Round 2, Challenge 1 Voting!
Below the cut you'll find the Round 2, Challenge 1 drabbles and polls. Happy Reading!
Please make sure to:
- Vote for each drabble using the 1-10 scale (10 being the highest mark).
- Please vote for all the drabbles, if you don't none of your scores will count.
- If you're a participant, make sure to votes for all the drabbles except your own.
- If you make a mistake when voting, don't try and vote again. Instead, email us at genhpmods@gmail.com and we'll fix your votes accordingly.
- Feedback for our wonderful authors is welcomed and appreciated. There's a zero tolerance policy on flaming or bitching. So play nicely.
Challenge 1 Prompt: Conversations with a ghost
The order of the drabbles is random:
Drabble #1
Author: thesteppyone
Title: Peace at Last
Rating: G
Word Count: 456
A/N(optional): Set after the big battle o'doom.
'Peace at last!'
Ron looked up from his position in the corner of the classroom. He was leaning back on one of the uncomfortable school chairs and his feet were propped up on a desk. The sun was setting and the light was fading from the room.
'Rough night?' he asked.
Nick spun around and looked for the source of the words. When his eyes rested on Ron he visibly calmed down but still looked uncomfortable.
'Oh, Ronald, I'm so sorry to disturb you, I'll leave.'
'Sounds like you just escaped from something. If you want to stay in here, don't leave on my account, I'm just… sitting.'
He sighed and picked at the rip in his jeans. He was waiting for something to happen but he didn't know what. Maybe he was waiting for someone to snap and go crazy with grief, or maybe he was wishing that for himself. He knew it wasn't a normal wish, but he was tired of being numb.
'So, what have you escaped from?'
'What? Oh… nothing… people are just…' Nick floated towards the window and became a touch more opaque from the last remaining sun beam.
'Asking about death,' Ron finished for him.
'Not death so much, more about why their relatives, friends… why they haven't come back…'
Ron nodded even though the gesture was missed by the ghost.
'It's hard telling people that they won't see their loved ones again. I understand their need, of course, their desperation, but it's the hardest thing… being the person to break their hearts once more.'
'I can't even imagine.'
Ron picked at the rip again, then the air around him grew cold. He looked up and saw Nick was looking down on him.
'I'm so sorry… about you brother.'
Ron nodded and frowned. 'Thanks.'
Nick cleared his throat. 'I know I said I wished to escape it all, but if I can help you by answering any questions you have, then please ask.'
Ron managed a half smile in gratitude and nodded his head. After a few seconds Nick turned and floated towards the wall. Just before he disappeared, Ron found himself talking.
'When you die…' he said quietly. 'Does it… is it terrifying?' His voice cracked and he cleared his throat to try and cover it.
Nick turned and looked at him.
'Not at all. It's peaceful, you're greeted by loved ones and you're helped on your way, whichever way you choose. It's the most beautiful, peaceful thing.'
Ron nodded. 'Peaceful. Good. Thanks.'
Nick disappeared and Ron stood. He walked to the window and watched the sun slip out of sight. A tear escaped from his eye and he took a deep breath.
'Peaceful,' he whispered. 'Peace at last.'
***
Drabble #2
Author: mollywheezy
Title: Chilling Conversations
Rating: PG
Word Count: 498
Even though her roommates didn't seem very nice, Luna was excited to be in Ravenclaw just like both of her parents. And at Hogwarts, she'd finally get her questions answered.
After a week's worth of waiting in corridors, Luna found just who she needed to talk to. As she floated by, Luna called out, "Miss Ravenclaw? May I please speak with you for a moment?"
The ghost stopped, turned towards Luna and glared at her archly, without speaking.
"I wondered if you know where my mummy went when she died?"
"I stayed here when I died. I do not know where others go." With that, Helena Ravenclaw floated away.
A week later, after days of spending her free time in the dungeons, Luna found her next subject. "Mr. Baron, Sir, may I please ask you a question?"
The Bloody Baron rattled his chains, not stopping or even looking at Luna.
Luna's next plan was achieved after only one day of wandering. "Sir, may I ask you a question?"
Sir Nicholas stopped floating, lowering himself from the ceiling to be at Luna's eye level. "Of course, young lady. What is your name?"
"Luna Lovegood. It's a pleasure to meet you Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington."
"Likewise!"
"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington . . ."
Sir Nicholas chuckled, "Just 'Sir Nicholas' will suffice."
Luna nodded. "Sir Nicholas, do you know where my mummy went when she died?"
Sir Nicholas' face fell. "I was afraid of death and chose to remain behind. Your mother would have gone on."
"Where is On?"
"I am sorry, dear, but I do not know."
Luna nodded, resigned. "Thank you for talking to me."
"I wish you well in your quest." Sir Nicholas passed through the wall.
Luna wandered the garden at Hogwarts, searching once again. She sat on a bench beside her quarry.
"Friar Hufflepuff? I'm Luna Lovegood."
"What a pleasure to see you, Luna! You are the daughter of Xenophilius and Zara?"
"Yes! How did you know?"
"I performed your parents' wedding. You look amazingly like your mother."
"Mummy told me a ghost performed their wedding, but I didn't realize it was you."
"How are your parents?"
"Daddy's fine. Mummy died two years ago."
"I'm so sorry! I hadn't heard."
"What happens to people when they die?"
"I believe they go to a beautiful and happy place, free from pain and sadness, and are reunited with their loved ones."
"Sir Nicholas told me he became a ghost because he feared death. If you believe in such a wonderful place, why did you stay behind?"
