Duddahs Doodles and Short Stories

[Duddahs]

:)Welcome one, welcome all!

???Duddahs invites you to visit with Duddahs for a while.

???Here, sit, take a piece of parchment and enjoy Duddahs Doodles and Short Stories.

[misscharlotte]

September 1, 1991
1:34 AM.


I am laying here, trying with all my might not to make a sound.. I have never been been around so many people before in my life especially not at bed time. They all seemed to be getting along so well with each other. Well, almost everyone. There was that Draco Malfoy. I remember my Uncle telling me to keep away from him as much as I could but not to let him push me around that if I showed fear he would just kill me all the faster.

Push me around, who do they think they are kidding? Sometimes I think that is what Merlin put me here for, to be pushed around and bullied. And why did I have to have this stupid thing as my pet anyway. I feel even more like an idiot than everyone else seems to be.

They all had normal looking robes. Mine, well mine were not even the ones that I wanted to get. I wanted to get the really cool ones from Madam Malkins but no I had to get the ones off the rack at Witch-mart.. I would have thought that if they wanted me to somehow be one of the cool kids they would have let me get some of the cool things to bring to school, but no, I get stuff that looks like the red headed kids from that big family would not even buy it and they have less money to spend on their kids than any family I have heard of.

I saw them all at a party for my Uncle a few years ago. They all had kind of slightly shabby looking cloths but at least they seemed to be able to wear them well. They all had smiles on their faces and if they were not being the center of attention just for telling the best jokes, everyone wanted to be with them because they seemed to have the cool and fun people hanging out right there with them.

Even back then, I felt so uncomfortable to step out of the shadows. I sat in a chair, one of a row of empty chairs that lined the wall by the punch. No one much even noticed I was there unless I was suddenly being grabbed and dragged out as a public showing that I had in fact existed and then was allowed to crawl back to the safety of that chair.

Yeah, there were a few others that seemed to have the same problems but even with them, if I caught their eye or they caught mine, they would quickly turn away and act as if they had just sneezed or something that caused them to look my way.. Yeah, as if I was some sort of poison and if you got some of me on your wand hand, nothing good would ever come out of your wand for the rest of your life.

What the heck was that Hat thinking putting me in this house? I can't do any of the stuff these kids can already do. They all seem to already be able to get along with each other as if they knew each other from birth. Brave, what was that Hat doing last night, soaking itself in Firewhiskey. Brave.. Now I feel like dieing.

He's snoring, I can't believe that he just felt so comfortable that he just fell asleep and started to snore.. Yeah now there are two of them. Really, I would strangle myself into quiet if I ever snored. I would probably make the worst noise ever and no one would ever talk to me cause I kept them all awake all night..

Then there is that kid, the one that You know Who killed his parents. He is just so cool. Everyone wants to be near him and here I am only a couple of feet away from him that I could almost get up and touch his scar. NO, don't even think about that. He would probably wake up and blast me into next week with some curse that I had never heard of.. Not that I would even remember tomorrow what it was called if you made me repeat it a hundred times over tonight.

There is also that super cool kid who grew up with Muggles for parents. Wizard oh Wizard, I really wish I had grown up with Muggles for parents and grandparents and uncles and aunts. That way no one would know that I am supposed to be a Wizard but am nothing more than a fake.. I just don't get it.. I can feel it inside me, I really do but when ever I try to make it happen when I want it to, nothing comes out. No not that kid, he walked in here with all sorts of full of himself. Walked right up to that Irish kid, who I really am kind of scared of you know.. He reminds me kinda what it was like at home.. You never seem to know if he is gonna blow off some steam or just hit you with a spell or something he picked up on the streets.

You should have seen him get all guffed up about that other kid talking about his favorite Football team.. I don't get it. Why would anyone want to kick something if they were not angry at it anyway? But then again, Uncle tried to explain Quidditch to me, like I was going to remember anything he said. Heck if I ever get on a broom the first thing I am going to do is probably wet myself.. Nope, that would be the death of me. I would probably be put back on the train home the same day and then I would have to somehow explain to everyone why I was wet and why I was also not allowed back at Hogwarts.

It's 2am and that kid with the scar, Harry I think his name is, is still sitting there with that White Owl. Wow, is she ever the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I thought that maybe that kid with the rat might have the worst pet and no one would laugh at me for what I brought but no, he had these super cool brothers that kind of made him famous and now he seems to have become best friends with the most cool kid in all of Hogwarts, that Harry kid.

Yeah and who else had some stupid pet that keeps getting away anyway. Guess he knows how much a looser I am and he is just embarrassed to be seen with me..

How come I had to be like this? Why was I not born looking like one of the cool kids.. Why did I not have muscles or have parents that everyone talks about as if they were descended from Merlin himself.

How come they had to go and name me Neville anyway? Really, were they just painting a bulls eye on my forehead at birth or what?

[misscharlotte]

The Royal and Ancient House of Black.

Blast her, blast her sometimes. I get the feeling that she would smother me in my sleep with a pillow if she had the chance.

It is not like she has the right to tell anyone but her own what to do. I have lived a life that she could never understand. She would never in her wildest night mare have it pop into her messy head.

Then why, WHY do I let her get to me like that? Why didn't I just whip out my wand and blast her one right there in the kitchen. Yeah, right there between both of her blue eyes.

No, I could not do it.. I was too weak, too cowardly. As if I had been stripped of all my strength, all my manhood the day that those filthy Dementors touched me for the very first time. The day that Barty Crouch stood firm on the pulpit pronouncing my guilt.

What did I do then? NOTHING, not one dag blasted thing. I laughed inside myself thinking that somehow that I had avoided being shown for the coward I was. For not fighting to stay as the secret keeper, as the protector as the one that my best friend, his wife and my only godson could count on in a moment of peril.

No, I was nothing more than the Rat that actually betrayed them. Nothing more, who am I kidding, I was less. At least Peter was loyal to someone.. Who was I loyal to? No ONE, that is who. If I had not been such a blasted coward, they might well have been spared, but NOOOOO I was nothing more than a piece of worn out parchment. No use to anyone, not even to myself.

And here I am, today confronted by the child who if it had not been for my own cowardice might well have had his parents here by his side... All these years to nurture him, to hold him when he was sick, to wipe his head when he was feverish. To come and tuck him in and lay by his side until he fell back to sleep after a bad dream.

Why, blast it, why did he have to ask me if he could come back and live here, HERE in this filthy forsaken hovel of a house. Things must truly be horrible for him at the Dursleys for him to even consider coming and living here.

Well, I will be damned if he is going to have to go anywhere. There is just no way that Dumbledore is going to let him down. He mustn't. He is afterall at this time Harry's best hope for his future. Without Dumbledore, Harry would be swallowed up by the Wizarding world and thrown away into Azkaban and forgotten about. Like so many other who have come before him.. Forgotten, unloved, hated, reviled.

No, I will walk into that Dining Room in the morning and just set things straight. I will sit him down and give him the truth of the matter. That if it were not for Dumbledore that he, Harry would surely be long since dead to our world. If it were not for him, OH BLAST, who am I kidding, if I had not been such a lousy godfather, maybe Harry would be turning to someone for answers who had more than the wit of a common Garden Slug.

That Witch, I tell you, if she speaks to me one more time, I will, yeah, what will I do? Nothing. That seems to be me all over... Snape tells me that I am nothing and I can not do anything more than get angry and reach for my wand. It was his words, his WORDS phooey it that got to me.. Not him, not his power, not his insipid abilities as a Wizard. No, he meant what he said, he meant what he was here to defend.

What am I? Who the Merlin AM I anyway? I allow this filthy wreck of a house to be used as the home of the Order but in all honesty, what am I?

If I had half the mind to, I would walk out that front door and what ever happens will happen.

But then what would that solve? He needs me. He really seems to NEED ME! For once in my life, What the heck was,,,, Kreacher, get your disgusting self back here right now and bring that box with you.

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If Harry could just be OK. Oh Merlin I pray that he will be OK... Even though I offered him to escort him as my Dog presence, he did not jump at that opportunity. Was it that he still blames me. Knows that I was the ultimate game card to be played in their life and death deal with Voldemort?

What does that kid see when he looks into my eyes.. I look in the mirror and I see nothing, emptiness, holes bored deep into my skull as if with a mindless and heartless drill. Creating sockets to house those dead eyes.. What does he see. What does anyone see. I still have a soul you know, it is there, it may be deep down inside me, but it is there none the less.

Oh Harry, you are so very much like your father you see. If it had not been for James, I would never have had anywhere to go once I finally left this soul less place. Left the horrific life that my mother, father and brother were leading... They themselves did not even realize that who they were backing was nothing more than the evil Joker Card in the deck.. There with nothing more than the simple check the in win column. Nothing more than promises for some sparkling future that will never come to fruition.

They are nothing more than crab grass. Once a little bit takes root, in no time it will have taken hold of your surface and will have invaded your roots.

What the heck are we to do about this monster, about what he proposes.. We are not animals, we do not have to follow in his miss-guided ventures. I am strong, strong as a bull. Bring it on Voldie, bring it on baby.. Let's see who is standing in the end.. Who's wand is held high above their enemies. Their fate in their own hands

[misscharlotte]

Love is for all time. Not for a moment

Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

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It seems like yesterday. Who am I kidding, it was not yesterday, it has been years now. Years since I first laid eyes upon you. You, with that full head of hair all bushy and messy. Your care free manners, the way you walked, the way you smiled that playful sparkle in your eyes. It all comes back to me low these many years.

I can still remember the wonderful smell of Coal burning in the engine of the Hogwarts Express. It was crammed full of students, all of whom would one day come to know you for the great wizard you are.

But did they see in you that day, that first day that I laid my eyes upon you? When that first tingle started at the very bottom of my spine and then shot right through the top of my head. Did they get that same exhilaration when you called “HI” like you did to me? I felt like I was suddenly the only person there on Platform 9 3/4.

When I finally found myself being pushed out of the way of so many trolley carts, all laden down with trunks and caged owls, cats purring and frogs croaking away. All of this seemingly to being directed by faceless people pushing them to and fro. As if they all had somehow choreographed this show, this dance, where none were to ever crash into each other. It all seemed as if it had all somehow been planned. That is except for you. You could not have been planned, how could you have been? No, these feelings came out of nowhere. I had no idea that they existed before that day.

I remember that year. It must have been the longest year of my young life. I remember how I tried to put you out of my mind but somehow you kept on invading my senses, my dreams, my thoughts.

I was not safe, day or night. It mattered not if I were busy as a bee; you seemed to keep popping up in my mind as if a flash card were suddenly held before the light.

My heart was full but my soul felt empty. For I knew that you must not even have known I existed. Really, I came to the conclusion that you just said Hi to everyone and that I was no one special. That I was just another person who knew who this famous young wizard was. And how vain I must have been to think that you would want to spend time with me.. ME!! What an idiot, what a complete buffoon I must have made of myself for an entire year.

Then when I thought things could not be worse, that second year after having first laid eyes upon you, there you were again. But now it was pure torture. I would see you each and every day. You would sit there at the table with your friends surrounding you. They would hang on every word you would utter as if your tongue were made of gold and galleons spilled out from you with every breath you exhaled.

Yes, even the headmaster seemed to be taken by you. By the attention you garnered and yes also by your physical beauty. It was in your imperfections that you seemed to be so perfect. It was torture and nothing less.

This went on for years, far too many for me to wish to reflect upon too deeply. Even as such, I can still recall fondly my time at Hogwarts as a student, having been part of one of the greatest Gryffindor Quidditch Teams of all time and for having been so honored as one of the Great Female Quidditch Players of my time as a Gryffindor Student.

Oh how I loved the days of pure innocence of what I did not know. The fantastic adventures of what was to come the next day, the next week or the next year. I remember growing into a young Witch of some notoriety. The boys fancied me, but deep down, there really was no true room for them. There was a balled up reminder of you each and every time I was kissed, was held tight, had my hand pressed into yet another hand. They all had been measured against you and not one of them ever measured up. They all came up short in the long run...

Short in the long run.. Listen to myself, I sound like some sort of babbling idiot! I was a young Witch in love, yes in LOVE but in love with someone that had no clue that I existed other than to say hello or speak my name in passing. I never seemed to have made much of an impact upon you back then.

Times are different, years have passed and we have both grown so very close to each other.

I would not wish for anyone else. Not another, no one to share my deepest secrets with. The very thought that you would not be in my life today is preposterous.

We walk this earth together, hand in hand and as friend to friend. There is no one that I will confide in, the way I confide in you. And for you, I am always here. I am your bank for you to deposit your thoughts, your dreams and your wishes into.

For this, I say thank you so very much from the bottom of my heart. It is for the years that you have been there for me and I also for you. Thank you for loving me for who I am and understanding that though our lives do not turn out the way we had thought they would when we are young, that we are truly happy.

Still after all of these years, I still sometimes see you through that young Witches eyes. All though your posture has gone a bit prone and your hands have become weakened with time. Yes, your colorful ways have toned down just a bit but thankfully not to the point of becoming dull. You still have that twinkle in your eye and that glint when you smile, that wisp of rebellious hair that just seems to refuse to obey.

For this, I say Thank You... Thank you.

Yours truly,

Minerva

[misscharlotte]

Dear Father,

I know you have been very busy and that your dealings with the Minister of Magic has taken so much of your valuable time. I just wanted to address the fact that I had witnessed your presence at Hogwarts on Tuesday of last. I had witnessed you going into and then out of that Oafs shack. The half breed called Hagrid.

I can not believe that that old fool actually made him a teacher. A PROFESSOR! He did not even graduate from Hogwarts himself. As you had always said, he was just as bad as a Mud Blood being Half Giant and Half what ever he was.

That old miserable fool they all seem to revere him. Bow down to him. Pray to him as if he were Merlin himself! What a bunch of sheep these idiots. This is what they get when they continually cross breed themselves with the likes of Giants, Trolls and Gutter Snipes out of some run down London Pub.

I do want to express my sincere apologies for not coming down to meet with you and the Minister, but I was unfortunately being held hostage by that blundering idiot Professor Lupin.

Let me tell you this father, there is something desperately wrong with him. I do not believe that he is up to snuff and as such we true Wizarding family members should never have been exposed to such a, well what can I say without being too vulgar, Gutter Snipe?

I ask that if you find a moment free that you might drop his name on the Minister of Magic. Just to see what he is really up to. He tends to disapeer at least once a month and there have been rumors that something has been killing the chickens down by that Oaf Hagrids shack.

I am sure you might have even noticed some of the blood stains on the pathway that leads directly from the Chicken Coops and the Forbidden Forest.

We Slytherin have been banning together and we believe that having the Dementors surrounding the Castle must have something to do with keeping an extra close eye on that Potter.

We do not believe that this Sirius Black would be so much a worry to the Ministry because if he did get a hold of Harry Potter, then the money that you have lavished upon the Minister and his favorite, let us say PEOPLE would not have been a waist, now would it?

Again, I am so sorry that I was not able to come down and personally say Hello and thank you for all you are doing to try to keep the Wizarding World free of impurities and disgraceful character.

I also wished to inform you that the life threatening injury that I had sustained a mere month ago at the hands of that Oaf and his Wild and Dangerous Wizard Eating Beast is finally healing nicely. It seems that I will be left with a permanent scar and will require much personal care from my own personal Medi Witch.

Thank you Father for sending me that Medi Witch to help me through the dark hours, when I did not know if I was on the side of life or death. The other Slytherins were truly green with envy and I am sure that you would be thrilled to hear that the Goyles have now procured a full time Nanny to tend to his needs upon his return home for Summer break.

I bet she will make him wear a funny hat with a frilly fringe on it. He is such a lumbering idiot, one would wonder how on earth he ever found his way to Platform 9 3/4, let alone become a Slytherin.

Well, Father, I must be off. I have an essay from that vicious hag Professor McGonagall. I tell you, if I were not so popular and so readily recognized, I would put arsenic in her cat nip and leave it in her top drawer of her desk.

Till the next time we meet. Farewell Father and do say Hello to Ma ma for me.

Your Son,
Draco

[misscharlotte]

Cornelius,

I must tell you, this position has turned out to be far worse and much more difficult than I had anticipated.

I am getting absolutely no co-operation from the staff members and the students themselves have proven to be nothing more than a bunch of nasty brats.

I must at this time ask, no I must say demand that I be awarded additional powers above and beyond the position to which you have placed me in.

In order that I may better serve the students of Hogwarts and the Ministry, it is with the utmost importance that my personal liberties be extended to include the powers to discipline those youths that I find to be repeat offenders as to how and which punishment I choose. We must for once and for all, not only wash out the mouths of these juvenile delinquents but we must also wash out their minds as well. The filth and grime that seems to have accumulated through the years of these children shows no promise for future success by these youngsters. They appear to be basically lost causes. But we must begin today, putting in place, practices that are proven and have accepted by those of extreme conservative minds for hundreds of years. I have assigned one Argus Filch to be my direct assistant to assist me upon weeding out the worst of these bad seeds that seem to have grown into a garden of weeds.

Also, I must have the extension to my limited abilities as Undersecretary to the Ministry of Magic that my title(s) become somewhat more appropriate to my stature as both the direct liaison to the Minister of Magic and the Ministry itself.

I must also require the ability to remove any teacher whom I deem to be of less than quality abilities. We must insure that the future of our world is not to be sullied by a long line of idiots, oafs and half-wits to be allowed to turn the brains of perfectly good young witches and wizards into mush as has been allowed to occur under the direction of Albus Dumbledore.

Also, I ask at this time if you would please forward to me that cute little pink cushion upon which I can rest my weary bones.. It is presently located on the chair at my Ministry Desk. I find that the conditions under which I am expected to concentrate and to steer this school through the storm on which it has found itself to be floundering to be of horrid conditions. I find my personals to have suffered greatly.

Thank you for your prompt attention to these matters.

Cordially,

Delores Jane Umbridge.
Deputy Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic

[misscharlotte]

A Giant Wish

Dad, you shoulda seen em. He is just gorgeous. I'm telling you if you were here today, you woulda been so proud of him.

