Challenge #98: The Day After / Challenge #91: Brittany / Challenge #69: Word Table
Title: The Day After
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Neville
Summary: The day after the battle at Hogwarts.
Word Count: 874
Registered purchases?: Quill and Parchment
The sun was high, and on the lake's lazy waves it looked like glittering gems. From far-away came hooting and the flapping of wings from a dozen owls. Somewhere the Whomping Willow sighed, rustling leaves where a field mouse wove past its gnarled roots. The Forbidden Forest was silent, as it always was, its denizens creeping back into their secret holes at the first rays of morning.
Where a few curious creatures might have started their day waking up in the land behind Hagrid's hut, there instead lay the crackled, seared remains of a wooden hut, a wooden roof, wooden furniture and a wooden home.
Up ahead, where the strong stone walls of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry might begin rumbling with the waking of a thousand students dreading another full day of classes, there instead was a quiet sort of hush that enveloped its halls, an uneasy silence that hung thick above the air.
Inside the Great Hall, where four long rows of tables might have started producing food for breaking fast, there was instead rubble, makeshift cots and students nursing injuries, comforting classmates, looking for the living and counting the dead.
Neville wondered if victory ever meant to taste so bitter.
The Dark Lord was gone, vanquished at last by the boy-hero prophesied to defeat him. The Death Eaters had been rounded up and the Aurors had their hands full sorting arrangements for Azkaban now that they had no dementors to guard their cells. In a corner of the Great Hall, surrounded by a sea of red, Harry Potter sat, slumped against Ginny, looking so much older and so much more exhausted than Neville had ever seen. Ron had his arms around Hermione, and they were whispering to each other, as Neville had often seen them do.
Madam Pomfrey swept through the hall, a large tray of potions at her disposal. Neville saw the insistent limp in her gait, the cuts on her skin, and the way her fingers trembled as she administered potions on injuries, but she soldiered on, spurred by some invisible force that lingered long after the adrenaline of battle had long worn off for most.
Not far behind her, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were talking to students. They carried parchment and quill and took down notes ever so often. He wondered what they were-- when Flitwick knelt on one weary knee to look beneath the blanket Neville had placed over Colin Creevey and jot something in his parchment, he wished he didn't know. His stomach churned. They were making a list of who had died and who had lived, and maybe who had gone missing.
He scanned the halls and found that Professor Sprout had gathered all sorts of plants onto one end of the Slytherin table, chopping Mandrake roots furiously, tirelessly.
"Do you need help, Professor?" he asked, making his way toward her, where he might be of use.
She shook her head, and when she spoke, her voice was heavy, holding none of the fondness it usually did when speaking with him. "I'm fine here, Mr. Longbottom," she said. "Perhaps you can see to your classmates instead?"
"All right, Professor," Neville said, glum. In truth, he didn't want to speak to his classmates right away. He knew they'd lost many people-- he didn't want to know who they were.
In separate clusters, where the Hufflepuffs would have sat for meals, groups of students had gathered around. They spoke softly, huddled closer than they would.
"McGonagall says to stay here," one of them was saying-- Hannah Abbott, Neville realized as he came closer. He hadn't even known she was in the castle. She'd missed all of seventh year, hiding from those who would accuse her of stealing a wand that had always been hers. "She said she'd look for him after, but--"
"I'm sure he's fine, Hannah," Terry Boot told her. He rested a hand on hers, squeezed it. "I'm sure they all are."
"Who?" Neville asked, feeling like an intruder. He stood a few feet away, standing awkwardly with hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched over.
"Ernie," Hannah whispered. In her hands she clung to a worn piece of parchment. "Her mother owled, but the owl went to me this morning. I don't know where--"
"We haven't seen him since last night," Terry said. "He and Anthony went to make sure the younger years were fine, but--"
"He told me not to come here," Hannah said, biting her lip. Her shoulders shook a little. "Told me it wasn't safe. If he's-- oh, I will kill him if he didn't heed his own--"
Neville looked around. The professors were taking care of the students, and the students were going to be okay. They had to be. There was little else he could do now, and if one thing could help, then--
"Hey," he said. "I bet he's fine. I bet he's with Anthony and the younger years and they've found someplace to hide, but they don't know what's going on yet."
Terry nodded. "He knows what he's doing," he added.
"Let's go find them, okay?" Neville said, his hand on Hannah's shoulder. "Let's go tell them the war is over."
Word count points: 874/30 = 29pts
Bonus points: 10pts
Title: Princess
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Marlene McKinnon, Lauren Madley, Joyce Summerby, and Lauren's cat, Princess
Summary: Lauren's cat has been reading her diary.
