FIC: Various HP genfics
Cleaning out my folders, and lo, some salvagable ficbits from hogwarts_elite contests past. This requires the creation of new character tags and everything, how thrilling.
Stars Half-Reached
Harry Potter ; Marlene McKinnon ; PG-13 ; 1,300 words ; prompt of childhood
Before the death, there was a life.
Marlene McKinnon was eighteen years and ten months old when she died. A lot of the McKinnon deaths were a nasty business, but Marlene almost looked as though she were merely sleeping, slid down a wall in the hallway, her arm stretched out over a table, hand outstretched and reaching for something above.
"The other kids' bedrooms," Moody muttered as he looked at her. "Trying to get to them before those bastards did."
Lily gulped, then bent down to lay Marlene's arms to rest in her lap, before gently shutting her eyes. "God," she said. "I--"
"I know, lass," said Moody. "I know."
---
"Here she is," the midwife said, bringing a bundle over to the bed.
"A girl," Hannah McKinnon breathed. "Geoffrey, we have a daughter."
Geoffrey didn't bother trying to hold back the choke in his voice as he reached out to hold his child. "Hello, princess," he said, "welcome to the world!"
Heart bursting with pride, he looked at Hannah, who beamed at him, misty-eyed. "Our family, it's begun."
Hannah laughed, flopping back against her pillows. "Yes, and just the one will do for now, thank you very much. So have you decided on which name yet?"
He looked at the girl in his arms, who blinked at him sleepily, hair already sprouting out and covering her forehead in tufts. "I think," he said slowly, "that she looks like a Marlene."
Hannah nodded. "Marlene it is."
---
"Woah there, Marly, go easy on your brother!" Hannah called from the kitchen window, where she could see her two eldest children racing across the garden, Marlene easily outstripping Sam.
"I'm catching up, you'll see!" Sam shrieked as he leaned down further on his broom, charging full throttle after his sister.
But Marlene was too fast for him, cutting the corners on their impromptu obstacle course so finely Hannah nearly through she'd go head-first into a bush.
"I win, I win!" Marlene shrieked, but as she held her arms aloft, about to commence a victory lap, her foot caught against a tree root and she went sprawling into the flowerbeds. Sam started laughing so hard he rolled off his own broom and joined her, and Hannah couldn't resist a smile of her own as she went to tend to the latest arrival's wailing in the next room.
---
The McKinnons lived in a mostly Muggle neighbourhood, and as such it was hard not to get swept up in the excitement of their imminent space expedition in 1969. Mr Jameson from three doors down had a television set that he set up in the street, and all the neighbourhood kids gathered around it to watch the rocket touch down on the surface of the Moon.
Marlene leaned forward, enraptured by the funny Muggle box with its moving pictures, and when she saw a man gently hop out of his ship, she turned to Sam and whispered "That's what I'm going to do, one day. Just you see."
She didn't stop talking about that magical spaceship for weeks, and when her birthday rolled around come August she found an envelope full of something called "book tokens" which her parents said could get her any Muggle book she wanted. She found all the books on astronauts she could carry and read every one of them in a week.
---
"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat declared, and Marlene stood up shakily, only too ready to get the creepy disembodied voice as far away from her as possible. Feeling a little dazed, it was a moment before she spotted the table with glimmers of blue cheering for her.
She wandered towards them and sank into a seat next to Jonathan Carmichael, a first year who hadn't said a word during the whole train journey. "Are you ok?" she asked.
He turned to her, wide-eyed and pale. "Everything's so loud," he whispered.
"This?" Marlene rolled her eyes. "Listen, I've got two sisters and two brothers. This is nothing compared to my house on a Saturday."
Tentatively, Jonathan smiled.
---
For all his shyness, it turned out Jonathan was amazingly smart, and devious-minded too when he wanted to be.
"You'll never guess what I found!" he told her in great excitement one morning at breakfast in their second year.
After Charms class, he led her over to an odd-looking statue of a witch, and after a little jiggery-pokery they slipped into a secret passage, which turned out to go straight into Hogsmeade. In the end, they didn't dare go beyond Honeydukes' cellar, but delighting in their own success they sat amongst the boxes for hours, talking about all the things they could do with this newfound power. When Jonathan found an open crate full of the shop's finest chocolate bars, Marlene kissed him on the cheek, and even in the dim light of the cellar she could see him blush.