"Excellent question, my dear. When my sister Helga was dying, I gave her my word to watch over the students of Hogwarts. She probably didn't expect me to continue after my death, but I've never regretted my choice. I'm always available if you, or any student, need me."
"Thank you!" Ignoring the chilling feeling, Luna gave the Fat Friar a big, though insubstantial, hug. She finally had her answer-and a friend.
***
Drabble #3
Author: hfleming8
Title: Equal Footing
Rating: PG
Word Count: 462
It’s a potion; a drip of this and a drop of that. It’s the end of a day in a series of days. Severus Snape caps the potion and with careful deliberation sets it aside.
Another day done. Another successful ruse from the Dark Lord’s most willing of minions.
He casts off his cloak and other various garments and peels away the layers of bedding. He stops to stare at the stark white sheets. It’s a battle he faces every night. During the day he can escape the deeds he has done in the name of something greater than he, but nighttime brings a different kind of refined torture. He sighs, climbs in...and drifts off.
****
She’s in her Gryffindor sweater. He looks around and finds they’re at Kings Cross this time.
“How are you, Sev?” Her smile is quiet, in direct contrast to everything he’s ever known about Lily Evans. He still - after all of these years - can’t reconcile that she married James Potter; nor the fact that there’s living proof of the union in Harry.
“Fine.” He sits by her and looks his fill. If an observer were to try and capture this moment in a word they would title it as longing.
“Are you? Fine?”
“No,” he replies. He wants to yell at her and shake her and then clutch at her and beg for forgiveness. But, he sits and waits.
He’s good at waiting.
“I forgave you a long time ago.”
This part is always agony because he does wonder if his actions in the here and now would mean she forgave him the utter betrayal of their friendship.
“Did you?”
“Yes, I did. I really thought there was no good left in you, but you proved me wrong...again.” She huffs out a soft laugh and it blows her fringe up and away from her forehead. “I can’t thank you properly - “
“I don’t want your thanks,” he grinds out.
“Yes, Severus, you do.” Her eyes flash green and it reminds him too much of the friend he had to let go on Halloween night in 1981. He turns his head but her voice is near as she whispers fervently. “You need my thanks and gratitude. I can’t give you anything else that you’re asking for but know this: You are my friend. You were my first friend and I will be your friend till the last.”
He wakes in a cold sweat with the moonlight slant across his bedding and shudders.
Sometime in the near future he will hand the boy all of his memories and hopes beyond measure that he will be able to meet Lily on the other side of the veil finally on equal footing.
***
Drabble #4
Author:katwoman_68
Title: Father Knows Best
Rating: PG
Word Count: 477
A/N(optional): Thank you to my wonderful beta, who knows who she is.
Harry collapsed on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, still fully dressed. He managed to kick off one of his shoes before sleep claimed him.
He was woken by the sound of hooves clattering across the stone floor of the dormitory. Straightening his glasses he hadn't bothered to take off, he sat up in bed to see a stag galloping towards him. He tried to remember conjuring a Patronus. The stag stopped at the foot of the bed. As Harry watched, the animal transformed into a man and James Potter was soon standing at the foot of the bed.
"Dad!"
James sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at his son. "Do you know how proud we are of you? You've ended Voldemort's reign."
"It wasn't me. Everyone-”
"Everyone helped, but it was you that had to sacrifice in order for him to die." James smiled at his son before continuing. "I know Dumbledore gave you the choice to return. Why did you come back?"
Harry looked at his father. Did James think he had made the wrong choice?
"I'm sorry, I should have stayed with you and mum-”
James shook he head. "No, son, you were right to return. But, why did you? I'm sure there were several, but what was the main reason, the one reason, you came back?"
Harry saw the Marauder's Map on his bedside table and remembered watching her dot. "Ginny."
James nodded. "I thought so. But yet you haven't spoken to her since the battle ended."
Harry opened his mouth to answer. He had to talk to Dumbledore; he had to return the Elder Wand; he had to talk to everyone else and listen to their stories. His excuses sounded unconvincing even in his mind.
"Your mother and I wasted so much time. I was an arrogant toerag for years, as your mum reminds me to this day." James laughed. "All along I was trying to impress her and failing miserably at it. But somehow, she finally decided to give me a chance. We had a few years together, but it really wasn't enough time." James paused to let Harry think about that. "Don't waste any more time."
Harry watched as his father faded from view. He reached out but only succeeded in falling off the bed. From the floor, Harry sat up and adjusted his glasses that were askew. He heard the soft sound of Neville breathing, but otherwise the room was silent and empty. He felt around in the dark for his shoe and slipped it on before rushing from the room.
He burst into the empty common room and headed for the girls' dormitory. He hoped everyone would understand when the stairs sent out the warning that a male student was present, but he knew, at that moment, nothing would keep him from his future.
***
Drabble #5
Author: honourweasley12
Title: Time Flies By
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
A/N(optional):
"Quickly! There!"
He dove behind the suit of armour, just ahead of the pounding footsteps.
The vile man stopped and spat on the ground before addressing me.
"Eh, 'ave you seen that Longbottom twerp?"
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Carrow."
He waved his wand at me, growling in irritation before stomping off through my floating form.
Mr. Longbottom emerged from behind the armour, clearly shaken. A scratch marred his cheek and he was panting.
"Thanks, Sir Nick. I almost got caught that time."
"You're very brave for standing up to them. Godric Gryffindor himself would be proud."
His shoulders slumped. "I feel like a coward for always hiding."
"Nonsense. The other students look to you for leadership, and the battle you're fighting is just."
He straightened his posture, just as a loud voice rang out. He nodded and disappeared down a side passage, ready to fight another day.
