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Disclaimer: I acknowledge that Harry Potter and everything around it is JK Rowlings sandbox and I only play in it by her leave. Thank you JKR!
Most of these were beta'ed by P., even though I removed most references. My thanks are everlasting, dear :-)

"I will !"

Date: 9.4.08
Challenge: #8 Blood Traitor
Summary: Draco defying his father when he decides to marry Astoria
Word count: 111

I care not of wealth or of breeding like you.
There's planning and caring in what I will do.

Of pure blood stems sickness, and madness, and greed.
A half-blood is all that the wizard lines need.
Blood traitor you call me, I wear it with pride.
I'd rather be called that than loosing my bride.

Our children will prosper with love in their hearts.
That's quite a lot better than small private parts,
Three fingers on one hand and a harelip on top
But a mighty estate and the life of a snob.

Whatever you say, she's the love of my life.
However you shout, she will be my wife!

Free At Last

Date: 12.3.08
Challenge: Socks
Characters: Harry's children and a house elf
Wordcount: 100 (yes! exactly! yay me!)
A/N: Unebta'ed one-shot.

The old house-elf had had his own sense of loyalty. Never to his own kind, never to those who meant him well. He was so old that the family who owned him had forgotten when they'd got him or where they'd got him from, even long before there was nobody left to remember. His life had gone through so many changes that he confused the stories, the names, and the people. Still, when Albus Severus and Lilly buried Kreacher, they respected their father's instructions and laid Regulus' locket with the crest of the Blacks and a sock into his grave.

The Perfect Potion

Date: 23.2.08
Character(s): Fred and George Weasley
Challenge(s): Twins
Word count: 112

Snape hadn't really paid attention. For Fred and George that meant some fun was in order.

The instructions on the board said to team up in pairs and prepare the potion the other one would then take at the end of the lesson. Toward the end, Fred's and George's liquids had turned a vivid orange.

"Time to take your potion and come up front to be rated." Snape announced.

With a smirk, the twins clanked vials and gulped the contents down. A shudder ran through both of them. Fred grinned.

"It worked. That's gotta be an Outstanding!"

George turned to Snape. "Isn't that the most perfect Polyjuice Potion you've ever seen, professor?"

Only for One

Date: 7.2.08
Character(s): young Charlie Weasley (mention of Bill and Snape)
Challenge(s): Hate Potion
Word count: 147 (pfew!)
Author's notes: not beta'ed, one-shot

"Add three drops of troll blood and stir widdershins thirteen times."

Charlie looked up from the book. He hoped all these expensive ingredients would be worth it.

"Apply carefully to the person you wish to be hated."

Now, wait a minute! This wasn't to generate hatred but to be hated? He flipped back a page. "Love Potion #5 - a potion to make two people fall in love with each other." Next page. "Hate Potion." No explanation. So this was to make two people hate each other, surely?

He looked at the bubbling cauldron and frowned. He wanted Bill to leave his girl alone. He certainly didn't want to hate her himself, or have everyone else hate her...

With a shrug, he heaved up the cauldron and tipped its contents over the banisters.

On his first day at work young Professor Snape never knew what hit him.

Une Leçon

Date: 7.2.08
Beta: my French teacher
Disclaimer: even in French, HP belongs to JKR.

Professeur McGonagall finit ses corrections et gémit. Cet Harry Potter est peut être un bon aviateur, mais pour la métamorphose il ne convient pas. Avec un autre soupir elle sort de son bureau. Comment le motiver? Après tous c'ést elle qui le a choisi comme attrapeur du team Gryffondor.
Quand elle ouvre le portrait de la tour de Gryffondor avec le mot de passe actuel, elle sent la présence du "fils qui vie". Elle n'est pas une chatte animagus en vain.
C'est à ce moment qu'elle a l'idée…
"Prenez votre équipement Quidditch, M Potter! Je vous offre une leçon de Quidditch et de métamorphose à la même temps."
"Quoi?" Harry répond avec surprise.
Le professeur surit. "Vous allez transformer votre plume en un balais volant et vous allez en l'entrainement Quidditch avec ce balai. On va voire que si je n'arrive pas à vous enseigner la métamorphose."
Les élèves de Gryffondor la regardent effrayés.
Le sang d'Harry n'a fait qu'un tour.
"Tiens les pouces!" il murmure à Ron avant de partir avec Mme McGonagall.

Dialogues with a Hat

Date: 3.2.08
Warnings: PG, spoiler for Deathly Hallows
Summary: Did you ever wonder what happened when Neville put on the Sorting Hat that last time?
Words: 1500

"This is embarrassing!"
Neville felt the voice inside his head more than he heard it. Vaguely, he remembered that it had been the same feeling almost seven years ago, when he had sat on the small wooden stool for the Sorting.


"A young Master Longbottom," the hat had said. "Neville, is it? Ah, how to proceed?"

Neville, only 11 at that time, had been petrified. He had found out on that day that you could not only be too anxious to speak, you could be too scared to think as well.

His grandmother had told him about the Hogwarts Houses. Grudgingly, it had seemed to him. She had refrained from judging the houses, even though he had asked which one to prefer. She had, as neutrally as possible, told him what the Houses stood for, and he could only guess which one she would prefer him to join.
"Gryffindor is for the brave of heart" she'd said and she had cast him one of those looks that said 'Not for you then!'.
"Ravenclaw holds those that read and study, and Hufflepuff is for the just and loyal. Slytherin has always only taken pure bloods, but then, your ambitions won't be high enough for that" and this time it hadn't sounded disappointed.
He had asked other children his age, listened to the stories of the grown-ups, and looked for books in the local book store but the qualities discerning the houses were all a bit fuzzy to him.