---
It wasn't until they were fifteen that she kissed him properly, and even though the boy still couldn't say boo to a Niffler it turned out his hidden talents didn't stop at discovering secret passageways.
"Isn't this going to make things awkward?" he asked, pulling away hesitantly.
"Not as long as you don't stop," she told him, and he laughed, a sound so soft and so endearing she had to kiss him again.
---
Muggleborn family targeted in another Dark Mark attack.
Muggleborn Matthew Carmichael was killed last night after an attack on his family home by white-masked intruders, the third incident of its kind this week alone. His wife and two sons survive him, though they currently reside in St. Mungo's hospital and are said to be in critical condition...
Marlene's heart felt like it was about to pound right out of her chest as she sat in the waiting room. It had been three days since the attack, and only now was she allowed to see him. Damage from misfired spells, the mediwitches had said. He might not be the same person you once knew, not any more. Irreversible, they'd said.
"You can come in now." Marlene barely registered the nurse even as she was led inside the ward.
Jonathan was sitting upright in his bed, pyjamas neat. He smiled brightly as he saw her, and she rushed towards him. "Jonathan! It's me, it's me, I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, they wouldn't let me get in..."
She paused, looking intently at him. "Jonathan?"
He tilted his head to the side, frowning at her. "Jonathan? Who's he?"
---
She took a deep breath, hand against the door. This was the place, she'd checked three times, and she thought she could hear low voices inside. She pushed the door open and walked inside, eyes widening in the dim light.
"McKinnon?"
She whirled around. James Potter and Sirius Black were leaning against the wall, chipped tea mugs in hand and confused expressions on their faces.
"Shouldn't you be in school?" Sirius asked.
Marlene rolled her eyes. "Finished NEWTs this summer, Black."
Sirius whistled. "Blimey, you've grown! I thought you were still a fourth year or something." He turned to James in consternation. "I feel thoroughly decrepit now, do I look old? Any grey hairs, wrinkles?"
She scoffed. "Don't be so dramatic."
James shot a look at his friend and took her hand. "He's just messing around, I'd ignore him at all times if I were you. Welcome to the Order, Marlene. Good to have you with us."
Marlene nodded, and James led her to a seat just as Dumbledore stood up, beginning to speak about a better world, and how each and every one of them could bring it about, in spite of the forces of darkness that surrounded them. Marlene thought of her parents, of her brothers and sisters, of Jonathan, and her hands clenched in her lap, determination thrilling through her even as she sat and listened. She still dreamed of walking among the stars, but before that, she had to make a world worth coming back to.
*
Pass It On
Harry Potter ; Remus, Minerva ; PG ; 800 words ; prompt of a DADA teacher
Others have held this office.
The kettle started whistling, and Lupin picked it up, pouring the water into an antiquated teapot he'd found in the office when he'd first arrived. He could be wrong, but he thought it was the very same one Professor Bowater had when he'd been a seventh year here.
Bowater had been kind, and smart, and in an environment where Defence lessons were more of an opportunity for opposing student factions to jinx each other than learn anything, she'd picked up on his interest in the subject and given him books and interesting articles she cut out from Dark Creatures Digest.
His friends hadn't understood why he was still bothered with researching Kappas and Demiurges when there was war brewing all around them, and Remus hadn't been able to explain, not at the time. Looking back now, he thought he might understand his younger self a little better. After all, you could classify creatures, understand their ways and work out how to defeat them just by reading books and doing fieldwork. They weren't human, didn't do things like torture children or lead political coups. They just acted according to their nature, and even when that nature was to lure you into a bog, or turn you into lunch, there was something oddly comforting about that.
So while James and Sirius had learnt every book they could find on hexes, and Peter went to sleep every night with his wand still in his hand, half-forming movements, Remus took out his own frustration on a world rapidly going to hell around him by studying in other areas. He wrote feet of parchment for Bowater, work she told him went way beyond school-level. Which was probably true, but also wasn't the point. Remus was just trying to save off other fears, other dangers that he didn't know how to fight.