It saddened me to see my noble home turned into a prison. At least there was still hope for the students-the defenders.
~*~
"That was magnificent. If only someone had cut my head off with such vigour!"
He grinned, weary yet relieved. The castle was alive with celebration and he'd stolen away from his admirers for a moment of peace.
"I was just following Harry's instructions; he did the hard part."
"You're much too modest; your deeds will be recorded in the annals of Wizarding history, after all. Neville Longbottom, slayer of the serpent and leader of Dumbledore's Army."
He blushed and shook his head in disbelief before assuming a contemplative solemnity.
"I've never properly thanked you, Sir Nick. All of the spying you did and distractions you created sure helped our cause. We couldn't have done it without you."
"No, no, my good man, it is you I should be thanking. In all my years here, I've never seen a student with such dedication to this school."
"This place is my home, just as much as it is yours. I'm really going to miss it."
"You're always free to return."
~*~
"Ah, Mr. Longbottom! Or shall I say, Professor Longbottom? It's a pleasure to see you again."
"Sir Nick! I was just looking for you; I see you've heard the news."
"We ghosts have a tendency to spread gossip, you know. It does get a bit dull here sometimes."
He laughed and I could still see that eleven-year-old version of him.
"I feel like I belong here."
"Indeed you do, Mr. Longbottom."
~*~
"This is goodbye then. I'm retiring."
"You've just gotten here! What is the hurry?"
"I've been here for 70 years, Sir Nick."
"Oh my, how the time flies."
It struck me then that his hair was grey and thinning, and he walked with the slight limp of the aged.
"I'm ready to move on. Hannah wants to travel and spend more time with the great-grandchildren."
As we said our farewells and he turned to leave, I remembered that clumsy boy who became a hero.
I would miss him.
***
Drabble #6
Author: redlightspecia1
Title: Heredity
Rating: G
Word Count: 262
A/N(optional):
The boy shook his head as though coming out of a trance. For the first time that night, his gaze met the ghost’s. “I suppose I’m just like my father then too, right?”
“Well, I would say that anyone who sees you, could look at your hair, your nose, your chin, and know who your father is.”
“So you agree?”
“That’s heredity, young man. It is likely, after all, that you resemble one, if not both, of your parents.”
“But there’s more than just looks.”
It was more a question than a statement, and the ghost pondered the expression on the boy’s face before answering solemnly. “Young people can be an unfeeling lot at times. I suspect they’ve said things about your father, or perhaps your grandfather; things they couldn’t possibly have any first-hand knowledge of.”
“And I’m exactly like they were.”
“Not exactly.”
“Aren’t I?”
The ghost sighed. “I think maybe you weren’t listening to my story very well.”
“It was rather long,” responded the boy.
“Yes, but the gist of it is that each of us make choices that define us. Do I look like Sir Alexander? Yes, I do. But we didn’t follow the same path. And in the end, he made a choice that I was too afraid to make. In death, our differences managed to show through.”
“I wonder if I’ll have to wait that long.”
“I think not.”
“Really?” asked Scorpius.
“You’re in Gryffindor, aren’t you?” responded Nearly Headless Nick.
***
Drabble #7
Author: fbo66
Title: The Strangest Dream
Rating: G
Word Count: 500
A/N: Thank you to my beta :)
Ginny blinked, her eyes straining to see through the dense mist that filled the room in which she stood. Very slowly, vague shapes began to emerge before her eyes. Windows, a doorway, pieces of furniture, and a fireplace. As she looked around the strange room, Ginny saw for the first time a woman standing by the window with long, dark red hair. She was looking at Ginny with an expression of extreme curiosity. Her bright green eyes were gazing intently.
Ginny could not help but gasp.
“I've wanted to meet you for quite some time. You remind me so very much of myself at your age,” said Lily, and she sounded amused, “perhaps a little more stubborn than I was.” There was a short silence in which Ginny took in the appearance of her husband's mother. Lily was impossibly youthful and just as beautiful as she was in the few photographs Harry had of her.
She let her gaze drift over her surroundings and thought out loud, “this is a dream.”
“Is there any way of truly knowing?” Lily smiled at her.
“But this can't be real.”
“Sometimes things have a way of happening when you least expect them to.”
A comfortable silence stretched between the two women as Ginny came to the conclusion that she must be in Harry's childhood home in Godric's Hollow; the home he had lived in with his parents. Lily spoke again, drawing Ginny's attention away from the surroundings. “There is so much I've missed,” she said, “and yet so much is still to come.”
Lily gave her a meaningfully look.
“You know, I remember the feeling.... That feeling of utter joy to realise that there was a tiny life growing inside me,” she said, looking at Ginny with sparkling eyes. “Becoming a mother changes you.”
Ginny looked up into Lily's pale face and was astonished. “How did you know?” she asked.
Lily merely smiled and reached out to take Ginny's hand in her own. “I want to you know I'm so very happy, and so is James. After so long, I know Harry is happy because of you.”
Ginny gazed at the woman before her, whose eyes were the exact same shade as Harry's. The mist was beginning to swirl, the room in which they sat was gradually evaporating, but Lily's voice was clear as she said, “I think you will be a wonderful mother, Ginny.”
Ginny woke with a start to find herself in bed and wrapped in the warmth of Harry's body. Feeling her stir, Harry lifted his head and asked in a sleepy voice, “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she answered, with a slight tremor in her voice as she slowly reached down and touched her stomach. As if in response to her touch, her insides fluttered and a gentle warmth spread though her entire body.
She smiled and whispered, “I've just had the strangest dream.”
