Extra Special Drabble Challenge

[Hedwig]

WELCOME TO THE EXTRA SPECIAL DRABBLE CHALLENGE WEEK :)

Penni did this awhile ago, then shabd did, but it’s time to bring it back now! Thanks to Captain Black for remembering this!

Your task this week is to choose any 5 prompts from the list below, and write 5 drabbles that would work whether they are being read separately, or together as a short story. So basically, you need to write 5 individual drabbles that are related to each other but can still stand alone.

The list of prompts (and their owners) to choose from is as follows:
-Water (Sadira)
-Balance (Sadira)
-String (Loth)
-Old (Loth)
-Vegetables (Taco)
-Home (Boss Nio)
-Reflection (carma)
-Stare (Sadira)
-Candy (carma)
-Toaster
-Cookie
-Attempt
-Success
-Light
-Colour
-Love
-Fly
-Why

Remember to write exactly 100 words per drabble- no more, no less, keep your drabbles PG-13, spell-check before you post, and ensure that your drabbles take place in the HP Universe, though they may be as AU as you want.

Because this is a special contest and it’s a lot more work to complete, each entry will receive 30 house points, and the winner will receive 100 house points and galleons. Good luck and have fun!

[Pennilyn Novus]

(It was Penni's idea first)

[Hedwig]

(Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't know! Do you mean you did it first, or you remembered first?)

[Stud Muffin]

Penni did it first. I shamelessly copied from her. ^_^

I love euca so much I want to marry her... and I've hidden my secret stash of pink skirts in the room of lost things. I hate this game so much.

[Lothroniel Stormcrow]

1 (fly): It felt like I was flying. Soaring. Every single thing seemed so perfect. The lake- calm and still around me, my paddle willing and my imagination running wild. The wind pushed my hair back from my face. “Sabine!” I called to my sister on shore, the one afraid of this fluttering sensation. “It's not that difficult!” But she could not hear me. The feeling of weightlessness, of flight was gone. The trees created dark shadows. The stream was riddled with rocks and logs. My canoe suddenly flipped, and for a moment, the feeling returned before I was plummeting.
2 (water): The water was suffocating, icy and dark on my soaked flesh. “Help! Sabine! Help me!” I called, thrashing and trying not to be pulled under by my heavy jeans and sweater. “Help...” my cries grew faint as I was pulled farther into the rapids by the current. I was sinking, fast. My mouth opened desperately to scream again, but I was silenced by another frigid deluge. A tendril of lakeweed grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. I was submersed, feeling the cruel hand of death seize me, when I saw something. A a rope dangling towards me.
3 (string): Something possessed me to swim. I was weary and drowning, but the rope, well more like string, was enticing me, motivating me to keep going. I only realize how lucky I was now, lucky that there was someone there. Lucky that I had enough breath left. Lucky that the string didn't break immediately. Then though, I thought of nothing but sunlight and air. I had almost reached the lifeline when I was pulled back, as if by an invisible tether. Lakeweed, I thought and ripped myself free. The water was growing warmer. I grabbed the line and felt a jerk.
4 (old): The woman before me was incredibly old. I lay spluttering on the riverbank, inspecting her every wrinkle and slump. How could she, I thought, perplexed, have pulled me out of the rapids? Her nails were short and caked with dirt, her hair white and thin. “Th-thank you!” I gasped and she nodded. She stood, leaning on her cane, watching me. “H-h-how did you d-do that?” I asked.
“You're cold.” she replied, ignoring my question. She walked towards me with a hunched back and held out her hand. Her eyes glinted with magic. “Come.” she declared, smiling.
5 (home): The old woman led me through the woods. We eventually reached her home, a small, cozy cabin in a mossy clearing. She opened the door and motioned for me to enter. “Sit down,” she said, pointing to a stool by the empty fireplace. I did, facing it, shivering. “Poor girl,” she clucked and suddenly there was a roaring fire.
“How d-did... w-what ARE yo-ou?” I cried, shocked. The woman rushed around her home, gathering plates and pillows. She then stopped in the living room, pulling out a wooden stick. “I'm a witch. And so are you.”