He took off like a Dragon in matin season he did.. Not one single spell hit em. Sometimz, I juss caint understan why so many of the kidz her is scared of em anyway. Juss got to be a missunderstandin that someone wrote down in one of those dag fangled text.

See, Headmaster Dippet ain't too happy with me anyway. Specially since he found those firecrabs that I had in that box under my bed.. How was I to know that those curtains were so flammable, huh?

Professor Dumbledore, yuz remember me tellin you bout him, he is the head of our house. Gryffindor.. Great Wizard dat Dumbledore. Calmed down old Dippet and splained how he had lit fire to his curtains back when he wuz a student. Seems Dippet was not muzed but took Dumbledores word for it.

I spoze it happened jus like he sayz otherwise he wouldn av sayz it anyway. Great man dat Dumbledore, I tell you. Without him, I woulda been out scroungin round Nockturn Alley ages ago.

See, I think I know whaz been goin on here but no one but Dumbledore seems ta wanna hear wha eyz got ter say. See, I spect this guy Tom, Tom Riddle who juz so happens ter be tha moz popular kid in Hogwarts and he seemz to have Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet wrapped roun his pinky finger.

Let me tell ya something. I don trusts him. Nope not one bit do I. He sneaked up on me and Aragog laz night down in the Dungeons. I was in a Broom Closet, the same one that I hid those Venemous Tentacula at that time afor theyz all up and dies. Yeah, forgot thems plants need sunlight.. Not much light down in those Dungeons.. Some kina green light comeing through the winders but I think we are somewhere under the lake.. Smells like fish terme and I think I saw the squid pressin his back side gainst one of those winders once while Professor Slughorn wuz goin on bout some potion or the other..

Makes no senz ter me that one. Nice enough, juz kinda borin. Wish I could just take Magical Creatures and Defense against the Dark Artz and get over tha rest. But Professor Dumbledore keeps on tellin me, how I got to make something of myself cause he feelz I am goin ter need to know this stuff even if I can basically do anything with my own 2 hanz.. Who needs a growin charm when I can dig in the durt and getem ter grow. An all the animals like to come an visit me whilz I'm diggin out there.. Ya shuda seen the Bowtruckle juz walked up ter me and gave me some wood for steaks.. Din even hav ter bribem. Nope, not at all.

Well Dad, you got to know how I miss you.. I am gonna put this in my trunk with the otherz juz in case we happen to meet again soon. Then youz can see how good I turned out.. I will make you proud. Ya juz watcher an see.

Your Son,

Hagrid.

[misscharlotte]

Ma-ma,

So what? What do I care if that Harry Potter does not want to be my friend. IDIOT! His loss. He would have been embraced by all the right people and my father would have made sure that he had everything that he ever dreamed of.

Idiot! Does he not notice that I am the one that is surrounded by the creme' de la creme' of the wizarding world? That I Draco Malfoy have teachers already fawning all over me as if I were the Honey to their busy little bee like buzzing round Hogwarts?

That Old idiot, Albus Dumbledore and his oaf servant, Hagrid think they are better than me. We know all about those traitors. My father and my connections have filled me in over the years to watch out for these losers. How they will go out of their way for every stray cat or dog that comes down the pike.

Speaking of stray dogs, you should see this absurd thing that has latched itself onto Potter. This filthy mudblood. No better than the dirt under my feet. Honestly, I would throw my own shoes in the trash and them if I ever stepped in the stink that they named, what is her name? Oh yes, Granger. We have to do a little digging and find out if she stole her powers or if someone has put a spell on some bit of filth that washed up out of the gutter and sent it here to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts, BAH! Why did I even have to come here? It is not as if our family does not have more wizarding knowledge than all of these rag tag losers have.

You should see the loser that Dumbledore has appointed as Defense against the Dark Arts Professors. This half-wit wears a towel on his head as if he had a head on collision with one of our house elves. Filthy thing too, wreaks of garlic as if her were one of those Spaghetti benders that you once employed in your travels.

Then, would you believe it? That idiot Weasley that has been causing you so much trouble at home. Well, seems that they can not figure out how to stop at enough. Another one of those Blood Traitor Gingers also latched onto Potter. Yeah, I am sure of it. Dirt on his face, hand me down sewn robes that surely go back to time of the Goblin Wars.

So, why is it that I have been banished to this desolate place. Devoid of any real wizarding pride. You should see it.. Merlin knows that if it had been this bad when you attended that there would be no way possible that you would have sent me here.

Ma-ma, your own sister should have been proof enough of what kind of disgusting and filthy wanna be's. Why, oh why would you do this to your own son? Your own flesh and blood, pure as I might be, even I can not seem to get the stink of this place off myself.

Crabbe and Goyle are idiots but they are there for my purposes. I will use them to my furthering myself until I one day become the most important Wizard to have ever gone to this lowly run down school.

Why could I have not gone to Durmstrang the way Uncle Miroslav did.. He tells such fantastic tales of learning and wizarding comradeship. I tell you this, if I can figure out a way to transfer to Durmstrang, do not be surprised if I pull every single trick in the book to get myself out of this dump.

I expect that both Pa-pa and you will be expecting my return at Christmas. I expect that things will be made to accommodate some of my devoted followers as I am going to be bringing some visitors to show them why and how we Wizards really should be living. Some of these others, even in the Slytherin House seem to have grown up on the wrong side of the tracks..

Oh and by the way, what is up with this Snape guy? Seems he has been sniffing around my business and keeping me as his personal pet. I am not comfortable with anyone getting into my business. Please Owl me asap and let me know if he is a legit Pure Wizard or is he one of those flunkies that Dumbledore has placed in our way to brain wash us.

Your Son,
Draco

[misscharlotte]

Post by Duddahs on Dec 10, 2010 at 3:19pm

She sat there, the moonlight pouring in through the wavy glass panes of the leaded window. It was barely 3am and she had already been as busy as anyone has a right to be on such a stunning wintry night.

The sky outside was absolutely crisp and clear. The full moon shown through a few stray clouds that just happened to pass by. It almost smelled as if snow was in the air..

Still there was this ring which hung around the full moon as if it had just been married to the darkened sky which surrounded it. The tiny twinklings of light surrounding its brilliant reflective light seemed just mere imitations to its own lustre.

Yet she sat there, the ledge upon which she huddled was a bit cold to the touch but it did not seem to bother her. She raised her head, opened her mouth and yawned. She stretched out her limbs and with a quick shudder went back to just gazing out of that ancient leaded window.

The light sounds of breathing came from all directions behind her. A sudden gasping of air as one snoring sound tore through the near quiet of the round stone lined room.

The ancient wooden floor below was scrubbed clean by a House Elf unbeknown to the occupants of the room in which they all existed. A quick shuffle beneath one of the blankets and a soft fluffing of a pillow and another head lay buried in softness as dreams of a dance run through the minds eye. Not unlike a movie projecting a romantic image upon a silvery screen..

The minds of all, drifted in and out of rem while the memories of what appeared at the moment to be true life were quickly forgotten. A small lingering feeling left in its place. Unexplainable, unknown memories, the flickering of the scene unfolding before the minds eye now forgotten forever.

Her eyes were wide and dark at the center but the white was as white as the freshly driven snow. It almost appeared that tiny liquid diamonds gathered at the bottom lid, and in a blink they were sparkling and then suddenly replenished with hundreds of other tiny diamonds, all of which reflected the light of that full moon.

The heater in the center of the room had been recently stocked full of coal by the house elf's assistant. Not a single sound was made as the contents were removed and fresh fuel added in its place.

The metal shell of the heater glowed a deep reddish amber. The metal clearly having been heated to such a level that it brought itself to life not unlike a beating human heart with life and warmth being given off as its gift.

Waves of heat radiated from the object which was so conveniently located in the very center of the round room. Not one of its occupants having been left to a disadvantage to its life giving warmth.

Even the ancient scrubbed floor reflected the warmth which the heater so graciously spread forth. Only so far could the heat radiate though, as the very toes of the slippers, all tucked so carefully at the edge of each bed was warmed while the heals were left so much cooler.

The underside of the beds in which the dreamers all lay also had a layer of cool air captured withing the lengths of the Red Crushed Velvet draperies which hung in sheets from the very canopy's of the beds where they forcefully reached upward in an attempt to touch the ceiling itself.

Something catches her eye and her head moves swiftly. The very thought of anything being so bold as to cross her moonlit lawns. The lawns of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which become hers and hers alone by the nocturnal timings of the universe.

The opened leaded glass window is quickly moved wider and she takes a leap from the ledge. Her body falling, falling, falling towards her moonlit lawns.

With the force of one far larger than she and with the grace of a fish swimming in the open seas, she flaps her mighty wings. The sudden sound of wind beating upon the underside of her extended feathers and then silence as she soared on the winds themselves.

It is too late, she has seen her prey. In a dive that would cause the bravest of Quidditch Players to come to an abrupt faint, she heads directly at the ground below her. Her eyes are now larger than the full moon itself. Her sites are fixed and in but one brief moment her talons reach out, the latch onto the prey and upward they both fly into the ink black and light dotted sky.

She comes to rest in a large old Oak which is located just on the outskirts of the forbidden forest.

So proud of herself, she fluffs her feathers and puffs up her chest. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out, for she is mute as are all of her kind. She is but the only one of her kind to reside here at Hogwarts. She does not have to speak with a voice for she has those Betty Davis Eyes....

Hedwig settles for her little early morning snack and partakes of its bounty.. She is satisfied and quickly turns her head from side to side. Her neck retracts and her head settles upon her shoulder blades and a soft sound escapes her. Not a hoot, just a soft release of tension and breath..

She is contented.

The reflected light of the full moon finds its way up the trunk of the tree where she sits in the crotch of the two largest branches. Her mind races as her eyes flash quickly from right to left. Still her lids are closed but her mind see's her in the air. Flying along side her beloved Harry. Nothing between them but love and respect... He turns to her, she to him and then somewhere in the corner of her mind she see's movement.....

[misscharlotte]

Post by Duddahs on Jan 14, 2011 at 11:12am

My hairs stood upon end. It was so very cold again in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry tonight.. Much colder than I can last remember..

The very soles of my feet seem to be radiating the cold to the very tips of my ears which are turning blue as I manage my way around in the dark.

The sudden crash of the suit of armor falling to the floor and scattering yards in every direction caused such a ruckus that the portraits that hung upon the drapery covered walls all began to moan and mumble..

Obscenities were thrown around as if they had all been awakened on purpose.. On purpose, why in Merlin's name would I want to draw more attention to my self in the darkness that shrouded me.. The dark protects me and gives me a blanket of security that I might not have any where else in the light of day.

The worst thing about getting older is that cataracts have begun to cloud my vision... It makes it much more difficult for me to maneuver in the dark.. It makes it more difficult in the light of day as well but I find that I can hide away during the blaze of the suns ever relentless coming and goings.

As I try to avoid yet another bunched up pile of one of those foolish carpets that litter the floors of the hallways, I do my very best to keep myself on my toes...

Why did they ever put those foolish things in the hallways in the first place? What was Armondo Dippet thinking when he proclaimed that the halls required these coverings.. All they do is possess the ability to trip the unsuspecting student at the whim of a wrinkle in the carpet..

What makes this whole darned wrinkled carpet situation worse is that bothersome poltergeist Peeves.. What I would not do to that thing, what ever he is. It has been on more than one occasion that he has nearly gotten me exposed to a Prefect of Professor as they walked the halls to insure the security of the charges that are supposed to be tucked away in their dorms.

And once and for all, I have to say that, that disappearing stair is not only a nuisance, it is a potential death trap!

It was one such cold as a Witches Witt night that I was running down that very staircase and for but the briefest of moments, it slipped my mind to worry about that step.. That darned step..

Once I was on it, I was in it... It took hours of frigid cold trying to escape from that blasted thing.. If it were not for my being covered up by the stair itself, I might have been discovered and then where would we all be? Where would I be on my plan to escape this place and get to where I can be of most use.. If I don't get out of here soon, I fear that I will myself become the sole target for destruction by Vvvvvvvvlldddd,,,,,Vvvvvvvvvlllddd,,,,,He who must not be named.

What? What was that? As I passed that floor to ceiling mirrow, which I normally scurry past in my haste every night, this time, I caught my own reflection..

How the years have taken their toll on me. Once the shoulder lenght golden hair that hung in silken strands and reflected the suns own brilliance as if the light were being generated from my hair itself.. Look at that! Patches,,, skin, scabbing. I am a MESS!

There, THERE, there is a door opening. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe this time someone is going to leave an exit from this place that I have haunted for so many years that I can barely remember when I first came here. Oh please MERLIN, let this be the night.. Let this person be that one idiot foolish enough to allow me to slip out unseen.. Oh PLEASE!

TRELAWNEY! It is her! Oh and with a bundle of bottles tucked under her arm... Look at that fool as she staggers toward the front doors of the castle... Oh please Merlin, make her, make her please.

CLICK.

I first felt the extreme cold that entered the Great Entrance Hallway.. The blast of near frigid air rushed over the few patches of hair that I still had... Every measure of my body tingled with both the chill of air and the anticipation of what was finally happening. This is it. It has finally come after so many years of trying.

I ran, fast as the wind which blew its way into the Castle and I find I am now outside.. The moon shining upon my bald patches. Reflecting its light as if it generated at the barren skins patch to begin with.

My toes touch the snow covered grass and the very last thing I could hear from the castle itself was a loud belch and the crash of Sherrie bottles. Then the slamming of the massive oak doors. SILENCE!

Freedom! Freedom! I am finally free of that idiot. No longer to have to play to fool for his idiotic purposes.. No longer to be something that I am not! I will finally be able to create my own destiny. His destiny! All of our Destiny!

My own shadow, being cast before me on the white blanket of freshly fallen snow. The moon did not lie. It showed my figure, hunched over on all fours. My head drooped low. I began to walk ever quicker toward my own shadow but it clearly had the edge on me. Always one step ahead of me.

I watched the snow covered pathway as my shadow began to change. Longer, wider and longer it grew. More erect, larger and larger, a giant amongst giant shadows. I can now see my arms swinging as the shadows arms swung in time.

My naked form begging for coverage. There in the distance.. That oaf Hagrid's Hut.. But, the lights are still on and smoke is still coming from its chimney.

There, cloths! How fortuitous, cloths on a rope line just outside the hut.. Just what I need. Who cares if they are not of the fashion of the day.. Who cares if they do not fit... WHO CARES! They are CLOTHS and I will be FREE for good.

OOOOF! OOOOF! OOOOF! OOOOF!

That blasted borehound... and then I hear the dreaded voice of Hagrid, that oaf..

"Aw rih, yer dozy dog.... Out wif yah!"

I snap my head too the left, to the right. No where, there is absolutely nothing for me to hide my nakedness behind.... NOW! I must NOW!

I see my shadow once again shrinking, my back arching, on all fours once again in the hopes that I will be overlooked.. Then I realize that those same patches of shiny skin are reflecting that blasted moon beams just as bold as brass.

"Wah tha?, Whos dat? Scabbers? Wah ya doin out here in da Snow?"

Those filthy rough hands wrapped themselves around me like a straight jacket... I squirmed, bit, chewed but it was obvious that Hagrid's callous were far denser than the own of those ham like hands.

[misscharlotte]

Bookends

Written by Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

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The warmth of the sun had finally broken through the mass of fluffy clouds that had obscured the sky for far too long.

Angelina was rubbing her bare arms with the palms of her hands and soaking in the tingling feeling as a smile broke out across her face. She just could not help it. She loved spring and here it was, barely but it was finally here.

As she walked down the cobbled stone road, the sounds and smells of the various shops floated out into the alley. Memories flooded her mind.

She almost felt as if she were walking on those clouds that had hung around for months and months. Her mind drifted in and out as she smiled broadly and made small waves to the many witches and wizards that passed by her or stood in the doorways of their shops. They too were so happy to have spring upon them once more.

Mr. Blotts called out, “hello there Angelina, nice day isn’t it?”

“Oh yes it is a beautiful day, just beautiful Mr. Blotts.” Angelina responded her steps all the more lively now.

From the corner of her eye Angelina noticed a small figure standing in the window of Madam Malkin’s shop. It was Madam Malkin smiling out at the world and waving to Angelina as she passed her shop. The sound of a door bell tinkling and off in the distance and the figure disappeared into the depths of the shop.

Angelina continued her stroll down Diagon Alley, nodding and smiling all the while. Just as she passed the restored Olivander’s Wand Shop she spotted something odd, far down the alley way.

Her steps sped up a bit and the clicking of her new shoes upon the cobblestones could be heard to become a bit more frantic in their cadence.

There it was now, right in front of her. Their shop, hers and Georges, oh and Ron’s as well. Pink and purple bubbles were gushing out of the basement windows which were just at street level. These small windows had never before garnered here attention but then again, they were never before spewing out streams and streams of bubbles.

Angelina ran to the shops front door and threw it open wide and just yelled, “George, Ron, where is everyone?”

She looked around in a panic, her heart now in her throat. Unable to swallow she found that her words would no longer come to her aid.

“Whatcha up to Angie?” Ron asked as if nothing were happening at all out of the ordinary.

The words just would not form as the panicked Angelina now ran from the entrance door to the counter where Ron was standing. He just stared at his Sister-in-Law with utter amusement and wonder. His mouth slightly agape and a somewhat blank look in his eyes, something Ron was far too well known to give on a regular basis.

“Bu, Bu, Bub, Buzzbles, No Buzzdables, blasted, BUBBLES!” she finally spat out.

“HUH? Watcha going on about, bubbles Angie?” Ron asked.

“Basement, it is flooding the streets with Bubbles, Pink and Purple, all sizes and shapes. Where is George?”

Her frantic tone now had Ron’s hair on his arms stand on end as he moved to her to try to calm her down.

“Show me Angie, where?”

Without another word, Angelina had grabbed Ron’s hand and was now pulling him outside into the Alley as if she were a mad woman.

“There, look at it, spewing out of the basement windows! Where is George? Ron, where is George?”

Ron just stood and stared for a moment as a huge bubble the size of a Hippogriff floated up and away from one of the basement windows only to be taken away on the soft spring breeze and then skyward until it was finally out of sight.

