Fic Challenge #45; Fic (no challenge); Drabble Challenge #7, 52; Ficlet Challenge #16, 26, 34, 50
Title: Fundraising
Summary: Snape endures another Death Eater Meeting. For Fic Challenge #45.
Characters/Pairings: Snape, Voldemort, various Death Eaters
Genre: Humor
Rating/Warnings: PG/PG-13 for language
Word Count: 505
Severus Snape was bored. He was so very very bored. To make matters worse, he was also very very tired. You wouldn't think it would be possible to be bored at a Death Eater meeting, but you would be very very wrong. Snape had been up late last night grading the miserable essays of his fourth years and working on his (so far) sixty-seven volume collection of sonnets about Lily. This volume was particularly challenging because it was devoted entirely to the subject of her scent. So, he was running on about three and a half hours of sleep to begin with, followed by teaching all goddamn day, followed by a staff meeting, followed by a bloody Order meeting, and now he was at the second of Voldemort's bi-weekly Death Eater meetings. He was tired. He was annoyed. Above all, he was bored.
Voldemort was late, of course. He always did this. Some of Death Eaters attributed this to the Dark Lord's little known hatred of wearing watches, but personally, Snape thought it had more to do with Voldemort's preference for being "fashionably late" to everything. In between plotting world domination through mass murder and getting his hands on the Potter boy, Voldemort had some rather irritating topics he liked to raise during meetings. Snape was especially not looking forward to tonight's meeting because the topic was Fundraising. No matter how many times the Death Eaters tried to convince Voldemort that together they possessed a great deal of wealth and would not need any additional funds to accomplish their goals, fundraising was one of his favorite side-projects. The last car wash hadn't gone very well. Snape was beginning to worry that Voldemort was going to suggest they hold an evil bake sale next.
By the time Voldemort actually arrived, Snape had very nearly fallen asleep in his chair. One of the many advantages to serving Dumbledore over Voldemort was that it was far safer to ridicule Dumbledore when he deserved it. One was far less likely to end up cursed or dead. Snape let himself drift away in thought as the meeting began in earnest. If he was caught daydreaming, he would just spit out something about Potter and his friends. His thoughts returned to his sonnets. Recently, he had been considering writing several volumes of hate poetry about all of his enemies. The discussion on fundraising was going about as expected. No one was brave enough to come right out and contradict Voldemort even though they really really didn't need to raise any money.
"What about selling something, my Lord?" suggested someone at the other end of the table.
"Ah, now there's an idea, Rookwood," said Voldemort. "What would you suggest we sell?"
"Perhaps cookies, my Lord?"
"Cookies?"
"Everyone likes cookies, my Lord," said Rookwood.
"That may be, but who shall we sell them to?" asked the Dark Lord. Finally, Snape could hold his tongue no more.
"I think a lack of market was the issue with the car wash, my Lord," sighed Snape.
Title: Mundungus Fletcher is a Dirty Old Man
Summary: Harry catches Mundungus with stolen goods. No challenge. I am so sorry, you guys.
Characters/Pairings: Mundungus/Harry, completely and totally one-sided on the part of Mundungus
Genre: Crack, Drama
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, umm...oxygen deprivation?
Word Count: 320
"Well, I'll see you all-- OUCH!" Mundungus could not breathe for two reasons. The first reason was that his windpipe was being held forcibly closed by a hand and the tip of a wand. The second reason was that the hand belonged to an extremely angry Harry Potter. Hermione cried out in the background, but Mundungus could only focus on the piercing green eyes mere inches from his own. His brain was quickly losing the ability to think, but a twinge of self-consciousness flitted through his brain when he realized how bad he must smell.
"You took that from Sirius's house. That had the Black family crest on it." said Harry. Mundungus didn't usually think of himself as a dirty old man. A thief, yes, but not a dirty old man! Still, he couldn't help it. Here was the apparent savior, the Chosen One, who was most definitely not a little boy anymore, holding him bodily against a wall.
"I--no--what--?" Mundungus managed to say. Speaking was becoming extremely difficult.
"What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?" God, did he have to use the word "strip" just now? Make no mistake, Mundungus was worried about responding to Harry's accusations, but right now he was far more worried about how he was responding to something else entirely. Harry smelled like fresh air and soap and raw power. He had to escape at all costs.