[Stud Muffin]

Balance

The Muggles think that the shortest distance from A to B is a straight line, but ask anyone who knows Transfiguration and they'll tell you: sometimes it is easier to just follow the curve.

Scorpius knew this. It was the reason why he was so adept at the subject. He knew that there were an infinite number of meandering routes that led to the same destination, and what mattered was not which route you picked, but how well you maintained the balance.

Every relationship had a balance, and Scorpius was so good at walking the tightrope.

Then he met Albus.


Fly

Albus' world was full of dancing bears and neon lights and strawberry knives. In Albus' world, the grass was blue and the sky was green, and Scorpius found it depressing as hell.

Depressing but still addictive, in the way only Albus knew how.

Scorpius was not sure which role he was supposed to play. Was he the protective friend, the indifferent housemate, the savior-in-disguise? Or maybe he was something he dared not think about in his wildest dreams?

Then he decided it didn't matter. He was what he was.

And so it was with Albus that Scorpius learnt to fly.


Why

They were in their fifth year when Scorpius took up smoking. He lighted the tip with a touch of his wand, unlike Albus, who would have used a Muggle lighter, he knew. But he was not Albus and he was Scorpius and damn it, he wondered when it became so important for him to distinguish between the two.

Albus cornered him one day, with his round eyes and his oval lips. Why? Why do you smoke?

But Scorpius knew he could never tell. It was a filthy secret he harbored, but he knew he'd sooner die than give it up.


Toaster

Albus gifted him a toaster for Christmas, because Albus was weird like that and he never stopped to think that Scorpius had a house elf who toasted his toast for him. Still, it was a very nice toaster.

Scorpius gifted Albus a watch, because just last week Albus had gone swimming in the Lake – with the Giant Squid, he claimed – and of course, he'd forgotten to take his watch off before diving into the water. Even magical watches with waterproof designs had limits, and Albus was determined to test them all.

Sometimes it seemed that Albus had no limits himself.


Love

Theirs could have been a love story. It was not.

It was a story about learning to live with flaws and imperfections. Smoke rings above their heads and impromptu swims with the Giant Squid.

It was a story about first dates that ended with Scorpius punching the bartender in the stomach for calling him a 'Death Eater's spawn'. Later, Albus whispered, You're beautiful, and all anger faded away.

It was a story about first kisses that clanged teeth and bruised mouths, because they never learnt how to do things halfway.

A lie.

It was a love story. It always is.

[Sadira Black]

Love
He looked forlornly at the picture in his hands. It was a simple muggle photograph, so naturally it didn't move. A smile was frozen on the red-haired woman's face, and her green eyes sparkled with laughter. Love swelled in his chest as he looked at Lily's face, but it was nearly overpowered by the sorrow that threatened to drown him. It had been years since her death, and yet the feeling had never gone away. In his heart, he knew he'd never love another woman again. Not because he wasn't incapable of love, but because no other woman was Lily.

Stare
As Minerva called Harry Potter's name from the list of first years to be sorted, Snape's head snapped up from glaring at his plate. He was startled to say the least. He was almost an exact carbon copy of his father. But as Snape took a closer look at the boy, he noticed something unsettling. His eyes. Lily's eyes. He felt a pang of regret fill him as the startling green eyes flooded his mind with reminders. And even though the eyes of his first, and only, love made him feel like breaking down, he couldn't help but to stare.

Reflection
He hated him. Severus Snape hated Harry Potter with a passion. Deep in his heart he knew why, though he would never admit it to anyone. Not even himself. Harry was the spitting image of James, that one reason was enough for Snape to hate Harry. The fact that he had no respect for authority was another good one. But the real reason Severus Snape hated his student so much more than he had ever hated anyone was because every time he looked at Harry’s eyes, he saw the clear reflection of how Lily viewed him in her final days.