NEWT results that year saw record numbers of students achieving 'O's and 'E's in their Defence exams, and there had been a short note attached to Remus' certificate to inform him he'd obtained the highest mark in the country in the subject. His dad had been thrilled, and Remus was too, until a second owl fluttered through their open window, bearing the morning edition of the Prophet and "HOGWARTS STAFF MEMBER FOUND DEAD IN HER HOME; DARK MARK ABOVE THE SCENE."
"Remus?"
He started, mind returning to the present. Minerva stood at the door, frowning slightly. "Everything all right?"
He smiled. "Yes, fine. What can I do for you?"
"I come bearing tidings of paperwork to come, I'm afraid," she answered, laying out a few scrolls of parchment on his desk. "Nothing too urgent, but if you could get these approved by the end of the week it would make my life a little easier."
"Of course." A tinny melody began to play from the direction of the teapot. "Ah, I'd say my tea was just about ready - care for some?"
"Please. So," she asked as he poured out two mugs, "how are you settling in?"
"Quite nicely, thank you. The staff's been very accommodating, on the whole."
"Ah, yes. I feel I ought to apologise for Severus--"
Remus shook his head. "No need. He has yet to poison me, and for that I can only be grateful. Milk?"
"Yes, thank you."
He brought over the tea, and nodded over at the teapot. "Do you know, I think this belonged to Professor Bowater."
Minerva stared at it for a moment. "I honestly wouldn't know. Marjorie and I were never close, I never had the chance."
"Marjorie…" Remus blinked. "I'd forgotten that was her name. She died a hero, you know, Stunned four Death Eaters single-handed before they beat her."
Minerva bowed her head. "I remember."
"I was very lucky to have her as a professor in NEWT year, really. She was - inspirational, if that isn't too trite. We were all training to be soldiers, that year, and I got to come away from that, and sit in this office and talk about the latest research into Romanian Doxies. She was this wonderful beacon of normality, in all that madness. She would have done great things in her field, had she lived."
Minerva sighed. "True of more than I care to recall at any one time."
Remus laughed slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embroil you in my nostalgia! It's just strange, being back here again."
"I'm sure. You're doing an admirable job so far though, Remus. I think Marjorie would be very proud."
"Thank you, I appreciate that. I just pray we never have to contend with the circumstances she taught under again."
Minerva nodded, looking down into her mug, as though the tea held some kind of wisdom in its depths. "We can only hope."
*
In This Darkness
Harry Potter ; Neville, Slughorn ; PG ; 600 words ; prompt of house unity during Deathly Hallows
Hogwarts stands protected.
Slughorn walked through the halls of Hogwarts, wondering if he looked as drained as he felt. He hadn't slept well in weeks, constant fear being something of a deterrent to anything resembling restful slumber. The school felt suspended over a chasm, with both sides scrambling to claim it and the whole precarious lot poised to disappear over the edge at any moment. All of his politics, all his diplomacy and connections and the rich fabric of what had been his life was of no use to anyone now, and the only meaningful determination of a good day left was one where each of his students were left safely in their beds at the end of it.
Tonight he patrolled the school, a mostly unspoken agreement between all teachers that they should be the ones to find any miscreants, and not the Carrows or the Headmaster. But never had Horace encountered such a well-behaved body of students in all his years of teaching, and the thought gave him no pleasure.
Yes, extraordinarily well-behaved, all told, with one group proving itself a notable exception; a group whose leader he thought he saw standing in the shadows at the end of the corridor.
"Mr Longbottom!" he called out softly, hurrying over and cursing his rash assumption this would be an easy night.
Longbottom wheeled around, wand arm raised and eyes blazing. Horace flinched and stopped short.
"Oh, it's you. Sorry, Professor," Neville muttered, lowering his arm again.
"It's ill-advised to be abroad at this hour, lad. What are you doing out of your tower?"
"I can't tell you that, sir," Longbottom said firmly.
"You know I'm going to have to ask you to go back to Gryffindor directly."