***
Drabble #8
Author: loonynamelass
Title: Adolescent Afterlife
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
A/N(optional): Good thing I’m anonymous, as the beginning is almost embarrassingly autobiographical. On that note, I have three things to mention: 1) I actually am not sure if it works on the light-skinned, 2) Blood is not drawn; the scratch is really just using your nail as a light pencil…, and 3) I don’t recommend it because it’s probably not good for your skin. If it does work, you need some moisturizer, the eraser of this dry-erase board.
~?~
On the toilet, fillers develop: twiddling thumbs, for the simple; ten-person theatre, for the romantic; contortions, for the geometric. And that’s just two hands. Scratching dry skin into letters and doodles; braiding shirt tails; even seat-shaped puzzle books sold for the exploitation of this universal downtime.
Over years she adopted, as her philosophy: Life, a bitter box of chocolates, after death, was the search for fillers. So a teenager wanders, passing through companions and pastimes, never ready for the flush.
~?~
When she saw him, she thought she’d seen a ghost.
Ghosts made noises as they pleased, so the heavy pattering of his feet weren’t anything indicative, nor were the racking gasps from his top end- those, she had experienced enough of herself.
She approached with caution and observed with interest. His features implied an aristocratic background- tainted by tears and strain, the chin, robes, and stature still distinguished themselves. Her mudbloods status was taboo, then.
She rested a translucent hand on his shoulder, and when he twisted she gave him the full benefit of fourteen years of pity. “It’s okay.”
“No,” he gasped, “It’s not! You don’t… can’t understand… I have to… alone.”
“You don’t have to be alone,” she crooned, imagining herself crying in a bathroom. “I’m here.”
“It’s… the task… I have to… if I tell anyone He’ll-” his voice was stronger, coherent through the quaking. “No way out… He told me… and I haven’t… I can’t do it… He’ll kill me and my mother and I shoulda stopped it, been able to do this, Father would…”
He stopped, though his body only accelerated, tall, arching over the sink where saltwater rapidly dripped off of his chin. He feared death? “It’s not so bad,” she said, more to herself than him. Ghostliness had the side effect of self-centeredness.
He didn’t hear her.
“He can’t hurt you,” she continued, ran her fingers through white-grey hair which parted slightly to her touch. “You’re safe with me.”
~?~
He didn’t give much mind to the visits not there; when there, his mind was utterly devoted to the private haven she’d created for him with her misunderstanding. From his half-sentences she thought him an innocent martyr- who’d argue with a ghost older in age, younger in spirit? In life where hierarchies dictated all, this structural absence demanded he surrender his inhibitions and fight only with himself.
~?~
There again, once again, she entreating him to open up, he obstinate as he released frustration and hopelessness into words for her to deny.
Harry barges in on the scene, and Myrtle sees the sight of him yank Draco from his precious escape back to a reality where Draco had enemies and hatred and there was no time to waste crying.
“MURDER!” she cries, with the familiar drama heightening her spirits. A pale corpse vibrantly soaked is carted away by the stiffened professor, an old friend staring after the pair in shock, who also used to have conversations with a ghost.
~?~
What shall she do next?
***
Drabble #9
Author: belladonna803
Title: Myrtle's Secret
Rating: G
Word Count: 497 says my software
A/N(optional): None.
“And here are my notes on Shrivelfigs.”
Pomona Sprout handed Neville an armload of tattered parchment and cupped his cheek like a doting Auntie. “You'll be taking my post one day, when I retire.”
“Me?” he asked, pretending she hadn't said it dozens of times.
She chuckled. “Well, that's me off, then. Mind the schedule and owl if you need me.”
“I'll owl even if I don't.”
Pomona swatted his comment away as she left, though she looked pleased. She was a good friend and mentor, and he was immensely proud of the fact that she was was leaving him in charge for a month.
Neville perused his schedule, which Hermione had meticulously tabbed and colour-coded, bless her. Four whole weeks to get acquainted with every leaf and stem here. He couldn't wait to get started. He pulled out a packet of Pepper Imps and had just begun reading about Shrivelfigs when the sound of a clearing throat broke the silence.
“Hi, Myrtle,” said Neville. He looked up to see Myrtle's head protruding from a sprinkler.
“Is it true, what Sprout said about you teaching?” She drifted down to hover over a bench full of empty pots.
“Yeah, eventually. I've still got loads to learn, though.”
Myrtle gave him as discerning look, and leaned in as if to share a secret. “When I was alive, I thought I might teach it myself one day.”
“Really? What's your favourite plant?”
“Venomous Tentacula.”
“You're joking!”
“They aren't dangerous if you know their secret,” she said. “Would you like me to show you?”
Neville wasn't sure if she could be trusted, though he was curious. “Yeah, sure,” he said finally.
“Bring one of those sweeties, and follow me,” she said as she drifted towards a corner of the greenhouse. A large, and very old Tentacula rustled there, and Neville easily pictured it chomping on his arm, should he get too close. He supposed it must be the blood red colour.
Or the fangs.
“Throw it to her,” said Myrtle.
Neville looked sceptical, but shrugged and tossed the Imp into the air. It'd barely left his hand when a thick, spiny tendril snatched it and brought it inwards towards it's mouth. The whole plant seemed to be humming, and within moments began to droop down until its vines lay motionless on the ground.
“We've killed it!”
“No, it's just drunk on the sugar. It'll be all right in a minute.”
Neville stood and watched the Tentacula for an excruciatingly long five minutes before it showed signs of life. After another five he breathed a cold and clammy sigh of relief when it finally looked like it should.
“Wow, thanks, Myrtle. I've gotta go run an errand, I'll talk to you later.”
He headed out without looking back, making his way quickly towards the gates to Hogsmeade.
