me for making Gryffindor, of course.”

Remus nodded, a bit overwhelmed.

“What about your family?”

Remus thought for a minute. “They’ll be glad, I think. My Dad’s a muggle so he doesn’t really understand the different houses. My Mum was Ravenclaw, but as long as I didn’t end up in Slytherin she’ll be happy. She’s told me all about how devious and sneaky they are...Sorry.” He added quickly. “Your family are Slytherins aren’t they? I didn’t mean to…I mean I’m sure some of them are nice…”

Sirius laughed again. “You wouldn’t say that if you met them.”

Remus wasn’t sure how to respond to that. An awkward silence stretched before them. Looking quickly at Sirius he saw that he was watching him, smiling slightly.

“Sorry about that. I shouldn’t burden my life story onto a stranger. I’m just so happy to finally be free of them. Anyway.” His smile became bigger. “You’re not a stranger now. No one gets to hear about my woe-is-me life without immediate instatement as a friend.” He held out his hand for Remus to shake.

Remus shook it, happiness that bubbling inside him. Friend. He finally had a friend.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #9

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

Their First Prank
and the real reason she killed him

A wiry boy with wild jet black hair pressed his face against up close to the window, where inside, a brand new cleansweep model broomstick glimmered on it’s cushioned showcase.

He was joined by another boy. “Well, would you look at that! As soon as I’m a second year, I’m going to ask my Dad to by for me.”

“Oh are you going to Hogwarts this year as well? James Potter, pleased to meet you.” James extended his hand in an adult like fashion.

The other boy gave his hand a skeptical look but returned the handshake. “Sirius.”

“It’s a brilliant looking brilliant looking broom, I think. I have one already, but I think that if I don’t get in trouble, I might be able to talk my dad into buying one next year.”

Silence.

“Of course, when I say ‘don’t get in trouble’, I really mean don’t get caught.”

Sirius grinned.

“I knewww it!” shouted James, “We’re gonna have sooo much fun!”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!”

James spun around. A young woman with streaks of curly black hair and pale skin had her hands on her hips and was staring directly at Sirius, who had not moved.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY IN THE BOOKSHOP UNTIL I CAME BACK FOR YOU.

“How long does it take to buy 5 books that are already set aside for students, Bella?”

“What did you say?” The woman, who James figured must be Bella, had lowered her voice to dangerous chill.

Sirius spun around now. “I SAID I’M NOT GOING TO STAND IN A BOOKSHOP FOR AN HOUR LOOKING LIKE AN IDIOT!!”

The woman inched closer until she was standing so close to Sirius that they were nearly touching.

You’ll do what I say, boy. You’ll do it or you know what will happen. She held her wand in front of her face and flicked it. Sirius grimaced, but James wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of whatever punishment might be in store, or from some sort of pain inducing nonverbal spell. “Go on now, while I’m watching. And don’t leave until I come back”. Sirius shot her the most murderous of looks and strode off.

“Hey, can I come with you? I need to buy my books still.” Sirius shrugged, and they walked together into Flourish and Blotts.

“Sirius did not look at James as they evaded the shop attendant behind a row of books. “Sorry.”

“Who was that woman anyway?”

“Her name’s Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s my cousin.”

“Lestrange, Lestrange…” James picked out a book and pretended to peruse it intently as an employee breezed past.

“I hardly ever see her anyway. She’s just taking me here as a favor to my parents.”

“I don’t care, she’s mean anyway. I’m just trying to remember – Lestrange…you’re a Black aren’t you!?”

“So what?”

“I dunno, I mean, Blacks. They’re a bit…into dark arts and that sort.” Two old and wizened looking warlocks strode by with heavy tombs under their arms. They paused in front of James and Sirius, continued to walk.

“I’m different.”

“Fair enough.” James grinned. “Where’s Lestrange going anyway?

“Down Knockturn Alley. Don’t know why she won’t let me come, not that I want to hang out with her, but it’s not like I can’t go there.”

“you’ve been to Knockturn Alley???”

“Sure.” Sirius stood up very straight. All the time. There’s loads of dangerous stuff there, but I know how to find just about anything – and bargain for it too!”

“Wow.”