"I--no--" he coughed.
"Give it to me!" Harry thundered. How was this even fair? The girl shouted something else, but Mundungus could not hear her. With a loud bang, Harry's hands were removed from Mundungus's throat. A relieved Mundungus disapparated with a crack as soon as he could lay hands on his case. He landed in a London alleyway, breathing hard. Maybe if he sold enough stolen goods today, he would be able to afford some decent counseling.
Title: Big Things Come in Small Packages
Summary: Rita Skeeter discovers her Animagus form. Drabble Challenge #7.
Characters/Pairings: Rita Skeeter.
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 100
Rita could not believe it. She had spent years, working in careful secrecy, to finally achieve the ultimate feat of transfiguration. After so much effort, she was an Animagus at long last, but the victory was hollow. Her long-awaited form was nothing more than a small, unremarkable beetle. She quickly transformed back into a human and looked forlornly at the full length mirror she had placed against the wall to admire her animal form. Her beetle self was too small even to see itself over the bottom edge of the frame. How would she ever make this work for her?
Title: Dudley's Dream
Summary: Dudley announces his new ambition. For Drabble Challenge #52.
Characters/Pairings: Dudley, Vernon, Petunia
Genre: Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 98
Dudley came downstairs to the kitchen. Harry was nowhere to be found, which was just as well. Dudley looked at his parents and said, "I am going to become a ballerina."
Aunt Petunia was reading a celebrity news magazine and seemed not to hear him. Uncle Vernon was beginning to turn purple, and managed to croak out a confused "What did you say?" in response.
"I am GOING to become a BALLERINA!" announced Dudley a second time, a bit louder. This time his mother heard him.
"WHAT?" she shrieked.
"I AM GOING TO BECOME A BALLERINA!" bellowed Dudley.
Title: The Llama Farm
Summary: Snape never wanted to be a teacher. For Drabble Challenge #52.
Characters/Pairings: Snape
Genre: Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 100
Severus Snape was sad. It didn't have anything to do with his unhappy love life or his work as a double agent. He was upset because this was the third time this year that he had not been able to buy a plot of land in South American. He wanted desperately to leave behind his life in Europe, and failing that, he at least wanted to plan a comfortable retirement in another land. You see, it was Snape's dearest wish to become a llama breeder. He had always been fascinated by llamas, but his life had not gone as planned.
Title: Noodles
Summary: 8 year old Fred and George perform some accidental magic. For Drabble Challenge #52. Prompt from Jay (lmpetuous)!
Characters/Pairings: Fred, George, Molly
Genre: Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 100
"What do you think he eats?" Fred asked George.
"I don't know. Maybe noodles," answered George.
"What happened anyway, George?"
"Well, I saw Dad's wand on the kitchen table, and I couldn't resist, you know?"
"We're going to be in huge trouble when Mum gets back," said Fred. "Oi! Keep ahold of him!"
"Sorry! I've got him now." George was beginning to regret ever touching that wand. Fred placed a bowl of noodles in front of the creature, but he just looked at them. Molly arrived only to find that her twins had somehow transfigured the footstool into a monkey.
Title: Auror Training
Summary: Harry suffers through Auror Training after the war. For Ficlet Challenge #16.
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Harry/Ginny vaguely implied, but you can read around it
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 482
Auror training was grueling, but Harry James Potter was no quitter. It was by no means the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life. It wasn't even in the top ten. Nevertheless, it was difficult, and his instructors' demanding requirements would have made Oliver Wood proud. Every day Harry went home to his flat completely physically and mentally exhausted. The physical part was proving harder than anything else. Let's just say that Harry's grasp on the practical importance of learning defensive and protective magic was better than your average recruit. He had always been moderately atheletic. As a young child, he had learned to outrun Dudley and his friends out of necessity, though that wasn't terribly demanding by the time they were about six or seven. He had played quidditch throughout school, of course, managed not to die in any of the Triwizard Tournament, and he had needed to rely on his physical abilities numerous times during the war. All the same, no one except Oliver had ever made Harry really train day in and day out. It wasn't so much actually running the laps or lifting the weights so much as it was having to show up at five o'clock in the morning each day to do it.