“Did you see that Angelina? That was bloody brilliant!” Ron asked of her.

“Where is George, Ron? I am not going to ask you again before I take my broom and wrap it round that big head of yours.”

Ron knew better than to mess with any of the woman in his family, be they married into it or born a Weasley. They had the fire of a Blast Ended Skrewt in them when they were not listened to or obeyed. Ron was thankful at times like these that there were far more Weasley men than woman in his life. They were just too darned unpredictable.

Angelina stood there in the middle of Diagon Alley, gazing up at the mechanical hat moving up and down and the white rabbit appearing and disappearing. This was the trademark sign of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and a sight known to every person that has walked down Diagon Alley for many a year now.

“Well, it was like this Angie; the last time I saw George, well he had Fred and Roxane with him and a long roll of clear plastic tube thrown over his shoulder.”

Finally the answer she had been looking for but now even more panic crossed her face as her blood suddenly ran cold in her veins.

“With Fred and Roxane, where, where were they going? Not into that basement office of his again? Please Ron; tell me he did not bring the kids down there with those experiments of his, please!”

He could see that she was serious, that her panic was well founded too. George has been very busily experimenting of late, deep into the early morning hours. He was coming home blackened and burnt more often than not. Angelina and Ron knew why too.

Today was April 1st; April 1st was his birthday, their birthday, his and Fred’s. Not young Fred’s but George’s twin. It was always a bittersweet birthday for George these days. To remember his brother as they once were, once so happy, playful, full of life and full of adventure.

George seemed to become a little bit more reckless these days before the anniversary of their births. Everyone knew just to give him a little bit more space than normal but with the children? No, this was just not like him; he would never harm the little ones, their pride and joy.

Angelina once again grabbed Ron’s arm and dragged him back into the shop and now they were descending the basement stairs toward the storage lockers and George’s personal workshop at the speed of a Thestral.

“George, GEORGE, FRED, ROXANE, where are you? GEORGE?” Angelina yelled out into the dimly lit area filled with stacked boxes and all manners of buzzing and clunking Thom Foolery.

“Angie? Over here, come on, join us, and come on dear!” George’s voice broke the sudden silence.

Angelina ran toward the workshop, still with Ron in tow. Then the sight that presented itself stopped here dead in her tracks. So suddenly and abrupt was her motion that Ron actually ran right into her, knocking her down to the floor and into a heap of waving arms and legs.

Once Angelina regained her composure she could just look up from the prone position she had attained on the floor.

There was her husband, George, her son Fred and Roxane their lovely Ginger haired daughter all blowing into a long straw that led directly to a barrel of liquid in the corner.

Massive amounts of Bubbles of all sizes and lively Pinks and Purples rushed out of another straw that protruded from the side of the barrel. The stream of bubbles then followed the sunlight that seemed to be somewhat obscured by the sheer volume of bubbles themselves. Out the windows and into the streets of Diagon Alley they sped on their way to Sunshine and fresh air.

Relieved that everyone appeared to be safe and sound, Angelina looked at her husband and snapped “What, what is all of this and why with the children?”

A devilish and childlike grin crossed Georges face. From ear to what once was another ear, it was infectious and the children both began to giggle uncontrollably. Roxane fell upon the floor alongside her mother, tears rolling down from her squinted eyes. She laughed so hard that she was having trouble catching her breath.

“What? We are celebrating dear. The Weasley Wizard Wheezes newest success, Fred Weasley Forever Magical Blowing Bubbles”.

“Sheesh, I knew it was something like that,” Ron’s self-assured tone.

With a quick swipe of her foot, Angelina had just knocked Ron’s foot out from under himself and he fell rear end first into a large batch of pink bubbles as they were on their way to escape out into Springs warmth.

Angelina stood up, brushed herself off and now grinned back at George as little Fred and Roxane rushed to her side both grabbing her hands and drawing her towards one of the straws protruding out of the barrel.

“Go on Mom, yeah, go on Mom, give it a try! They are so much fun and they remind Daddy of Uncle Fred he says”, urged Little Fred and Roxane of her.

“Oh you Weasley’s, you are going to be the death of me!”

As Angelina put the loose straw to her lips and began to puff as hard into it as she could. The bubbles that came out were some of the biggest and most impressive bubbles yet. The children both clapped and stomped their feet requesting even more and bigger bubbles from her.

Angelina let down the straw for a moment, moved toward her husband and ever so gently just kissed him on the forehead.

“I love you George Weasley.”

With that Angelina Weasley went back to creating some of the most magical and fantastic bubbles of all Wizarding time or at least they thought they were.

[misscharlotte]

Title : And Baby Makes Three

Prompt; A House Elf Wedding

Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl [hedwig]


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There, directly ahead of them was a small innocuous strip of flattened Wheat Grass. The rest of the field surrounding it billowed in the soft summer breeze in a golden blaze that seemed to be liquid and ethereal in its movement and the almost silent rustling sound it produced.

The proud old Wizard who sat at the very front of his Axeminster Flying Carpet brought his pride and joy in for a smooth and effortless landing. Even in the Wizarding World, the Axeminster was considered a rarity, having been brought to England by a very crude Arab who was himself suspect of some shady dealings.

Once the large carpet with its cargo of a young Wizarding family was firmly on terra firma, a stunningly beautiful woman of about 19 stood and began to stretch her limbs as if it had been a very long and somewhat difficult ride for her. At a second glance it was apparent that this young witch was with child and this explained her discomfort having just arrived in the lap of luxury.

“Off you go, everyone off the carpet. I don’t want to have to have the fringe redone again due to those varmints that run around in these open fields, no siree, never again,” spouted the elderly Wizard at the head of the carpet.

With this, an extremely handsome while very tired looking young man took hold of their belongings and brought himself to his full standing height and moved off the Oriental Carpet as quickly as he could.

“Be back by 7 to pick yah up. Got me some work to do back at the house before that little one come a knockin at the front door im or err self,” the old man said with an odd clicking noise coming from his teeth.

In a moment, the carpet rose to a tremendous height and was no longer visible to the naked eye.

Charis Black Crouch reached into her evening bag and nearly half of her arm sank into the small draw string opening when she finally exhaled and let out a sigh.

“You see what I told you Caspar, I did not leave it at home on the piano. What kind of Witch do you think I am anyway? Some sort of fly by night, bubble head charmed bimbo? You never believe me no matter what I say. If it were not for me, you would not be where you are today; do you hear me Caspar Crouch, well? Huh? Did I make myself perfectly clear? Well, answer me. Kneazle got your tongue?” the small and with child woman ran demanded.

“Yes dear, as you say my dear, yes dear, of course dear,” the young man who stood next to the young woman retorted.

“All I can say is that when this thing is finally out and over with, I want one of these for us. What kind of Pureblood Family are we? Not even having our own? I can barely face the other Witches on the street while I am in this condition. Who would have believed it, me a Black, one of THE Blacks living in such conditions, with that crazy old Wizard Father of yours and no help to be found. NONE! What does he think we Blacks are? PACK MULES?"

The young man suppressed a snicker and a slight noise escaped his lips which he quickly covered up with a forced cough.

“Look at this thing, it must have cost them at least 10 galleons to have these things made and for what, two House Elves being brought together? Like it is not as if their names had not been written down in the records at their birth to which they were going to be mated with. Oh, no it has to be my cousin-in-law Walburga and her idiot husband who are going to have to go out and guild the lily. Show everyone what they are made of, who they are and who we supposedly aren’t. After all, I am more of a Black than she ever would be. If it had not been for her falling into the dumb open arms of that imbecilic Orion Black, who knows what she would have married. Then who would be throwing the most fashionable event of the summer? Huh, answer me that Mr. Crouch. Why can’t we be throwing the party of the season and having Witches and Wizards flying in from all corners of the world to gawk at our conspicuous consumption? Huh, well? Tell me Mr. Crouch, what have you to say for yourself?”

The obviously now downtrodden young man finally found time while his young wife breathed in for a moments silence to respond, “Yes dear, absolutely, whatever you say dear, right away my love,”

The young couple now moved toward the lovely brick and mortar town houses that stood at the end of Grimmauld Place. The field off to the side of the final row of houses was Grimmauld’s Farm or at least what remained of the ancestral grounds of the mighty Grimmauld/Black family dynasty of Witches and Wizards.

There, hidden between the gleaming new structures of Numbers 11 and Numbers 13 Grimmauld Place stood what had become now Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Not too long ago this was the very sight of the ruins of the Grimmauld/Black family’s 13th Century estate. Over time the elements had run its course and now where once stood a hulking shell of former grandeur the old building had now been replaced by a stunning new development. Not a single muggle the wiser to boot. Number 12 had had ever enchantment placed upon it to keep the prying eyes of the lowly muggle world from ever seeing or discovering its location.

To the average passerby muggle, it just seemed that the construction company had made an odd error by forgetting to place a number 12 over the front vestibule doorway. So it just became lore that the builder who had always considered number 13 to be his lucky number and number 12 to be unlucky, chose to overlook the one and moved on to the next, HIS luck number 13.

Ahead of the young couple was a pair of elegant witches, decked out in their finest of finery. The Elf made jewelry that hung from both of the witches was so ostentatious that one could not keep themselves from gawking and taking a second glance. Only then to realize that Muriel Prewett and Bathilda Bagshot were not only MONEY, but old, VERY OLD MONEY indeed.

“Oh my dear Muriel, of course not, there is just no way that she could or ever would have. Not after what has happened to those muggle boys? Not that I blame him one second for killing them you see. I say, step one toe across the line and we Witches and Wizards are well within our right to cut that toe right off,” stated the stiff jewel bedecked witch on the left ahead of the young Crouch’s.

“Yes, of course I do agree 100 percent. Merlin only knows that I do feel sorry for his wife though, what is her name? Kendra something or the other I do believe?”

“Kendra Dumbledore and you mark my word, those children are going to be a handful for her to raise all by herself now. She has even chosen to move around the block from me. Would you believe it? In Godric’s Hollow no less. Well, I will make a call upon her in the morning with a basket of baked goods. You know we independent woman must stick together.”

“Yes, stick together like thieves,” as the two witches broke out into a pleasant sounding laughter. The sound just drifted off onto the warmth of the summer’s breeze.

As the two Witches approached the large Black Door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, an elderly House Elf stood at attention. His large saucer shaped brown eyes glistened in the mid days sunlight as his ears stood even more at attention than did he.

“Invitations Please?” requested the elderly House Elf as he held his right hand out in front of his newly cleaned pillow case toga.

The two woman were sent into a sudden giggling attack as each rifled through their hand bags in pursuit of the object in question.

Then Bathilda withdrew from her bag first, a glorious Sterling Silver placard with Green Enamel worked lettering. She promptly handed it to the Old House Elf as she turned to ensure that her companion for the afternoon’s festivities also had remembered to bring her own invitation with her.

“Here it is, how I could have almost forgotten it. I actually walked out of the house twice today without it. I was so worried that the Emeralds that I was wearing in my Tiara would not match the Fire Opals in my bracelet and then there was the problem of matching just the right red in the necklace rubies to the ruby and diamond ring that my mother passed down to me.”

“Oh for Merlins sake Muriel, you are a right fraud you are. I know for a fact from a very reliable source that you took that ring right off your mother’s hand while she lay in her casket.” Bathilda whispered with a bit of evil in her laugh.

“I can never get anything past you Bathilda Bagshot, not one single thing.”

The House Elf took the two invitations from the Witches and placed them in a small silver box with no cover. It too was filled with invitations from previous presenters.

“Did you hear that? Stole that ring right off of her dead mother’s hand! Well, I never!” shot Charis.

“Yes dear, whatever you say dear, as soon as we get home my love,” Whispered Casper Crouch as they approached the Black Front Door of number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The old House Elf once again extended his right hand and asked, “Invitation Please?”

“Do you believe these people, actually recycling the Sterling Silver Invitations? Not so high and mighty after all, now is we Walburga Black?” Mocked Charis.

“No, Madam has misunderstood; the invitations will be melted down and turned into party favors by the time the nuptials have been completed. Please do not tell my mistress that I have told you this, Ole Dexter has been here with the Blacks for so long that he himself forgets where he originally came from.”

Dexter the old House Elf bowed so low that his long and crooked nose scraped the front porch bricks.

“Your secret is safe with me, what did you say your name was? Baxter?”

“Dexter lovely Madam, I am the father of the Groom you see. Thank you, thank you Madam.”

The House Elf pushed the front door open with his left hand while his head was still lowered in respect to the guests of the Ancient House of Black.

As Charis and Casper crossed the threshold of the newly built home of the Black Family, one could not be taken aback by the grandeur and opulent elegance that was bestowed upon its visitors. The walls were covered in the most luxurious French fashioned silk of Silver and Green threads in a repeating pattern of the Black Family Crest.

Down the long Vestibule hallway one was greeted by painted faces upon canvas of Black Family members long since passed on. The woodwork was of the most exquisitely hand carved shields and crests. The banisters newel post was a single Pineapple carved out of solid spinach Jade. Carved Acorns of Amber from Russia adorned the baluster railings going up to the second floor about halfway down the entrance hallway.
There at the end of the hallways was an extremely rare Mountain Troll foot now turned into a walking stick stand. It was filled with umbrellas in every shade of silk imaginable. Walking sticks carved with Serpent heads, Hippogriff likeness and of course Silver and Gold and Jewels that would boggle one’s mind.

“Ah my dear, don’t you look just scrumptious in that outfit. Lovely, simply lovely,” welcomed Walburga Black.

Charis stood firmly in place, the look upon her face was one of utter disgust. Then she broke out into a large toothy smile. It was a forced smile of course but none the less.

“Yes my dear cousin Charis, Orion and I have already discussed this and we are going to be giving you and your soon to be born child a shower, here at Grimmauld Place. And you are going to be so pleased, oh I really am such a big mouth, I really should not even have mentioned this, but Orion and I have already decided that we are going to give you and your husband, Caspion is it? The first born of our House Elf that is to be joined today.”

Charis Black Crouch stood dumbfounded. She was both thrilled to death to be offered a House Elf of her own and disgusted by the fact that Walburga Black had once again stolen any thunder that should rightfully be hers and hers alone.

“Oh thank you Walburga, you are as always too, too kind. Now where are these lovely things that are being joined today?” asked Charis in a mock tone of care.

“Right this way, the nuptials are just about to begin. Please do be careful of the stand, it does seem to get in the way of some who are not particularly aware or familiar with these surroundings.”

Charis and Casper were being shown into the large parlor, which was already filled to the rafters and wall to wall of every Witch and Wizard who were anyone in the Wizarding World when the words filtered through the sunlit room, past the heavily draped front windows. The voice of the Minister of Magic himself presiding over this occasion came in loud and clear.

“We are here today to join in union the betrothed, of the Family of Hepzibah Smith the House Elf named Hockey to be legally joined in union under the auspices and overseen by the laws set forth by the Ministry of Magic to the loyal servant of the Ancient House of Black, the House Elf known as Kreacher.

Will you all please stand?”

The ceremony lasted but a few moments. There was no exchange of kisses, no rings to be put upon the finger of the now united partner. None of that was to occur, just the conclusion of the ceremony demonstrated by a loud closing of the book that was held by the Minister of Magic.

Charis Black Crouch turned to her husband with a wide grin plastered upon her face. When Casper did not immediately notice his wife’s enthusiasm, she sharply nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

“OOOFFF, I am sorry dear, yes you are right, absolutely right, I agree with you 100 percent.”

The sharpened tongue of his wife cut through his mind like a hot poker just removed from a roaring fire.

“Winky, Winky. Yes, that is what we will call it when Walburga hands it over as she has PROMISED TO! I am finally going to live the life I have always envisioned Casper. WE will have a House Elf and its name will be Winky. Lovely don’t you think?”

Casper just nodded in agreement with his wife, for honestly, what else could he do?

“And we have finally decided on our Son’s name, Bartemius, Bartemius Crouch. Distinguished, don’t you agree? I can just see it now. On the front page of the Daily Prophet; “Bartemius Crouch, Minister of Magic and most powerful Wizard of all time!””

Charis was so pleased with her own imagination of what was to come that she could barely contain herself even though she was surrounded by dozens of the most influential Witches and Wizards as well as the Minister of Magic none less.

Caspers face became vacant as he looked into the eyes of his wife. She had made her decision and there was nothing more or less that could be said that would matter worth a sickle. Bartemius Crouch it would be. He would just have to bite his own tongue every time he called his own son by this hideous name. And a House Elf named Winky, Winky of all ghastly names. But to make ones wife happy was to die a happy husband he believed.

A tray had just walked by as if floating upon the air in the room itself, but no, it was actually Kreacher back at work for his masters. No time to dawdle as a House Elf’s lot in life is pre-determined. Hokey was already bent low on all fours and being used as a foot stool by her Mistress, Hepzabah Smith who was regaling in a story of how she had recently acquired a particular piece of Wizarding history from an unsuspecting member of her own family. An ancient cup which surely held powers far beyond those that could be imagined by any mere Witch or Wizard.

Charis Crouch leaned in to her husband, took his hand in her own and whispered into his ear, "Everything is going to be just perfect, you just wait and see."

[misscharlotte]

Title: In My Mind’s Eye
Prompt: Sirius in Azkaban
Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

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“Oh for Merlin’s sake James, you have to be kidding!”

“Nah, I have to stop doing it whether I want to or not Sirius. Lily has already come to her senses about Snape but if I don’t leave him alone I am likely to have one heck of a time ever getting her to come back to my side again.” James states with a bit of worry in his voice

“Well, maybe she is not worth all the trouble in the first place. Has that thought ever entered your mind even once?”

“You know how I feel about her Sirius; she is my destiny. It is not as if it is really something that is under my control. We are made for each other and that is the last thing I am ever going to say on this subject,” James states forcefully.

“Yeah, like this is going to be the last time, yeah right, go on dreaming. You’ll see; one day you are going to wake up and she is going to be gone and what will you be left with? I’ll tell you what, a huge hole in your chest, a thumping in your head and the four of us. That’s what you are going to be left with. “

James looks at me with a scowl on his face as anger slowly creeps across his handsome features. A bead of sweat develops above his brow and slides over the bridge of his nose. Re-routed by his glasses it rolls over the side and travels down his cheek.