Longbottom nodded. "And I think you know I'm going to have to refuse, so we might as well skip the whole business."
Horace sighed, and shuffled uncomfortably. The boy looked wild and strange, more a soldier than a student. He'd seen the same look in the eyes of other pupils - Ginny Weasley, as she held hissing conversations with Luna Lovegood in his Potions lessons; Seamus Finnegan, never an early riser but now one of the first to breakfast each morning, drinking coffee like life blood and constantly looking around the room, wary eyes in an exhausted face. Hannah Abbott had never been known to pay such rapt attention in lessons before, clinging on to every piece of the knowledge as though it might save her, and jumping to startled attention every time someone said her name, and there were many more, scattered throughout the school: Dumbledore's Army, as they called themselves, uniting above and beyond age and house for a higher purpose. They were only children, and it was dangerous, misguided, unwise in the extreme.
Longbottom continued to stand his ground, meeting Horace's eye with a steady gaze that seemed much more knowing than his years could possibly warrant, and Horace wondered that even if their enterprise was foolish and doomed to fail, there wasn't something a little admirable in it, too.
"Very well," he said at length.
"Sir?"
"Clearly I cannot prevent you from your activities." Horace began to walk past Longbottom.
"Professor?" Horace turned back again, and Longbottom smiled, for a moment looking seventeen again. "Thank you."
Horace nodded. "Oh, and Neville? Good luck."
He went out into the hallway, where stairways began to swing and take him further on his twilight patrol. The night lay long ahead of him yet, but somehow Horace felt bolstered in his steps, and he wondered whether tonight he might finally be able to claim a little rest.
*
Potential
Harry Potter ; Harry, James II ; G ; 500 words ; prompt of the epilogue kids
There's an unexpected letter in the latest Hogwarts batch.
James stood at the top of the stairs, looking stunned. "Dad?' he called.
Harry frowned. "What is it?"
"I--" James shook his head and walked a few steps holding something in his hands. Harry stepped up to meet him, and he saw a prefect's badge lying in James' hands, who appeared to be thoroughly dazed. "There's been some kind of mix up, I was just going to write to Professor Longbottom..."
Harry's eyes widened in spite of himself. "They made you a prefect?"
James nodded in bewilderment. "Apparently. I don't know what's going on - is this a punishment, some kind of ultimate detention?"
Harry laughed. "Your teachers aren't quite that cruel. Well, Jamie -" James rolled his eyes at that "- this is quite an honour, you know."
"Yeah." James sighed. "I don't get it. Can't say I really want it either."
"Oh, it's not that bad," Harry said, sitting down on the bottom step and taking the badge from James.
"You weren't a prefect, were you?"
Harry laughed. "No, definitely not. I really was far too much trouble, your exploits pale in comparison."
"True, I've yet to manage to crash a car into the school," James answered, grinning. "There's still time, though."
"Not with this, though," Harry said, tapping the badge. "You're going to have to behave yourself now."
James groaned. "Exactly! This year won't be any fun at all. Why'd they pick me, Dad, seriously?"
Harry was quiet for a moment, mind drifting back to when he was his son's age, facing a trial, the war brewing all around him. James was shooting up before his very eyes these days, happy and strong and safe. And somehow, amidst the frogspawn in his brother's hair and detention slips from his professors and the explosive chaos that was the existence of his eldest son, James was beginning to show the makings of a man. Ginny had already seen it, and now someone else had spotted it too. James hadn't realised, not yet, but he would soon. Harry could hear Lily babbling with excitement in the next room as she read her letter out to Albus time after time, and the prospect of an empty house when September came around was looming large.
"You know, mostly the school picks prefects for two reasons. There's people like Hermione, who might as well have been given the badge when they first arrived, but not always. Your Uncle Ron, and Teddy's dad, they weren't who you might have expected, but they got picked anyway because of their potential, because by having some responsibility they get given a chance to show what they're made of."
James looked dubious. "So, what - I have potential as well? Potential for what?"
Harry shrugged, and put the badge back into James' hands. "I have no idea, why don't you find out and let me know?"
He stood up, and James' expression of confusion had yet to leave. Harry smiled. "Oh, and I forgot to say - congratulations. I'm very proud of you."