“There’s stuff there that you wouldn’t believe. But the really good stuff is hidden – you have to know how to convince the shopkeepers to show it to you. I’m good at that.” James gave Sirius a skeptical look. “It’s not Dark Arts stuff – I told you already that I’m not into that. But quite a bit of it is dangerous, and you have to know how to handle it right.”

James leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “I say we follow that mad cousin of yours to see where she goes.”

“Oh yeah, you want to get caught by her, be my guess. But she does practice the Dark Arts. And she’ll use them on you.”

“But she doesn’t know about…this!” James plunged his hand into his bag and pulled out a shimmering silver cloak.”

“Oh! I…YES!” Sirius pumped his fist into the air, causing several shoppers to turn and stare. James pushed Sirius behind a tall bookshelf. “Think of the jokes we could…”

James was grinning. “It’s incredible fun! And I can’t think who deserved it more than that witch – we’re going to have such fun!”

“You realize she’ll kill me for this, if she finds out?”

“It will be worth it – you’ll see.”

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #10

______________________________

“I’m going alone.”

“No, you are NOT! Kreacher will escort you to the station. That’s final.”

“I don’t want to show up on the first day of school with that nasty thing in front of me.”

“I’m sure there will be many pureblood children arriving with house elves. Go and dress immediately, Sirius. You father, Regulus, and I need to leave in five minutes and I do not intend to leave you to set the wards!”

“But, then I’ll be almost an hour early!”

“Then I suggest you bring a book!”

“Aarrhh!” Sirius stormed out of the room and tramped up the stairs, being sure to stomp as loudly as possible. He could practically hear his mother wincing from the dining room.

“DO NOT STOMP!”

Sirius smirked triumphantly as he entered his room and slammed the door. He dressed quickly and shimmied under his bed to retrieve one of his forbidden muggle comic books.

“KREACHER!” he bellowed, as he stuffed the rolled up comic into his back pocket beside his wand.

The house elf appeared with a pop and bowed low. “Young master’s trunk is already at the school,” he mumbled.

“Fine, whatever. Kreacher, you will take me to the steps in front of the train station and then come back home.”

“Mistress said Kreacher was to take young master to the platform,” Kreacher replied with narrowed eyes.

“She said you had to take me to the station, not the platform. Now let’s go!” He put his hand on the house elf’s scaly head and screamed, “GOODBYE MOTHER, SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!”

Sirius made his way through the throng of muggles, searching for the platform that his cousin Andromeda had told him about. When he finally found it, he put his hand up to the wall between platforms nine and ten. Worrying his lip, he took two steps back and strode almost confidently toward the barrier.

People stared and a little girl giggled at him as he ran headlong into the wall. He could already feel a bump forming on his forehead. He blushed furiously and thanked Merlin that he had arrived early enough that none of his classmates witnessed his mistake.

He tried desperately to remember what Andromeda had said. Didn’t she say something about running? Well, he couldn’t look like any more of an idiot so why not try it.

He backed up to the wall between platforms seven and eight, looked around to be sure people were no longer staring, and, with a deep breath, he took off toward the barrier.
____________________________________

Remus sat nervously on his trunk, bouncing his foot and trying to focus on his new schoolbook. He had insisted on arriving at least an hour early, not wanting to miss a single second of this day. He smiled to himself as he thought of Professor Dumbledore’s visit to his home last month. They had dug a whole, new secret passage just for him, like in one of his mystery books.

He had assured his parents that he’d be fine waiting here, since they had to take his sister to her school this morning as well. He was the first student on the platform and the Hogwarts Express hadn’t even arrived yet, but nothing could dim his good mood today.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate, so he slipped his textbook back into his trunk and rose to stretch his legs. The entry to platform 9 ¾ was really amazing, it wasn’t mentioned in Hogwarts: A History, but maybe he could find a book in the Hogwarts library that explained how it worked.

He put his hand up to the wall, trying to press his hand through the barrier, but it remained completely solid. He leaned in and cocked his head as he heard it make a slight humming noise. “I wonder why…”

*Fwoomp* Someone came flying through the barrier at top speed, barreling into his shoulder, and throwing them both to the ground. The boy rolled into Remus’ trunk with a heavy thump and groan. Remus gripped his shoulder, reaching up to press the growing lump on the back of his head. He glanced over at the boy who was now slowing lifting himself off the floor, rubbing his knee.