“See, she has already turned you into a pretty pink Pygmy Puff.”

I continue tormenting James and egging him on, all the while knowing full well that his commitment to Lily is unshakeable.
She has come to be known now as the fifth of four Marauders, the original four consisting of myself, James, Remus and Peter. I view Lily as an interloper, pushing her way into our group and disrupting our fun.

Anyone at Hogwarts with eyes knows that the Marauders, as we have dubbed ourselves, are inseparable. Nothing and nobody can come between us. Well, no one that is until Lily Evans came along.

“Yeah, well, you know James, beauty is only skin deep and I will not let my best mate go turning himself inside out for a few years of pretty when he just might get stuck with a lifetime of ugly. They say you should never pick your wife without taking a good look at her mother first. The ole apple does not fall very far from the tree you know!”

I wink at Peter and Remus who are both sitting with their backs against the tree. James is hanging upside down from a low hanging limb by the back of his knees. Sometimes I think James and I should just run away together, the two of us, and join the Wizards Circus.

“Shut it you! It’s not like you were cut from the fanciest of cloth yourself you know!” James snorts at me.

Stinging at my very core, I feel that familiar pang deep down inside my stomach. It’s been happening more and more since that warm day September 1st, six years ago, when James and I found ourselves sharing a compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

This sick feeling makes my head swoon a bit. Sometimes, when I get to feeling like this, the jumbled garble that falls from my mouth makes absolutely no sense to anybody. This is the opposite of my normal demeanor, having always been known as the coolest and smoothest of the in kids at Hogwarts.

I recognize this feeling but there is no way on earth I am going to let a single Witch or Wizard know about it. I think that if I just ignore it the feeling will go away as quickly as it came; it just has to.

Then it happens, a quick flash of Ginger in my face followed by a loud thud.

As I regain my vision, I realize it is Lily’s hair blowing across my face as she seats herself right next to me. Her back is now firmly pressed against my shoulder as she gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hi Sirius, Remus, Peter. Uh, you OK there James? I hope you didn’t break anything”, Lily quips. Apparently the loud thud was James’s not so elegant descent from the tree limb.

“Yeah, I’m all right; meant to do that yeah know. It’s the only way to get down from that limb without having to use Peter as a step stool and breaking every bone in his body.” James laughs.

I hear Remus snicker as Peter turns toward James with a look of utter bewilderment plastered across his face.

“Me? Why Me? Why would you have to use me as your step stool? Why not Remus here; he is used to being beat upon, so why not him?” Peter whines.

My hand comes around so quickly that it takes Peter by complete surprise. He finds himself suddenly pulled into a headlock as we all administer a liberal amount of noogies to the top of his head.

“Boys, boys, will you please act your respective ages? At this rate everyone is going to think you have all been held back and are being forced to start as first years all over again!” Lily scolds.

“You know she might have something there, huh James? Maybe we should figure out a way to go back to our first year here at Hogwarts, this time taking with us all the knowledge and the spells that we now know. Could you imagine that?”

A feeling of security once again fills my insides as the horrible sick feeling subsides. The sound of James laughter as his arm drapes over my shoulders makes me feel so comforted even though I know his hand is playfully combing its way through Lily’s long Ginger locks; locks that are now gently spread out covering her back as well as my arm and side.

I feel a wonderful warm sense of being loved. Pressed between the two people in this world that make me most at home with myself, I find myself drifting off in a warm afterglow of emotions.

Suddenly there is a deafening loud sucking sound, so hideous that pressure begins to build in my ears. Caught off guard, my eyes feel as if they are being pulled deep within my scull and my breath halted.

I gasp for air, any air, only to find a putrid and foul replacement for Oxygen entering my lungs. It burns like nothing else I have ever felt before.

My insides are being squeezed as if I am being forced through a rubber tube no wider than a garden hose.

My mind begins to blur, as a thick blackened fog blocks my vision. At this moment, even if I were capable of holding my own hand in front of my nose I would not be able to see it.

My splitting headache doubles, then triples in intensity as my fingers go extremely cold. A sick feeling rises from deep within my stomach, no deeper, from down inside my very bowels.

“Oh lord, I am going to be sick! No, I can’t, not here, not in front of him; oh please lord no!”

“If I curl up as tight as possible into a ball I know this feeling will pass. It’ll pass, it has to, I have to make it pass.”

“James, James, Lily, James please help me. If there is a lord in Heaven please help me now. I promise I will give you whatever you want; do whatever you ask of me. Please just make this go away, PLEASE!”


The blackened fog of the Dementors begins to evaporate before my eyes. The darkness and despair that obscured everything is passing, allowing me to regain sight but only in black and white. The color has not only drained from my skin but also from my vision and possibly from my very soul.

A figure begins to take shape a few feet in front of me.

I try to make my mouth open but am not able to make an audible sound. I am left panting as if life itself had been within seconds of being pulled from my being and is just now drawing back in with the greatest of difficulty.

The first color I am able to distinguish is green; bright green, the color has begun to return to my vision and soul. I can make out the color but of what?

“Ah, yes Black, I see you are still clinging to life” a voice says. “Have you developed some sick affection for torture? Have you got a thing for the Dementors?” That voice, I know that voice! The sound of it burns into my brain.


The little bit of warmth that begins to return to my extremities is now causing a burning sensation at their very tips. It’s as if a blazing fire is starting to melt my skin. The pain begins to spread throughout my body. I am trying desperately to focus and make out the form before me.

“Fudge,” the word bursts from my mouth. I do not even know where the strength came from to form the thought or the word.

“I can see him now, that rotter; fat little idiot that he is. Thinks he is something special with that acid green bowler of his. Minister of Magic, bah, idiot of the earth is more like it!”

As my eyes continue to focus my gaze is drawn to the Daily Prophet Fudge clutches in his hand. The moving image on the front page consists of people vacationing in Egypt and “What? NO! HOW COULD HE BE WITH THEM THERE?” my mind begins to race a million miles a second. I suddenly feel as if I were strapped upside down on a speeding broom.

“Calm down Sirius, I say to myself, calm yourself down. Act normal, you can do it. The Dementors haven’t taken everything away from you yet. It is the only way to get the newspaper from him.”

“M-m-m, M-m-minister Fudge? M-m-may I p-p-please have that paper when you a-a-a-a are f-f-f-finished with it?”

“My paper, for Merlin’s sake what on earth for? Need to follow up on your Social Life do you?” Fudge’s condescending tone is threatening and the words delivered with such contempt that I begin to feel weakness in my muscles.

I am laying in a fetal position on the cold and damp floor of my cell. I feel The Prophet as it hits me against the side of my head and then drops into my outstretched arms. I feel a sudden exhilaration that I have not felt in years, in what now seems to be a lifetime.

Next I hear the wrought iron door of my living tomb slam shut. This is followed by howls and screams of utter despair and wretched pain. Sounds I realize I had somehow become immune to but which I now find frightening beyond my wildest nightmares.

The sick feeling deep down in my bowels begins to boil up again………………...

[misscharlotte]

Title: A Friend in Need
Prompt: My Summer Vacation by Luna Lovegood
Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

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The sun barely peaked over the hillside of Ottery St. Catchpole; just a sliver of orange against a dark blue sky, giving way to the outline of a Rook like form far off in the distance. As the morning dew coated flowers and blades of grass, insects and birds started their daily ritual once more; a never ending cycle in the chain of life.

Across dozens of acres of untouched golden wheat grass; billowing ever so gracefully in the gentle morning breeze, the soothing rustle of tall grasses created a sound that reminded one of being nearer to the sea than of being in a meadow so far inland.

Crossing the meadow one would find themselves hip deep in the flow of Wheat Grass. A little further along they would be confronted by a massive wall of sunflowers; 4 meters high and a good stone’s throw deep.

The mighty heads of the sunflowers look down, each over-sized giant plant passing silent judgment upon those adventurous enough to cross the meadow and enter the burrows beyond.

Once past these golden guardians, butterfly laced fields of wildflowers come into view. Every wondrous shade of color imaginable surpassed by yet another more stunning and more exquisite.

Wild pink roses give way to massive blooms of ancient rose stock with buds the size of a full grown wizard’s fist. When open, each flower reveals a display so elaborate that it would make even the most experienced dress maker cry with envy at the tufts and tucks of each petal.

Further along, uneven rows of Daisies mix with Black Eyed Susan’s as they sway rhythmically back and forth. Raising their heads towards the heavens they appear to sing morning hymns to the butterflies and bubble bees who gather to greet them each day.


As the sun rises above the highest crest of the hillside, the silhouette of the Lovegood House slowly takes shape. That is, of course, if you happen to be a Witch or Wizard. Otherwise all you see is an unusually shaped shadow effect; created by a cluster of fauna that appear to be far off in the distance.

A concealment charm of the first order has indeed been used to mask the true identity of the Lovegood’s home. The odd structure is “home sweet home” to two of its original three occupants; Xenophilious Lovegood and his lovely daughter Luna. At the tender age of 9, Luna witnessed her mother’s death when an experiment, involving the powder of Erumpet Horn and extract of Dirigible Plum, went very wrong.

Approaching the broken down gate that barely guards the front walkway to the structure beyond, one cannot help but notice numerous small hand painted signs. Signs that warn not to not touch or walk upon the Dirigible plums and to be careful not to do this or that to the Snargaluff or Gurdyrood plants. The largest sign, which hangs over the front doorway, states rather than warns; “Home of Quibbler Xenophilius Lovegood Editor”

No sound comes from the house, as it is still very early in the morning and the occupants are more than likely fast asleep.

The sun shines high in the morning sky and nowhere is a cloud to be found to cover the Azure sky upon which the blazing orb now holds court.

A thread of light travels up to the third floor of the structure. It creeps around the side of the house and in through a shear curtain that hangs in front of an open window. The curtain itself is no defense against the rays of the sun as it moves ever so gently to and fro; a breeze causing it to billow into the room.

The sunbeam widens, casting a long stretch of golden light across the room, touching the wall opposite the window. As the band of light becomes wider still it reaches a lovely white painted four poster bed. A bed dressed with linens of the softest cotton and covered by a canopy of white lace that hangs above the bed and its occupant.

Light reflects off the golden hair and perfect skin of youth that lay asleep upon the bed, her head nestled upon piles of small satin pillows. The smile on the lovely young girls face is broad and open; her teeth, a brilliant white, glisten as if they are rows of perfect pearls plucked from the rarest of oysters nestled deep in the ocean.

Her breath is soft and gentle yet there is something so very unusual about her surroundings. At first glance one would not notice but upon closer inspection one would find that the walls of this lovely room are covered in soft green, almost iridescent, moths. Replete with large wings and long tails they are brilliant en mass. When viewed individually, one can see that they are but the delicate and innocent Luna Moth.

As sunlight continues to filter into the room there are the tiniest of movements. Upon the bed a flutter of an eyelash is followed by the long stretch of an outreaching arm. An audible yawn releases the air of the night and takes in the breeze of a new day.

After rising from her chamber and a quick stop at her commode, Luna trundled down the steep stairs that lead to her father’s work area.

In the corner a large printing press continues, magically, to move its rollers back and forth. Sheets of clean parchment are transformed into printed pages which are folded and stacked in a neat pile alongside the machine.

Upon the stack of folded papers lay the head of a man with silver-blonde hair. Barely a sound leaves him as he is clearly in a very deep sleep.

Careful not to wake him, Luna tip toed past, glancing at the machine as it continued on with its chores. As if aware of her presence, the printing press began to move just a little bit faster, the print suddenly appearing to become just a little bit darker.

Slowly, she made her way down yet another flight of stairs. This one is circular and leads to a wonderful light filled space comprised of a quaint kitchen, eating nook, and living room.

Walking over to the counter Luna retrieved a grey and black enamel coffee pot and made her way outside into the full light of the new day.

Standing outside in the fresh air and warmth of the new day’s sunlight, Luna stretched once more, working the warmth into the tiniest of her muscles.

“Good Morning to you!” Luna says with a very sing song tone to her voice.

There at her feet stood a garden gnome who had been unexpectedly spotted chewing upon the root of Xeno Lovegood’s prized Dirigible Plum. The plant was now some 5 meters high, growing up the front of the Lovegood home.

The Garden Gnome spit a large and ugly wad of chewed root out at Luna and then burrowed itself deep into the moist dirt below the Dirigible plant. Pretending not to notice, Luna just smiled and walked towards the well; just a few more feet away from where she had just stood.

“Oh how lovely, a bird has decided to make its nest here in our Well bucket.” Luna exclaimed!

Without any further ado she began to pump the old red painted metal handle and a sudden gush of cold water splashed upon the ground before her. She quickly put the pot under the pump spout, allowing it to fill as she worked the squeaking handle in an up and down motion. She continued until the water gushing from the spout overflowed the enameled pot.

Luna took the pot and walked back to the Lovegood house, stopping just for a moment to ask the now nearly hidden garden gnome if he had had enough to eat and if not, to say that he was more than welcome to come and share breakfast with her and her father.

She walked back into the kitchen and put the pot of water upon the stove and lit the fire beneath it. She dropped several large spoon full’s of a darkened powder into the pot and in no time the house was filled with the oddest aroma one could imagine. Not bitter, nor sweet, neither good nor bad, just odd.

Luna walked back outside into the fresh air of a morning that was now fully under way. Birds flew at break neck speed above her and bees buzzed in a lazy way as they lolled from one wild flower to the next.

Tiny white moths chased each other and intertwined themselves in what appeared to be fits of play. This caused Luna to smile just a little bit more as she made her way along the walk that led away from the Lovegood home. Arriving at the end she stopped to pick up a well-worn basket, full of holes and splinters that lay on its side.

She swung the basket merrily back and forth humming a tune that she had made up on the spot, a tune that had no beginning and no clear end. The tune meandered along just as Luna did, until she came to the giant sunflowers that helped to protect and hide the Lovegood home from the unsuspecting eyes of muggles; Muggles who might stumble out of Ottery St. Catchpole and happen upon Lovegood Hill as it was known to the Wizarding world.

Luna reached up and ever so gently snipped off the large heads of a few random Sunflowers. With them came the bounty of seeds that would make up part of the mornings breakfast. “Nature’s bounty at its finest “, she felt.

As her basket began to fill to capacity, she looked down and counted the heads that she had snipped. Looking back at the tall stalks and the remaining thousands of sunflowers before her, she bowed ever so slightly and thanked them for being so generous. With a dainty curtsy she turned on her heals and headed back towards her home through the waist deep expanse of wheat grass.


As Luna walked along the path that she had worn well from her many visits to the rows of sunflowers, she was suddenly and inexplicably stopped in her path. There before her was a creature that she believed, as did the entire wizarding world, to have been extinct since the time of Merlin himself; the Goliath Katydid in all its glory. It looked very much like a huge grasshopper but was the size of a small cat.

There it sat, playing its fiddle legs, producing the exact same random tune that Luna had been humming.

She reached forward to pet the creature but it moved back away from her a few steps. Luna placed her basket of Sunflower heads upon the ground and the now interested Goliath Katydid spotted the prize that lay inside the woven object.

It was clear that this creature so loved sunflowers that it could not resist walking ever so carefully up to the basket. There it stood high upon its long, thin legs and sniffed the contents.

Luna asked the grasshopper if it would like to come and join her and her father for breakfast as they would be serving the seeds of the sunflowers along with some fine plums grown in their very own gardens.

Looking at Luna as if it understood what she had just asked of it, the Katydid walked up to her and she ever so gently cupped her hands, allowing the creature to walk into her palms. She then transported it to her shoulder where it perched right next to her dangling radish earring.

Sniffing the radish to see if it was something of note to eat, the grasshopper decided it was not to its liking and subsequently ignored it. Instead, it settled its gaze on the young girl who was now bending down to retrieve her bounty of Sunflower Heads. Having done so, Luna headed back to the Lovegood House with her new acquaintance.

Upon approaching the house, Luna could see that her father had awakened. All of the leaded windows of the Lovegood home were now open allowing the morning breeze to replace the night’s stale air.

As he welcomed his daughter, Xenophilius suddenly became very much aware of the visitor that Luna had brought back with her.

Unable to contain himself, he ran up the flight of circular stairs. Soon, books could be heard being thrown across the room above Luna and their guest.

Laying the ever so large Goliath Katydid down at a small bowl at the nook table, Luna went about the task of preparing the mornings meal.

First, Luna lightly salted the sunflower seeds and then placed them in a bowl containing flakes of natural grains; grains that had been turned to paste and then baked until crisp.

Next, she retrieved three bowls and cups from a cupboard. Into the latter, Luna began to pour the now steaming hot brew that she had prepared prior to visiting the Sunflowers.

Luna walked back to the scrubbed wood table where she had been preparing their morning feast and continued to very carefully pluck the petals one by one from each of the now de seeded sunflower heads. She placed the petals in a stone bowl and then, with a pestle in hand, pressed them firmly until they began to turn to a paste. She poured an oily substance over the golden petal paste and proceeded to continue her mortar and pestle routine until a very thick golden liquid formed.

Luna laid the golden substance to the side and walked back to the nook, taking a seat in front of an open window.

Suddenly, Xeno rushed down the stairs, a book raised high above his head. Yelling “I have it, I have it”, nearly at the top of his voice, he ran towards Luna and their guest.

Noticing that the Grasshopper was now a bit frightened, Luna, ever the observant host, reached out and pet the creature, assuring it that everything was OK.

Xenophilius Lovegood threw himself into his chair, quickly grabbed his mug of brew and downed the contents as quickly as he could. He gasped for a moment and then went on to read aloud a passage that he had found regarding the “Extinct” Goliath Katydid.

He went on and on and on about how it had been wiped out, how one had not been seen in over a century and how their songs had once brought calm to the fields after a battle had been waged. “Kings had once sought them out to help bring an end to conflict in their lands, etc. All the while he was speaking; Xeno was oblivious to the fact that Luna and the Katydid had other things on their minds.