"Is there a house you want to be in?" the voice inside his head had asked. It had been an old voice, raspy and with a dusty quality to it, but not like his grandmother's. More gentle, and seemingly understanding.
Neville had shaken his head, unable to even think "No".

"Well, let me tell you then," the hat had said, "what I think, and maybe you can help me with the decision. Hmmm… I can see no bookish qualities in you. You want to learn, yes, but not for wisdom's sake. Only what interests you, or what will make your grandmother proud. So not a Ravenclaw, eh? A Hufflepuff maybe, because I see your ability and willingness to loyalty? Yet - is it loyalty born of fear? That is not true virtue, my boy. You want to make friends, yes! With your parents missing from your life, you need friends to give you the feeling to belong. I see you want to please your grandmother, too. How much do you want those things? By all means available to you? So would that be a Slytherin then?"

Neville had made no effort to answer. In fact he had tried not to think at all. There was one house left yet, wasn't there?

"Aha, so be it then - Slytherin," the hat had said, and Neville had gathered all his courage to form a loud and forceful "No" in his head.

"Aaah," the old voice had sighed, and Neville had smelled old leather like an ancient breath.
"Is that a reaction then, at last? Why should I not put you in Slytherin? Influential friends could get you far, you know. They could protect you from your fears, too."

"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin!" Neville had blurted out, although the words had never left his mouth. "Slytherins tortured my parents! If you force me to go to Slytherin, I'll rip you off my head... I'll step on you... burn you... run away and learn magic elsewhere. I am not going to Slytherin! I am not, I'm telling you!"

And then he'd heard Professor McGonagall say: "Get up, please, Mr. Longbottom. Take a seat at your table," and upon opening his eyes had realized to his surprise that the Gryffindor table was cheering and clapping. He had stumbled over, wondering how he had deserved this fate, and what had made the hat change its mind. After he had returned the hat that he had forgotten to take off, he had stopped wondering for the sake of just being happy for a while.


"I see you remember me," the voice inside his head said now. "Are you still too scared to answer or did some bravery rub off the house I placed you in?"
"I just don't know what to say!" Neville replied a little hurt. He found that his fear of the Sorting Hat had quite disappeared. Or maybe it was just clouded by the greater fear for his life in this circle dominated by Death Eaters?

"Well, another student once used the opportunity to verify my first choice in Sorting. Would you be interested in that?"
The voice sounded a little mocking, and slightly amused.

"I don't think we have time for that..." Neville answered hesitantly.

"Ah, but we would. Thoughts are much faster than words, you see. We can think a lot while Mr. Riddle over there makes up his mind what witty thing to say next."

After a moment's thought Neville said: "It doesn't matter if your Sorting was right or wrong. I'm glad I was in Gryffindor! At least I have known friendship before... it ends now!"

"My dear boy," said the hat, and suddenly that voice was full of pity and concern. "This is not where it ends, surely. This is just an embarrassing episode!"

"Embarrassing?" Neville asked in wonder. "Voldemort is going to kill us all and you find that merely embarrassing?"

"Indeed! I was threatened with so much more during my existence - yourself amongst my most favourite contenders if I recall correctly - that I have lost interest in all but the most cunning assaults, really. I am a thousand years of age and have seen inside the heads of all of those who surround us now. I have nothing to fear. Being used as an o bject for the amusement of a dark wizard is merely - embarrassing."

"Well, I haven't," Neville blurted out, "Seen inside their heads I mean - and I have much to fear. I would be grateful if you would let me think for a moment of what to do."

The hat fell silent at once. It seemed to Neville that it was quite a long moment during which he heard Voldemort tell the crowd that he would now demonstrate what happened to those foolish enough to oppose him.
"I can't think of anything to do," Neville whispered miserably to the hat.

"Incendio," he heard the Dark Lord say and his heart missed a beat. Now that was it. That was when he would die. Not tortured like his parents, but a painful death in flames.

Neville closed his eyes that were already obscured by the hat.

He thought of his parents. His father, so very still in his bed. His mother, who had no means to tell him that she loved him but by giving him gum wrappers whenever he came to visit her. His grandmother. Would she make up a tale of heroism of his death? Or would she be deeply ashamed that he had not died in a fight but body-bound as a living torch? How would she tell his parents? Would they even understand? He thought of the ones he called friends. Luna, Ginny, many members of the DA, Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Harry. A dead body in front of him, and unable to lead them anymore. And he himself unable to fulfil that last wish, that last task Harry had given to him...

"Maybe I can be of assistance then?" offered the old voice, and it had that almost mocking quality again.
The heat was missing, Neville realized. He could hear the crackle of flames around his ears, but he felt no pain. Without forming the words, he was deeply grateful to the hat that protected him momentarily from harm, but at the same time he wondered what would be in store for him next. What would Voldemort do when he realized his victim was not going to die in agony?

Then suddenly he felt something cold and hard slide by his face where there had been nothing but soft old leather before. He started to wonder where it came from, when he heard the hat say: "I dare say you still have a job to do, don't you? I believe I have just the right weapon then, for a true Gryffindor."
And with a certainty that he had rarely ever felt before, Neville shook off the body-bind curse, and disregarding the flames that tickled his hand reached up and extracted the sword of Gryffindor from the burning Sorting Hat.