He gripped James' shoulder, who nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
*
Stars Half-Reached
Harry Potter ; Marlene McKinnon ; PG-13 ; 1,300 words ; prompt of childhood
Before the death, there was a life.
Marlene McKinnon was eighteen years and ten months old when she died. A lot of the McKinnon deaths were a nasty business, but Marlene almost looked as though she were merely sleeping, slid down a wall in the hallway, her arm stretched out over a table, hand outstretched and reaching for something above.
"The other kids' bedrooms," Moody muttered as he looked at her. "Trying to get to them before those bastards did."
Lily gulped, then bent down to lay Marlene's arms to rest in her lap, before gently shutting her eyes. "God," she said. "I--"
"I know, lass," said Moody. "I know."
---
"Here she is," the midwife said, bringing a bundle over to the bed.
"A girl," Hannah McKinnon breathed. "Geoffrey, we have a daughter."
Geoffrey didn't bother trying to hold back the choke in his voice as he reached out to hold his child. "Hello, princess," he said, "welcome to the world!"
Heart bursting with pride, he looked at Hannah, who beamed at him, misty-eyed. "Our family, it's begun."
Hannah laughed, flopping back against her pillows. "Yes, and just the one will do for now, thank you very much. So have you decided on which name yet?"
He looked at the girl in his arms, who blinked at him sleepily, hair already sprouting out and covering her forehead in tufts. "I think," he said slowly, "that she looks like a Marlene."
Hannah nodded. "Marlene it is."
---
"Woah there, Marly, go easy on your brother!" Hannah called from the kitchen window, where she could see her two eldest children racing across the garden, Marlene easily outstripping Sam.
"I'm catching up, you'll see!" Sam shrieked as he leaned down further on his broom, charging full throttle after his sister.
But Marlene was too fast for him, cutting the corners on their impromptu obstacle course so finely Hannah nearly through she'd go head-first into a bush.
"I win, I win!" Marlene shrieked, but as she held her arms aloft, about to commence a victory lap, her foot caught against a tree root and she went sprawling into the flowerbeds. Sam started laughing so hard he rolled off his own broom and joined her, and Hannah couldn't resist a smile of her own as she went to tend to the latest arrival's wailing in the next room.
---
The McKinnons lived in a mostly Muggle neighbourhood, and as such it was hard not to get swept up in the excitement of their imminent space expedition in 1969. Mr Jameson from three doors down had a television set that he set up in the street, and all the neighbourhood kids gathered around it to watch the rocket touch down on the surface of the Moon.
Marlene leaned forward, enraptured by the funny Muggle box with its moving pictures, and when she saw a man gently hop out of his ship, she turned to Sam and whispered "That's what I'm going to do, one day. Just you see."
She didn't stop talking about that magical spaceship for weeks, and when her birthday rolled around come August she found an envelope full of something called "book tokens" which her parents said could get her any Muggle book she wanted. She found all the books on astronauts she could carry and read every one of them in a week.
---
"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat declared, and Marlene stood up shakily, only too ready to get the creepy disembodied voice as far away from her as possible. Feeling a little dazed, it was a moment before she spotted the table with glimmers of blue cheering for her.
She wandered towards them and sank into a seat next to Jonathan Carmichael, a first year who hadn't said a word during the whole train journey. "Are you ok?" she asked.
He turned to her, wide-eyed and pale. "Everything's so loud," he whispered.
"This?" Marlene rolled her eyes. "Listen, I've got two sisters and two brothers. This is nothing compared to my house on a Saturday."
Tentatively, Jonathan smiled.
---
For all his shyness, it turned out Jonathan was amazingly smart, and devious-minded too when he wanted to be.
"You'll never guess what I found!" he told her in great excitement one morning at breakfast in their second year.
After Charms class, he led her over to an odd-looking statue of a witch, and after a little jiggery-pokery they slipped into a secret passage, which turned out to go straight into Hogsmeade. In the end, they didn't dare go beyond Honeydukes' cellar, but delighting in their own success they sat amongst the boxes for hours, talking about all the things they could do with this newfound power. When Jonathan found an open crate full of the shop's finest chocolate bars, Marlene kissed him on the cheek, and even in the dim light of the cellar she could see him blush.