Harry's life was a blur. He staggered home every evening to eat whatever he had on hand and stumble into bed, only to get up in what seemed very much like five minutes later, and do it all over again. He had gone through more pairs of socks and trainers in the past four months than he had during the entire rest of his life prior, and because he was rubbish at mending spells, he had to keep replacing them. He saw Ron and Hermione sometimes on Sundays. He wrote to Ginny here and there, and sometimes she was able to visit, but her life as a rookie quidditch player was about as grueling, and it kept her very busy.
Needless to say, the whole Ministry was a bit of a shambles by the time the war was over. Several aurors had been pulled out of retirement to help teach recruits. Kingsley Shacklebolt was pleased with the program, and as far as Harry was concerned, it was more than sufficient training. Hermione had read several books on the subject just after Harry had started training. Harry hadn't had the time to really read them, but from what he had gathered, his class was pretty well on-stream. According to Hermione, the first six months were supposed to be especially tough to weed out anyone not fully committed. Harry's life in Auror Training was difficult and stressful. It was far from the life anyone would have said he "deserved" to have after the war, but the threat of Voldemort was really and truly over, and Harry was optimistic about the future.
Title: Sirius Black Falls in Love with a Toaster
Summary: Sirius adopts a stray toaster, but he can't figure out how it works. For Ficlet Challenge #26.
Characters/Pairings: Sirius, James
Genre: Humor
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 455
Sirius Black was learning something new every day. Running away from home had brought him so much freedom that he didn't quite know what to do with it all. He had never known before what it was like to be on a school break and be able to relax. It was like the entire world was open to him, and not just the rest of the wizarding world, but the Muggle world as well. There were just so many things he'd never seen or done before. His favorite thing to do with the Potters so far was to go on short daytrips to nearby Muggle villages.
It was last Wednesday on one such trip that he spotted it-- a gleaming box perched atop a rubbish bin. He had never seen such a thing before. He tugged on his friend's sleeve and pointed at the object.
"James, what is that?"
"It's a toaster, Sirius. You are possibly the most sheltered person I've ever met," replied James, who kept walking. Sirius, however, had stopped in his tracks.
"Go on, then, what does a toaster do?"
"It makes toast. I know you know what toast is." Sirius picked it up and examined it.
"Well how does it work?"
"You should have taken Muggle Studies! The toast pops out of those slots there on the top. Honestly, Sirius, it's likely broken, but you could just bring it along if you're so curious." Sirius did so happily, the toaster's cord trailing after him. Before they made it home, James had to teach him about gumball machines and fire extinguishers.
Today, Sirius was alone in James's bedroom while James took care of some chores in preparation for Remus and Peter to visit. Sirius still hadn't worked out how the toaster made toast. It didn't use magic and you didn't have to give it any fire, James just said it was "electric," but that didn't explain where the bread came from! Suddenly, Sirius remembered the gumball machine, and how you had to give it money before it gave you any gum. Sirius took out his wallet, and held it next to the slots on the toaster's top. It seemed like the perfect size. That must be how you get it to give you toast. Sirius shoved his wallet into one of the slots, and pushed down the lever on the side. He stared at the toaster, but nothing happened. Eventually, he began to feel rather embarrassed about this decision, and he began to try to pry the wallet back out of the slot.
"Padfoot! What do you want for dinner?" called James from the foot of the stairs.
" I can't talk now, I have to get my wallet out of the toaster!"
Title: Work It
Summary: Lucius practices his runway walk, for Ficlet Challenge #34.
Characters/Pairings: Lucius
Genre: Humor/Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 255
Lucius locked the door to his study with a flick of his wand. He shut and locked the windows, drawing the shades. He double-checked to make sure the door was in fact locked. He removed several large books from their shelves and revealed a small safe hidden in the wall. His eyes swept around the room once more, and satisfied that there were no elves lurking, he entered the combination. 9-1-60: Severus's birthday. The safe swung open. There was a small object made of a bright pink plastic shell and metallic speakers. It was a muggle stereo, and Lucius was terrified that someone would find it. He would be eternally shamed. Eternally!
