Challenge #53: Minor Characters
Title: Broomsticks, Birds, and Slugs
Rating/Warnings: G, None
Characters/Pairing: Kevin, Kevin's Mother
Summary: Little Kevin dreams about riding around on a broomstick, waving to the birds, and attempts to recreate it using his father's wand. When it doesn't work, his attention turns to a slug.
Word Count: 669
Author's Notes: Centering around Kevin, the 2 year old who makes an appearance at the Quidditch World Cup in Chapter 7 of GoF.
Registered purchases?: None :(
The sun had barely come up, but that didn't stop Kevin from throwing off his covers and crawling out of bed. He had been having dreams of riding around on broomsticks, playing with the clouds as he passed them, waving to birds as they flew by. He could hardly wait for the game to start; how could he possibly stay in bed?
Quietly, he walked through the tent, past his sleeping parents, and towards the entrance. On his way, he happened to look over at the counter in the kitchen, and he saw it-long and thin, glowing as the first rays of the summer sun hit it through the open window, was his father's wand.
Kevin stopped. He looked back at his parents; his mother was lying peacefully on her back, his father fanned out on his stomach, breathing loudly. He tiptoed to the counter and reached for the wand, but it was too high; quietly, he dragged one of the stools around and climbed up it. His tiny hands closed on the little piece of wood, and he felt a rush of warmth in his fingers. He giggled.
Climbing down from the stool, he looked again at his sleeping parents; they hadn't moved a muscle. Stealthily, he headed toward the entrance of the tent again.
It was cool outside. Since the sun hadn't risen fully yet the air was still chilly. Kevin rubbed his eyes; everything seemed a bit cloudy. After a moment, his eyes adjusted enough to see a few feet in front of him. Giggling more audibly, he looked at the wand in his hand. He had never been allowed to touch Daddy's wand, so the fact that he was holding it was amazing. He tried to think of what he wanted to do-maybe he'd make an elephant appear, and ride it around the campgrounds, or a circus, with trapeze artists and clowns and that bearded lady, or maybe just a broomstick, so he could fly around like the Quidditch players! Yes, that one sounded like the most fun.
He closed his eyes and screwed up his face, holding out the wand. He imagined his dream; the broom, the clouds, the birds. Excited, he cried, "Boom! Boom!"
He opened his eyes, expecting to see the broom he had called for, but nothing was there. Why not? Daddy could make things come out of nowhere-why couldn't he? Tears started welling up in his eyes. He was about to start bawling when he noticed it.
Lying on the ground, glistening in the almost-risen sun, was a slug. It was gray and slimy and looked like the coolest thing in the world. Kevin crouched down and giggled again, staring at the slug. It was trying to slither away from him, but it was too sticky-the slime was rubbing off into the grass and causing the poor slug problems.
He poked it with the wand, and immediately it got bigger. Kevin almost dropped the wand in surprise-he had made the slug grow! He tightened his grip on the wand and continued poking the slug; it kept on growing, until it was the size of a salami. He giggled happily at his new slug friend.
"How many times, Kevin? You don’t-touch-Daddys'-wand-yecchh!"
Where his slug had been, there was now only a foot. Kevin carried his gaze up the foot, the leg, the torso, right into the face of his mother, who was looking both angry and disgusted. Kevin felt angry too-she had killed his slug!
She grabbed him by the collar and pushed him into the tent, yelling at him about stealing the wand, enlarging the slug, and generally being troublesome. All Kevin could think of was his slug.
"You bust slug!" he said angrily to her. "You bust slug!"
She sentenced him to time-out and Kevin spent the rest of the morning sitting in the corner of the tent, drawing pictures of slugs, birds, and broomsticks all over the walls.
Points Tally
669/30 = 22.3
22 points for Father Gryffindor
Rating/Warnings: G, None
Characters/Pairing: Kevin, Kevin's Mother
Summary: Little Kevin dreams about riding around on a broomstick, waving to the birds, and attempts to recreate it using his father's wand. When it doesn't work, his attention turns to a slug.
Word Count: 669
Author's Notes: Centering around Kevin, the 2 year old who makes an appearance at the Quidditch World Cup in Chapter 7 of GoF.
Registered purchases?: None :(
The sun had barely come up, but that didn't stop Kevin from throwing off his covers and crawling out of bed. He had been having dreams of riding around on broomsticks, playing with the clouds as he passed them, waving to birds as they flew by. He could hardly wait for the game to start; how could he possibly stay in bed?
Quietly, he walked through the tent, past his sleeping parents, and towards the entrance. On his way, he happened to look over at the counter in the kitchen, and he saw it-long and thin, glowing as the first rays of the summer sun hit it through the open window, was his father's wand.
Kevin stopped. He looked back at his parents; his mother was lying peacefully on her back, his father fanned out on his stomach, breathing loudly. He tiptoed to the counter and reached for the wand, but it was too high; quietly, he dragged one of the stools around and climbed up it. His tiny hands closed on the little piece of wood, and he felt a rush of warmth in his fingers. He giggled.
Climbing down from the stool, he looked again at his sleeping parents; they hadn't moved a muscle. Stealthily, he headed toward the entrance of the tent again.
It was cool outside. Since the sun hadn't risen fully yet the air was still chilly. Kevin rubbed his eyes; everything seemed a bit cloudy. After a moment, his eyes adjusted enough to see a few feet in front of him. Giggling more audibly, he looked at the wand in his hand. He had never been allowed to touch Daddy's wand, so the fact that he was holding it was amazing. He tried to think of what he wanted to do-maybe he'd make an elephant appear, and ride it around the campgrounds, or a circus, with trapeze artists and clowns and that bearded lady, or maybe just a broomstick, so he could fly around like the Quidditch players! Yes, that one sounded like the most fun.
He closed his eyes and screwed up his face, holding out the wand. He imagined his dream; the broom, the clouds, the birds. Excited, he cried, "Boom! Boom!"
He opened his eyes, expecting to see the broom he had called for, but nothing was there. Why not? Daddy could make things come out of nowhere-why couldn't he? Tears started welling up in his eyes. He was about to start bawling when he noticed it.
Lying on the ground, glistening in the almost-risen sun, was a slug. It was gray and slimy and looked like the coolest thing in the world. Kevin crouched down and giggled again, staring at the slug. It was trying to slither away from him, but it was too sticky-the slime was rubbing off into the grass and causing the poor slug problems.
He poked it with the wand, and immediately it got bigger. Kevin almost dropped the wand in surprise-he had made the slug grow! He tightened his grip on the wand and continued poking the slug; it kept on growing, until it was the size of a salami. He giggled happily at his new slug friend.
"How many times, Kevin? You don’t-touch-Daddys'-wand-yecchh!"
Where his slug had been, there was now only a foot. Kevin carried his gaze up the foot, the leg, the torso, right into the face of his mother, who was looking both angry and disgusted. Kevin felt angry too-she had killed his slug!
She grabbed him by the collar and pushed him into the tent, yelling at him about stealing the wand, enlarging the slug, and generally being troublesome. All Kevin could think of was his slug.
"You bust slug!" he said angrily to her. "You bust slug!"
She sentenced him to time-out and Kevin spent the rest of the morning sitting in the corner of the tent, drawing pictures of slugs, birds, and broomsticks all over the walls.
Points Tally
669/30 = 22.3
22 points for Father Gryffindor