He really needed a drink.
***
Poll Round 2 Challenge 1
Please make sure to:
- Vote for each drabble using the 1-10 scale (10 being the highest mark).
- Please vote for all the drabbles, if you don't none of your scores will count.
- If you're a participant, make sure to votes for all the drabbles except your own.
- If you make a mistake when voting, don't try and vote again. Instead, email us at genhpmods@gmail.com and we'll fix your votes accordingly.
- Feedback for our wonderful authors is welcomed and appreciated. There's a zero tolerance policy on flaming or bitching. So play nicely.
Challenge 1 Prompt: Conversations with a ghost
The order of the drabbles is random:
Drabble #1
Author: thesteppyone
Title: Peace at Last
Rating: G
Word Count: 456
A/N(optional): Set after the big battle o'doom.
'Peace at last!'
Ron looked up from his position in the corner of the classroom. He was leaning back on one of the uncomfortable school chairs and his feet were propped up on a desk. The sun was setting and the light was fading from the room.
'Rough night?' he asked.
Nick spun around and looked for the source of the words. When his eyes rested on Ron he visibly calmed down but still looked uncomfortable.
'Oh, Ronald, I'm so sorry to disturb you, I'll leave.'
'Sounds like you just escaped from something. If you want to stay in here, don't leave on my account, I'm just… sitting.'
He sighed and picked at the rip in his jeans. He was waiting for something to happen but he didn't know what. Maybe he was waiting for someone to snap and go crazy with grief, or maybe he was wishing that for himself. He knew it wasn't a normal wish, but he was tired of being numb.
'So, what have you escaped from?'
'What? Oh… nothing… people are just…' Nick floated towards the window and became a touch more opaque from the last remaining sun beam.
'Asking about death,' Ron finished for him.
'Not death so much, more about why their relatives, friends… why they haven't come back…'
Ron nodded even though the gesture was missed by the ghost.
'It's hard telling people that they won't see their loved ones again. I understand their need, of course, their desperation, but it's the hardest thing… being the person to break their hearts once more.'
'I can't even imagine.'
Ron picked at the rip again, then the air around him grew cold. He looked up and saw Nick was looking down on him.
'I'm so sorry… about you brother.'
Ron nodded and frowned. 'Thanks.'
Nick cleared his throat. 'I know I said I wished to escape it all, but if I can help you by answering any questions you have, then please ask.'
Ron managed a half smile in gratitude and nodded his head. After a few seconds Nick turned and floated towards the wall. Just before he disappeared, Ron found himself talking.
'When you die…' he said quietly. 'Does it… is it terrifying?' His voice cracked and he cleared his throat to try and cover it.
Nick turned and looked at him.
'Not at all. It's peaceful, you're greeted by loved ones and you're helped on your way, whichever way you choose. It's the most beautiful, peaceful thing.'
Ron nodded. 'Peaceful. Good. Thanks.'
Nick disappeared and Ron stood. He walked to the window and watched the sun slip out of sight. A tear escaped from his eye and he took a deep breath.
'Peaceful,' he whispered. 'Peace at last.'
***
Drabble #2
Author: mollywheezy
Title: Chilling Conversations
Rating: PG
Word Count: 498
Even though her roommates didn't seem very nice, Luna was excited to be in Ravenclaw just like both of her parents. And at Hogwarts, she'd finally get her questions answered.
After a week's worth of waiting in corridors, Luna found just who she needed to talk to. As she floated by, Luna called out, "Miss Ravenclaw? May I please speak with you for a moment?"
The ghost stopped, turned towards Luna and glared at her archly, without speaking.
"I wondered if you know where my mummy went when she died?"
"I stayed here when I died. I do not know where others go." With that, Helena Ravenclaw floated away.
A week later, after days of spending her free time in the dungeons, Luna found her next subject. "Mr. Baron, Sir, may I please ask you a question?"
The Bloody Baron rattled his chains, not stopping or even looking at Luna.
Luna's next plan was achieved after only one day of wandering. "Sir, may I ask you a question?"
Sir Nicholas stopped floating, lowering himself from the ceiling to be at Luna's eye level. "Of course, young lady. What is your name?"
"Luna Lovegood. It's a pleasure to meet you Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington."
"Likewise!"
"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington . . ."
Sir Nicholas chuckled, "Just 'Sir Nicholas' will suffice."
Luna nodded. "Sir Nicholas, do you know where my mummy went when she died?"
Sir Nicholas' face fell. "I was afraid of death and chose to remain behind. Your mother would have gone on."
"Where is On?"
"I am sorry, dear, but I do not know."
Luna nodded, resigned. "Thank you for talking to me."
"I wish you well in your quest." Sir Nicholas passed through the wall.
Luna wandered the garden at Hogwarts, searching once again. She sat on a bench beside her quarry.
"Friar Hufflepuff? I'm Luna Lovegood."
"What a pleasure to see you, Luna! You are the daughter of Xenophilius and Zara?"
"Yes! How did you know?"
"I performed your parents' wedding. You look amazingly like your mother."
"Mummy told me a ghost performed their wedding, but I didn't realize it was you."
"How are your parents?"
"Daddy's fine. Mummy died two years ago."
"I'm so sorry! I hadn't heard."
"What happens to people when they die?"
"I believe they go to a beautiful and happy place, free from pain and sadness, and are reunited with their loved ones."
"Sir Nicholas told me he became a ghost because he feared death. If you believe in such a wonderful place, why did you stay behind?"
"Excellent question, my dear. When my sister Helga was dying, I gave her my word to watch over the students of Hogwarts. She probably didn't expect me to continue after my death, but I've never regretted my choice. I'm always available if you, or any student, need me."