The flakes of crisped grain and lightly salted sunflower seeds were all Luna and the creature were concerned about at the moment. It was truly a feast to them and one that they were enjoying immensely as Xeno continued to drink mug after mug of steaming brew, all the while reciting passages from the book.

Trying not to be rude, Luna touched her father’s arm very lightly to get his attention. He stopped reading for a moment as she thanked him for all of the information that he was so generously sharing with them. She went on to explain, however, that she and the Katydid would be going up to her bedroom for a while.

Xenophilius went back to reading the text out loud, sometimes hitting the table with his open palm, causing hot brew to spill over the sides of his mug and run across the table top. He barely noticed the exit of the Goliath Katydid and his daughter.

Once again lifting the creature to her shoulder, Luna walked over to the scrubbed wood table and retrieved the bowl she had filled with the golden liquid.

Having done so, she ascended the two flights of stairs and placed the Goliath Katydid upon one of her many pillows. It was obvious that the creature had had its fill of sunflower seeds and was once again working its legs to create a soft piece of music which Luna found irresistible and which made her very happy.

Luna offered the Katydid to stay with her in her room as long as he wished. While the creature offered no obvious clue as to whether it understood or not, his music suddenly became more elaborate and melodic.

Luna hummed along with the tune that filled her room. The fresh air that blew in through the open window carried with it the perfume of the great expanse of wild flowers outside their home. Sunlight filled the room with warmth and touched Luna’s skin sending tingles of joy throughout her body.

Walking over to a table alongside the bed, Luna picked up a small, fine bristled paint brush that fit nicely in her hand. She then dragged her commode stand chair over to the side of the room with the shortest wall, where the ceiling was low and slanted.


Gazing at the wall, which was covered in portraits painted in amazing detail, Luna dipped the paint brush into the golden liquid she had created from the petals of the sunflowers. Standing upon the chair, she proceeded to paint a golden ribbon around each of the portraits. This ribbon formed a continuous golden chain, encircling one portrait after the next.

Luna hummed along as the Goliath Katydid played its lovely song. The breeze swirled effortlessly in the room and the sunlight shifted from one side of the room to the other as the day wore on.

Looking very pleased with her work, Luna finally stepped off the chair and gazed upon the artwork that covered the ceiling of her bedroom.

Looking closely at the golden ribbon Luna had painted one could see that it wasn’t just a ribbon at all. The word FRIENDS painted over and over, perhaps in the thousands or even the millions, created this wondrous illusion that linked all of the portraits together…….

[misscharlotte]

Trick or……

By Duddahs the Great Barn Owl
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I find myself standing in the middle of a darkened cobbled stone street. In the distance the voices of laughter and child’s play fade away into the mist that surrounds me.

The dampness of the night air seems to be part of me now. My hands as sweaty and my brow drips profusely. The tailored black cape that I wear sticks to my body in a very uncomfortable manner, one I wish never to be forced to have to feel ever again.

No, not for as long as I live do I wish to relive this moment in time.

As I find my limbs moving of their own accord and the sound of the souls of my boots clicking on the hard stone surface, I am faced with my deepest desires and my greatest fears.

Still the echoing of my footfall continues as I approach the wooden gate. I can clearly see my hand reaching out and pushing it out of my way but how? I have no recollection of deliberately moving my hand or the gate for that matter. How is this to be?

My footsteps are not any more muted as I walk up the brick walkway. It leads to a door on the side of a house. Not just any house mind you.

My arm stretches away from my body and the cold clammy feeling in the palm of my hand is met by the damp and equally cold touch of the metal door knob. It turns as I watch my wrist change in angle to assist the motion of the knob and with an ever so careful push; the door is now open before me.

My heart begins to race faster and faster. I can hear the blood rushing to my head from my now enlarged heart. The constant pumping of the blood only creates an equal rhythm of thumping in my head. I feel my extremities grow ever so cold, almost dead.

My feet carry me into the entrance way where I am greeted by something that I wish not to accept. It is not there I tell myself and as I step over it, I am somehow comforted ever so slightly. I shudder at the very thought of the warmth that this brings to the tips of my fingers and I push the image out of my mind and continue to move toward as narrow flight of stairs.

Once again, I see my arms reaching out to grab the rails and I proceed cautiously, with the greatest of stealth that I could muster.

At the top of the stairs I turn on the landing and see a doorway which is slightly ajar. I proceed towards the door and witness myself curling my long shaking fingers around the side of the wood door and moving it into the room it protects.

My hearts is beating again with the pace of horses trussed to carriages. My blood is now rushing from my heart and directly to my brain. My emotions are running higher than they ever have before. My eyes wide open, blackened pupils, fear rising from deep inside. Bile rising in my throat and scalding as it reaches ever further from the depths of my soul.

I see yet another door across the poorly lit room. It is my breath that I try to control more than anything. I must continue to remind myself to breath as I find I am becoming light headed and may bring faint upon myself.

I now feel that I must force my limbs to respond to their commands. They are heavy and it feels as if I am walking in quicksand. Nowhere to go but down, I continue to struggle mightily until I am at the entrance I seek.

With a heavy mixture of desperation and anticipation, I open the door and stand to assess what has now filled my eyes.

My mind does not take it in at first and I feel an almost numbness crawling its way through my insides.

Then the reality of what I am witness to sinks in just a little too deeply and I throw myself upon her.

I am suddenly cradling my true love, my deepest desire.

Tears suddenly from the insides of my eyes and stain my face and soak my collar in the torrents that seem to come in wave after wave.

I can no longer hear for I have gone deaf. My voice no longer has sound, my life no longer meaning.

As I bring her lifeless beauty to my lips, I cry out her name but hear nothing. I can no longer see for the tears that fill my eyes have also robbed me of the beauty before me.

I can no longer feel my hands though I know that I hold her and press her to my chest. She has always belonged there but the feeling is no longer one of pleasure but pure pain.

I have lost all sense of time and place. My world has crumbled and I only wish to disappear. I can’t go on living for my heart surely has been ripped from the depths of my breast and torn asunder.

As my head snaps back and I begin to drown in my own tears, I find my mind being slapped back to where I truly am.

I hear a baby cry.
 

[misscharlotte]

Title: Two for One
Prompt: A Meeting Under the Stars
Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Chapter One



As Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the Hogs Head Inn, his dark purple, star covered robes shown brilliantly in the early summer sunlight.

He raised his head up towards the cloudless azure skies above Hogsmeade as a look of deep concern began to twist his face. A small twitch beneath his beard gave away the nervous energy that he could barely contain; it was as if someone had captured a lightning bolt and buried it deeply within his core.

How could this be? How could an apparent fraud have come to him with something of such momentous importance? Why now, just as things were beginning to appear so bleak? What did it all mean? Over and over again, his mind replayed the words he had just heard:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

The words of Sybil Trelawney kept rolling over and over every other thing that attempted to penetrate Dumbledore’s consciousness.

Was it possible that this woebegone mess of a fraud might truly have given to him one of the most important prophecies of all Wizarding time?

The idea that this might be possible made Dumbledore’s head hurt. The fact remained, however, that her Great-great-grandmother was Cassandra Trelawney; a woman recognized as having been the greatest seer of her time. The very thought that the creature, who had stood before him in the Hogs Head Inn, might possess any of her ancestors abilities was so far-fetched as to be almost laughable.

As he headed back towards Hogwarts Castle, Dumbledore slowed his walk to ponder the matter further. The longer he walked on the path between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts the greater the sense of urgency built within him. He knew he must summon this woman to the castle; not only to guard against anyone else from hearing the prophecy but also to protect its bearer. If this information were to fall into the wrong hands a most unfortunate turn of events would most certainly take place.


Following a subsequent interview with Ms.Trelawney, Albus Dumbledore hired her in spite of the widespread belief she was more fraud than seer. In the ensuing month Dumbledore steadfastly kept his reasons for this to himself. He offered no explanation when the other professors approached him to voice their concern about “Professor” Trelawney’s qualifications. It was clear that they considered her credentials suspect at best. .

This was the time of year when Hogwarts was nearly deserted as only a handful of the Professors and staff lived there year round. The Headmaster was among the small group that stayed on as was the newly appointed Divination Professor, who sat at a small table in the Teachers’ Lounge.

Across the grounds the windows of Hagrid’s hut blazed with the light cast from the stone fireplace within. An enormous pot of tea sat upon a splintered wood table, the tea inside growing cold. The massive, hairy figure of Hagrid paced back and forth across squeaking floor boards as nervous anticipation enveloped his heart.



Chapter 2



Many kilometers away, a scream of pain could be heard echoing through the otherwise quiet corridors of St. Mungo’s. Silence, then another scream, this one louder and higher pitched.

A door swung wide open as a disheveled dark haired man rushed out into the corridor.

“It’s a boy, it’s a boy! I am a daddy, do you hear me? I am a daddy!” the young man yelled at the top of his lungs.

An elderly woman stood up from the high backed overstuffed chair in which she had been soundly sleeping until this rude interruption…

“Oh yes, congratulations my dear; a boy? I am very happy for you both.” The old lady stated as she once again sank back into the chair from which she had momentarily risen.

In the next room a lovely red haired woman lay beneath the crisp white linen sheets of her white painted hospital bed. Her husband grasped her hand ever so tightly as he rose and leaned over her to give her the most delicate kiss upon her forehead.

“Go, give Alice and Frank our congratulations will you please James?” asked the weak but smiling red haired patient.

“Lily, you do know that I love you more than anything. More than life itself, no matter what, don’t you?”

Lily Potter smiled broadly and buried her cheek deeply into the thick feather pillow upon which her head rested.

James squeezed his wife’s hand once more and stared into her emerald green eyes. He was assured by the unspoken communication that passed between them; all was understood and all was fine.

At Lily’s urging he reluctantly let go of her hand and walked to the door that lead to the corridor.

“Just a moment, I will only be a moment Lily. If you need anything, I really mean it; anything, you just let me know and I will be here by your side.” James assured his wife.

“Go, you silly thing you. I have my wand here on the night stand. I am having a baby not losing my mind. Now go and let me know what his name is. Don’t forget to ask; you know how you forget things when you get excited.”

James winked at Lily, turned on his heal, and left the room. In the corridor he approached the old woman who wore a large feather and bird adorned hat. She snored loudly and seemed to be sound asleep. James decided not to disturb her; the look upon her weathered face made it appear she could be a handful if awakened without warning.

Instead, he knocked on door of the room next to Lily’s. A shadow appeared on the other side of the frosted glass and the door opened, giving way to a softly lit room.

There on the bed, a mirror image of the one upon which his wife was now resting, lay his dear friend Alice Longbottom.

Alice appeared to be an absolute mess. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, there were darkened circles under her eyes and the low light cast by the wall sconces made her look far older than her actual years. Although the Longbottoms and Potters were just a few years apart, at this moment one would have guessed they were separated by decades.

A weak smile broke out on Alice’s face. She moved one of her hands to reveal the dark haired head of the Longbtottom’s new born baby boy.

“Handsome, the most handsome baby ever” gushed Frank Longbottom. “Don’t you agree James?” asked the proud new father.

“Brilliant, simply brilliant; the two of you must be so proud and Alice, you are lovelier than you have ever been and that is saying something!”

At this Frank turned to James and stated, “Oh how rude and foolish of me. How is Lily doing? Can she come and see the baby or should we bring him to her?”

James thought for a moment and explained that Lily was not well. Though she was as strong as she had ever been the baby was extremely active for some reason. The healers explained that she should stay bed ridden until after the birth, just to be on the safe side. It was now only a matter of hours before the baby was expected to come.

Frank assured James that he understood and proposed that they get together the following evening. “Then we can all have a bit of a welcoming party for the newborns”.

James agreed and walked over to Alice’s bedside. He laid his hand upon hers and bent down to kiss the baby upon his very rosy cheek. After straightening up, James stuck his hand out, took Franks hand and gave it a mighty shake.

“Great Job ole boy, Great job indeed.”

At that James excused himself, closing the door as he exited the room.

In the corridor he found himself once again in front of the Old Woman. She was still asleep, presenting just as formidable a figure as ever. James leaned over, taking care not to hit her hat with his brow. He gave the old girl a quick peck on the cheek, stood up carefully, and made his way back to the room where his wife lay resting.

As he did so James noticed a small smile cross the old lady’s face. Pausing momentarily , he whispered “Fraud”.


“Hah,” the old lady muttered just as softly and went back to pretending to be asleep.

As James stood outside the door to his wife’s room, the acid boiling in his stomach rose up once again into his throat. A feeling of anticipation laced with fear took hold of him like a death grip.

He grasped the doorknob, gave it a gentle turn to the right, and ever so slowly pushed the door to the room open.

There, Lily’s head rested upon the linen covered pillow; her red tresses fanned out in silky pleats upon the pillow’s surface. The contrast between the starched white linen and the flame red hair made Lily’s beautiful face literally glow.

Gradually, the soon-to-be mother opened her emerald green eyes. Spying her husband, Lily smiled and absent mindedly licked her lips causing them to take on the bright red hue of summer ripened cherries.

“Is he perfect? Is the baby just perfect James? All ten and ten? And his name, what is his name?”

James gave his wife a puzzled look and asked “Ten of Ten? What does that mean?” He hoped this query would distract her, enabling him to just ignore her second question.

“How could I have forgotten to ask the baby’s name?” He wondered with exasperation!

“He is fine Lily, they are all fine and you will find out the baby’s name tomorrow evening once our own little one has decided to come out and play with us. We will have a truly special birthday party, the six, no seven of us.” James joyfully informed his wife.

Lily closed her eyes and snuggled her cheek back into the pillow as James walked around the room, lowering the candle light from the sconces.

“Good, I am so glad that everyone is fine. “ Lily murmured.

In the pause that followed James patted himself on the back; self congratulations for being so clever.

“Forgot to ask his name though huh?”

Turning, James walked over to his wife. He placed his hand gently on the back of her head and leaned down to give her a deep and most loving kiss. She knew him all too well and he loved her all the more for it. His life with Lily was so much more than he could have ever dreamed of and now, here she was, about to give birth to their first child!

A few hours later in the silent and dimly lit corridor of St. Mungo’s, a woman’s scream echoed once again, followed by silence. Another scream, higher pitched than the previous one. Soon, another door flew open, slamming against the stone walls of the corridor.

At the far end of the corridor a large leaded glass window allowed the unusually bright light of the Moon and Stars to cast a ghostly shadow upon the cut granite stone floor. A large Owl flew through the open transom at the center of the window and out into the well-lit summer sky. In spite of the unusually bright light the owl eventually disappeared from view as it started to make headway on its long solitary journey………………..


Chapter 3



In the Forbidden Forest, restlessness slowly crept into the souls of its inhabitants. The moans and groans of the now darkened forest and its inhabitants were almost palpable. A steady cadence of voices, calls, screams and moans came together in one bone chilling song of the night.

A large herd of Centaur trampled the well-worn paths of the forest; bows held at the ready, quivers filled to capacity. The thunderous and vibrating beating of hooves upon hardened earth reverberated throughout the darkness that now cloaked all that made this place their home. Birds flew out of tree tops as the dark outlines of larger flying creatures took shape far off in the distance.



On mass, the herd came to a sudden halt. Dust kicked up by their hooves rose from the ground, partially obscuring their lower halves from view.

A fantastic beast separated himself from the pack. He walked slowly to a small clearing in the canopy of trees. The light of the new moon shone upon him as he raised his head to gaze to the heavens above.

“Magorian, what is it that you read in the sky tonight?” asked a deep Red Haired Centaur.

“Bane, it is apparent to all Centaurs to, clear for all Centaurs to see. Many generations have prepared us for this night; a night when stars, planets and moons have come to us with their tale of the future.” Magorian shook his mane and swished his tail back and forth in a display of nervous energy.

Slowly the rest of the herd walked into the moonlit clearing; each in turn raised their heads towards the sky. All were silent until a stunningly handsome Silver White haired and maned Centaur made his way to Magorian. Directly opposite, Bane swished his tail in an agitated state, causing his mane to shudder.

“Yes Firenze, I believe you understand and see what I see.” Magorian nudged Firenze just a bit under his chin causing him to look even a little further above where he had originally cast his gaze.

At this Bane took offense and stomped one of his hooves forcefully upon the dirt floor of the clearing.

“Yes, Bane, you too must be aware of what the heavens tell us, of the future, of the imminent WAR!”

“Mars has moved into a prolonged pattern. It will take nearly a decade for us to know, with Gemini retreating, Cancer in control and the most brilliant Leo with Mars Major aligning for the first time in many phases.”

Magorian turned slowly back towards Firenze, unable to read the now implacable look that had fixed itself upon the White steads face…..

[misscharlotte]

Title: Do Unto Others As
Prompt: The Ghosts of Hogwarts
Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

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Clad in a long soft cotton night gown; covered in small images of teddy bears and ducks, the young Witch shuffled her bare feet upon the cold black and white tiled floor of her Devonshire flat. Twisting and contorting her form she stretched her arms high above her head and let out a silent yawn.

The white subway tiles that covered the walls of her water closet reflected the dim light that snuck in through a small window on the far end wall. Also surrounded by white tile, a glistening - white porcelain bath tub rested under the window.

Leaning forward she wrapped the fingers of her right hand around an X shaped chrome handle that protruded from the tile wall.

A twist produced a small squeak, the result of old metal rubbing against metal. The small rubber bushing that would have prevented the noise had long since worn away by years of use. Soon the rushing sound of water forced the silence of the room into retreat.

As steam rose from the bottom of the tub, the witch removed her hand and placed it on yet another X shaped handle. With another small twist and the familiar squeak, more water rushed from a spigot that jutted out of the tile wall.

Promptly drawing a white lace and plastic lined curtain, enclosed the steam that now rose from the depths of the glistening white tub. Slowly the rest of the small room filled with foggy moisture.

A quick peak into a black framed wall mirror assured Olive that she was in much need of the soothing shower that would start her day. The steam now escaped the confines of the tub area and lightly clung to a mirror that reflected her bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair.