There stood Lord Voldemort, right in front of him, with that abominable snake around his neck. The world around them had erupted in noise but Neville paid no attention to any of this. Two pairs of slitted eyes stared at him in surprise. He knew he had but one moment before his enemy would recover and react, so he swung the sword inexpertly wide and brought it down onto the snake's head.

Voldemort, who had who had flinched to protect only himself, was too late in shielding his last horcrux. The scream that cut through the air went unheard in all the ruckus around them. And somewhere from a distance a raspy old voice in Neville's head said: "I did well. A true Gryffindor..." and Neville smiled.


Date: 2.9.07
Disclaimer: You own, I just play, no sue plz.
Word count: around 960
Warnings: DH Spoilers (well, d'oh!), suitable for all ages, no major ships, just gen and canon.
Summary: How does life go on for Teddy Lupin, the next generation orphan?

"My kind don't usually breed," Remus had told Harry not too long ago. But there was Remus' son, Harry's godson , with the thick lock of hair on his forehead. Harry held him in his arms and little Teddy smiled up at him with bright eyes.
'Were babies supposed to have hair at all?' Harry wondered. Then Teddy's hair colour changed from brown to bright blue and Harry grinned at Andromeda. "He's Tonks' all right!"
"Yes, he is," Andromeda said and accepted the baby back into her arms.


Andromeda sighed a deep sigh. Her little grandson had splattered himself with porridge and looked ashamed. His face turned into a caricature of himself. Hair flat and gray, ears hanging, brows raised higher than one would think it possible, and the corners of his mouth dipping lower.
"You are just like your mother!" she scolded him but she didn't sound angry any more. Teddy reminded her too much of Nymphadora to ever be angry with him for long. Especially when he drew his faces.


When Harry rang the doorbell he could hear Teddy squeal and make a run for it. The boy reached it way ahead of his aging grandmother and jumped right into Harry's arms.
"Oooof!" Harry exclaimed. "You grow heavier by the day! Only three more years and we'll be putting you on the Hogwarts train!"
"Can hardly wait..." Andromeda mumbled as she arrived at the door, but she smiled, too.
"I wanna go now!" Teddy screamed when Harry put him down.
"What - to Hogwarts or with me now?"
Harry made a solemn face and crouched to look his godson in the eye. "Teddy, I've got bad news, I'm sorry. I'll take you to the zoo today, but I'll have to bring you back tonight. Hermione is not feeling well and I don't want you to catch her cold when you stay overnight."
Teddy looked at him incredulously. "But you promised..." he said.
"I know, and we will just postpone it to next weekend to make it up to you, promise."
Teddy's face contorted. "I wanted to see Hermione!" he howled, and stomped his foot.
Harry wondered briefly if Teddy's eyes had always been that yellow. It wasn't easy to raise a Metamorphmagus.


It was just before midnight when Teddy crept along the edge of the forbidden forest. He was trying hard to stay out of the bright moonlight that cast a clear shadow of everything that ventured out on the lawn.
His friends had dared him to go and get a unicorn hair tonight and he had just shrugged and laughed. He knew Hagrid kept a whole ponytail of such hair in his cabin. He didn't have to go inside the forest and find a beast and pull out a hair. It was an easy challenge.
The cabin was close, the lights were off, and Hagrid's snoring could be heard through the cool night air. Just a few more steps, staying under the bushes, the cabin cast a shadow, too… Suddenly there was a movement to his right and a shape emerged from the trees. A single centaur, bow at the ready, an arrow pointing at Teddy's heart.
Teddy gasped and jumped - out of the line of the fire, and out of the shadows. The moonlight fell on him and cast his shadow wide. In his alarm, a growl escaped his throat. He stared at the magical creature and felt the hairs rising on his arms and the back of his neck. The centaur took one look at him, the arrow quivered, then he turned on his hind legs and cantered off into the woods. The boy stood rooted to the spot, not looking at the moon, and concentrated hard on staying Teddy. Just Teddy.


They stood under the birch tree by the lake. The autumn weather was gray and cold and he was grabbing Victoire's arms harder than he had planned to. She didn't wince though. She just stared at him with furrowed brows.
"You smiled at him! I saw you walk around the lake with that… that… Hufflepuff!" He spat the name out as if it were an insult.
"So what?" she retorted. "You don't own me!"
With a swift move she freed herself and he balled his now empty fists. He could feel his nails cut into the skin of his palms, and the hair rise on his neck. He knew he would look scary by now and that wouldn't make things any better. But instead of shying away from him, she looked just as angry.
"If you don't trust me, Teddy Lupin, we might as well end it right here and now!" she growled.
He watched her through a haze but somehow her words hit a cord. His hands relaxed a bit and he looked crestfallen. Victoire's features grew softer as well.
"Teddy, there is no one who even remotely understands me like you do. And that goes vice versa, too." She took his hands into hers. "You are the one I can talk to about… well… everything. We answer to each other's call and you know that."
She raised her head and looked over his shoulder at the pale half moon that started to glimpse though the scattered clouds. "Let's go inside. I hate to be out at dark."