Word Count: 1142
Author's Notes: This actually blends in well with another challenge, but for the sake of keeping it spoiler-free, I won't say which challenge it is... :P
Registered purchases?: Quill and Parchment
"I'm pretty sure my cat is reading my diary."
Marlene McKinnon looked up from her bed, where she was reading through Hogwarts, a History. "Sorry?"
Lauren Madley was running her fingers through her long golden hair. She'd just undone its plait, and it cascaded in large wavy curls down the front of her nightgown. Princess, her cat, nestled on her lap, purring quite contentedly. It was a change of pace-- usually the cat liked playing "I'm above snuggling" with Lauren. The girl had a thoughtful look. "I came in from practice a few hours ago, and I swear Princess had her tiny little paws on my diary. Isn't that odd?"
"Aww, she's adorable," Marlene said, ignoring the comment Lauren made. She hated to stereotype but Lauren was blonde. This wasn't the first statement she'd made that had made absolutely no sense. Marlene was a much more sensible girl, all things considered, really. She propped up the book on her knees, resting her feet against the edge of her desk as she leaned back. "Come here, Princess," she cooed, coaxing the cat over.
Princess turned lazy eyes in her direction. She blinked, slow and deliberate, then turned away.
"She's never warmed up to you," Lauren said with a small giggle. "Sorry, Marly."
"Oh, whatever. I'm just not a cat person," Marlene muttered.
"Princess just isn't a Marlene cat."
"You know you're going to get found out soon enough," Marlene said, putting on a more serious tone. Lauren usually listened when she had her serious tone on. "You've got to tell a professor you found a cat in the grounds. What if it's, I don't know, part-kneazle or something? Maybe that's why it's stalking us around."
"Oh, Marlene, be sensible," Lauren told her, and Marlene nearly fell over in shock. Be sensible? Lauren had been the girl who found the stray in Hogsmeade, smuggled her in even though she already had an owl and students were only allowed one pet, and kept her. Marlene thought that wasn't being sensible at all. "Princess can't be part-kneazle! Theresa already looked it up in the library the other day-- she says they have odd ears and tails and Princess is obviously a cat."
Marlene sighed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, then," she said. "She was probably just playing around with your stuff. Cats do that, I hear."
"Yeah, well, I knew that," Lauren said. "I just thought it was amusing because she looked like she was reading it."
"Who was reading what?" Joyce Summerby asked, wandering into their dorms. She dumped a large bag on the floor beside her bed and leapt onto her sheets, freshly-washed hair dripping water everywhere as she did.
"Watch it!" Marlene warned, shielding her book protectively from Joyce's mad water-spraying hair.
"Sorry," Joyce said, sharing a Look with Lauren. Both girls snickered, and Marlene bristled. It's not as though she couldn't tell when they were making fun of her.
"My cat was reading my diary today," Lauren told Joyce proudly.
"Is she?" Joyce asked, crawling over to take Princess from Lauren. "She's a smart cat, isn't she?" She stroked her behind her ears. Princess purred, but decided she'd had enough a minute later. She tried to squirm away from Joyce, landing on her feet with a large meow.
"She's a true Ravenclaw cat," Lauren agreed.
Marlene rolled her eyes as she preened like some peacock mother. "Watch it, or your Ravenclaw cat's going to disappear on you again soon," she said, eyeing Princess as she sauntered out of the room. Princess liked doing that.
"Oh, she'll come back," Lauren said with a wave of her hand. "She always does."
Marlene hummed. The first time Princess disappeared was the first night Lauren had taken her home. Lauren had barely gotten any sleep-- her eyes were red and puffy and she'd almost been declared unable to play in the match against Hufflepuffs the next day. She'd been near inconsolable, and it was only when Princess reappeared in the dorm, a few short days later, that anybody had been able to convince Lauren to stop worrying. But Princess liked to keep herself amused, and often she disappeared for long periods of time.
Neither Marlene nor Lauren nor Joyce knew where she went off to, or what she did, but they'd all learned to trust that Princess would find her way back home, as she always did. Marlene was starting to suspect that perhaps Lauren wasn't the only human Princess kept in her life, that some days she went back to her owner in Hogsmeade, whoever that was. It helped explain why nobody ever seemed to put up a sign anywhere about a missing cat. Cats can't go missing if they return, can they?
It didn't seem as though Princess planned to leave tonight, though. At least not yet. She wandered back in not long after, rubbing her feline neck against a leg of Lauren's bed before she settled beside it.
"Hey, Lauren," Joyce said. "Chris says we ought to start planning for the next match anyway. Do you have a minute to talk?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." Lauren scooted closer, taking out a small notebook from her school bag. "I was drawing up a few plays in History today, if you want to look?"