She grabbed the bottom hem of her night gown with both hands and pulled it straight up and over her head. Olives’ long blond locks caught momentarily on a button, pulling just a bit too roughly for her taste.

“OW!” she exclaimed in a strangulated voice.

“Ger OFF!” she croaked as she continued to tug on the nightgown until several strands of her hair were rudely ripped from the top of her head.

Nightgown “ONE”, Olive Hornby “Zero” she chided herself.

Regaining her composure, Olive stood before her own reflection. She placed her hands upon the chrome faucet handles that adorned the pedestal sink and stood silently for a moment to contemplate the prior evening.

Yet again the night had been terrible for Olive. No matter what she did she could not get the sounds that bombarded her out of her mind; sounds that kept her from much needed sleep and resulted in an upset stomach.

It had been months now since Olive moved from her parents’ home; a place that was always serene and soothing. Olive was the only daughter of Brice and Abigail Hornby of Devonshire, who, Olive felt had provided a “protective cocoon “for her to grow up in.

Olive was very pretty and encouraged as a child. She was doted upon by her parents and grandparents on both sides of her family. The young witch was considered to be the most beautiful if not the smartest child that many a witch or wizard had ever met.

It was not uncommon for Olive and her mother to be stopped on the street by strangers just so they could look into the huge limpid blue eyes of the child and to admire the golden locks that flowed so effortlessly from the top of her head and gently cradled upon her shoulders.

Visually she was nearly perfect to the naked eye. There was, however, an underlying sense of superiority that was not readily apparent to the casual acquaintance. This fact was somewhat hidden by the child, even as far back as when she was a toddler. Once people got to know her, they came to realize that she was something of a spoiled brat.

Drawn back to the present, Olive realized that the situation in the bathroom had gone from ugly to uglier.

Her bloodshot blue eyes were no more than wrinkled slits; her pallor ashen. She could not believe that she was seeing something so visually unattractive so early in the morning. She did not recognize her own reflection. The face that looked back at her could not be the same self-confident and oft complimented young witch she had grown to know and love. This was not her reflection; it just could not be!

Olive reached up to place the tips of her index finger and thumb upon a small cut crystal nob. She could feel the warmth of the steam that had now begun to fill the glossy white room in which she stood.

A feeling of warmth that began in her back turned to a quick shiver that shot up her spine, made her shudder momentarily and then caused her body to relax.

“Ah”, she exhaled.

Her fingers now tugged on the crystal nob, opening the door to a medicine cabinet that hung on the wall to her right.

The door opened to reveal a semitransparent, hideous pimple covered face; “BOO!” it screamed out at Olive.

“WAH THE, YOU AGAIN?” yelped Olive as she staggered backward into the cold tiled wall behind her.

The sudden jab of a door knob dug into her back causing her to wince severely. At the same time cold tiles came in contact with her bare flesh making chills run rampant through her already shocked body.

“HaHaHaHaHa” Loud obnoxious laughter now filled the once soothing bathroom. It echoed off the walls and floor as water continued to gush out of the shower head .The continuous flow of hot water caused steam to fill the room, accompanied by a steady hissing sound.

The face that leered out at Olive Hornby from the medicine cabinet was all too familiar to her. It was that terrible face, a face from her not so distant past that haunted her night and day. It was that face, accompanied by horrible screeching laughter that kept her awake night after night.

“Sick, you sick creature! How many times do I have to say I am sorry before you get it through your dead head and just leave me alone? I am so very sorry, now go! Go forever and never haunt me again!” Olive yelled at the laughing face.

In spite of yet another attempt at an apology it was obvious to Olive that her plea had again fallen on deaf ears.

Olive’s life was spiraling out of control; she no longer slept peacefully. Nor could she derive comfort or solace from her job as a stenographer at the Ministry of Magic where she worked for the Wizengamot.

This hideous creature followed her, no stalked her 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.

There was no use in trying to ignore the shrieks and squeals of laughter, the constant moaning and creaking of floorboards. This monster was apparently going to follow Olive and it was getting to her. She was a mess, a shell of her former self. The face in the medicine cabinet seemed to take great pleasure in the knowledge that this was happing.

Olive tried to pull herself together as she reached forward and slammed the medicine cabinet door shut. The mirror on the outside of the cabinet shattered in the process and the black frame splintered into pieces.

The loud cackling coming from the horrible face in the cabinet fell into the porcelain pedestal sink. With an echo to it seemed to fade away as it disappeared down the drain pipe.

Quickly moving to the shower, Olive drew the curtain back with a sweeping motion, bringing the rushing water into view.

She looked up and down inside the partially enclosed tub area but saw nothing other than steam and hot water swirling before her.

Slightly mollified, Olive laid a towel upon the floor and tucked it along the edge of the tub and the floor. Next she stepped slowly forward into the rush of water.

It was soothingly warm and oh so gentle. Her muscles screamed for relaxation, for release of their constant state of tension.

“AH, OOOOH, that is lovely, oh how I need this” she whispered to herself as she placed her head completely beneath the soothing cascade. Each individual stream seemed to pulsate upon the top of her head; massaging her tensions and worries away. She began to relax and allow the water to bring life back into the wreck of a person she had recently become.

Olive luxuriated in a long period of lathering her hair; an extended period where she just allowed the water to flow over her. Like time worn stone under a great waterfall, the water smoothed away the night of haunting that had so recently plagued her.

So much time passed with Olive cocooned in the steaming water blanket in that she barely noticed the water turning markedly cooler. It became that she had overstayed her time in the shower; the small water heater that hung from the ceiling worked overtime in a failing attempt to heat the water that rushed from the cold water pipes.

Once again, Olive drew back the shower curtain, having nearly forgotten about the terrifying haunting.

As she carefully stepped out onto the soft cotton floor towel, she grabbed a plush wrap that hung just outside the shower enclosure. Carefully pulling the terry cloth tightly around her waist, she reached for yet another towel to wrap around her head. Next, she ruffled her hair inside the towel, squeezing out as much water from her locks as she could.

Satisfied that she was more or less dry, Olive tossed the towels back upon the shiny chrome hook, went back to her bedroom, and dressed in her finely pressed work suit.

Standing before a full length mirror, Olive gazed with relief at a reflection that now looked so much more like the Olive Hornby she knew and loved. The crisply pleated, matching worsted - wool slacks and jacket presented, in her mind, the epitome of self-confidence and success.

After a short period applying makeup and brushing her nearly air dried hair, Olive inserted her dainty feet into a beautiful if just a little too high heeled pair of shoes. This, she felt, finished the perfect image she had of herself. Before walking out of the bedroom, Olive cast one last approving glance at her reflection in the mirror.

The clacking noise produced by her elegant shoes as she crossed the hardwood floors reminded Olive of how good she now looked. She was sure that once she had gotten to work a great deal of attention would be paid to her and that she would be noticed by just the right people. Perhaps today would be the day she would get advancement in pay and position she felt she so richly deserved. After all, Olive had been working now for several months already and had garnered much attention from some of the most important Wizards at the Ministry of Magic.

Walking into the kitchen Olive was confronted by a wall clock which repeatedly screamed “you’re late, you’re late, get out now, you’re late!”

Olive grabbed a handful of crystalized grey powder from a red clay pot that hug from the fireplace mantle and threw the powder into the hearth. Suddenly, a blaze of brilliant green flames shot far up the chimney. Without hesitating, the lovely witch stepped right into the flames; not a worry or care in the world and she was gone.

Moments later at the Ministry of Magic, Olive stepped out of an imposingly large black tiled fireplace accompanied by dozens of other late employees. Many of these Witches and Wizards walked with quickened steps, muttering the phrases “Oh MERLIN” and “For Merlin’s Sake “as they rushed to their respective work areas.

The clinking of the metal gates of the Ministry transports could be heard echoing throughout the vast great halls of the Ministry entry. The high vaulted ceilings reverberated with the sounds of the footsteps, clattering, and chatter produced by the hustle and bustle below.

Walking calmly toward the open gate before her, Olive felt the gaze of many sets of eyes, assessing how wonderful she looked. A bit of smugness crept across her face as Olive’s broad, red lipsticked smile spread. She focused her large blue eyes directly ahead, not wishing to give away for a second that she might be concerned at who was actually looking at her. She felt that to be taken seriously, she must always present this slightly aloof guise of perfection.

Maintaining her regal composure, Olive glided across the hard polished granite floors and into an elevator, its metal gates clanking loudly upon closure. A few small pink and blue paper airplanes barely made their way into the transport before the bottom gave out, abruptly plunging its cargo into the bowels of the Ministry structure.

The transports golden gates retracted the moment it stopped. Most of the occupants’ scurried out, each in a hurry to get to their respective destinations. Olive exited last, giving the elevator worker just the hint of a smile. As she did so, the tall transport operator turned a deep shade of crimson, adjusted his tightening collar, and swallowed very hard.

Almost immediately the golden gates rattled closed and the transport disappeared, with a whoosh, into a hole in the black tiled wall.

As she proceeded to the number one chamber of the Wizengamot, the click, click, click of Olive’s high heeled shoes echoed along the corridor. It was a constant and even cadence; not worried or rushed. No sense of urgency could be detected from the sound that they made.

Seeing the stone lined walls of the lower section of the Wizengamot, one instantly realized that this was a far older section of the structure than was the great hall above. The temperature here was cooler and the air a bit mustier and less flowing.

As Olive approached a small corner in the hallway, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Just as she rounded the corner, however, the young witch was confronted by what looked to be a body hanging from a transparent rope. The rope appeared to be tied to a swinging metal light fixture high above the lifeless form of “MYRTLE!”

“AAAAAHHHHHKKKKKKKK!” Olive screamed loudly.

Her composure now gone she dissolved into a sobbing mess, nerves unraveling in an instant and looked to be on the verge of a complete breakdown.

Olive’s eyes opened so wide that they looked like two white saucers with tiny dots in the center! Her mouth remained open but she was suddenly mute; a silent scream stuck in her throat as her breathing all but nearly stopped.

This was it; Olive had reached her breaking point. No matter how much of a façade of confidence and perfection she attempted to portray to everyone else around her, Olive knew that this was it. Her insides were now as shattered as her medicine cabinet mirror.

She felt as if her body was a porcelain vessel and that everything that made up Olive on the inside had just broken into a million tiny razor sharp shards that were now falling into her high heeled shoes. Her stomach dropped but still no sound emitted from her gaping lips.

The sight before her was so awful, so devastating that she just could not seem to force herself to turn away from the horrific vision.

Slowly the body began to swing back and forth, then more violently as deep moaning began to fill the corridor.

Tears flooded Olive’s now bloodshot eyes and her makeup began running in streaks down her face. The blackened liquefied mascara flowed onto the blush on her cheeks, mixed with face powder, and pooled into the corners of her open mouth. Combining with her lipstick the clownish goo created what appeared to be an animated gash in her face as it dripped off her chin.

At her feet a colorful blotch formed; the mixture of cosmetic products and Olives own tears.

Finally a scream of utter terror escaped her. It was as if the sound had been ripped from her and then amplified by the use of the Sonorus Charm.

Abruptly, a door at the far end of the hallway swung open. A short young Wizard emerged and ran out towards the disturbance.

To his utter horror he found himself looking up at the Ghostly, semitransparent form of a young girl swinging high above by her neck. Quickly his gaze dropped to the shuddering, quacking, and screaming young lady before him. She was obviously of flesh and blood in stark contrast to the figure suspended above them.

He quickly dragged the young Witch to the safety of an office room not far down the hallway.

Out in the corridor the childish moaning of the ghostly figure of Myrtle quickly turned to childish laughter. Moving her head in a circular pattern, the noose appeared to disappear and she floated down towards the closed office door, still giggling like a child with a very big secret.

Inside the office sanctuary, sobs of despair continued to flow out of Olive Hornby while the Wizard attempted to console and comfort her as best he could. Reaching into his jacket pocket he removed a monogrammed silk handkerchief and handed it to Olive which she promptly took and blew her nose.

As she folded the silken hankie Olive noticed the elaborate gold monogram; a bold “C” over an ornate “F”.

Continuing to shake as tears burned and blurred her eyes, she tried to slow her breathing which now came in short gasps.

“There, there my dear, it will be fine. I am sure everything is going to be just fine”, soothed the Wizard.

“Fudge, Cornelius Fudge at your service… And you, I have noticed you recently at the Wizengamot; Hornby isn’t it?”

Olive wiped her eyes with a clean side of the handkerchief and attempted to quell her gasps for air.

She nodded her head up and down, not yet having regained her speaking voice.

“Yes, a haunting I see? There are laws against that kind of thing you know. Well, that and the fact that I am the second assistant to the prosecutor of the Wizengamot himself. I am sure that there is something that I, I mean we can do to assist you with this dilemma.” A smile crept across the little wizards’ young face as he tilted his head to one side in order to get a better look at the witch’s expression.

Olive smiled a small smile. Her breathing had begun its difficult journey back to normal. Unfortunately she was still shattered inside. Still trembling she clung to the handkerchief that was still clutched in her hand.

Her gaze now fixed upon the serious but comforting visage of Cornelius Fudge. The pleading look in her eyes implored Fudge to help in any way possible.

“Yes, yes, I see. There are banishment charms, exorcisms, and all sorts of legalities that can be enforced upon an unruly and unwarranted haunting. Yes, let me find it… Ah yes, here it is.” The young Wizard reached up and took a heavy volume down off a large bookshelf that was filled with dozens of hard bound text.

Olive did not speak. She did not dare correct the young wizard in his assumption that this was an unwarranted haunting. After all, Olive knew full well that had it not been for her actions just a few short years earlier, none of this would be happening now. The ghostly figure that haunted her day and night; forever frozen in time as a young girl, would still be alive……………..

[misscharlotte]

Title: Finding the Four
Prompt: Hogwarts a History
Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl and Bathilda Bagshot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Salazar Slytherin was a very precocious youngster who had grown up in an extremely well to do family. At a very young age he began to exhibit strange and often bizarre abilities. Others in his town, which was located just outside of London, were often responsible for him being punished by his parents. He was too often the subject of terrible ridicule, aimed at him by his peers.

To the dismay of many of his family members and acquaintances, Salazar actively sought out others, in the area in which he lived, who were rumored to have abilities similar to those he had demonstrated. Salazar was repeatedly disappointed, however, when none of the characters, who were purported to possess magical abilities, were even remotely as talented as he.

All too often the young Slytherin would find himself being challenged to duels and magical feats of daring by those he had sought to collaborate with. There never came a time when Salazar was in fear of or even close to defeat. It became obvious to him that his powers were greatly superior to all comers and pretenders.

Salazar felt deep within his heart the need to prove himself. This need was driven by the fact that many years of his youth had been spent defending himself and his family against those who were unlike and ultimately unkind to him. The need buried deep within young Salazar Slytherin burned like the bonfires of the Winter Solstice celebrations at Stonehenge.

On one dreary day, the fire in Salazar’s heart burned stronger than it had ever done before. He had heard of a woman on the eastern coast of the Isle who was rumored to be not only an exceptionally beloved character but one who was said to possess many of the same abilities that Salazar held dear to be his own.

The boredom and dampness of the constant dreary weather brought young Salazar Slytherin to a monumental decision; it was a decision that would ultimately change the course of his life and the wizarding world forever.

He felt he must seek out this woman and see for himself if the rumors were true; see if she was his equal or even greater. Salazar felt that, if this proved to be the case, he must keep this woman close enough to learn any secret powers that he did not possess. His desire was that no one in the land be more powerful than he.

His mind set, Salazar bid his family a heartfelt farewell and set off for the eastern coast, not sure of where he was actually going but thrilled with the anticipation of the journey ahead of him.

As Salazar traveled from town to town in search of the woman, the rumors became stronger and stronger and leads to her whereabouts became more detailed by the day.

During his travels, young Salazar heard the whisperings of nocturnal creatures. He seemed to understand the Voices that whispered to him, but they were obviously not of human origin.

Soft hissing voices came to him early each evening. These voices often lead him to safe havens and clearings that were fertile hunting grounds. It was not until Salazar tripped and stumbled into a small den of snakes, in a wooded area, that the whispers turned to shouts. Reeling with surprise and alarm, he fought to right himself and deal with this unsettling turn of events.

He yelled out in fear of the snakes that approached him en mass. To his surprise, the snakes stopped advancing and one raised itself high above the others. It began speaking in a tongue that Salazar recognized as the whispering that had been guiding him.

Sudden realization struck him like a mighty blow to his head. He could speak with and understand these creatures. How could this be, he wondered? Is this yet another power that I have and must seek in others?

The snake that had raised high into the air spoke to Slytherin in a smooth hissing voice. It explained that Salazar had destroyed her home and killed many of her young. Her initial plan was to attack and destroy him. Now, after the revelation that he too could speak with her, she chose not to follow through with his demise. Loud hissing from her remaining young drowned out her words momentarily as a shocked Salazar looked on in dismay.

After some discussion between the young Slytherin and the mother snake, trust began to form. The snake told the young man the whereabouts of the woman he had been seeking. Whispers had carried upon the winds from nest to nest that one would come in search of knowledge; one that possessed the ability to speak with snakes; one who might ultimately change the direction of the world itself?

Armed with the information provided by the snake, Salazar set out early the next morning. Once again a fire burned hot in his belly, his determination reinvigorated.

As Salazar walked into a small eastern village that the snake had directed him to, he was greeted by a large group of children. They were running through the streets carrying streamers of colored fabric from which colorful sparkles flew.

At once Slytherin knew for sure that this was the place of the one he sought. The children played without fear of the stranger even though they were armed only with their magical toy streamers. The shooting, sparkling tails of these streamers reminded him of the many twinkling stars in the night’s sky. Such creations could only have been made by one bestowed with powers akin to his own.

Salazar’s heartbeat quickened as he approached one of the rollicking children.

“Where did you get such a wonderful toy as the one you possess?” Salazar excitedly questioned the child.

“Mistress Hufflepuff, of course.” The child answered. “Over there, in the small thatched house, the one surrounded by many flowers. That is where you will find her. If you ask nicely, I am sure she will make one for you and then you may join us in our game.”

“Thank you and please do save a place in line for me, won’t you?” Salazar said through a broad smile.