"Our kind don't breed" his father had once told Harry, and his godfather had recounted that to him whenever he had told Teddy about his dead parents.
And yet, there it was: a small sleeping bundle in his arms, Victoire's nose, rainbow-coloured hair, and little pointy canines. They did breed after all. Werewolf, Metamorphmagus, and a little bit of Veela. Thinking of the father he had never known he still hoped that Remus' heritage would one day vanish from the line.

--- FIN ---

Fred and George for ever

Short Fanfic: 2.8.07

It felt like his right arm had been ripped off. As if he'd been cut in two. As if he were dead already and at the same time still bleeding to death. He saw himself lying on the floor in the great hall. He saw the people hovering around and tears dripping down on his face. He wondered vaguely why he didn't feel them. Some part of him reminded him that he was actually watching them from a distance, but another, larger part of him knew it was him lying there on the floor, and not him standing here.
Slowly, he turned and walked from the hall up the stairs to the seventh floor. Like a sleepwalker, he passed by the blank patch of wall, turned around, passed again, and again.
A door appeared in the wall and he walked through. The room beyond was packed with odd objects, some of them still smoldering, some burnt to ashes, some miraculously intact.
He passed through the ailes and found the mirror he was looking for. After a short moment of hesitation, he turned and looked into it. A vague smile spread over his face as his brother smiled back at him.
"There you are" he said. "I almost thought I'd lost you."
"Yes, there I am" said his brother from behind the mirror.

The End of Dolores Umbridge

Date: 9.8.07

Police Superintendent Pete Mullin was at a loss. The woman was most certainly dead, and it was no question that it had been murder, but then, the clues were pointing in so many different directions that he had no explanation for it.

Most prominent when they entered the crime scene was the writing on her forehead: "I must not tell lies". So, apparently, she had gossiped or bad-mouthed over a person and that person or someone near them had taken revenge. Right?
When the coroner examined her, though, there were more writings branded on her hands, arms, and legs. "I will not call muggle-borns names", "I will not take wands that are not mine", "I will never again use the word Mudblood". What on earth did those sentences mean?

And the garden... There were hoofprints all over the place, but nobody had seen any horses. Only an old and drunken vagabond claimed he had seen a naked man jump the hedges in her back yard at night.
The hoofprints were of unshod horses, too...

Inside the house, tiny and oddly shaped, but vaguely human footprints of naked feet were found. Strangest of all, though, the victim was clad in an old and torn bed cover even though her closets burst with pink and purple dresses.

While Mullin still stared around the devastated house his mobile rang. It was the coroner.

"Pete, this case is becoming weirder by the minute. I have to tell you that there are no outward signs of injury. Well, not counting the scarring and branding, that is, but those would not have been deadly. We found an artificial eyeball with a blue iris, though, stuffed down her throat post mortem. Again, this was not the cause of death. I can only conclude she died of heart attack."

Pete Mullin thought about that for a moment.

"So what do we have then?" he asked finally. "A naked, one-eyed midget horseback rider who has been offended by her bad-mouthing, been stolen a wand, and called muggle and mudblood - whatever that means - jumps the hedges at night, dresses her in rugs, and tortures her until she dies.
Or else a very weird re-run of the Orient Express..."

The Fall of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

Date: 22.5.07
Character(s): Sirius, Regulus, and Walburga Black
Prompt: disheveled
Word Count: ca. 280
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity Thanks, JKR!
Author's Notes: This built up as a song inside my head. It works with a, G, C,a, a, G, E and a, G, C, G,a, G, a alternating. It was inspired by the Black Family Tree and the many burn marks on it.

The Fall of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

If you dare seek the deserted halls of 12 Grimmauld Place, London on a dark and stormy night, you can hear the ghosts sing a song about the House of Black...

Traitors of the house of Black will earn their cruel fate
And nothing does escape the wrath of pure bloods true and straight.
Disowned, discarded, outcast and, if possible, denied
Oh, may they rot and burn in hell, un-moaned for if they died.

Poor Isla went to marry Bob, became a housewife true.
She bore the Hitchens' mudblood sons who turned out muggle, too.
Phineas followed Isla's path and fought for muggle rights
Disowned, disheveled, in the gutter spent his lonely nights.

Marius Black tried all he might, but couldn't cast a spell.
Without a wand he faced his kin. They drowned him in a well.
The worst of traitors to the blood was one Cedrella Black.
She ran away with Septimus, and lived in Weasley's shack.

Walburga raised her pure blood sons, with screams and yells and flog.
She favoured well her "little king" and chased away the "dog".
And when her Sirius left for good, she ruled out Alphard, too,
For loyalty to traitor brats is not the pure bloods' view.

One more has left the clan for good, Andromeda, née Black
who married Teddy Tonks and turned to family her back.
And so went many from the line of ancient noble blood
Who did not choose incestuous life and much preferred the cut.

Although they tried to keep the line of squibs and muggles clean
They did not know what breading to the House of Black would mean
It was not them, the "toujours pur" who formed the line to date,
But those who valued choice above a noble, ancient fate.

And so the traitors to the house depend at large on view
For those who fought for freedom were so brave, albeit so few.
The ghosts who haunt this house to date will tell you if you ask
That they make sure the Blacks stay dead, however hard the task.

The power of knowledge

Date: 19.6.06
for P by J

The class had gathered in the greenhouse just before the bell rang. The place smelled sweetly of the spring flowers blossoming on the tables all around and they were chatting amicably to each other. Neville wore an air of utter happiness and leafed through his herbology book with passion. His expression changed when the door opened and Snape swept in.