The two girls continued their conversation, talking in low murmurs that faded into the background. Marlene returned to her book, let the history of the castle draw her back in again. This was how most evenings at the Ravenclaw seventh year girls' dormitory usually ended up, and it was always a happy, comforting sort of evening. Lauren and Joyce would discuss Quidditch and teammates and boys, and Marlene would be seated in her corner of the dormitory, nestled against her pillows and reading any one of a dozen books that she had on her desk.
From the corner of her eye she watched yellow head huddled with dark brown, the frantic movement of hands drawing plays on a scrap of parchment. By the bed, Princess was still lying down, though her ears were perked and her eyes alert. The cat, Marlene thought, never seemed to relax.
She sighed, and turned a page.
***
Late that evening, with no one in the castle a-stirring, a tall figure snuck her way back through the other side of Hogwarts.
"Password?"
"Lemon drops," she said.
"Isn't it past curfew, Ms McGonagall?" the Fat Lady asked, swinging open. "Enter."
"Minny! Where were you?"
"Now's not the time to ask questions, Charles, if you know what's good for you," Minerva said. She waited for the confused silence before she beamed. "I know what the Ravenclaw's new strategy is all about!"
Word count points: 1142/30 = 38pts
Bonus points: 10pts
Title: Scenes from Seventh Year
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, mild mentions of torture
Characters/Pairing: Terry Boot, OC
Summary: Snippets from seventh year at Hogwarts.
Word Count: 1534
Author's Notes: Six words, six drabbles each. Holy cow! I was typing like a mad typing person, trying to keep each drabble to five minutes each. It got to the point where my fingers/hands were legit hurting, LOL. I did enjoy this challenge best, though!
Registered purchases?: Quill and Parchment
WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA
"What?" Amycus Carrow asked. "You don't remember your charms?"
The third year shrank back.
"Do you remember your charms or no?"
"I do, sir, I do!" the third year said. His face was round and full, eyes large saucers filled with fear. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his face, and Terry saw how clammy his hand was as he raised it.
"Then show me."
When amycus smiled, it looked like a wolf baring its fangs for slaughter. Terry kept his lips closed, and he looked at the third year-- Jon, yes, that was his name-- with what he hoped was encouragement. You can do it, he wanted to tell him. Don't listen to Carrow.
He hoped he could do it, at least.
"Well, boy?" amycus asked, raising his wand toward the third year. "Are you going to do it or am I going to have to dock points from Ravenclaw today?"
Dock points, indeed. Terry bit back a bitter laugh. That was what they called Crucio these days.
"No, sir," Jon squeaked. He aimed his wand at Terry, whose shoulder ached and whose skin was covered in fresh bruises. I'm sorry, he mouthed, and Terry nodded his understanding. There was nothing to be sorry about, not really. "Win-- Wingardium Leviosa!"
Terry felt his feet lift, a few inches, hovering off the ground-- yes, perhaps-- but Jon hesitated, and in the next moment Terry fell on the ground with a thud. He landed on his ankle, heard a sickening crunch. Fuck.
"I'm sorry, I--"
"Again, boy."
"I can't--"
"Again, boy."
TERRIFIED
Jon Summerby was only doing as he was told. That was all it was, honest. What could he do? What was he supposed to do? If he refused, if he disobeyed, he would get the short end of Carrow's wand, and the man would find another student to do his bidding. And even then-- what if he found a first year? They hadn't even mastered their charms yet-- how could they, the way this year was shaping up to be?
He wanted to run, or close his eyes and will himself back in his room, or in his house, away from all of this. He didn't know what terrified him more-- the fact that Carrow's wand was still aimed at him, ready to cast the Cruciatus at any misstep, or that he was physically playing with Terry Boot.
"Higher, boy," Carrow ordered.
He was doing so well, he thought. He'd managed to keep Terry hovering for the last minute or so now. He tried not to look at the swelling on Terry's ankle, or the broken glasses on the floor. Terry's nose was bloody-- that was from the third time he'd fallen.
"I said higher!"
"Y-- yes, sir," he said meekly, raising his wand to levitate Terry a smidge. His arm was beginning to hurt, but if he stopped now... Terry was so high. He couldn't.
"Higher!"
"Sir, but he'll hit the ceiling," Jon managed to protest.
Carrow's eyes glimmered darkly, and he moved towards him. Startled, Jon lifted both hands to shield himself from the oncoming attack.
There was a cry, a loud crunch of bones meeting hard stone floor. Terry!
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Jon cried out, rushing to his Housemate's aid while Carrow cackled maniacally behind them.
ACCIO
"It's okay, it's all right," Terry whispered, wincing as Jon's clumsy hands touched him in all the places that he hurt. "Just-- could you call Madam Pomfrey, or something, maybe? Michael or Anthony or-- I just need to get to bed, I think."