"Thank you!" Ignoring the chilling feeling, Luna gave the Fat Friar a big, though insubstantial, hug. She finally had her answer-and a friend.
***
Drabble #3
Author: hfleming8
Title: Equal Footing
Rating: PG
Word Count: 462
It’s a potion; a drip of this and a drop of that. It’s the end of a day in a series of days. Severus Snape caps the potion and with careful deliberation sets it aside.
Another day done. Another successful ruse from the Dark Lord’s most willing of minions.
He casts off his cloak and other various garments and peels away the layers of bedding. He stops to stare at the stark white sheets. It’s a battle he faces every night. During the day he can escape the deeds he has done in the name of something greater than he, but nighttime brings a different kind of refined torture. He sighs, climbs in...and drifts off.
****
She’s in her Gryffindor sweater. He looks around and finds they’re at Kings Cross this time.
“How are you, Sev?” Her smile is quiet, in direct contrast to everything he’s ever known about Lily Evans. He still - after all of these years - can’t reconcile that she married James Potter; nor the fact that there’s living proof of the union in Harry.
“Fine.” He sits by her and looks his fill. If an observer were to try and capture this moment in a word they would title it as longing.
“Are you? Fine?”
“No,” he replies. He wants to yell at her and shake her and then clutch at her and beg for forgiveness. But, he sits and waits.
He’s good at waiting.
“I forgave you a long time ago.”
This part is always agony because he does wonder if his actions in the here and now would mean she forgave him the utter betrayal of their friendship.
“Did you?”
“Yes, I did. I really thought there was no good left in you, but you proved me wrong...again.” She huffs out a soft laugh and it blows her fringe up and away from her forehead. “I can’t thank you properly - “
“I don’t want your thanks,” he grinds out.
“Yes, Severus, you do.” Her eyes flash green and it reminds him too much of the friend he had to let go on Halloween night in 1981. He turns his head but her voice is near as she whispers fervently. “You need my thanks and gratitude. I can’t give you anything else that you’re asking for but know this: You are my friend. You were my first friend and I will be your friend till the last.”
He wakes in a cold sweat with the moonlight slant across his bedding and shudders.
Sometime in the near future he will hand the boy all of his memories and hopes beyond measure that he will be able to meet Lily on the other side of the veil finally on equal footing.
***
Drabble #4
Author:katwoman_68
Title: Father Knows Best
Rating: PG
Word Count: 477
A/N(optional): Thank you to my wonderful beta, who knows who she is.
Harry collapsed on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, still fully dressed. He managed to kick off one of his shoes before sleep claimed him.
He was woken by the sound of hooves clattering across the stone floor of the dormitory. Straightening his glasses he hadn't bothered to take off, he sat up in bed to see a stag galloping towards him. He tried to remember conjuring a Patronus. The stag stopped at the foot of the bed. As Harry watched, the animal transformed into a man and James Potter was soon standing at the foot of the bed.
"Dad!"
James sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at his son. "Do you know how proud we are of you? You've ended Voldemort's reign."
"It wasn't me. Everyone-”
"Everyone helped, but it was you that had to sacrifice in order for him to die." James smiled at his son before continuing. "I know Dumbledore gave you the choice to return. Why did you come back?"
Harry looked at his father. Did James think he had made the wrong choice?
"I'm sorry, I should have stayed with you and mum-”
James shook he head. "No, son, you were right to return. But, why did you? I'm sure there were several, but what was the main reason, the one reason, you came back?"
Harry saw the Marauder's Map on his bedside table and remembered watching her dot. "Ginny."
James nodded. "I thought so. But yet you haven't spoken to her since the battle ended."
Harry opened his mouth to answer. He had to talk to Dumbledore; he had to return the Elder Wand; he had to talk to everyone else and listen to their stories. His excuses sounded unconvincing even in his mind.
"Your mother and I wasted so much time. I was an arrogant toerag for years, as your mum reminds me to this day." James laughed. "All along I was trying to impress her and failing miserably at it. But somehow, she finally decided to give me a chance. We had a few years together, but it really wasn't enough time." James paused to let Harry think about that. "Don't waste any more time."
Harry watched as his father faded from view. He reached out but only succeeded in falling off the bed. From the floor, Harry sat up and adjusted his glasses that were askew. He heard the soft sound of Neville breathing, but otherwise the room was silent and empty. He felt around in the dark for his shoe and slipped it on before rushing from the room.
He burst into the empty common room and headed for the girls' dormitory. He hoped everyone would understand when the stairs sent out the warning that a male student was present, but he knew, at that moment, nothing would keep him from his future.
***
Drabble #5
Author: honourweasley12
Title: Time Flies By
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
A/N(optional):
"Quickly! There!"
He dove behind the suit of armour, just ahead of the pounding footsteps.
The vile man stopped and spat on the ground before addressing me.
"Eh, 'ave you seen that Longbottom twerp?"
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Carrow."
He waved his wand at me, growling in irritation before stomping off through my floating form.
Mr. Longbottom emerged from behind the armour, clearly shaken. A scratch marred his cheek and he was panting.
"Thanks, Sir Nick. I almost got caught that time."
"You're very brave for standing up to them. Godric Gryffindor himself would be proud."
His shoulders slumped. "I feel like a coward for always hiding."
"Nonsense. The other students look to you for leadership, and the battle you're fighting is just."
He straightened his posture, just as a loud voice rang out. He nodded and disappeared down a side passage, ready to fight another day.
It saddened me to see my noble home turned into a prison. At least there was still hope for the students-the defenders.