It was worth the risk though. Nothing that played on wizarding radio seemed to do the trick, and Lucius really really needed the perfect soundtrack when it came time to work on his runway walk. It was that time again, and thus, Lucius triple-checked the doors, and turned on the music. The pounding rhythm was exactly what he needed to hear. He walked back and forth to the beat, getting his long robes to swish just so when he turned. Suddenly, he heard the beginning of a crackle in the fireplace. It was the Floo! Lucius dove at the boombox, shutting it off and kicked it across the room. It skidded to a stop underneath a green velvet sofa just as Rowle's head appeared in his fireplace. It was a good thing he hadn't had time to get out the costumes.
Title: Cedric Lives!
Summary: Cedric doesn't grab the cup and lives to tell about it. For Ficlet Challenge #50.
Characters/Pairings: Cedric
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 381
At the last second and unbeknownst to Harry, Cedric hesitated to grab the cup. Harry was snatched away from him that instant with such force that Cedric was knocked off of his feet, and Cedric was very surprised. He thought for a moment, and decided that the cup must have transported Harry to some sort of winner's circle. He could not know the cruel fate he had narrowly escaped. He did not know exactly what had kept him from grasping the cup with Harry. They had agreed on the proper course of action only seconds earlier, but something had held him back. He supposed he just hadn't felt right about it. Sure, it would have meant so much to his house and even more to his father if he had been able to win the tournament. Yet, the fact remained that Harry had saved him, and part of Cedric felt that Harry deserved to win.
Cedric got up and began to try to retrace his steps through the maze. At the very least, he did not want to resort to sending up sparks to find his way back out, though perhaps now that the winner already had been decided, the maze would go easier on him. He felt a twinge of regret as he walked. They really could have shared the glory and the gold, if only he had taken hold of the cup! It would have been a true Hogwarts victory, and he would have been honored to share it with Harry Potter, a worthy and admirable competitor if there ever was one. A few steps later, Cedric had changed his mind again and was once more content with his decision. After all, he felt he still owed Harry for that quidditch game his father couldn't stop bragging about. Now they were really and truly even. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a just ending, and after all that Harry Potter had suffered in his life so far, surely he deserved a bit of justice. Cedric wasn't looking forward to confronting Harry about this whenever he got out of the maze, and even less his own father. What was done was done, and he was content, at least for the moment, with his reasons.
Points: 22+11+8+8+8+18+8+14+21+20= 138, thus 125 points for Gryffindor
Summary: Snape endures another Death Eater Meeting. For Fic Challenge #45.
Characters/Pairings: Snape, Voldemort, various Death Eaters
Genre: Humor
Rating/Warnings: PG/PG-13 for language
Word Count: 505
Severus Snape was bored. He was so very very bored. To make matters worse, he was also very very tired. You wouldn't think it would be possible to be bored at a Death Eater meeting, but you would be very very wrong. Snape had been up late last night grading the miserable essays of his fourth years and working on his (so far) sixty-seven volume collection of sonnets about Lily. This volume was particularly challenging because it was devoted entirely to the subject of her scent. So, he was running on about three and a half hours of sleep to begin with, followed by teaching all goddamn day, followed by a staff meeting, followed by a bloody Order meeting, and now he was at the second of Voldemort's bi-weekly Death Eater meetings. He was tired. He was annoyed. Above all, he was bored.
Voldemort was late, of course. He always did this. Some of Death Eaters attributed this to the Dark Lord's little known hatred of wearing watches, but personally, Snape thought it had more to do with Voldemort's preference for being "fashionably late" to everything. In between plotting world domination through mass murder and getting his hands on the Potter boy, Voldemort had some rather irritating topics he liked to raise during meetings. Snape was especially not looking forward to tonight's meeting because the topic was Fundraising. No matter how many times the Death Eaters tried to convince Voldemort that together they possessed a great deal of wealth and would not need any additional funds to accomplish their goals, fundraising was one of his favorite side-projects. The last car wash hadn't gone very well. Snape was beginning to worry that Voldemort was going to suggest they hold an evil bake sale next.
By the time Voldemort actually arrived, Snape had very nearly fallen asleep in his chair. One of the many advantages to serving Dumbledore over Voldemort was that it was far safer to ridicule Dumbledore when he deserved it. One was far less likely to end up cursed or dead. Snape let himself drift away in thought as the meeting began in earnest. If he was caught daydreaming, he would just spit out something about Potter and his friends. His thoughts returned to his sonnets. Recently, he had been considering writing several volumes of hate poetry about all of his enemies. The discussion on fundraising was going about as expected. No one was brave enough to come right out and contradict Voldemort even though they really really didn't need to raise any money.