"I didn't mean to, I swear, he just--" Jon was babbling, his words blurring into an incoherent rambling that was hazing over Terry's head.
"Jon."
"Yeah?"
"Please shut up. You're making my head hurt a little bit."
"Sorry."
"It's okay, it really is," Terry told him with a small smile. "That's what he wanted you to do, you realize that right? You were never going to get out of that without hurting me."
"I know."
"So it's okay, you see," Terry said. "It's not your fault."
Jon nodded, though clearly he still felt guilty.
"Hey, that was really good spellwork, though," Terry said. "You're good with Charms."
"I'm not really--"
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Yeah?"
"There's a kit beneath my bed in the dorm," Terry said. "You know where that is, right?"
"Yeah."
"Summon it for me?"
"Course. Accio kit!"
TRUST
Jon didn't know the first thing about Healing spells. Neither should anyone in Hogwarts, really. Healing school was after seventh year, and you had to have NEWTs in all the hard subjects to even be considered.
Clearly, that wasn't anything they could help these days. They'd all had to learn, one way or another, how to make do. How to heal. How to clean cuts and bruises. How to make potions for Dreamless Sleep. There was a portion of Dumbledore's Army that existed solely to steal potions ingredients from the Potions classroom, another that usually went into Hogsmeade secretly to foray for anything else they might need.
Jon had lain low for the most part, had hidden from most of the attention. Until today, he'd never had to learn much.
"Mix them quickly, stir counterclockwise," Terry was instructing him.
"Are you sure about--"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Terry gave a hollow laugh. "This isn't the first time I've had to make this potion, trust me."
"But what if it's not right?"
"I trust you, alright?" Terry said. "I know you can do this."
"I hate Potions."
Terry laughed again. "I did too," he said. "But it's really useful if you think about it."
"It's turned green now. What do I do next?"
"Add some of the crushed petals in-- yeah, like that," Terry said. His voice was strained, like he was trying hard not to cry. "Thank you."
REPARO
The potion could have done with a little sugar. It was disgustingly bitter, tangy where he wasn't expecting it to be, and it left a revolting aftertaste that Terry wanted to brush away with mint toothpaste.
But still, it worked, and it looked like the pain was beginning to fade. He'd still need to go to Madam Pomfrey later-- the poor woman must be so sick and tired of seeing the same faces in her infirmary by now-- and get it looked at and healed properly. That was all right. He could handle a little bit of pain. As long as he could stand, at least, he'd be fine.
"Thanks again," he told Jon. "You did real well today, you know."
"You keep saying that," Jon told him. "Why do you keep saying that?"
Terry sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "But you need to know this isn't going to be the last time you're going to have to be strong."
Jon shook his head. "I didn't want to come back. I know you're part of the Army but I just-- I'm not cut out for this."
"Jon."
"Yeah?"
"None of us are supposed to be." Terry smiled sadly. "You're only thirteen. I'm only seventeen. We're supposed to be in school, learning and goofing off and pulling pranks. This is--"
"Shite?"
Terry laughed. "Yeah. This is a pile of shit." He sighed, picked up his wand. "Reparo."
"Where are you going?" Jon asked.
"Come follow me. It's fine."
HOPEFUL
Jon had heard of the Army, yes. He knew who was part of it. His classmates whispered about it in the dark of their dormitory, gossiped about who had done what and who was punished for what. Technically, most of the students had by now become part of it, but there was always that core group of them who had been soldiers since the very beginning, who led all the little shows of rebellion and attempts at anarchy that the Carrows tried so hard to police. That the Carrows were usually so successful at curbing with their own sick tactics.
Terry led him to a forgotten hallway in the fourth-- was it the fifth? Jon couldn't remember; Terry had wound through the halls so quickly he'd been unable to keep track-- floor. They walked three times past an empty wall, with Terry muttering again and again under his breath.
Finally, and this Jon couldn't believe, the wall revealed a hidden door, pushed forward in stone and looking as though it had never been anywhere but.
"This is--"
"Yeah," Terry said with a wry smile. "You can keep a secret, can't you, Jon?"
Jon nodded.
Terry entered, and the door opened into a massive room. To Jon it seemed even larger than the Great Hall. Hammocks filled it, and inside a few dozen students milled about. Terry had taken him to the Army headquarters. "This is--"
A portrait high above the north wall moved, shifted, and finally it swung open. Neville Longbottom stepped out, dirty and ragged and as happy as Jon had ever seen anyone.
"Hey guys," Neville said. "Guess who I found."
Behind him, Harry Potter emerged.
Word count points: 1534/30 = 51pts
Bonus points: 10pts
Total word count points: 29 + 38 + 51 = 118
Bonus points: 10 + 10 + 10 = 30
Total points: 148pts for Ravenclaw!