Off the child ran to catch up with his friends, looking back momentarily to give Slytherin a wave of his sparkling banner. With that, the youngster turned away and was quickly out of sight.

Again Salazar’s heartbeat began to quicken as he approached the roughhewn wood door. A firm knock was promptly followed by a warm and welcoming, “Come in, come in, all are welcome in my humble abode.”

As he entered he saw a rather disheveled, roundish young woman; a fire burned brightly in the hearth before her. As she removed a loaf of freshly baked bread, the aroma filled the small one room house, causing Salazar’s stomach to ache with hunger.

“Oh, please excuse my bad manners, please come, take a seat and partake in the bread and cheese with me. The dairy man has been so kind as to have brought me fresh cheese just this morning from his goats. Here, please take this plate and help yourself.”

The words were so warm and inviting that Salazar was instantly put greatly at ease. He felt that he somehow knew this woman though they had never met before. She had made his worries and fears fall by the wayside; the details of his passionate quest quickly burst forth, like a floodgate, from his lips.

After a remarkably short time, the two established a strong connection. Salazar told of his conquests and his travels to find those with the powers akin to his own. Helga, as she was named, spoke freely of how the town folk felt she was some sort of benevolent teacher. The children came to her when they were not assisting their families in the fields or hunting for food. She taught them to read and to write as well as how to recognize the types of birds and insects and other wild creatures; creatures that flocked to her home to spend time in her company.

The discussion came to a point where they reached an agreement and meeting of the minds. There should be a place where children with abilities akin to their own could come together; children who were at the moment scattered across the countryside. It should be a place of learning where their abilities could be harnessed and refined.

Helga was so enthralled with the idea of teaching such children that she shared with Salazar the rumor of a wealthy woman from the north in the land of the Scots. She was said to possess unbelievable powers as well as lands that stretched from one side of the Isle to the other.

Following a very comfortable night of rest on a fluffy quilt covered bed of straw, Salazar and Helga Hufflepuff set off on foot to find the rumored whereabouts’ of the mysterious woman in the land of the Scots.

A tear drifted down Helga’s rounded cheek as she waved a goodbye to the children and neighbors of her beloved village. She knew deep in her soul that she would never return but didn’t put those thoughts to words.

Over the paths and across the vast fields of the English Isle the two walked on. Each night they set up camp around a small fire. Food caught and collected by Salazar was cooked to delicious perfection by the talented Helga. They stayed up till nearly dawn each night sharing stories and tales of the abilities that each had learned they possessed.

Even so, Salazar kept many secrets to himself. He never fully shared with Helga all of his abilities. The fact that he could talk to and understand snakes was something he kept very close to his heart. Nor did he ever divulge some of his greatest achievements.

After many months into their quest, the duo finally arrived at the place where it was rumored the rich and powerful woman lived.

The rumors appeared to be true as they approached the quiet little town. The streets seemed to be paved with golden bricks and the street lamps burned bright without the assistance of wax candles or oil.

Helga approached a kindly looking old woman who was offering small bags of seed for very little money. Helga reached deep into her shabby overcoat and handed the old woman two small silver coins.

The old woman’s eyes lit up as if emeralds from the crown jewels of a mighty queen had been placed on her head. She handed over the small bag of seed and bent low to kiss Helga’s hand.

Helga’s cheeks turned a bright crimson as she took hold of the old woman and gave her a big bear hug, kissing her gently upon the top of her head.

“Do you know of a wealthy woman who possesses great powers?” Helga asked the old woman.

The Old woman pointed with her crooked finger to a structure that was silhouetted against the evening sky. “Ah, yes, indeed, you must be speaking of Lady Ravenclaw. She lives in the castle fortress upon that very hill.”
“Thank you, thank you very much and may your life be happy and blessed.” Helga patted the old woman’s hand with her own as she turned toward Salazar.

Salazar was already moving in the direction of the Castle. His excitement could not be contained. Poor Helga attempted to break into as quick a pace as her heavy legs could muster. Soon she caught up to Salazar but her huffing and puffing was also accompanied by cramping in her legs and back.

She bent low and begged Salazar to slow his pace. He turned abruptly and gave her a glare that sent a bit of a chill through her spine. Helga shook her head and pushed the slight feeling of fear out of her mind. Standing up straight up once more, she walked alongside the strapping young Slytherin.

A strong knock upon the large oak and wrought iron doors of the Castle caused an echo to reverberate throughout the interior.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a small servant who bowed low and beckoned the two visitors inside.

There Salazar and Helga were met by a vision of great grandeur and display of wealth. Helga nearly toppled over as she leaned back to view the ornately hand painted ceilings. Fresco upon Fresco covered the coffered and vaulted ceiling while dozens of richly colored tapestries hung two stories in length from the ceiling, nearly touching the highly polished granite floors.

Next to a tall mirror stood a very large open door which led to a richly decorated and welcoming room. The hearth of ornately carved marble contained a fully blazing fire.

Rowena Ravenclaw was seated In a delicate chair that faced the fireplace. Raising a hand she summoned her servant to her side. He whispered something in her ear that neither Salazar nor Helga was capable of making out.

The servant approached the visitors and once again bowed low with an outstretched arm, directing and presenting them to his mistress.

This servant was quite odd looking to Salazar. He did not appear to be human, exactly, but how could that be? Not human? He had huge eyes and pointed ears; one a bit floppy. The garb that he wore looked more akin to an ancient Roman Toga than any acceptable fashion he had ever seen.

“I know why you have come; your travels have been reported to me. Word has it that you are in search of others who possess powers likened to your own. Well, your search has led you to me and I can assure you that it has not been in vain.”

The young woman rose from her chair. Even though the lighting in the room was fairly low, it was sufficient to show the stunning beauty that this woman possessed. Her eyes were dark but sparkled bright as the moon. Her cheeks sat high above a beautiful mouth that was a natural cherry red. Her nose was finely shaped and led upward to a forehead that was adorned with a tiara of fine jewels; jewels that sparkled almost as brightly as did her eyes.

Rowena Ravenclaw moved with grace and ease, as she motioned to her guests to seat themselves upon the finely crafted sofa and chairs that faced her own.

The servant left the room while the visitors were mesmerized by the elegant beauty of the young woman. He re-entered the room with a tray laden with treats fit for a king or queen. Promptly placing the tray upon the table, he poured tea from a silver pot into fine porcelain cups. He handed one to each of the visitors along with small plates. Each of them was piled high with several types of sandwich wedges and delicate pastries. Suddenly, they heard a small *POP* and without warning he was gone.

Salazar and Helga were both amazed at what they had just witnessed. The servant had literally disappeared before their very eyes. Salazar rubbed his eyes and once again looked to the spot where the servant had vanished. It was true; this woman possessed powers that enabled her to do things Salazar could barely dream of attempting.

“You have come from far away, I have been informed. How may I assist you on your quest?” Asked Rowena as she once again seated herself.

Simultaneously Salazar and Helga responded with their plans to try to unite and then teach those with similar abilities. Details of the ideas and dreams of her visitors intrigued Rowena.

“I have lived here my entire life. I have loved, I have lost and I have lived on. My husband passed away shortly after my daughter was born; here in this very castle. The Ghost of his memory haunts me day and night and I find that if I do not escape this life I might go mad. I owe so much more to my daughter than this that I must find a way out of the prison that this castle has become. The thought of what might have been, of the lives we might have continued to share so happily together, haunts me. My only wish was for the two of us to watch our daughter grow up here, become a young lady, find love, and pass on that love on to children of her own. This was a dream that I will no longer be able to share with him.”

Rowena sobbed openly before regaining her composure. Her servant came to her aid with a soft hankie that she used to wipe the tears of loss from her beautiful eyes.

Salazar moved to Rowena’s side and knelt. Helga also came to her and took her hand into her own, giving it an extended squeeze of understanding.

Rowena finally spoke, doing so slowly and with great care:

“It has been reported to me from a reliable source that one with powers far beyond my own, resides on the western shores of the Isle. If we, oh I am sorry to be so presumptuous. That is, if you would allow me to become part of your group, may we set out in search of this young man? He is said to have performed great deeds of heroism and to be just and brave. He is also said to be strong and respected by all who make his acquaintance. This is someone that surely would make a great teacher of the youth that you, or shall I say we, will attempt to unite.”

Rowena next presented an offer that she was sure would be welcomed by her fellow, gifted souls.

“I have inherited from my father and from his father’s father, the lands in the north of the Isle. It is well hidden from those who would search for it, and known only to those of us with the ability to see it. It is a rocky outcropping surrounded by a deep and placid lake. Framed by peaked mountains it is also quite high and rugged. Beside it lies a forest of such great depth and darkness that no one who has ventured in has ever returned. “

“I would like to offer this land on which you can build your school to teach the young and talented amongst us. First, however, I wish to find this great and respected young man and include him in our numbers.”

Salazar and Helga were both thrilled and humbled by the offer of Rowena’s vast wealth and land holdings. Salazar promptly took her hand and shook upon the agreement as Helga welcomed her into their small fold with open arms.

The next morning the three of them set out upon sturdy steeds accompanied by Rowena’s servant. He rode upon a white beauty that had a horn jutting out of its forehead in a spiraling form. The servant bundled Rowena’s infant daughter into a package that he carried on his back.

After many days and nights, they arrived at the western shores of the Isle, entering a small moor. There were few structures and even fewer residents that could be found what had turned into a cold and snowy night.

It was Christmas Eve and the only lighted structure was a small tavern near the end of the town’s small row of buildings.

After Salazar dismounted his horse, tying it to a small hitching post just outside the entrance way, he knocked on the door. It was opened promptly by a rough yet very handsome middle aged Inn keeper.

The keep bowed to his visitors and welcomed them into the establishment. There at the end of a single long scrubbed wood table was a large stone hearth ablaze with kettles and a roasting goose. The cooking bird turned slowly on a spit as it glistened above the roaring fire.

Rich aromas of cooking food filled the large room. The group was motioned to benches on each side of the long tavern table where they were promptly seated.

Plates were placed before them as the servant handed the infant child to Rowena. A soft gurgling sound came from the swaddling blankets and only the angelic face of the child could be seen. The infant’s blue eyes shown brilliantly from the reflection of light cast from the hearth and the many lanterns that hung from the taverns stucco and hewn wood walls.

After a short period of time, the keep returned with a servant. This servant looked familiar to Salazar; it was apparent that it was the same type of creature as that one who served Rowena Ravenclaw.

Tankards were placed before each of the visitors and filled to their brims, topped with an overflowing head of foam. The pewter plates before them were quickly filled with fowl and potato’s and squashes all piping hot and looking as delicious as anything any of the visitors had ever eaten before.

After a few mouthfuls of the wonderful bounty, Salazar asked the keep if he had any knowledge of a young man of great deeds and abilities that was rumored to reside in the area.

The Inn keep began to laugh heartily to the amazement of his guests.

“Ah, yes, the one you seek. Yes, I know of him. Know of him well, as he is my son. The flesh of my own loin, a mighty lion of manly youth is he. He possesses powers beyond compare that have been handed down from father to son from the beginning of time, from my fathers, fathers, father. From the Peverel’s our waters do spring. From he who was the youngest of the fabled fathers three, he is the youngest of their bloodline indeed. “

The Inn keep puffed up his chest with great pride. He then turned to his servant and requested the presence of his son, “at once”.

With a loud *POP* the servant was gone. Once again, Salazar and Helga were astonished by the vanishing figure before them. Rowena went on to explain that these servants were known as House Elves. They serve their masters every need, are very ancient and magically gifted creatures.

Rowena went on to tell of tales of the Unicorn upon which her House Elf and infant daughter rode, the illusive Centaurs in the forest and of many other creatures of lore that were not lore at all but were in fact real.

The back door of the Inn opened and in walked a tall and very handsome, strapping young man. Clad in heavy furs to help keep him warm, he had obviously been outside in the cold; ice and snow clung to his Ginger colored hair. Helga smiled broadly as she too was of the Ginger persuasion and was always pleased to see one of her own. She was especially pleased to meet one as grand and handsome as this young man.

“Ah, yes, let me introduce my son; Godric Gryffindor, torch bearer of the powers of the Peverel’s and the heir to magical history itself. “

With this, the Inn Keep stepped back and allowed his son to welcome their guests in an appropriate fashion.

After introductions were made, the tales of the four were exchanged until late into the night. Finally the elder Gryffindor closed up the Inn and led his guests to their rooms for the night.

The discussions and conversations began again first thing the very next morning over a breakfast of fresh eggs, bacon and toasted breads. Cold buttermilk was poured into pewter tankards and all partook of a most hearty meal.

Godric agreed with the offer to come and begin a school for youth who were similarly gifted as this group of four. Having grown up knowing about magical history, Godric knew that he was what others referred to as a Wizard, Warlock or even Sorcerer.

He went on to explain that Helga and Rowena were indeed Witches or Sorceresses and that his own mother was also one of their kind. She had perished many years earlier during an unfortunate incident involving a Dragon.

“A DRAGON” shouted Salazar. “Have you ever seen such a creature?”

“Yes he certainly has!” The elder Gryffindor chimed in.

“My son, Godric Gryffindor is the greatest Dragon Slayer in all the land!”

“Go on father; enough of your boasting about me. I am but a simple man who was born with magical powers. It would be my honor and duty to come and join you in your quest to unify and teach those who know not of who or what they truly are.”

The fire in the hearth was stoked once more and the four sat around it for many more hours discussing how they would go about creating the place of magical learning. The bond they formed strengthened as the embers in the hearth turned white and hot.

They agreed to set out for the lands that Rowena would bestow upon them a few days later. The snow had subsided as the sun raised high in the sky. A brisk wind would accompany them along their journey.

Weeks after leaving the western coastal home of the Gryffindor’s and following the guidance of Rowena Ravenclaw, the group approached a mighty frozen lake. It was surrounded by majestic mountains that rose high above the clouds, with peeks covered in caps of glistening white.

A forest for as far as the eye could see stretched out beyond this icy expanse. The lush greens of Pine mingled with a brown wood canopy of the mighty oaks, elms and elder trees.

The four plus infant and servant led their horses and Unicorn through a small passageway in the mountains where they were greeted by the rocky landscape that would become their home.

“The mighty granite that is so abundant upon this site will make for a structure that will withstand the ages.” Godric stated as he stood tall and strong. His hands rested on his hips as his eyes rose to the cloudless sky above.

“Yes, we shall build here. For this is where we have been blessed to have been led to.” Salazar spoke firmly as he took Rowena’s hand.

Rowena in turn reached out and took the hand of the astonished Helga Hufflepuff whose mouth remained agape in amazement and in awe of the sheer beauty of the land upon which they would create the school.

Salazar looked to the others and queried with strength and conviction in his voice; “What shall we call this Wizarding School? What would be a fitting name for the greatest place of learning and betterment of the greatest creatures to have ever walked upon this earth?”

Helga looked down at the ground upon which they all stood. There she noticed the lovely and delicate Hogwarts Flowers that were blooming in spite of the blanket of snow that covered the landscape.

The flowers stretched from the shore of the lake to the base of the majestic mountains, to the very edge of the forest.

Helga bent low and plucked a small handful of the delicate flowers, taking in a breath of its fragrant perfume.

“Hogwarts, I so do love Hogwarts,” she stated; oblivious to the others who were looking on and listening.

“Yes, from the earth itself, the gift given to us today is embodied in the lovely Hogwarts Flower.” Rowena agreed.

“Yes, how fitting to use something as graceful as the Hogwarts flower; delicate in appearance, yet thriving alongside the rugged granite these grounds and mountains are made of?” Godric beamed at the sight of the the soft flowers and the hard stone; beauty and strength, how well they went together.

“Hogwarts it is then!” Salazar boomed. His voice carried by the winds, echoed across the frozen lake.

Helga stood stunned as she realized that her innocent musings had somehow both put a name to and crystalized what had heretofore been just an idea; albeit a passionate one. This realization passed between all of them wordlessly. Humbled and silent, they gazed in wonder at this majestic place; a place where their idea would become a reality. They tried to imagine how being here would shape the lives of the youth fortunate enough to attend. They dared to hope that it would become known as a respected place of learning within the wizarding community.

As they stood dreaming about what could or might be there was something none of them imagined, something none of them could possibly know; The survival of everything their world held dear would ultimately be decided at this place, a place they would all call home, a place they had just named; “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”…….

[misscharlotte]

Title: Fear Not For I Am
Prompt: Dear Mr. Longbottom
Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was softly lit and filled mostly with rows of metal beds dressed in crisp white linens. Single pillows rested like hats at the head of their metal frames. Drawn back in an accordion fashion, curtains stood like sentinels between each of the empty beds. Silently they watched and waited for the arrival of the sick and injured.

A Medi-Witch placed her hand upon the young man’s shoulder. She was similarly crisp and white in her uniform and hat; a pair of red wands embroidered on the latter.

“I am so sorry young man but you really do need to leave now. Your Grandmother is waiting for you in the corridor and not very patiently I might add.”

As he looked up into her deep green eyes, panic leaped into his throat causing him to feel suddenly very flushed and clammy.

Running from the room the blur of white turned to grey; fog started swirling about as he reached the corridor…

-----§-----

Feeling his Uncle’s hands wrap themselves around his ankles, his head wound up where his feet had been and he was promptly ejected out of an open window. Long gauzy curtains wrapped around his flailing arms as he hurtled into the blinding sunlight.

“Now, now, calm down. Stop wiggling you; it is a test, just a little bit of fun to see what you are really made of!”

His Uncle’s voice seemed jovial but fear caused a loud ringing in his ears that almost blocked out all sound.

A woman’s voice offered his uncle a slice of pie; was she coming to save him? Sudden release was followed by shear panic; his insides flip flopped as he began what was now a free-fall. He closed his eyes as tightly as possible as the ground rushed towards him.

-----§-----

…“boy, you there, boy, get hold of that toad or I will have it put into a cauldron and stewed for your lunch. Do you hear me? I will not repeat myself young man. Get that creature of yours and get yourself on that train. I will not be the only Witch left standing with her charge as that train pulls out of the station. “

“Ye,ye,yes Gran.” The sheepish boy whispered as he looked up at the stern faced witch.