"What about selling something, my Lord?" suggested someone at the other end of the table.
"Ah, now there's an idea, Rookwood," said Voldemort. "What would you suggest we sell?"
"Perhaps cookies, my Lord?"
"Cookies?"
"Everyone likes cookies, my Lord," said Rookwood.
"That may be, but who shall we sell them to?" asked the Dark Lord. Finally, Snape could hold his tongue no more.
"I think a lack of market was the issue with the car wash, my Lord," sighed Snape.
Title: Mundungus Fletcher is a Dirty Old Man
Summary: Harry catches Mundungus with stolen goods. No challenge. I am so sorry, you guys.
Characters/Pairings: Mundungus/Harry, completely and totally one-sided on the part of Mundungus
Genre: Crack, Drama
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, umm...oxygen deprivation?
Word Count: 320
"Well, I'll see you all-- OUCH!" Mundungus could not breathe for two reasons. The first reason was that his windpipe was being held forcibly closed by a hand and the tip of a wand. The second reason was that the hand belonged to an extremely angry Harry Potter. Hermione cried out in the background, but Mundungus could only focus on the piercing green eyes mere inches from his own. His brain was quickly losing the ability to think, but a twinge of self-consciousness flitted through his brain when he realized how bad he must smell.
"You took that from Sirius's house. That had the Black family crest on it." said Harry. Mundungus didn't usually think of himself as a dirty old man. A thief, yes, but not a dirty old man! Still, he couldn't help it. Here was the apparent savior, the Chosen One, who was most definitely not a little boy anymore, holding him bodily against a wall.
"I--no--what--?" Mundungus managed to say. Speaking was becoming extremely difficult.
"What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?" God, did he have to use the word "strip" just now? Make no mistake, Mundungus was worried about responding to Harry's accusations, but right now he was far more worried about how he was responding to something else entirely. Harry smelled like fresh air and soap and raw power. He had to escape at all costs.
"I--no--" he coughed.
"Give it to me!" Harry thundered. How was this even fair? The girl shouted something else, but Mundungus could not hear her. With a loud bang, Harry's hands were removed from Mundungus's throat. A relieved Mundungus disapparated with a crack as soon as he could lay hands on his case. He landed in a London alleyway, breathing hard. Maybe if he sold enough stolen goods today, he would be able to afford some decent counseling.
Title: Big Things Come in Small Packages
Summary: Rita Skeeter discovers her Animagus form. Drabble Challenge #7.
Characters/Pairings: Rita Skeeter.
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 100
Rita could not believe it. She had spent years, working in careful secrecy, to finally achieve the ultimate feat of transfiguration. After so much effort, she was an Animagus at long last, but the victory was hollow. Her long-awaited form was nothing more than a small, unremarkable beetle. She quickly transformed back into a human and looked forlornly at the full length mirror she had placed against the wall to admire her animal form. Her beetle self was too small even to see itself over the bottom edge of the frame. How would she ever make this work for her?
Title: Dudley's Dream
Summary: Dudley announces his new ambition. For Drabble Challenge #52.
Characters/Pairings: Dudley, Vernon, Petunia
Genre: Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 98
Dudley came downstairs to the kitchen. Harry was nowhere to be found, which was just as well. Dudley looked at his parents and said, "I am going to become a ballerina."
Aunt Petunia was reading a celebrity news magazine and seemed not to hear him. Uncle Vernon was beginning to turn purple, and managed to croak out a confused "What did you say?" in response.
"I am GOING to become a BALLERINA!" announced Dudley a second time, a bit louder. This time his mother heard him.
"WHAT?" she shrieked.
"I AM GOING TO BECOME A BALLERINA!" bellowed Dudley.
Title: The Llama Farm
Summary: Snape never wanted to be a teacher. For Drabble Challenge #52.
Characters/Pairings: Snape
Genre: Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 100
Severus Snape was sad. It didn't have anything to do with his unhappy love life or his work as a double agent. He was upset because this was the third time this year that he had not been able to buy a plot of land in South American. He wanted desperately to leave behind his life in Europe, and failing that, he at least wanted to plan a comfortable retirement in another land. You see, it was Snape's dearest wish to become a llama breeder. He had always been fascinated by llamas, but his life had not gone as planned.