Evy//Ravenclaw
Need a new tag for Terry Boot
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Neville
Summary: The day after the battle at Hogwarts.
Word Count: 874
Registered purchases?: Quill and Parchment
The sun was high, and on the lake's lazy waves it looked like glittering gems. From far-away came hooting and the flapping of wings from a dozen owls. Somewhere the Whomping Willow sighed, rustling leaves where a field mouse wove past its gnarled roots. The Forbidden Forest was silent, as it always was, its denizens creeping back into their secret holes at the first rays of morning.
Where a few curious creatures might have started their day waking up in the land behind Hagrid's hut, there instead lay the crackled, seared remains of a wooden hut, a wooden roof, wooden furniture and a wooden home.
Up ahead, where the strong stone walls of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry might begin rumbling with the waking of a thousand students dreading another full day of classes, there instead was a quiet sort of hush that enveloped its halls, an uneasy silence that hung thick above the air.
Inside the Great Hall, where four long rows of tables might have started producing food for breaking fast, there was instead rubble, makeshift cots and students nursing injuries, comforting classmates, looking for the living and counting the dead.
Neville wondered if victory ever meant to taste so bitter.
The Dark Lord was gone, vanquished at last by the boy-hero prophesied to defeat him. The Death Eaters had been rounded up and the Aurors had their hands full sorting arrangements for Azkaban now that they had no dementors to guard their cells. In a corner of the Great Hall, surrounded by a sea of red, Harry Potter sat, slumped against Ginny, looking so much older and so much more exhausted than Neville had ever seen. Ron had his arms around Hermione, and they were whispering to each other, as Neville had often seen them do.
Madam Pomfrey swept through the hall, a large tray of potions at her disposal. Neville saw the insistent limp in her gait, the cuts on her skin, and the way her fingers trembled as she administered potions on injuries, but she soldiered on, spurred by some invisible force that lingered long after the adrenaline of battle had long worn off for most.
Not far behind her, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were talking to students. They carried parchment and quill and took down notes ever so often. He wondered what they were-- when Flitwick knelt on one weary knee to look beneath the blanket Neville had placed over Colin Creevey and jot something in his parchment, he wished he didn't know. His stomach churned. They were making a list of who had died and who had lived, and maybe who had gone missing.
He scanned the halls and found that Professor Sprout had gathered all sorts of plants onto one end of the Slytherin table, chopping Mandrake roots furiously, tirelessly.
"Do you need help, Professor?" he asked, making his way toward her, where he might be of use.
She shook her head, and when she spoke, her voice was heavy, holding none of the fondness it usually did when speaking with him. "I'm fine here, Mr. Longbottom," she said. "Perhaps you can see to your classmates instead?"
"All right, Professor," Neville said, glum. In truth, he didn't want to speak to his classmates right away. He knew they'd lost many people-- he didn't want to know who they were.
In separate clusters, where the Hufflepuffs would have sat for meals, groups of students had gathered around. They spoke softly, huddled closer than they would.
"McGonagall says to stay here," one of them was saying-- Hannah Abbott, Neville realized as he came closer. He hadn't even known she was in the castle. She'd missed all of seventh year, hiding from those who would accuse her of stealing a wand that had always been hers. "She said she'd look for him after, but--"
"I'm sure he's fine, Hannah," Terry Boot told her. He rested a hand on hers, squeezed it. "I'm sure they all are."
"Who?" Neville asked, feeling like an intruder. He stood a few feet away, standing awkwardly with hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched over.
"Ernie," Hannah whispered. In her hands she clung to a worn piece of parchment. "Her mother owled, but the owl went to me this morning. I don't know where--"
"We haven't seen him since last night," Terry said. "He and Anthony went to make sure the younger years were fine, but--"
"He told me not to come here," Hannah said, biting her lip. Her shoulders shook a little. "Told me it wasn't safe. If he's-- oh, I will kill him if he didn't heed his own--"
Neville looked around. The professors were taking care of the students, and the students were going to be okay. They had to be. There was little else he could do now, and if one thing could help, then--
"Hey," he said. "I bet he's fine. I bet he's with Anthony and the younger years and they've found someplace to hide, but they don't know what's going on yet."
Terry nodded. "He knows what he's doing," he added.
"Let's go find them, okay?" Neville said, his hand on Hannah's shoulder. "Let's go tell them the war is over."
Word count points: 874/30 = 29pts
Bonus points: 10pts
Title: Princess
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Marlene McKinnon, Lauren Madley, Joyce Summerby, and Lauren's cat, Princess
Summary: Lauren's cat has been reading her diary.
Word Count: 1142
Author's Notes: This actually blends in well with another challenge, but for the sake of keeping it spoiler-free, I won't say which challenge it is... :P
Registered purchases?: Quill and Parchment
"I'm pretty sure my cat is reading my diary."