"Good morning, class. I will be replacing Madam Sprout for this week's classes. To get the best out of this arrangement, we will discuss the same plants we harvest today for the potions class this afternoon."
The dark-robed figure stepped closer to one of the tables and was now staring down at Neville.
"Mr. Longbottom, what is lion's wort used for?"

Neville opened his mouth to give the answer that was in his head just seconds ago. Nevertheless, only a squeak came out. He dropped his book that slipped from the table and fell with a thud to the floor.
Like a rabbit transfixed by a snake, he stared into Snape's eyes.

"I should have thought so, Mr. Longbottom", Snape mumbled and directed the question at the class in general.

Next to Neville, Hermione was fuming. "How dare he!" she hissed sympathetically. "He knows half the stuff on herbs that you do, I bet!"

Tears had filled Neville's eyes and ducked under the table to retrieve his book and to hide his embarrassment. When he came back up, he gingerly held one of the stems of Lion's wort in his hands. He took a deep breath and gently blew on the flowers. A yellow cloud encased Snape's back and head. Neville held his breath and stepped back. Slowly, the teacher turned around. For an instant, he seemed as if he would shout at Neville, then his eyes opened wide, he turned on this heels and ran from the room.

The class gasped. Neville grinned. Turning to Hermione's questioning eyes, he said: "Well, he knew the root was good for Lionheart's potion, but he didn't know the flowers are sometimes called chicken-bloom. The pollen can scare the hell out of anyone. I am going to get detention for that, but I think it was worth it."



Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: # 42
Word Count: ca. 600
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity
Author's Notes: I have no idea what I want to say with this story. It just flowed like this. Unlike the other drabbles I've written, this one does not seem to have a point or a sudden twist. Oh well.

The fight had raged most of the night. It wasn't so much that the Hogwarts staff wasn't able to defend themselves or the school, it was more that they were too reluctant to use the Unforgivable Curses and some of the really harmful hexes against the siege that branded against their castle walls. On top of that they had had to fight some of the pupils that had taken to the wrong side and were getting at them from inside their own walls.

It all came down to the infamous Harry Potter, come to think of it. Of course it was him the Death Eaters wanted. And they would not rest until they had him - or were deadly defeated.

Nevertheless the staff knew they had Time on their side. Sooner or later the wizarding world would come to their aid. Even the most stupid of Ministries could not shut their eyes to a fight about the children of magical England.

Minerva looked at Albus' rather impressive back with his flying hair as he threw nameless spells towards the attackers. She herself had just gone to lock up the more notorious of the Slytherins, and a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who had suddenly waved a dark flag and changed sides.
The Gryffindors, as she had expected, had stood united against the onslaught, but the longer it lasted, the more voices demanded that the pawn this fight was raging for should be handed over to safeguard the lives of the others.
Minerva was deeply ashamed of her house.

More and more elder pupils had taken their wands and joined the general chaos that covered the grounds and swept around the main entrance. This whole fight was about loyalties. Astounding enough to most of the staff, Snape had been seen in one of the tower windows, pouring a cauldron full of potion on the first wave of Death Eaters. The ground still smoldered where the liquid had landed.

Harry Potter himself had stood up front, ready to give himself up for the sake of his mates. Hermione and Ron, inseparable as a trio, had dragged him back, shielding him from the fire coming after them. All three of them had been hit by spells and hexes. Ron was off the worst, unconscious and bleeding heavily. Sybill had taken him to the Hospital wing, all the while muttering "I knew it... I saw it coming...". Horace had taken care of the other two.

If Harry should loose his best friend as a token for his own life, he would never forgive himself, Minerva knew.

It was past sunrise already when Hagrid announced that he could hear the cavalry approaching. Within minutes Minerva watched the Death Eaters scatter under the attack of an Auror's corps and Hogwarts' staff and pupils could take a commonly shared breath and relax.

When Minerva rushed to the Hospital Wing, she silently prayed to any gods she'd ever heard of, that none of her entrusted was seriously harmed.
From afar she could hear the raised voices of those arguing about whether to sacrifice one for the good of many, or to maintain loyal. There were wounded teachers, and pupils of all houses present, all of them unaware as of yet to the fact that the fight was already over. What she didn't hear was a voice from the trio.
When Minerva reached the door, she could see why: Ron, Hermione, and Harry were sitting on the floor, bandaged, and patched up, the healing spells still glowing around Ron's chest. They had reached out to each other, holding hands, oblivious to the discussion around them: a perfect triangle of loyalty.

False Suspect

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: # 91 Hear
Word Count: ca.
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity

"Shhhhhhh... did you just hear that?" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm.
"Outch!" he exclaimed.
"Shhhh... " came Rob's whisper in the dark behind them.
The three were out and about the castle after hours again. Hermione had had a suspicion that their new Potions teacher Horace Slughorn might be a fraud again, just like the false Mad-Eye Moody had been. So they had consulted the marauder's map and seen him up and about each night for three days in a row. Today that had finally resolved to track him down.
A few muffled moans came from right before them.
"Listen!" Harry gasped. "Didn't that sound like Professor Trelawny?"
"I don't know who," Ron said "but it sure sounds like two people shagging…"
Hermione and Harry both stared at him in the dark.
"You're out of your mind!" Harry hissed.
"No! Listen!" A small cry of joy came from around the corner and Professor Trelawny's voice exclaimed "Oh, this is sooo good!"
More moaning and groaning could be heard now.
"You get your hands off of that, you nasty little girl!" they heard the teasing voice of Professor Slughorn exclaim and a slap was heard right after that.
"Outch" Professor Trelawny said but started to moan again ritght after that.