Title: Noodles
Summary: 8 year old Fred and George perform some accidental magic. For Drabble Challenge #52. Prompt from Jay (lmpetuous)!
Characters/Pairings: Fred, George, Molly
Genre: Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 100
"What do you think he eats?" Fred asked George.
"I don't know. Maybe noodles," answered George.
"What happened anyway, George?"
"Well, I saw Dad's wand on the kitchen table, and I couldn't resist, you know?"
"We're going to be in huge trouble when Mum gets back," said Fred. "Oi! Keep ahold of him!"
"Sorry! I've got him now." George was beginning to regret ever touching that wand. Fred placed a bowl of noodles in front of the creature, but he just looked at them. Molly arrived only to find that her twins had somehow transfigured the footstool into a monkey.
Title: Auror Training
Summary: Harry suffers through Auror Training after the war. For Ficlet Challenge #16.
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Harry/Ginny vaguely implied, but you can read around it
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 482
Auror training was grueling, but Harry James Potter was no quitter. It was by no means the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life. It wasn't even in the top ten. Nevertheless, it was difficult, and his instructors' demanding requirements would have made Oliver Wood proud. Every day Harry went home to his flat completely physically and mentally exhausted. The physical part was proving harder than anything else. Let's just say that Harry's grasp on the practical importance of learning defensive and protective magic was better than your average recruit. He had always been moderately atheletic. As a young child, he had learned to outrun Dudley and his friends out of necessity, though that wasn't terribly demanding by the time they were about six or seven. He had played quidditch throughout school, of course, managed not to die in any of the Triwizard Tournament, and he had needed to rely on his physical abilities numerous times during the war. All the same, no one except Oliver had ever made Harry really train day in and day out. It wasn't so much actually running the laps or lifting the weights so much as it was having to show up at five o'clock in the morning each day to do it.
Harry's life was a blur. He staggered home every evening to eat whatever he had on hand and stumble into bed, only to get up in what seemed very much like five minutes later, and do it all over again. He had gone through more pairs of socks and trainers in the past four months than he had during the entire rest of his life prior, and because he was rubbish at mending spells, he had to keep replacing them. He saw Ron and Hermione sometimes on Sundays. He wrote to Ginny here and there, and sometimes she was able to visit, but her life as a rookie quidditch player was about as grueling, and it kept her very busy.
Needless to say, the whole Ministry was a bit of a shambles by the time the war was over. Several aurors had been pulled out of retirement to help teach recruits. Kingsley Shacklebolt was pleased with the program, and as far as Harry was concerned, it was more than sufficient training. Hermione had read several books on the subject just after Harry had started training. Harry hadn't had the time to really read them, but from what he had gathered, his class was pretty well on-stream. According to Hermione, the first six months were supposed to be especially tough to weed out anyone not fully committed. Harry's life in Auror Training was difficult and stressful. It was far from the life anyone would have said he "deserved" to have after the war, but the threat of Voldemort was really and truly over, and Harry was optimistic about the future.
Title: Sirius Black Falls in Love with a Toaster
Summary: Sirius adopts a stray toaster, but he can't figure out how it works. For Ficlet Challenge #26.
Characters/Pairings: Sirius, James
Genre: Humor
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 455
Sirius Black was learning something new every day. Running away from home had brought him so much freedom that he didn't quite know what to do with it all. He had never known before what it was like to be on a school break and be able to relax. It was like the entire world was open to him, and not just the rest of the wizarding world, but the Muggle world as well. There were just so many things he'd never seen or done before. His favorite thing to do with the Potters so far was to go on short daytrips to nearby Muggle villages.
It was last Wednesday on one such trip that he spotted it-- a gleaming box perched atop a rubbish bin. He had never seen such a thing before. He tugged on his friend's sleeve and pointed at the object.
"James, what is that?"
"It's a toaster, Sirius. You are possibly the most sheltered person I've ever met," replied James, who kept walking. Sirius, however, had stopped in his tracks.
"Go on, then, what does a toaster do?"
"It makes toast. I know you know what toast is." Sirius picked it up and examined it.
"Well how does it work?"