Marlene McKinnon looked up from her bed, where she was reading through Hogwarts, a History. "Sorry?"
Lauren Madley was running her fingers through her long golden hair. She'd just undone its plait, and it cascaded in large wavy curls down the front of her nightgown. Princess, her cat, nestled on her lap, purring quite contentedly. It was a change of pace-- usually the cat liked playing "I'm above snuggling" with Lauren. The girl had a thoughtful look. "I came in from practice a few hours ago, and I swear Princess had her tiny little paws on my diary. Isn't that odd?"
"Aww, she's adorable," Marlene said, ignoring the comment Lauren made. She hated to stereotype but Lauren was blonde. This wasn't the first statement she'd made that had made absolutely no sense. Marlene was a much more sensible girl, all things considered, really. She propped up the book on her knees, resting her feet against the edge of her desk as she leaned back. "Come here, Princess," she cooed, coaxing the cat over.
Princess turned lazy eyes in her direction. She blinked, slow and deliberate, then turned away.
"She's never warmed up to you," Lauren said with a small giggle. "Sorry, Marly."
"Oh, whatever. I'm just not a cat person," Marlene muttered.
"Princess just isn't a Marlene cat."
"You know you're going to get found out soon enough," Marlene said, putting on a more serious tone. Lauren usually listened when she had her serious tone on. "You've got to tell a professor you found a cat in the grounds. What if it's, I don't know, part-kneazle or something? Maybe that's why it's stalking us around."
"Oh, Marlene, be sensible," Lauren told her, and Marlene nearly fell over in shock. Be sensible? Lauren had been the girl who found the stray in Hogsmeade, smuggled her in even though she already had an owl and students were only allowed one pet, and kept her. Marlene thought that wasn't being sensible at all. "Princess can't be part-kneazle! Theresa already looked it up in the library the other day-- she says they have odd ears and tails and Princess is obviously a cat."
Marlene sighed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, then," she said. "She was probably just playing around with your stuff. Cats do that, I hear."
"Yeah, well, I knew that," Lauren said. "I just thought it was amusing because she looked like she was reading it."
"Who was reading what?" Joyce Summerby asked, wandering into their dorms. She dumped a large bag on the floor beside her bed and leapt onto her sheets, freshly-washed hair dripping water everywhere as she did.
"Watch it!" Marlene warned, shielding her book protectively from Joyce's mad water-spraying hair.
"Sorry," Joyce said, sharing a Look with Lauren. Both girls snickered, and Marlene bristled. It's not as though she couldn't tell when they were making fun of her.
"My cat was reading my diary today," Lauren told Joyce proudly.
"Is she?" Joyce asked, crawling over to take Princess from Lauren. "She's a smart cat, isn't she?" She stroked her behind her ears. Princess purred, but decided she'd had enough a minute later. She tried to squirm away from Joyce, landing on her feet with a large meow.
"She's a true Ravenclaw cat," Lauren agreed.
Marlene rolled her eyes as she preened like some peacock mother. "Watch it, or your Ravenclaw cat's going to disappear on you again soon," she said, eyeing Princess as she sauntered out of the room. Princess liked doing that.
"Oh, she'll come back," Lauren said with a wave of her hand. "She always does."
Marlene hummed. The first time Princess disappeared was the first night Lauren had taken her home. Lauren had barely gotten any sleep-- her eyes were red and puffy and she'd almost been declared unable to play in the match against Hufflepuffs the next day. She'd been near inconsolable, and it was only when Princess reappeared in the dorm, a few short days later, that anybody had been able to convince Lauren to stop worrying. But Princess liked to keep herself amused, and often she disappeared for long periods of time.
Neither Marlene nor Lauren nor Joyce knew where she went off to, or what she did, but they'd all learned to trust that Princess would find her way back home, as she always did. Marlene was starting to suspect that perhaps Lauren wasn't the only human Princess kept in her life, that some days she went back to her owner in Hogsmeade, whoever that was. It helped explain why nobody ever seemed to put up a sign anywhere about a missing cat. Cats can't go missing if they return, can they?
It didn't seem as though Princess planned to leave tonight, though. At least not yet. She wandered back in not long after, rubbing her feline neck against a leg of Lauren's bed before she settled beside it.
"Hey, Lauren," Joyce said. "Chris says we ought to start planning for the next match anyway. Do you have a minute to talk?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." Lauren scooted closer, taking out a small notebook from her school bag. "I was drawing up a few plays in History today, if you want to look?"