---
It wasn't until they were fifteen that she kissed him properly, and even though the boy still couldn't say boo to a Niffler it turned out his hidden talents didn't stop at discovering secret passageways.
"Isn't this going to make things awkward?" he asked, pulling away hesitantly.
"Not as long as you don't stop," she told him, and he laughed, a sound so soft and so endearing she had to kiss him again.
---
Muggleborn family targeted in another Dark Mark attack.
Muggleborn Matthew Carmichael was killed last night after an attack on his family home by white-masked intruders, the third incident of its kind this week alone. His wife and two sons survive him, though they currently reside in St. Mungo's hospital and are said to be in critical condition...
Marlene's heart felt like it was about to pound right out of her chest as she sat in the waiting room. It had been three days since the attack, and only now was she allowed to see him. Damage from misfired spells, the mediwitches had said. He might not be the same person you once knew, not any more. Irreversible, they'd said.
"You can come in now." Marlene barely registered the nurse even as she was led inside the ward.
Jonathan was sitting upright in his bed, pyjamas neat. He smiled brightly as he saw her, and she rushed towards him. "Jonathan! It's me, it's me, I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, they wouldn't let me get in..."
She paused, looking intently at him. "Jonathan?"
He tilted his head to the side, frowning at her. "Jonathan? Who's he?"
---
She took a deep breath, hand against the door. This was the place, she'd checked three times, and she thought she could hear low voices inside. She pushed the door open and walked inside, eyes widening in the dim light.
"McKinnon?"
She whirled around. James Potter and Sirius Black were leaning against the wall, chipped tea mugs in hand and confused expressions on their faces.
"Shouldn't you be in school?" Sirius asked.
Marlene rolled her eyes. "Finished NEWTs this summer, Black."
Sirius whistled. "Blimey, you've grown! I thought you were still a fourth year or something." He turned to James in consternation. "I feel thoroughly decrepit now, do I look old? Any grey hairs, wrinkles?"
She scoffed. "Don't be so dramatic."
James shot a look at his friend and took her hand. "He's just messing around, I'd ignore him at all times if I were you. Welcome to the Order, Marlene. Good to have you with us."
Marlene nodded, and James led her to a seat just as Dumbledore stood up, beginning to speak about a better world, and how each and every one of them could bring it about, in spite of the forces of darkness that surrounded them. Marlene thought of her parents, of her brothers and sisters, of Jonathan, and her hands clenched in her lap, determination thrilling through her even as she sat and listened. She still dreamed of walking among the stars, but before that, she had to make a world worth coming back to.
*
Pass It On
Harry Potter ; Remus, Minerva ; PG ; 800 words ; prompt of a DADA teacher
Others have held this office.
The kettle started whistling, and Lupin picked it up, pouring the water into an antiquated teapot he'd found in the office when he'd first arrived. He could be wrong, but he thought it was the very same one Professor Bowater had when he'd been a seventh year here.
Bowater had been kind, and smart, and in an environment where Defence lessons were more of an opportunity for opposing student factions to jinx each other than learn anything, she'd picked up on his interest in the subject and given him books and interesting articles she cut out from Dark Creatures Digest.
His friends hadn't understood why he was still bothered with researching Kappas and Demiurges when there was war brewing all around them, and Remus hadn't been able to explain, not at the time. Looking back now, he thought he might understand his younger self a little better. After all, you could classify creatures, understand their ways and work out how to defeat them just by reading books and doing fieldwork. They weren't human, didn't do things like torture children or lead political coups. They just acted according to their nature, and even when that nature was to lure you into a bog, or turn you into lunch, there was something oddly comforting about that.
So while James and Sirius had learnt every book they could find on hexes, and Peter went to sleep every night with his wand still in his hand, half-forming movements, Remus took out his own frustration on a world rapidly going to hell around him by studying in other areas. He wrote feet of parchment for Bowater, work she told him went way beyond school-level. Which was probably true, but also wasn't the point. Remus was just trying to save off other fears, other dangers that he didn't know how to fight.