“Are you all right?”

The flushed boy peered at him and nodded slowly. “I…uh…think so.”

“I’m sorry I was standing in front of the barrier. I didn’t think anyone would be here for awhile.”

The boy smiled lightly, “No problem. I probably took it a bit faster than I had to.” The boy got up off the floor and reached out his hand to help Remus up. “I’m Sirius Black.”

Taking Sirius’ hand he replied with a wide grin, “Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you!”
_____________________

[hermy_weasley2]

**Contest 49**

Entry #1


On Mischief, Remade


Because the floor was cold and because their fingers were a bit singed, twins Fred and George Weasley decided that the best thing to do was to wrap up their work for the evening. Despite the dark and dampness of the very dark, narrow passage that was clearly not meant as a workspace, the vivid redness of their hair and smiles seemed to radiate warmth.

“Right then…” said George, clearing his throat and drawing himself up. “We’ve done enough mischief for one night.” and he suddenly grabbed Fred’s robes. “You see that?”

Fred was already kneeling at the folded puzzle, a recent acquisition which had given them hours of enjoyment as they worked over it. Their inner scoundrels told them that it held the promise of adventure and reward, perhaps even danger, which to them was always hand-in-hand with reward. The problem was that the thing looked to the simple, untrained wizard eye to be nothing more than an old piece of parchment. They knew better. Could something so deliciously simple be closeted in a cabinet marked “Confiscated and Extremely Dangerous”?

For the past week, since the boys had emancipated it from said cabinet in Argus Filch’s office, they’d had nothing to go on – no spell they could find or invent could get the blasted thing to work, whatever it did. But just now, it had, in fact, blinked to life…

“Maybe we aren’t as done as we thought, Mate,” said Fred. He walked over to the yellowed parchment and touched his wand to it, lighting the tip so he could see better. You know what Dad would say, don’t you? After a second, he shook his head and assumed a fatherly tone, ‘Don’t ever trust a thing if you can’t see where you keeps its brain. Swear…’ ”

Another flash of the parchment. The boys sat stunned for a moment, as the it faded. A single word formed in front of them on the page, unbidden.

Prat.

“Let me have a go at it!” yelled George.

Six hours later, the Weasley Twins were hoarse. They were exhausted. They were missing from breakfast.

No one was surprised, really.

But then, later, they were missing from Herbology, and Professor McGonagall was alerted to their absence, since this usually did not bode well, and often meant that something else also went missing or broken, and owls must be written and sent and detentions served and the Boys had still yet to be found. She was making her way to the Gryffindor Common Room when, almost suspiciously so, the boys stepped out through the portrait hole and met her ceremoniously, looking the both of them like the cat that ate the canary.

“Well? I suppose you two have some explanation as to where you have been all day?”

“Yes, Professor, naturally, but why trouble you? Let’s just dispense with all of that and go straight to your office, we know the way.”

“Now, just one minute, Mr. Weasley!” Said, Professor McGonagall to George, clearly not appreciating his tone. “Where have you two been all night? You were missing at breakfast, and Professor Sprout tells me you missed Herbology as well. I want to know what mischief you were up to!” Her nostrils flared dangerously.

“Mischief indeed!” said Fred sagely. George tapped his nose.

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes and sent them to see Professor Sprout with a note.


***
The next night, Fred and George sat in the corridor wordlessly watching small markings swirl and dance around the parchment they unfolded in sections before them. Occasionally, one of them would point his wand at something that defies words: Albus Dumbledore, represented by small feet, pacing in a study; Argus Filch, the caretaker, and Peeves the Poltergeist, locked in mortal versus immortal battle of dim wits, in an unused classroom on the fourth floor; the word ‘Dissendium’ near what seemed to be a statue…

Whoever they may have been, they were certainly brothers in spirit, these Messrs. Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs. And, no matter the price for their truancy and very empty stomachs, Fred and George were certainly at the fresh and wonderful start of what they were sure to be a very fruitful relationship.