Why
Every time he had to look at those eyes, Lily’s, a pang of regret and sorrow filled his chest. It was suffocating, like he was being pulled underwater and drowned. Some days it was easier to get by, others he wanted to kill himself. All he could do was ask himself the unanswered questions. Why? Why did he say that one word to her? Why did he go and tell his master that there was a prophecy? Why didn’t he protect her? There were so many “why’s”, and he couldn’t for the life of him answer any of them truthfully.

Home

Snape wheezed a shaky breath. He could feel the life slipping from him as the blood seeped through the wound created by Nagini. He wouldn't last much longer now. Even though he knew death was inevitable now, he had a smile on his face. A smile that hadn't been present for years. It wasn't a smirk like he normally would have on his face. It was a genuine show of happiness. Anyone else would have been afraid. But Snape wasn't. As the life drained from him, he looked at Harry's eyes. Lily's eyes. He was finally going home to her.

[Zoriath Mentriad]

Balance:

Good and evil. You would think it would be as easy as black and white, but Albus knew all too well that there was a thin strip of gray down the centre.

That was the path on which he walked; his slightest actions threatening to throw him over to either side.

He knew that he was a powerful wizard; but was he a benevolent wizard? Was he really acting in a way that would be beneficial to all? Was his definition of the greater good the best definition?

He did not know. For this, he continued staggering down this path.

Reflection:

Dumbledore examined his face carefully in the mirror. He wondered if he had hidden his stress and anxiety from everyone as well as he had hoped.

The worry marks could be dismissed with age, and his false expressions of calmness and joy seemed realistic enough. He wore an excellent mask carved of the finest insecurities.

Inside, he was a mess. The Dark Lord was running amok and the Order of the Phoenix seemed to be failing in his detainment. Now, it seemed, he was after the Potters. How is it that so many people fall before him under his influence?

Stare:

No matter where they were, Dumbledore could not take his eyes off of Harry. So many people had died in this underground war, and here he was, guiding another lamb to the slaughter.

He saw James and Lily in that boy. It was his fault that they died; and now Harry.

For a second, Harry's eyes met Albus' from across the room. The same eye's that Lily had met him with so many times in the order. He silently wondered if her eyes had met Voldemort's that night.

Through that one boy's eyes, he was staring into an abyss of failures.

Attempt:

Albus sat miserably at his desk, eying the Gaunt ring.

The resurrection stone could bring anyone back from the dead. His mind toyed with the idea of conjuring all of his failures. He could apologize. He could redeem himself.

He gave into his desires and turned the stone in his hand thrice. He summoned each one forth and apologized to them. They all reacted the same way. They wouldn't look at him. They wouldn't speak. No one.

His last ditch attempt at redemption had failed. There was no way to shake his destiny. This was the only true way.

Light:

As Snape cast the killing curse, the tower was filled with a brilliant green.

This was his moment of redemption. His plans to repair what he had broken were in motion, and this was a key moment. He had to die. His mind raced through all of his sins, keeping him where he stood.

This was for Ariana, for the Order, for Harry, and for everyone else he had failed.

The spell hit him in the chest and he fell backwards. He mouthed the words "I'm sorry..." one final time, before walking into the light, forgiven. He was done.

[carma09]

Home:

Sirius Black never felt at home at Grimmauld Place. Not in one moment in his life had he ever had the feeling contentment in the place of his childhood, but this was the first time he had ever come close to happiness or any kind of positive feeling. This Christmas he had all of the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry there with him. Watching everyone around the dinner table, he saw something that house had been missing for a long time: laughter, love, and life. For the first since he was at Hogwarts, he felt like he was finally at home.


Candy:

It was a well-known fact that Sirius Black loves candy. Any type of candy at all: chocolate, lollipops, bubble gum, or jelly beans. He loved it all. During his days at Hogwarts, all he would receive for his birthdays and Christmas was candy or money to buy candy. His current obsession were the chocolate-covered peanuts that Honeydukes had just introduced. Christmas was coming up tomorrow, and he couldn’t wait to see what his gift was. That morning when he raced down the stone steps and tore open his present from James, he saw that is was a ten-pound bar chocolate.