The three students crept closer to the end of the corridor where it turned into the winter garden. Once they would look around the corner, they would equally be seeable from the large room. They had to be careful.
Harry got down on all fours. "I'd have expected anything," he said, poking his head around the edge, "but not Slughorn shagging Trelawny!"
Hermione bent over him to get a view as well, and Ron's head appeared right over Hermione's.
For a brief moment they just stared.

There was the winter garden, all decorated in green and silver. In the middle was a table, holding a huge cauldron. Around it were bowls of fruit and treats and a snall sign said "Chocolate Fondue - help yourself".
Professor Slughorn was cutting up more fruit and Sybil Trelawny had half her hand covered in chocolate and was liking her fingers with a faraway look in her eyes.

To top this scene, a banner hung from the ceiling, reading "Happy Birthday, Severus".
"Stop eating the chocolate, Sybil!" Sughorn was saying just now. "Leave something for the others when they arrive. Should be any minute now."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione carefully withdrew from the edge, back into the corridor. They sneaked back to Gryffindor Tower without another word. When they climbed through the portrait hole, Hermione said "I can't believe you thought they were shagging".
"Oh, and you thought Slughorn was all right - that's why we had to be out there, wasn't it?" Ron retorted hotly.
Harry hushed them both. "Everybody can go wrongs sometimes, alright? Let's agree not to talk about this to anyone ever again, ok?"
All three of them nodded.

What the bird flu does to the world of the wizards...

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: #34 Not Enough
Word Count: ca. 500
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity
Notes: The idea came through a German news reporter announcing that "there will be more dead birds found, and more dead birds dying" in the ner future. Poor birds, dead and still dying on and on and on...

"Bird-flu reached London - Owl post in danger" the headline of the Daily Prophet read. Harry stared at the picture of a dead swan before shoving it into Hedwig's cage to gather the droppings.
He had carefully retrieved Hedwig from the Hogwarts owlery and locked her up in her cage when he first heard of the bird flu reaching northern Europe. If there was one thing he didn't care for, it was to find one more of his friends dead or dying, be it human or animal.
It was only a few days later that the Prophet picture showed the first owl dead and her mail spread around her small body. All private owls were kept inside by their owners, and the postal service owls dropped out of the sky by the dozen. Within the week, the floo network was restricted to official ministry use and emergencies, and Hogwarts was all but shut off from the world outside, as was, practically, every witch and wizard in Europe.
Since the flu did not affect the human inhabitants of the wizarding community that much, this was not a big problem for the school and it's staff. Classes went on as usual, even when the Daily Prophet had turned into a rather more Weekly to Occasional Prophet.
The surprise came one day, when Professor Slughorn entered the Staff Room and tossed yesterday's newspaper on the table.
Minerva bent over it.

"First casualty among wizards due to bird flu" the headline announced.
Curiously enough, only a big dead turtle was seen on the picture below.
Minerva started reading the article, all the while wondering why it was displayed on page one.
"Apparently it is possible" the article read, "to create a horcrux inside a living being. A long lived animal like the giant tortoise, Chelonoidis elephantopus chathamensis, seems to be an ideal vessel for such a curse.
It has recently become apparent that reptiles, who share a lot of characteristics with birds (such as hard shelled eggs; see -> Sauropsides), are equally capable of catching and transmitting the disease that has so efficiently shut off communication in the wizarding world.
It transpired yesterday that the evil wizard You-Know-Who has accidentally chosen not to use little Harry Potter as his last horcrux when he killed the child's parents 17 years ago, but instead inaptly chose the boy's little pet turtle Alfred.
Alfred has since grown to a considerable size, which alas could not save him from his fate of the H5N1 virus.
And as horcruxes are irreversibly bound to the fate of the soul they contain, our ever so virile enemy You-Know-Who has followed Alfred's path and is now our most virulent but well-deceased ex-evil world dominator. His remains have been found and secured by aurors in a hide-out..."

The article went on but Minerva wasn't interested any more.
"What an inglorious end for Tom Riddle," she said and shook her head. "Eluded an army of aurors, prevailed over the most powerful wizards of our time, and struck down by the flu. Sometimes, your best is just not good enough.
Oh well, we'd better get back to class. Life goes on!"

An equal match

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: #26 Teammates
Word Count: ca. 130
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity

Minerva McGonagall climbed onto her broom and shrugged back her cloak She shook a fist over at Snape.
"This time I'll get you!"
Severus sneered. "In your dreams!" he exclaimed and shot off into the air. She followed him suit. Beside her Madame Hooch closed in. Her face was red from the wind. "We'll make him pay for that, Minerva!" she said through clenched teeth.
They were drawing closer. Snape wasn't nearly as good a flyer as the two women and they spread out to circle him. Snape tried to duck.
Just when Minerva McGonagall had cut his way off and Madame Hooch had raised her club, they heard Filch's whistle and the game was over.
They slowly circled to the ground. Ah - always a pleasure, the yearly "Men against Women" game of the Hogwarts Staff Qudditch Teams.