Her craggy features looked as if they were carved out of a single block of grey granite. Hands thrust firmly upon her hips; she tapped the toe of her high-laced leather boot. The point of the boot caught his attention as a gush of steam engulfed him followed by the sudden blast of the trains whistle.

“Thump, thump, thump, thump.” The beating of his heart was so palpable that it seemed as if it had moved all the way up into his throat and was about to burst from his open mouth

“Trevor, Trevor where are you?”

The floor shifted under his feet and the carpeted flooring of the corridor on the Hogwarts Express rushed toward his face, then he saw stars…

“Tre, Tre, Trevor”; the tip of his tongue caught a little trickle of blood as it made its way from the corner of his mouth. The iron taste was all too familiar, he thought. Then the pain set in.

A firm yet inquisitive voice breached his self-absorbed misery. “Are you all right? Here, take this; you have a bit of blood on your chin, did you know? Just there.”

A soft white satin hankie dangled from a small hand. He took it readily as he sat upright.

The back and forth rocking of the train caused a bit of a sick feeling in his stomach as he dabbed at the corner of his mouth. Looking at the now stained hanky, the two embroidered letters, “HG”, caught his attention.

“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one. Well if you do, please let us know.” The young witch’s voice repeated time and again as door after door slammed shut and howls of laughter filtered out into the corridor. Again a feeling of utter distress and loneliness settled in Neville’s stomach.

“Oy, you, lard butt, maybe you ate the thing. You will figure it out when you belch it up as we pull into the station.” The brash blonde wizard doubled over with laughter at his own attempt at humor.

“Yeah, belch it up,” parroted the lump of a figure that sat opposite the young “comic”.

Before they could attempt to move on, the door to the compartment slammed in their faces. This one, however, caught the edge of Neville’s cloak; one tug and he was down again.

As he lifted his head up, the train lurched forward and then back violently. Many compartment doors slid open, their occupants rushing out into the corridor….

The foggy feeling in his head mingled with murmurs and laughter.

Cool yet fresh air burnt into his lungs as if he had breathed in the fire of a dragon. The darkness that surrounded him gave way to many rushing figures; lamp posts cast a scary play of light upon each and every face, all of which seemed to be laughing, snarling or leering at him.

…A cloak of self-consciousness started to engulf him when, suddenly, a feeling of great pressure upon his shoulder caused him to cast his eyes upward.

A hand the size of a huge ham had his shoulder in its grip. Panic caused him to stutter as a bit of spittle dribbled from his lip and ran down his chin.

“Therz, ther. Is this feller a fren of yers”, a mighty yet gentle voice boomed in his ear.

Slowly Neville’s vision focused on the grayish green object that had been placed just inches in front of him…

“TREVOR!”

His hand instinctively reached out.

“CROAK”

-----§-----


Sitting in the rocking boat made his stomach once again go jumpy. Leaning over the edge of the small vessel, in an attempt to steady him, only caused more nausea.

“Focus, focus, get a hold of yourself. It’s not that bad. Who am I kidding? Yes it is; they are going to know that I don’t belong here. I am nothing more than a fraud. They are going to see right through all of this and laugh at me. Maybe they will send me to Azkaban! Even worse, they might send me back to Gran with a letter pinned to my robes…”


“Bones, Susan,,,,,,,,,,,, Granger, Hermione,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Finneg,,,,,,,,,,,Longbrottom, Neville.”

“LONGBOTTOM, NEVILLE.” The echo was deafening. The pounding in his ears blocked everything out, UNTIL:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Mr. Longbottom, MR. LONGBOTTOM will you please return the sorting hat to the stool, at once?”

The cackling voice scared him to his very core. He looked toward the ceiling just as walking sticks began to pelt him. He stumbled and slipped on them, losing his footing on the stone stairway.

-----§-----

Sitting on the four-poster bed and surrounded by darkness, he was suddenly homesick. The feeling of being utterly alone engulfed him once again. Though he knew that others shared the room with him, he believed that they didn’t even notice he existed.

“Croak.”

“sssssshhhhhhhhhh, Trevor.”

The glow of the Pot Bellied burner in the center of the room cast a bit of light through the heavily draped red curtains that hung from the bedposts.

Placing Trevor on his pillow, he reached into a rucksack that sat on the nightstand next to his bed.

Trying to be as quiet as he could, he held his breath as he rummaged through the bits and bobs that partially filled out the canvas bag. Finally, there it was. His fingertips felt the smooth surface then the fold of the crisp corner. He pulled it out as gently as he could.

The weak light that filtered through the curtain was barely enough for him to make out the beautiful writing on the piece of parchment.

Unfolding the paper, he looked at it as if it were the first time he had ever seen it. This was far from the case as he had read it over and over again; first with doubt, then with an almost giddy humor. Ultimately, humor was replaced by an utter and invasive fear.

Tears streamed down his cheeks and blurred his vision. Nonetheless, he strained to see clearly enough to read what he already knew by heart….

“Dear Mr. Longbottom,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.


Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall”

[misscharlotte]

Title: The Root of All Evil
Prompt: Herbology with Professor Sprout
Written by; Duddahs the Great Barn Owl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



“Mr. Malfoy, MR. GOYLE, will you please stop kicking Mr. Longbottom? Just leave him there and l will tend to him later. Now off with you, into greenhouse number 5 with the others. Get on with it gentleman, I will be there shortly.”


In an attempt to tidy herself up, Professor Sprout brushed back several unruly strands of hair from her forehead. Having used her fertilizer encrusted gloved hands; however, all she managed to do was leave a clump of dragon dung sticking to her hair, which hung limply from beneath her pointed hat.


“What she should have done is ground “Lard Bottom” up and used him as fertilizer. That way he would actually be serving a useful purpose here at Hogwarts.” Laughed Draco; pleased with his own “clever” remarks. Obediently, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle joined in; snickering and laughing along with their “leader”.


As the trio approached the entrance to greenhouse number 5, the noticeable lack of light and extreme humidity made it feel as if the walls were closing in around them.


“Draco, this place stinks like the back end of a Dragon.” Goyle protested.


“Yeah, stinks like the back end of a Dragon on a hot day.” chimed in Crabbe, whose words were almost unintelligible. He always sounded far more as if he were speaking Mountain Troll than any known human language.


“Shut it you two, if you think I am going to go in there and make believe that I give a rats behind about any of this stupid dirt digging and plant killing, you have another thing coming to you. Now get on with it and get in there; just let me know if there is anything that I need to be aware of.” Draco demanded of his cohorts. With that he roughly shoved the much larger Gregory Goyle through the darkened doorway.


As Crabbe and Goyle disappeared into the gloomy interior, Draco glanced at the door behind him when a quick flash caught his eye; there in the corner. The bit of light that filtered in through the filthy ceiling panes of greenhouse number 4 danced across the outstretched leaves of what appeared a GOLD PLANT. He vaguely remembered his father mentioning the existence of such things when he was younger, but now, could the rumors be true? Did they actually exist?


If so, it was best not to let anyone else know about it. If he was foolish enough to share this discovery with those two “imbeciles”, Crabbe and Goyle, they would surely blurt it out to the first person who showed them the slightest attention. He shuddered to think of how quickly word would spread throughout the entire school.


“Mr. Malfoy, did I not make myself perfectly clear? I believe I directed you to join your classmates in greenhouse number 5; this is greenhouse number 4 and if I am not mistaken, you are capable of counting to higher than the number 4, are you not?” Professor Sprout sarcastically chided the young blonde wizard.


Malfoy shot Professor Sprout an evil glare just as she turned her back to him. He instinctively reached into his robes, running his fingers over the wand concealed there. “Lucky for you Sprout; one more word out of you and I would have permanently separated your pistil from your stamen!” The words remained unspoken but reverberated loudly and angrily in Draco’s head.


Once again the golden plant caught Draco’s attention. It was mostly obscured by mature Venomous Tentacula plants whose blood red vines and leaves appeared to guard their fabled treasure. It seemed obvious to Draco that these vicious, Wizard Eating plants were not accidentally placed in this fashion; no, not an accident at all……


As Draco pondered this last thought, his reverie was disrupted by loud guttural noises; “Draco, come on, you have to see this! You’re not gonna believe what is in here!” The voice shouted.


“It was that fool Crabbe!” “Keep your shorts on Crabbe, I will be there when I get there, do you understand me?” Realizing that his absence might create suspicion and thereby threaten his secret, Draco reluctantly headed towards greenhouse number 5.


“Look, LOOK at this Draco; what the heck is this thing?” Crabbe pointed down at the furiously writhing figure of a girl. The second year Ravenclaw student had come in contact with a vine that was now inexplicably wrapping itself around her with great speed.


“Out of my way, OUT OF MY WAY!” Professor Sprout shouted in an obviously agitated state. With a quick swish and flick of her wrist, a bolt of light shot from the tip of the professor’s wand, hitting the attacking vine near its base. The vine retreated quickly, leaving a hysterical and sobbing young girl in its wake.


Harry Potter and Professor Sprout arrived alongside the girl at about the same moment and tried to provide comfort.


“Thank you Mr. Potter but I can handle this from here. Now please take Mr. Malfoy and the rest of your fellow students and get them to move those piles of Dragon Dung from the back of the greenhouse to the pots I have provided for each of you”.


Professor Sprout reached into her shabby soil stained cloak to once again retrieve her wand. Having pointed it toward the frosted glass ceiling of the darkened greenhouse, red sparks started to shoot out in small intervals. These tiny sparks grew into large glowing balls of light that rose high into the air outside and above the confines of the greenhouse.


Within moments, Hagrid rushed into the greenhouse and stopped alongside the sobbing Ravenclaw.


“On with you, I will not repeat myself, do you hear me?” admonished Professor Sprout”. If I catch any of you not busying yourselves with your set task then I will be forced to take twenty points from each and every offender’s house; now get on with it, no dawdling!”


As Draco, Goyle, Crabbe and Harry hurried off towards the rear of dimly lit greenhouse number 5; Draco could not resist looking back one last time. What he saw made his throat constrict with alarm. Professor Sprout and Hagrid were whispering to each other while she pointed in the direction of greenhouse number 4; home of the golden plant. Fear that their conversation involved his discovery caused the small hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end and sent a small chill running down his spine.



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Later that evening, long after the dinner feast had ended, most Slytherin students left their common room to retire to the comforts of their own beds. In one dimly lit corner, however, three exceptions remained.


“But Draco, why can’t I go to bed? I’m tired and we have Transfiguration first thing in the morning. I don’t even have my homework half done. Blast that McGonagall, if she had half a brain she would know I don’t give a Skrewt’s blast about turning stupid Gold fish into gold coins.” Goyle grumbled in agitation.


“Yeah, who gives a Blast?” Crabbe repeated.


Draco looked nervously first at Goyle then towards Crabbe. Had either of them seen the Golden Plant in greenhouse number 4? Why would they mention GOLD FISH and GOLD COINS? Those two never finished their homework and paid even less attention to what was going on in class.


Assuring himself that the mention of gold in their conversation was mere coincidence, Draco brushed off the comments; he considered it just more of the same dumb, idle chatter that habitually flowed from those two" idiots”.


“I want the both of you to offer to do some extra credit by shoveling and potting for Professor Sprout on Thursday. I need the two of you to provide cover so that I can get into the other greenhouses without anyone else suspecting that I want to be alone back there. Do you understand me? You are not to mention this to anyone, NOT TO ANYONE less you want my father to have a little sit down chat with your fathers. Get my drift?”


Both Crabbe and Goyle stared blankly at Draco as if they were honestly trying to figure out the instructions they had just been given.


“No problem Draco, I don’t care anyway, just wanna get out of having to spend any more time with those goody-goody Gryffindors. “ Goyle assured Malfoy.


“Yeah, goody-goodies?” Crabbe babbled.


“Just do it and everything will be fine, mess up and you know what will happen.” Draco threatened.



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It pained Draco to have to wait for Thursday to come. He had been so absorbed in his plot to get into greenhouse number 4 undetected that he had neglected to do any of his class assignments. He had even drawn the ire of Professor Snape, his favorite teacher at Hogwarts, for creating a cauldron of fowl smelling goo instead of the crystal clear, freezing draught that had been the object of the class assignment.


Malfoy barely took notice of the fact that he was to be spending detention with the likes of Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom, all of whom likewise failed to successfully complete the task.


By the time Thursday morning finally came, Draco’s nervous anticipation was palpable.


His plan started off without a hitch when he, Crabbe and Goyle were all given the chance to improve their grades by helping out at the greenhouses after class. They were to shovel heaping mounds of freshly composted Dragon Dung, rotted Pumpkin and other organic materials in specified areas behind the greenhouses.


“Why aren’t you shoveling with us Draco? This was your idea to begin with. Just can’t figure out why you suddenly think we need to get better grades in Herbology. Not as if I am going to grow up and become some sort of Tilden Toots yah know.” Goyle complained as sweat dripped down his forehead.


“Yeah, no Tilden Toots.” repeated Crabbe.


“Shut it you two. Keep shoveling and do it quietly. I don’t want anyone knowing what is going on.” Draco instructed his fellow Slytherin.


With that Draco walked the length of the structure, to the end, where a door connected greenhouses number 4 and 5.


Draco had always prided himself on his sly and stealthy manner; he had always been able to creep into the smallest and most innocuous places without being detected. Self-absorbed, he was oblivious to the fact that others considered these to be the traits of a sneak.


Careful to avoid making any noise that might give him away, Draco opened the door and entered the darkened interior of number 4. Once inside, he securely closed and locked the door before cautiously proceeding further.


As he did so, the stench of fresh Dragon Dung burned his nostrils. He swallowed hard, holding back a bit of sick that had risen in his throat. “Those oafs had better keep shoveling. If they give me away I am going to curse them and their offspring for centuries to come,” Draco vowed silently before proceeding forward.


Suddenly, there it was; just a glimpse from behind the blood red vines and leaves whose illusion of continuous movement attempted to trick the eye and keep the shimmering gold from view.


Draco steadied himself before scanning his surroundings to make sure that nobody else was nearby. Proceeding toward his goal, he reached deep within his robes and withdrew a pair of Dragon Hide gloves. As he slid them on, he knelt in front of the bed of plants that concealed his “prize”.


Without warning Draco felt a sudden sense of strangulation as his airway was constricted. Without knowing how it had come about, he realized that something had bound his arms to his torso. They were now firmly pinned to his sides, leaving him virtually unable to move. As the breath was slowly squeezed out of him, he fell to his side in a fetal position, just inches from the plant he so coveted.


Attempting to break free of his attacker, Draco rolled on his side only to realize that he was in the full grip of a massive Devil’s Snare plant. Its long tentacle like vines grabbed wildly at his limbs. At the same time he became aware of yet another attacker; the Venomous Tentacula. It was as if thousands of tiny daggers were pricking his hands, the only body part over which he still maintained some control.


Stunned at how suddenly he had been immobilized by the Devils Snare plant, Draco looked on helplessly as the sharp bites of the Venomous Tentacula intensified in an onslaught that became more ferocious by the second.


As Draco felt himself slipping into a semi-conscious state, the already darkened greenhouse became fuzzy and out of focus. He could not breathe, he could not yell, he believed that he was going to die. In fact, he was sure of it…


“Malfoy! MALFOY!” the voice momentarily cut through his mental fog before everything went black.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Brilliant white light flooded his mind as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.


Draco found himself lying in a bed in the infirmary, surrounded by several figures whose details he was still incapable of discerning. Attempting to sit up, he quickly discovered that he had neither the strength nor the ability to do so.


“Ah, I see our Mr. Malfoy has come back to the world of the living. Thank you Mr. Malfoy for joining us.”


The voice rumbled around Draco’s semi-conscious mind until he finally concluded that it belonged to none other than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.


“Madam Pomfrey, if you would, please bring the others here; I have a few questions for Mr. Malfoy that I believe he will finally be capable of answering ” Dumbledore instructed the Medi Witch.


A group of figures drew closer to Draco’s bedside as his vision became a bit more focused. There, standing alongside the others, were the pained faces of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The sight of Professor Dumbledore’s Gold half-moon shaped glasses inspired a sudden sense of panic in the young ailing wizard.


“Pro, Pro, Professor, what happened? Why am I being held here against my will?” Draco’s attempt to sound strong and defiant emerged as nothing more than a hoarse whisper.


“Ah, Mr. Malfoy, let me assure you that you are no longer being held anywhere against your will. You have though been subjected to a very severe attack and poisoning from the Venomous Tentacula plant that, for some reason, you decided to befriend. Why? I do not know, but I can assure you that the entire planting bed, in which that particular creature resided, has now been removed from the greenhouse for the safety of all concerned. Our caretaker Mr. Hagrid has assured me that it is in safe hands and that we do not have to worry about any students coming in contact with it in the future.” The subtly admonishing tone, in which these “reassuring” words of Headmaster Dumbledore were delivered, carried with it an implied warning.


“Buh, buh, buh, but where?” Draco croaked.


“Never you mind Mr. Malfoy. I can assure you that neither you nor anyone else will accidentally stumble upon its whereabouts. “Chided Professor Sprout.


“Yes, and you might wish to give a round of Thanks to your fellow student here for saving your life. “Dumbledore suggested.


A figure moved forward into Draco’s line of vision.


“YOU?”


Draco suddenly found enough strength to sit up and point directly at his savior, whose face wore a sheepish grin and who stood with a slightly bowed head; hands firmly thrust into the outer pockets of his cloak.


“Yes you see Mr. Malfoy, if it was not for the fact that Mr. Longbottom had also been given extra credit by Professor Sprout, your life may well have been squeezed out of you by the Devils Snare plant. That or you may have succumbed to the poisonous bites of the Venomous Tentacula. Dangerous things that they both are, the utmost care should always be taken when one ventures across their paths.” Dumbledore firmly informed everyone.


Stunned into silence, Draco thought to himself “Longbottom saved my life?” and then without a trace of irony; when I get out of here I’ll deal with him, by the time I‘m finished HE’ll WISH HE HADN’T!”