NEWT results that year saw record numbers of students achieving 'O's and 'E's in their Defence exams, and there had been a short note attached to Remus' certificate to inform him he'd obtained the highest mark in the country in the subject. His dad had been thrilled, and Remus was too, until a second owl fluttered through their open window, bearing the morning edition of the Prophet and "HOGWARTS STAFF MEMBER FOUND DEAD IN HER HOME; DARK MARK ABOVE THE SCENE."
"Remus?"
He started, mind returning to the present. Minerva stood at the door, frowning slightly. "Everything all right?"
He smiled. "Yes, fine. What can I do for you?"
"I come bearing tidings of paperwork to come, I'm afraid," she answered, laying out a few scrolls of parchment on his desk. "Nothing too urgent, but if you could get these approved by the end of the week it would make my life a little easier."
"Of course." A tinny melody began to play from the direction of the teapot. "Ah, I'd say my tea was just about ready - care for some?"
"Please. So," she asked as he poured out two mugs, "how are you settling in?"
"Quite nicely, thank you. The staff's been very accommodating, on the whole."
"Ah, yes. I feel I ought to apologise for Severus--"
Remus shook his head. "No need. He has yet to poison me, and for that I can only be grateful. Milk?"
"Yes, thank you."
He brought over the tea, and nodded over at the teapot. "Do you know, I think this belonged to Professor Bowater."
Minerva stared at it for a moment. "I honestly wouldn't know. Marjorie and I were never close, I never had the chance."
"Marjorie…" Remus blinked. "I'd forgotten that was her name. She died a hero, you know, Stunned four Death Eaters single-handed before they beat her."
Minerva bowed her head. "I remember."
"I was very lucky to have her as a professor in NEWT year, really. She was - inspirational, if that isn't too trite. We were all training to be soldiers, that year, and I got to come away from that, and sit in this office and talk about the latest research into Romanian Doxies. She was this wonderful beacon of normality, in all that madness. She would have done great things in her field, had she lived."
Minerva sighed. "True of more than I care to recall at any one time."
Remus laughed slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embroil you in my nostalgia! It's just strange, being back here again."
"I'm sure. You're doing an admirable job so far though, Remus. I think Marjorie would be very proud."
"Thank you, I appreciate that. I just pray we never have to contend with the circumstances she taught under again."
Minerva nodded, looking down into her mug, as though the tea held some kind of wisdom in its depths. "We can only hope."
*
In This Darkness
Harry Potter ; Neville, Slughorn ; PG ; 600 words ; prompt of house unity during Deathly Hallows
Hogwarts stands protected.
Slughorn walked through the halls of Hogwarts, wondering if he looked as drained as he felt. He hadn't slept well in weeks, constant fear being something of a deterrent to anything resembling restful slumber. The school felt suspended over a chasm, with both sides scrambling to claim it and the whole precarious lot poised to disappear over the edge at any moment. All of his politics, all his diplomacy and connections and the rich fabric of what had been his life was of no use to anyone now, and the only meaningful determination of a good day left was one where each of his students were left safely in their beds at the end of it.
Tonight he patrolled the school, a mostly unspoken agreement between all teachers that they should be the ones to find any miscreants, and not the Carrows or the Headmaster. But never had Horace encountered such a well-behaved body of students in all his years of teaching, and the thought gave him no pleasure.
Yes, extraordinarily well-behaved, all told, with one group proving itself a notable exception; a group whose leader he thought he saw standing in the shadows at the end of the corridor.
"Mr Longbottom!" he called out softly, hurrying over and cursing his rash assumption this would be an easy night.
Longbottom wheeled around, wand arm raised and eyes blazing. Horace flinched and stopped short.
"Oh, it's you. Sorry, Professor," Neville muttered, lowering his arm again.
"It's ill-advised to be abroad at this hour, lad. What are you doing out of your tower?"
"I can't tell you that, sir," Longbottom said firmly.
"You know I'm going to have to ask you to go back to Gryffindor directly."
Longbottom nodded. "And I think you know I'm going to have to refuse, so we might as well skip the whole business."