~*~
"That was magnificent. If only someone had cut my head off with such vigour!"
He grinned, weary yet relieved. The castle was alive with celebration and he'd stolen away from his admirers for a moment of peace.
"I was just following Harry's instructions; he did the hard part."
"You're much too modest; your deeds will be recorded in the annals of Wizarding history, after all. Neville Longbottom, slayer of the serpent and leader of Dumbledore's Army."
He blushed and shook his head in disbelief before assuming a contemplative solemnity.
"I've never properly thanked you, Sir Nick. All of the spying you did and distractions you created sure helped our cause. We couldn't have done it without you."
"No, no, my good man, it is you I should be thanking. In all my years here, I've never seen a student with such dedication to this school."
"This place is my home, just as much as it is yours. I'm really going to miss it."
"You're always free to return."
~*~
"Ah, Mr. Longbottom! Or shall I say, Professor Longbottom? It's a pleasure to see you again."
"Sir Nick! I was just looking for you; I see you've heard the news."
"We ghosts have a tendency to spread gossip, you know. It does get a bit dull here sometimes."
He laughed and I could still see that eleven-year-old version of him.
"I feel like I belong here."
"Indeed you do, Mr. Longbottom."
~*~
"This is goodbye then. I'm retiring."
"You've just gotten here! What is the hurry?"
"I've been here for 70 years, Sir Nick."
"Oh my, how the time flies."
It struck me then that his hair was grey and thinning, and he walked with the slight limp of the aged.
"I'm ready to move on. Hannah wants to travel and spend more time with the great-grandchildren."
As we said our farewells and he turned to leave, I remembered that clumsy boy who became a hero.
I would miss him.
***
Drabble #6
Author: redlightspecia1
Title: Heredity
Rating: G
Word Count: 262
A/N(optional):
The boy shook his head as though coming out of a trance. For the first time that night, his gaze met the ghost’s. “I suppose I’m just like my father then too, right?”
“Well, I would say that anyone who sees you, could look at your hair, your nose, your chin, and know who your father is.”
“So you agree?”
“That’s heredity, young man. It is likely, after all, that you resemble one, if not both, of your parents.”
“But there’s more than just looks.”
It was more a question than a statement, and the ghost pondered the expression on the boy’s face before answering solemnly. “Young people can be an unfeeling lot at times. I suspect they’ve said things about your father, or perhaps your grandfather; things they couldn’t possibly have any first-hand knowledge of.”
“And I’m exactly like they were.”
“Not exactly.”
“Aren’t I?”
The ghost sighed. “I think maybe you weren’t listening to my story very well.”
“It was rather long,” responded the boy.
“Yes, but the gist of it is that each of us make choices that define us. Do I look like Sir Alexander? Yes, I do. But we didn’t follow the same path. And in the end, he made a choice that I was too afraid to make. In death, our differences managed to show through.”
“I wonder if I’ll have to wait that long.”
“I think not.”
“Really?” asked Scorpius.
“You’re in Gryffindor, aren’t you?” responded Nearly Headless Nick.
***
Drabble #7
Author: fbo66
Title: The Strangest Dream
Rating: G
Word Count: 500
A/N: Thank you to my beta :)
Ginny blinked, her eyes straining to see through the dense mist that filled the room in which she stood. Very slowly, vague shapes began to emerge before her eyes. Windows, a doorway, pieces of furniture, and a fireplace. As she looked around the strange room, Ginny saw for the first time a woman standing by the window with long, dark red hair. She was looking at Ginny with an expression of extreme curiosity. Her bright green eyes were gazing intently.
Ginny could not help but gasp.
“I've wanted to meet you for quite some time. You remind me so very much of myself at your age,” said Lily, and she sounded amused, “perhaps a little more stubborn than I was.” There was a short silence in which Ginny took in the appearance of her husband's mother. Lily was impossibly youthful and just as beautiful as she was in the few photographs Harry had of her.
She let her gaze drift over her surroundings and thought out loud, “this is a dream.”
“Is there any way of truly knowing?” Lily smiled at her.
“But this can't be real.”
“Sometimes things have a way of happening when you least expect them to.”
A comfortable silence stretched between the two women as Ginny came to the conclusion that she must be in Harry's childhood home in Godric's Hollow; the home he had lived in with his parents. Lily spoke again, drawing Ginny's attention away from the surroundings. “There is so much I've missed,” she said, “and yet so much is still to come.”
Lily gave her a meaningfully look.
“You know, I remember the feeling.... That feeling of utter joy to realise that there was a tiny life growing inside me,” she said, looking at Ginny with sparkling eyes. “Becoming a mother changes you.”
Ginny looked up into Lily's pale face and was astonished. “How did you know?” she asked.
Lily merely smiled and reached out to take Ginny's hand in her own. “I want to you know I'm so very happy, and so is James. After so long, I know Harry is happy because of you.”
Ginny gazed at the woman before her, whose eyes were the exact same shade as Harry's. The mist was beginning to swirl, the room in which they sat was gradually evaporating, but Lily's voice was clear as she said, “I think you will be a wonderful mother, Ginny.”
Ginny woke with a start to find herself in bed and wrapped in the warmth of Harry's body. Feeling her stir, Harry lifted his head and asked in a sleepy voice, “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she answered, with a slight tremor in her voice as she slowly reached down and touched her stomach. As if in response to her touch, her insides fluttered and a gentle warmth spread though her entire body.
She smiled and whispered, “I've just had the strangest dream.”