No. 1

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: #36 Smell
Word Count: ca.
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity

The faintly acrid smell lead Professor McGonagall down the corridor. For a moment she thought of alerting Professor Snape, but then, this was Gryffindor Tower and as Head of House she'd rather deal with over enthusiastic potions students by herself. When she reached the door the smell originated from, she didn't even try the handle. A harsh "Alohomora" swung the door wide and immediately engulfed her in thick pinkish clouds. Minerva stepped back, groped for the door, and shut it with a bang. The room had been empty safe for a slowly cooling cauldron of Love Potion No 9.. Whoever had made this, knew that he had to let it cool before collecting it. During this phase, the fumes alone where potent.
Minerva McGonagall's mind worked quickly: 'Close your eyes, retreat to your chamber, lock the door, and wait for it to wear off.' Yes, that was the remedy. Just take care not to look at anyone, and nothing bad would happen.
She shut her eyes and listened. There was no sound of footsteps. It was after hours, and no student would be around. No other teacher would likely be in Gryffindor Tower either.
She reached out for the wall and moved slowly along towards the corner. There would be the stairs. Just a peak, so she wouldn't trip. Still no footsteps or any other sound from a human being. Professor McGonagall looked up.
"Good evening, Minerva!" said the soft whisper of Nearly Headless Nick...


Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: #86 Choice
Word Count: ca. 400
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity

He sat on the edge of the bed, only clothed in shorts and a shirt. She was lying on her side, wrapped in the sheets, a sour expression on her face.
"Narcissa, I don't see why we can't have both" he kept saying. "Hogwarts is offering me a good, solid job. I'll have a good income and rights to a pension."
"But you'll be stuck there for most of the year" she said for the ump-tenth time. "I won't see you for months in a row. I can't even meet you in Hogsmead on weekends, because Lucius might find out."
"You could use a glamour. I could rent a room and you could get there without anyone knowing who you are."
"And to what avail?" she retorted. "For your pleasures once a week? Without the benefit of being able to talk to you, to share your company? I am sick of this arrangement!"
"It is *your* arrangement, may I remind you? You won't leave him for me, ever!"
Narcissa sagged and tears started to well up in her eyes.
"Oh, you know he would kill me if I left him. I am his possession more than his wife. Even if I tried, you wouldn't have me for long…" Her voice trailed off into a sob.
"You'd be safe at Hogwarts.." he tried, but without much conviction.
"No," she sobbed. "I am not safe, anywhere. The only place I have ever felt comfortable is here in your arms. I beg you to stay and not take that from me."
At that, he turned to look at her. 'So this is why' it shot through his head. 'A completely selfish beg to make life easier for her even if it destroys my own.'
He knew it wasn't fair but he didn't feel like being fair at this moment.
He stood up and slipped into his robe. His trunk was packed and there was hardly any more to say.
"You know I don't have a choice, with the ministry coming after me like they do."
Her eyes grew cold. "If you walk through this door, Severus, that is the last I ever want to see from you." she said, and bitterness seeped from her voice.
That was the last straw. Severus Snape, Potions Master-to-be, picked up his trunk and left without another word. Behind him the door clicked shut.


Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: #31 Sunrise
Word Count: ca. 500
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity
Author's notes: Beloved says this is much too cliché and heard and read once too often, but I'm going to post it anyway. He also beta-ed it in other bits, for which I am gratefull.

Professor Otto Emanuel Adversius von Vielstein was sitting on the platform of the Astronomy tower and gazed at the stars. He was a small man, rather plump, with white skin, long black hair and dressed all in black robes. In that he resembled his predecessor as Head of Slytherin House. This function also meant he got to spend his days in the dark, damp cellars of the castle, where his classes were held as well. He had taken up Professor Snape's assignment of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. At least that was one thing he felt he was good at.

The year had been an eventful one. He'd been amongst so many people for almost a full year - quite unusual for him. He'd met Harry Potter who had defeated the darkest of dark wizards before he had been able to utter a spell.

And now the year was nearly over. Otto von Vielstein knew the curse that was supposed to lie on the job as DADA teacher. He smiled weakly. He didn't quite believe in this kind of curse. He was much too old and too well informed about anything dark and dangerous to fear this. Besides, he thought, he'd probably endured the worst of all curses for most of his life to be scared of anything any more.

Otto had carefully guarded his little secret. Had Snape still been there, he would have known right away. And Dumbledore, of course, knew him for what he was, too. Poor old Dumbledore. Otto regretted that he had been unable to say good-bye to him before he passed away. This way, only Minerva was informed, and she knew better than to tell.

It had taken a few little hints towards the end of the semester. This smart young witch Hermione Granger had picked up first. She'd dug up books and sneaked up behind him with funny little objects she considered holy. Finally he had let her find out his true origin.

Now that it was out in the open, Otto von Vielstein felt a lot better. He had always been the white sheep, so to speak, in his family down in Bulgaria. Being small and plump did not seem fit for a man of his breeding. Being friendly with people and offering his knowledge and service to those in need got him shunned forever.

And now was the time to make sure his too long and too lonely existence would serve a purpose. Those ashes would play an essential part in defeating old Voldemort. He'd made sure Harry would find them, and he'd trained him well how to use them. Miss Granger would help where Potter had slept through the lessons.

And there he sat, on top of the astronomy tower, content in the knowledge that he would keep the tradition of one-year DADA teacher, and waited for the sun to rise.