Horace sighed, and shuffled uncomfortably. The boy looked wild and strange, more a soldier than a student. He'd seen the same look in the eyes of other pupils - Ginny Weasley, as she held hissing conversations with Luna Lovegood in his Potions lessons; Seamus Finnegan, never an early riser but now one of the first to breakfast each morning, drinking coffee like life blood and constantly looking around the room, wary eyes in an exhausted face. Hannah Abbott had never been known to pay such rapt attention in lessons before, clinging on to every piece of the knowledge as though it might save her, and jumping to startled attention every time someone said her name, and there were many more, scattered throughout the school: Dumbledore's Army, as they called themselves, uniting above and beyond age and house for a higher purpose. They were only children, and it was dangerous, misguided, unwise in the extreme.
Longbottom continued to stand his ground, meeting Horace's eye with a steady gaze that seemed much more knowing than his years could possibly warrant, and Horace wondered that even if their enterprise was foolish and doomed to fail, there wasn't something a little admirable in it, too.
"Very well," he said at length.
"Sir?"
"Clearly I cannot prevent you from your activities." Horace began to walk past Longbottom.
"Professor?" Horace turned back again, and Longbottom smiled, for a moment looking seventeen again. "Thank you."
Horace nodded. "Oh, and Neville? Good luck."
He went out into the hallway, where stairways began to swing and take him further on his twilight patrol. The night lay long ahead of him yet, but somehow Horace felt bolstered in his steps, and he wondered whether tonight he might finally be able to claim a little rest.
*
Potential
Harry Potter ; Harry, James II ; G ; 500 words ; prompt of the epilogue kids
There's an unexpected letter in the latest Hogwarts batch.
James stood at the top of the stairs, looking stunned. "Dad?' he called.
Harry frowned. "What is it?"
"I--" James shook his head and walked a few steps holding something in his hands. Harry stepped up to meet him, and he saw a prefect's badge lying in James' hands, who appeared to be thoroughly dazed. "There's been some kind of mix up, I was just going to write to Professor Longbottom..."
Harry's eyes widened in spite of himself. "They made you a prefect?"
James nodded in bewilderment. "Apparently. I don't know what's going on - is this a punishment, some kind of ultimate detention?"
Harry laughed. "Your teachers aren't quite that cruel. Well, Jamie -" James rolled his eyes at that "- this is quite an honour, you know."
"Yeah." James sighed. "I don't get it. Can't say I really want it either."
"Oh, it's not that bad," Harry said, sitting down on the bottom step and taking the badge from James.
"You weren't a prefect, were you?"
Harry laughed. "No, definitely not. I really was far too much trouble, your exploits pale in comparison."
"True, I've yet to manage to crash a car into the school," James answered, grinning. "There's still time, though."
"Not with this, though," Harry said, tapping the badge. "You're going to have to behave yourself now."
James groaned. "Exactly! This year won't be any fun at all. Why'd they pick me, Dad, seriously?"
Harry was quiet for a moment, mind drifting back to when he was his son's age, facing a trial, the war brewing all around him. James was shooting up before his very eyes these days, happy and strong and safe. And somehow, amidst the frogspawn in his brother's hair and detention slips from his professors and the explosive chaos that was the existence of his eldest son, James was beginning to show the makings of a man. Ginny had already seen it, and now someone else had spotted it too. James hadn't realised, not yet, but he would soon. Harry could hear Lily babbling with excitement in the next room as she read her letter out to Albus time after time, and the prospect of an empty house when September came around was looming large.
"You know, mostly the school picks prefects for two reasons. There's people like Hermione, who might as well have been given the badge when they first arrived, but not always. Your Uncle Ron, and Teddy's dad, they weren't who you might have expected, but they got picked anyway because of their potential, because by having some responsibility they get given a chance to show what they're made of."
James looked dubious. "So, what - I have potential as well? Potential for what?"
Harry shrugged, and put the badge back into James' hands. "I have no idea, why don't you find out and let me know?"
He stood up, and James' expression of confusion had yet to leave. Harry smiled. "Oh, and I forgot to say - congratulations. I'm very proud of you."
He gripped James' shoulder, who nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
*