The two girls continued their conversation, talking in low murmurs that faded into the background. Marlene returned to her book, let the history of the castle draw her back in again. This was how most evenings at the Ravenclaw seventh year girls' dormitory usually ended up, and it was always a happy, comforting sort of evening. Lauren and Joyce would discuss Quidditch and teammates and boys, and Marlene would be seated in her corner of the dormitory, nestled against her pillows and reading any one of a dozen books that she had on her desk.
From the corner of her eye she watched yellow head huddled with dark brown, the frantic movement of hands drawing plays on a scrap of parchment. By the bed, Princess was still lying down, though her ears were perked and her eyes alert. The cat, Marlene thought, never seemed to relax.
She sighed, and turned a page.
***
Late that evening, with no one in the castle a-stirring, a tall figure snuck her way back through the other side of Hogwarts.
"Password?"
"Lemon drops," she said.
"Isn't it past curfew, Ms McGonagall?" the Fat Lady asked, swinging open. "Enter."
"Minny! Where were you?"
"Now's not the time to ask questions, Charles, if you know what's good for you," Minerva said. She waited for the confused silence before she beamed. "I know what the Ravenclaw's new strategy is all about!"
Word count points: 1142/30 = 38pts
Bonus points: 10pts
Title: Scenes from Seventh Year
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, mild mentions of torture
Characters/Pairing: Terry Boot, OC
Summary: Snippets from seventh year at Hogwarts.
Word Count: 1534
Author's Notes: Six words, six drabbles each. Holy cow! I was typing like a mad typing person, trying to keep each drabble to five minutes each. It got to the point where my fingers/hands were legit hurting, LOL. I did enjoy this challenge best, though!
Registered purchases?: Quill and Parchment
WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA
"What?" Amycus Carrow asked. "You don't remember your charms?"
The third year shrank back.
"Do you remember your charms or no?"
"I do, sir, I do!" the third year said. His face was round and full, eyes large saucers filled with fear. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his face, and Terry saw how clammy his hand was as he raised it.
"Then show me."
When amycus smiled, it looked like a wolf baring its fangs for slaughter. Terry kept his lips closed, and he looked at the third year-- Jon, yes, that was his name-- with what he hoped was encouragement. You can do it, he wanted to tell him. Don't listen to Carrow.
He hoped he could do it, at least.
"Well, boy?" amycus asked, raising his wand toward the third year. "Are you going to do it or am I going to have to dock points from Ravenclaw today?"
Dock points, indeed. Terry bit back a bitter laugh. That was what they called Crucio these days.
"No, sir," Jon squeaked. He aimed his wand at Terry, whose shoulder ached and whose skin was covered in fresh bruises. I'm sorry, he mouthed, and Terry nodded his understanding. There was nothing to be sorry about, not really. "Win-- Wingardium Leviosa!"
Terry felt his feet lift, a few inches, hovering off the ground-- yes, perhaps-- but Jon hesitated, and in the next moment Terry fell on the ground with a thud. He landed on his ankle, heard a sickening crunch. Fuck.
"I'm sorry, I--"
"Again, boy."
"I can't--"
"Again, boy."
TERRIFIED
Jon Summerby was only doing as he was told. That was all it was, honest. What could he do? What was he supposed to do? If he refused, if he disobeyed, he would get the short end of Carrow's wand, and the man would find another student to do his bidding. And even then-- what if he found a first year? They hadn't even mastered their charms yet-- how could they, the way this year was shaping up to be?
He wanted to run, or close his eyes and will himself back in his room, or in his house, away from all of this. He didn't know what terrified him more-- the fact that Carrow's wand was still aimed at him, ready to cast the Cruciatus at any misstep, or that he was physically playing with Terry Boot.
"Higher, boy," Carrow ordered.
He was doing so well, he thought. He'd managed to keep Terry hovering for the last minute or so now. He tried not to look at the swelling on Terry's ankle, or the broken glasses on the floor. Terry's nose was bloody-- that was from the third time he'd fallen.
"I said higher!"
"Y-- yes, sir," he said meekly, raising his wand to levitate Terry a smidge. His arm was beginning to hurt, but if he stopped now... Terry was so high. He couldn't.
"Higher!"
"Sir, but he'll hit the ceiling," Jon managed to protest.
Carrow's eyes glimmered darkly, and he moved towards him. Startled, Jon lifted both hands to shield himself from the oncoming attack.
There was a cry, a loud crunch of bones meeting hard stone floor. Terry!
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Jon cried out, rushing to his Housemate's aid while Carrow cackled maniacally behind them.
ACCIO
"It's okay, it's all right," Terry whispered, wincing as Jon's clumsy hands touched him in all the places that he hurt. "Just-- could you call Madam Pomfrey, or something, maybe? Michael or Anthony or-- I just need to get to bed, I think."
"I didn't mean to, I swear, he just--" Jon was babbling, his words blurring into an incoherent rambling that was hazing over Terry's head.