"You should have taken Muggle Studies! The toast pops out of those slots there on the top. Honestly, Sirius, it's likely broken, but you could just bring it along if you're so curious." Sirius did so happily, the toaster's cord trailing after him. Before they made it home, James had to teach him about gumball machines and fire extinguishers.
Today, Sirius was alone in James's bedroom while James took care of some chores in preparation for Remus and Peter to visit. Sirius still hadn't worked out how the toaster made toast. It didn't use magic and you didn't have to give it any fire, James just said it was "electric," but that didn't explain where the bread came from! Suddenly, Sirius remembered the gumball machine, and how you had to give it money before it gave you any gum. Sirius took out his wallet, and held it next to the slots on the toaster's top. It seemed like the perfect size. That must be how you get it to give you toast. Sirius shoved his wallet into one of the slots, and pushed down the lever on the side. He stared at the toaster, but nothing happened. Eventually, he began to feel rather embarrassed about this decision, and he began to try to pry the wallet back out of the slot.
"Padfoot! What do you want for dinner?" called James from the foot of the stairs.
" I can't talk now, I have to get my wallet out of the toaster!"
Title: Work It
Summary: Lucius practices his runway walk, for Ficlet Challenge #34.
Characters/Pairings: Lucius
Genre: Humor/Crack
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 255
Lucius locked the door to his study with a flick of his wand. He shut and locked the windows, drawing the shades. He double-checked to make sure the door was in fact locked. He removed several large books from their shelves and revealed a small safe hidden in the wall. His eyes swept around the room once more, and satisfied that there were no elves lurking, he entered the combination. 9-1-60: Severus's birthday. The safe swung open. There was a small object made of a bright pink plastic shell and metallic speakers. It was a muggle stereo, and Lucius was terrified that someone would find it. He would be eternally shamed. Eternally!
It was worth the risk though. Nothing that played on wizarding radio seemed to do the trick, and Lucius really really needed the perfect soundtrack when it came time to work on his runway walk. It was that time again, and thus, Lucius triple-checked the doors, and turned on the music. The pounding rhythm was exactly what he needed to hear. He walked back and forth to the beat, getting his long robes to swish just so when he turned. Suddenly, he heard the beginning of a crackle in the fireplace. It was the Floo! Lucius dove at the boombox, shutting it off and kicked it across the room. It skidded to a stop underneath a green velvet sofa just as Rowle's head appeared in his fireplace. It was a good thing he hadn't had time to get out the costumes.
Title: Cedric Lives!
Summary: Cedric doesn't grab the cup and lives to tell about it. For Ficlet Challenge #50.
Characters/Pairings: Cedric
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 381
At the last second and unbeknownst to Harry, Cedric hesitated to grab the cup. Harry was snatched away from him that instant with such force that Cedric was knocked off of his feet, and Cedric was very surprised. He thought for a moment, and decided that the cup must have transported Harry to some sort of winner's circle. He could not know the cruel fate he had narrowly escaped. He did not know exactly what had kept him from grasping the cup with Harry. They had agreed on the proper course of action only seconds earlier, but something had held him back. He supposed he just hadn't felt right about it. Sure, it would have meant so much to his house and even more to his father if he had been able to win the tournament. Yet, the fact remained that Harry had saved him, and part of Cedric felt that Harry deserved to win.
Cedric got up and began to try to retrace his steps through the maze. At the very least, he did not want to resort to sending up sparks to find his way back out, though perhaps now that the winner already had been decided, the maze would go easier on him. He felt a twinge of regret as he walked. They really could have shared the glory and the gold, if only he had taken hold of the cup! It would have been a true Hogwarts victory, and he would have been honored to share it with Harry Potter, a worthy and admirable competitor if there ever was one. A few steps later, Cedric had changed his mind again and was once more content with his decision. After all, he felt he still owed Harry for that quidditch game his father couldn't stop bragging about. Now they were really and truly even. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a just ending, and after all that Harry Potter had suffered in his life so far, surely he deserved a bit of justice. Cedric wasn't looking forward to confronting Harry about this whenever he got out of the maze, and even less his own father. What was done was done, and he was content, at least for the moment, with his reasons.
Points: 22+11+8+8+8+18+8+14+21+20= 138, thus 125 points for Gryffindor