***
Drabble #8
Author: loonynamelass
Title: Adolescent Afterlife
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
A/N(optional): Good thing I’m anonymous, as the beginning is almost embarrassingly autobiographical. On that note, I have three things to mention: 1) I actually am not sure if it works on the light-skinned, 2) Blood is not drawn; the scratch is really just using your nail as a light pencil…, and 3) I don’t recommend it because it’s probably not good for your skin. If it does work, you need some moisturizer, the eraser of this dry-erase board.
~?~
On the toilet, fillers develop: twiddling thumbs, for the simple; ten-person theatre, for the romantic; contortions, for the geometric. And that’s just two hands. Scratching dry skin into letters and doodles; braiding shirt tails; even seat-shaped puzzle books sold for the exploitation of this universal downtime.
Over years she adopted, as her philosophy: Life, a bitter box of chocolates, after death, was the search for fillers. So a teenager wanders, passing through companions and pastimes, never ready for the flush.
~?~
When she saw him, she thought she’d seen a ghost.
Ghosts made noises as they pleased, so the heavy pattering of his feet weren’t anything indicative, nor were the racking gasps from his top end- those, she had experienced enough of herself.
She approached with caution and observed with interest. His features implied an aristocratic background- tainted by tears and strain, the chin, robes, and stature still distinguished themselves. Her mudbloods status was taboo, then.
She rested a translucent hand on his shoulder, and when he twisted she gave him the full benefit of fourteen years of pity. “It’s okay.”
“No,” he gasped, “It’s not! You don’t… can’t understand… I have to… alone.”
“You don’t have to be alone,” she crooned, imagining herself crying in a bathroom. “I’m here.”
“It’s… the task… I have to… if I tell anyone He’ll-” his voice was stronger, coherent through the quaking. “No way out… He told me… and I haven’t… I can’t do it… He’ll kill me and my mother and I shoulda stopped it, been able to do this, Father would…”
He stopped, though his body only accelerated, tall, arching over the sink where saltwater rapidly dripped off of his chin. He feared death? “It’s not so bad,” she said, more to herself than him. Ghostliness had the side effect of self-centeredness.
He didn’t hear her.
“He can’t hurt you,” she continued, ran her fingers through white-grey hair which parted slightly to her touch. “You’re safe with me.”
~?~
He didn’t give much mind to the visits not there; when there, his mind was utterly devoted to the private haven she’d created for him with her misunderstanding. From his half-sentences she thought him an innocent martyr- who’d argue with a ghost older in age, younger in spirit? In life where hierarchies dictated all, this structural absence demanded he surrender his inhibitions and fight only with himself.
~?~
There again, once again, she entreating him to open up, he obstinate as he released frustration and hopelessness into words for her to deny.
Harry barges in on the scene, and Myrtle sees the sight of him yank Draco from his precious escape back to a reality where Draco had enemies and hatred and there was no time to waste crying.
“MURDER!” she cries, with the familiar drama heightening her spirits. A pale corpse vibrantly soaked is carted away by the stiffened professor, an old friend staring after the pair in shock, who also used to have conversations with a ghost.
~?~
What shall she do next?
***
Drabble #9
Author: belladonna803
Title: Myrtle's Secret
Rating: G
Word Count: 497 says my software
A/N(optional): None.
“And here are my notes on Shrivelfigs.”
Pomona Sprout handed Neville an armload of tattered parchment and cupped his cheek like a doting Auntie. “You'll be taking my post one day, when I retire.”
“Me?” he asked, pretending she hadn't said it dozens of times.
She chuckled. “Well, that's me off, then. Mind the schedule and owl if you need me.”
“I'll owl even if I don't.”
Pomona swatted his comment away as she left, though she looked pleased. She was a good friend and mentor, and he was immensely proud of the fact that she was was leaving him in charge for a month.
Neville perused his schedule, which Hermione had meticulously tabbed and colour-coded, bless her. Four whole weeks to get acquainted with every leaf and stem here. He couldn't wait to get started. He pulled out a packet of Pepper Imps and had just begun reading about Shrivelfigs when the sound of a clearing throat broke the silence.
“Hi, Myrtle,” said Neville. He looked up to see Myrtle's head protruding from a sprinkler.
“Is it true, what Sprout said about you teaching?” She drifted down to hover over a bench full of empty pots.
“Yeah, eventually. I've still got loads to learn, though.”
Myrtle gave him as discerning look, and leaned in as if to share a secret. “When I was alive, I thought I might teach it myself one day.”
“Really? What's your favourite plant?”
“Venomous Tentacula.”
“You're joking!”
“They aren't dangerous if you know their secret,” she said. “Would you like me to show you?”
Neville wasn't sure if she could be trusted, though he was curious. “Yeah, sure,” he said finally.
“Bring one of those sweeties, and follow me,” she said as she drifted towards a corner of the greenhouse. A large, and very old Tentacula rustled there, and Neville easily pictured it chomping on his arm, should he get too close. He supposed it must be the blood red colour.
Or the fangs.
“Throw it to her,” said Myrtle.
Neville looked sceptical, but shrugged and tossed the Imp into the air. It'd barely left his hand when a thick, spiny tendril snatched it and brought it inwards towards it's mouth. The whole plant seemed to be humming, and within moments began to droop down until its vines lay motionless on the ground.
“We've killed it!”
“No, it's just drunk on the sugar. It'll be all right in a minute.”
Neville stood and watched the Tentacula for an excruciatingly long five minutes before it showed signs of life. After another five he breathed a cold and clammy sigh of relief when it finally looked like it should.
“Wow, thanks, Myrtle. I've gotta go run an errand, I'll talk to you later.”
He headed out without looking back, making his way quickly towards the gates to Hogsmeade.
He really needed a drink.
***
Poll Round 2 Challenge 1