[hermy_weasley2]

Entry #2

Dungbombs & Detention

“Patience, my sweet.” Filch said to Mrs. Norris, as she rubbed against his ankle. Fred and George scanned Filch’s dingy, windowless office as they stood, waiting for their punishment. “Dungbombs! I wish Dumbledore would allow me to hand out proper punishment for such nonsense. Mrs. Norris, have you seen my quill?”

Fred and George smiled at each other, then continued to look around the poorly lit office. As their eyes became use to the dimness, they began to read the labels on the wooden cabinets lining the walls. George pointed to the one labeled ‘Fred and George Weasley’. They had their very own filing cabinet! Filch gave up the search for his quill and pulled out a new one from a lower desk drawer.

“Detention ~ Fred and George Weasley.” He said aloud, as he dipped his quill into the ink bottle on his desk and began to scribble the details of their punishment. There was a twinkle in his eye that was rarely seen by anyone. Fred spotted a cabinet labeled ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous’. He nudged George and eyed in the direction of the cabinet. George raised his pant leg and retrieved a Dungbomb from his sock. He nodded to Fred. George dropped the Dungbomb. Filch gasped and grabbed a dusting rag to cover his face and Mrs. Norris ducked under the desk. Fred took this opportunity to whip the drawer open and grab the first thing he could get his hands on, and shove it down the front of his pants.

“Sorry, Mr. Filch.” Said George, through his shirt. He had covered his face , as well. “I don’t know where that came from. Someone must have stashed it on me and it fell off.”

“Likely story Weasley.” Filch coughed. “Disembowelment should be your punishment! However, since I am not allowed…..” his voice trailed off, while he thought. “Since you seem to love dung so much, the two you will be scraping Owl dung, er, droppings off the Owlery floor. Fitting punishment, I believe. Shovels only. No magic!”

Fred and George didn’t mind their detention. After all, they were allowed to use shovels. Plus, since they would be there for three hours every evening after dinner for the next week, they would have plenty of time to figure out what was so dangerous about that piece of parchment. Filch only looked in on them once per evening, as he had to make his rounds through the castle, looking for other potential rule breakers.

“I swear, Fred.” George said to him as they sat in the fairly clean Owlery, staring at the blank parchment. It was their last night of detention. “It’s been a week since…” George stopped mid~sentence, for words began to appear on the parchment. The twins looked at it in amazement, as the words became clear.

“’Do you solemnly swear?’” Fred read aloud from the writing. “And it is signed, ‘Moony’. What does that mean?”

“I dunno.” George answered with bewilderment. “Do we solemnly swear what?” More writing began to appear on the parchment. It was in a different handwriting than before.

“’Do you solemnly swear?’” George read aloud. “‘Signed, Wormtail’. Do we dare, dear brother?”

“Why not?!” answered Fred. “I solemnly swear.” Yet another message appeared on the parchment. 'And do you solemnly swear? Signed Padfoot.'

“I solemnly swear.” Said George, anxiously. A fourth handwriting appeared, posing a question. “…that you’re up to no good? Signed Prongs.”

“These blokes must know us.” Fred and George said together. “We’re always up to no good.” The twins watched as yet another message appeared on the parchment. ‘Say it together, now…”I solemnly swear that I am up to no good..” Signed Padfoot’. They looked at each other and shrugged.

Grinning, Fred and George said, in unison, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” The parchment sprang to life. A message in each of the four handwritings appeared. ‘It’s about bloody time, Mates! Signed Prongs’. ‘What took you so long? Signed Wormtail’. ‘We were beginning to wonder if you had it in you. Signed Moony’. ‘Got a wand? Use it, and say it again! Signed Padfoot.’The writing faded away and they were once again left with blank parchment.

The twins pulled their wands from their back pockets, looked at each other with anticipation, tapped the parchment with their wands and repeated those treasured words, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Lines of ink began to spread, crisscrossing, filling the parchment. Yet another message bloomed across the top. Curling green words, which read:

Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief~Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER’S MAP
~

"We sure can manage a lot of mischief with this map." George said to Fred, elbowing him gently in the ribs. "I wonder how we make it disappear when we don't need it."

"Not to worry, dear brother." Fred answered as Filch's voice could be heard from the distance. He carefully folded the map and stuffed it in his pants. "We'll have plenty of time to figure that out."