(inspired by "Die Ärzte" - Der Graf / sitzt auf einem Berg und weint / Der Graf / wartet bis die Sonne auf ihn scheint
in English: The Count / sits on the mountain / The Count / waits for the sun to shine on him)


Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: #72
Word Count: ca. 333
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain. Pity.

"Why did you fix it?! It wasn't even broken!"
"It wasn't functioning properly, Headmaster!"
"Merlin's Ghost, Filch, do you call this functioning properly?"
"Well... "
"Well? Do you think a pensive is supposed to spill all the thoughts it ever contained on my office floor to mingle and mix?"
"I suppose not, Headmaster."
"I certainly wouldn't think so either!"

After Filch had left the headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore settled into a comfortable wing chair and watched his memories float around the room and twine around and into each other.
Ah, this must be like the moving pictures Muggles enjoyed so much, Albus thought to himself. He spotted Minerva's recent self get close to the young Tom Riddle. She realized who he was and what he was going to be, and gave him a severe lecure in behaviour. With some amusement, Albus saw Tom flinch.

He saw Lilly Evans approach the older Severus Snape. The shock in her eyes as she realized it was not the student but a much older man was visible in her eyes. The older Snape saw it too, and turned white as a sheet with embarrassment.

And then Albus Dumbledore saw his own younger self float over to an even younger Minerva. Now this was going to be interesting. He still remembered how he used to feel about her back then. He had never confessed this, and he suspected she never knew. Over time, his feelings had turned into friendship and nothing but friendship.

The headmaster leaned forward in his chair, watching the memories swirl, just as the door opened and Filch was back with Snape at his side. Before he could stop him, Snape had whipped out his wand and summoned the released memories back into the pensive. A minute later he had removed the modifications Filch had applied and the spook was over.

"Really, Albus, I don't see why you couldn't have done that yourself!" Snape snarrled, then turned and rejoined his class.

The headmaster only sighed.


Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hogwarts Staff
Prompt: #71 Broken
Word Count: ca. 700
Rating: free
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity. No gain Pity

"You broke it!"
"Did too!"
"WHAT is happening here?" the voice of Severus Snape boomed unusually loud in the empty laboratory.
"We... errr..." Neville stammered.
"I... I didn't..." Ron stuttered.
"What is this?" the professor demanded, pointing his wand at a twisted network of wires, crystals, and an off-white umbrella that would have looked to the average Muggle like a device for ET to call home.

"It's our class project" Ron finally managed. "We were supposed to create a magical artifact for Talisman class and we were trying to..." His voice trailed off.

"Tried what, Mr. Weasely?" Snape insisted.

Ron turned a subtle shade of red in the face. Neville took big gasp and took over:
"Hermione told us about a device to view pictures form other places and we thought we could use that idea to create pictures that show things and we would use light and run it through crystals and charm them to reflect the images of people we remembered just like a pensive but... different..."
He too had gone a nice shade of purple while spilling the explanation out at a mile an hour.

Snape looked from one to the other. They weren't lying to him. He knew enough about students to detect a lie from miles away. Yet they weren't exactly being honest with him either. He rocked back on his heels.

"Mr. Weasely, Mr. Longbottom, I will give you one more chance to tell me the whole truth, or I will take this object with me as an alleged dark artifact and examine it until I know what exactly it does."

"You can't do that!" the boys blurted out in unison.
"It's our Talisman project."
"It'll be due next week."
"Hermione will kill us."
"It's broken anyway."

Snape raised an eyebrow. The two boys blushed even deeper and looked down.

The professor bent down, retrieved the curious object, and stalked from the room.

"Well done! Now he's got it"
"Hermione is gonna kill us!"
"Your fault!"
"Is not!"
"Is too!"


In the seclusion of his private quarters, Severus placed the object in an empty closet, hid behind the half closed the door, pointed his wand inside, and said: "Enervate".
Nothing happened.
Maybe it was broken then.
A few wires seemed to adjust themselves, but nothing else happened.
"Revelato functiona!"
One of the crystals lighted up and spread a flickering light over the walls. A female, detached, far away voice from the device said: "Enter name please."

The professor hesitated for a second, then said out loud: "Snape".

"Severus Snape, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts," the voice announced.

*Amazing* Snape thought. Then the voice carried on:
"Please enter desired artifact"

Snape hesitated again, unsure what to do. A small drawer from within the machine - for lack of better word - pushed forward and revealed an opening the size of a small gift box. You could fit a few apples in, or a shoe, or possibly a toad.

Snape, still poising his wand carefully, dropped his black handkerchief into the box, which snapped shut and retreated into the entrails of the device.

A few crystals came to life, a few wires adjusted themselves, lights glittered and the umbrella turned to face out of the closet into the room.
Just as Snape moved carefully out of the way for whatever would come shooting out of this device, the door to his quarters opened with a bang and Minerva stood there, fuming.
Snape gasped at the uninvited entry.

"Severus," Minerva exclaimed, "you cannot possibly confiscate a school project from my students without any explanation or reason. They have a right to finish what they started without interruption... oh... how very becoming!" she stared at a point behind Snape where the device was still buzzing softly.

Snape turned around again to see a hovering image of himself, one arm in the air, turning slowly on one foot like a porcelain ballerina. His image was stark naked but for a small handkerchief wound into a triangle to cover his most private parts.

He gasped, flushed scarlet, and turned back to Minerva just to see her close the door to his quarters softly from the inside with a mischievous smile on her face.

~~ The End ~~