"Jon."
"Yeah?"
"Please shut up. You're making my head hurt a little bit."
"Sorry."
"It's okay, it really is," Terry told him with a small smile. "That's what he wanted you to do, you realize that right? You were never going to get out of that without hurting me."
"I know."
"So it's okay, you see," Terry said. "It's not your fault."
Jon nodded, though clearly he still felt guilty.
"Hey, that was really good spellwork, though," Terry said. "You're good with Charms."
"I'm not really--"
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Yeah?"
"There's a kit beneath my bed in the dorm," Terry said. "You know where that is, right?"
"Yeah."
"Summon it for me?"
"Course. Accio kit!"
TRUST
Jon didn't know the first thing about Healing spells. Neither should anyone in Hogwarts, really. Healing school was after seventh year, and you had to have NEWTs in all the hard subjects to even be considered.
Clearly, that wasn't anything they could help these days. They'd all had to learn, one way or another, how to make do. How to heal. How to clean cuts and bruises. How to make potions for Dreamless Sleep. There was a portion of Dumbledore's Army that existed solely to steal potions ingredients from the Potions classroom, another that usually went into Hogsmeade secretly to foray for anything else they might need.
Jon had lain low for the most part, had hidden from most of the attention. Until today, he'd never had to learn much.
"Mix them quickly, stir counterclockwise," Terry was instructing him.
"Are you sure about--"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Terry gave a hollow laugh. "This isn't the first time I've had to make this potion, trust me."
"But what if it's not right?"
"I trust you, alright?" Terry said. "I know you can do this."
"I hate Potions."
Terry laughed again. "I did too," he said. "But it's really useful if you think about it."
"It's turned green now. What do I do next?"
"Add some of the crushed petals in-- yeah, like that," Terry said. His voice was strained, like he was trying hard not to cry. "Thank you."
REPARO
The potion could have done with a little sugar. It was disgustingly bitter, tangy where he wasn't expecting it to be, and it left a revolting aftertaste that Terry wanted to brush away with mint toothpaste.
But still, it worked, and it looked like the pain was beginning to fade. He'd still need to go to Madam Pomfrey later-- the poor woman must be so sick and tired of seeing the same faces in her infirmary by now-- and get it looked at and healed properly. That was all right. He could handle a little bit of pain. As long as he could stand, at least, he'd be fine.
"Thanks again," he told Jon. "You did real well today, you know."
"You keep saying that," Jon told him. "Why do you keep saying that?"
Terry sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "But you need to know this isn't going to be the last time you're going to have to be strong."
Jon shook his head. "I didn't want to come back. I know you're part of the Army but I just-- I'm not cut out for this."
"Jon."
"Yeah?"
"None of us are supposed to be." Terry smiled sadly. "You're only thirteen. I'm only seventeen. We're supposed to be in school, learning and goofing off and pulling pranks. This is--"
"Shite?"
Terry laughed. "Yeah. This is a pile of shit." He sighed, picked up his wand. "Reparo."
"Where are you going?" Jon asked.
"Come follow me. It's fine."
HOPEFUL
Jon had heard of the Army, yes. He knew who was part of it. His classmates whispered about it in the dark of their dormitory, gossiped about who had done what and who was punished for what. Technically, most of the students had by now become part of it, but there was always that core group of them who had been soldiers since the very beginning, who led all the little shows of rebellion and attempts at anarchy that the Carrows tried so hard to police. That the Carrows were usually so successful at curbing with their own sick tactics.
Terry led him to a forgotten hallway in the fourth-- was it the fifth? Jon couldn't remember; Terry had wound through the halls so quickly he'd been unable to keep track-- floor. They walked three times past an empty wall, with Terry muttering again and again under his breath.
Finally, and this Jon couldn't believe, the wall revealed a hidden door, pushed forward in stone and looking as though it had never been anywhere but.
"This is--"
"Yeah," Terry said with a wry smile. "You can keep a secret, can't you, Jon?"
Jon nodded.
Terry entered, and the door opened into a massive room. To Jon it seemed even larger than the Great Hall. Hammocks filled it, and inside a few dozen students milled about. Terry had taken him to the Army headquarters. "This is--"
A portrait high above the north wall moved, shifted, and finally it swung open. Neville Longbottom stepped out, dirty and ragged and as happy as Jon had ever seen anyone.
"Hey guys," Neville said. "Guess who I found."
Behind him, Harry Potter emerged.
Word count points: 1534/30 = 51pts
Bonus points: 10pts
Total word count points: 29 + 38 + 51 = 118
Bonus points: 10 + 10 + 10 = 30
Total points: 148pts for Ravenclaw!
Evy//Ravenclaw
Need a new tag for Terry Boot