Colour: Black and white are the two most common colours in the world. They are used in many things: to show opposites and the line between good and evil, but things aren’t always complete opposites or entirely good or evil. Sometimes, more often than people realize, there is something called the grey area. The point where good and evil overlap, right and wrong become fused together. For a long time, Sirius considered himself the grey area. He wanted to please his parents, but he soon found out, he wasn’t meant for the life they had planned. He was destined for something much better.





Fly: Flying is one of the best things in the entire world. Flying made you free, like you could do anything; be anybody. There was something about being high above the ground that was empowering. When Sirius first got the motorcycle, everyone was doubtful that he could make it fly- or rather why would he get a motorcycle to fly when he had a perfectly good broom sitting in his closet. But as Sirius revved up the bike and flew it into the air, he smiled contentedly. This is why flying was the best- except for when he was playing quidditch.





Success: If Sirius heard the name Lily Evans one more time, he was going to go absolutely insane. It’s the only the thing James ever talks about. At least Remus can read or go to the library to get away from it. There is no way Sirius was doing that. He had a few more minutes before his love-stricken friend came back to the common room from his prefect rounds. He wishes that she would just give in and agree to date him. Just then James burst through. “She said yes!” Sirius let a sigh of relief. James had finally succeeded.

[Deleted]

((I hope it's not too late))



Old

Ron was the first person he could call a friend in a life where he had been shunned, rejected. He almost hadn’t believed it – thinking that, like all else, he too, would turn out to be a simple dream, conjured by the lonely mind of an unwanted child, to be stripped away as a delusion by a world that had no place for him. Then Ron stood by his side, time and again, facing trolls, basilisks, narcissistic ponces and werewolves, and it struck Harry – Ron wasn’t going anywhere. Suddenly, he could see them, years from now – old, grey, and together.


Why

Hermione came next. Harry asked himself, again and again – Why?

He wasn’t special. He wasn’t handsome. Hermione was much smarter than he was. Ron was the funny one. Whatever were they doing with him? The freak, the outcast, the boy who spoke to snakes and had a half-crazed, evil wizard intent on his destruction. Any sane person would have run away screaming.

He said as much to Hermione, one sunny day as they watched the Giant Squid swimming in the Lake. Why?

Hermione looked at him, surprised. “Why, Harry, whoever said we were sane?” she said, Ron laughing in agreement.


Fly

Harry finally reconciled himself to the fact that he did, in fact, have friends - friends who would stand up for him, stay by his side even in the face of danger, who laughed, even as they gazed up at their own deaths, just to reassure Harry that yes, they were still there, they weren’t dead, and they would keep fighting until the bloody end. He was floating.

Then Ginny came, and his days were filled with endless light and sunshine, as they lounged in shady corners whispering and laughing together, in a world of their own. Harry was flying.


Balance

As if to balance out their light and laughter and simplicity with his cold logic and razor-sharp sarcasm, Draco Malfoy found himself “Consorting with the Gryffindor plebs”, sneering at their naivety, yet savouring it; ridiculing their warmth, yet basking in it. He was caustic, and cynical. Yet, it was Draco who stood by Harry’s side as he planned to take the fight to Voldemort, to “Bring him down at last.” It was Draco who silenced Harry’s detractors with a single sneer. Finally, it was Draco who sat by Harry as he mourned the dead as the world rejoiced Voldemort’s defeat.


Reflection

Harry looked in the mirror, and as he stared at his reflection, the years seemed to fade away until he was not yet a man, about to fight Voldemort. Alone. Harry could see terror, pain, and a determination that consumed those emotions in a burning fire that warmed him, pushing him on through the Forest to where Voldemort waited, to where he would die, to where he would be reborn.

Harry thought back, wondering at the source of that fiery strength that had driven him, and he saw the faces of his friends. Harry smiled. He had never been alone.