A Wash of Words
May. 19th, 2008 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
book_worm5Here's yet more; figured I'd split these posts up a bit.
Mar 2/08
Prompt: Frost and Snow
It was snowing. Large, fluffy flakes sifting down from the sky, muffling the land in a coat of white. Peaceful.
Deceptive.
All was not peaceful, never would be again. For a moment he was angry at the snow; how dare it be falling so gently, on this day of all days? Especially when she'd loved it so, always playing, always—
He snapped to in shock as a snowball impacted the side of his head, then relaxed; it had fallen from a branch. For a moment he'd heard her—"Get your nose outta that book, Grumpus! Come play!"
She'd always said that. Always wanted fun in life.
A new light entered his eyes, the first in months. He snugged his cloak around himself and turned to go inside. It was surely imagination that brought him a giggle on the breeze.
Prompt: Frost and Snow
It was snowing. Large, fluffy flakes sifting down from the sky, muffling the land in a coat of white. Peaceful.
Deceptive.
All was not peaceful, never would be again. For a moment he was angry at the snow; how dare it be falling so gently, on this day of all days? Especially when she'd loved it so, always playing, always—
He snapped to in shock as a snowball impacted the side of his head, then relaxed; it had fallen from a branch. For a moment he'd heard her—"Get your nose outta that book, Grumpus! Come play!"
She'd always said that. Always wanted fun in life.
A new light entered his eyes, the first in months. He snugged his cloak around himself and turned to go inside. It was surely imagination that brought him a giggle on the breeze.
Mar 7/08
Prompt: St Patrick's Day
Remus winced and blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to keep them from watering. "Er, Nymphadora, that's—erm..."
"What? It was your idea to dress as a Muggle holiday." She struck a pose in the doorway of the changing room—a more apt expression for her than most—and grinned at him.
"Well, yes, but I didn't expect you to be that—that—" He groped for a word to encompass the hair, still spiked, but searing green and with matching beard and bushy eyebrows; the skin, lightly tinted with the same shade; the (thankfully darker green) tight leggings and short, flared jacket which drew far too much attention to places he shouldn't be looking she's your best friend's cousin, dear Merlin Remus you are a sad old lecher and finally, the black, heeled boots with Hagrid-worthy buckles he was sure no real leprechaun would countenance wearing.
"Cheery? Creative? Unique?"
"—Enthusiastic."
Prompt: St Patrick's Day
Remus winced and blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to keep them from watering. "Er, Nymphadora, that's—erm..."
"What? It was your idea to dress as a Muggle holiday." She struck a pose in the doorway of the changing room—a more apt expression for her than most—and grinned at him.
"Well, yes, but I didn't expect you to be that—that—" He groped for a word to encompass the hair, still spiked, but searing green and with matching beard and bushy eyebrows; the skin, lightly tinted with the same shade; the (thankfully darker green) tight leggings and short, flared jacket which drew far too much attention to places he shouldn't be looking she's your best friend's cousin, dear Merlin Remus you are a sad old lecher and finally, the black, heeled boots with Hagrid-worthy buckles he was sure no real leprechaun would countenance wearing.
"Cheery? Creative? Unique?"
"—Enthusiastic."
Mar 21/08
Prompt: Dean Thomas
Harry stood on the temporary stage, glancing at his list. Hogwarts had asked the past few years' graduates to return, for the commencement ceremony they'd never received. Harry was to say a few words about each one in his year; next was Dean.
"How can I summarise Dean Thomas?" he began. "A fair student, a dab hand with a paintbrush, and there's no distracting him from standing up for something he believes in, once he's come to believe in it." He paused.
"...Unless, of course, you happen to have tickets to West Ham."
Half the crowd broke up in laughter.
Prompt: Dean Thomas
Harry stood on the temporary stage, glancing at his list. Hogwarts had asked the past few years' graduates to return, for the commencement ceremony they'd never received. Harry was to say a few words about each one in his year; next was Dean.
"How can I summarise Dean Thomas?" he began. "A fair student, a dab hand with a paintbrush, and there's no distracting him from standing up for something he believes in, once he's come to believe in it." He paused.
"...Unless, of course, you happen to have tickets to West Ham."
Half the crowd broke up in laughter.
Mar 27/08
Prompt: Canon characters as children
"I tell you, I'm worried about him!"
"How do you mean?"
"The boy hasn't shown one single trace of magic!"
"Oh, Father, he's young yet..."
"I do not want my grandson to be some bloody Squib! He'll show some magic if I have to—well, I'll try everything, that's all."
"Just...don't overdo it. Please."
Momentary silence. A sigh, and then heavy footsteps moving off. A door closes firmly. The creak of a chair.
Suddenly, a roar, and the wail of a child. It's clearer as the door opens again, and the footsteps return.
"Not a spark. Blasted brat didn't even—what?"
"Father, your hair!"
"Yes? What about it?"
"It—it's—"
"Well? In Merlin's name woman, speak up!"
"It's fuschia!"
"It—what?"
A softer tread rushes from the room; the child's cries swiftly cease.
"Oh, Gilderoy! You're magical!"
Prompt: Canon characters as children
"I tell you, I'm worried about him!"
"How do you mean?"
"The boy hasn't shown one single trace of magic!"
"Oh, Father, he's young yet..."
"I do not want my grandson to be some bloody Squib! He'll show some magic if I have to—well, I'll try everything, that's all."
"Just...don't overdo it. Please."
Momentary silence. A sigh, and then heavy footsteps moving off. A door closes firmly. The creak of a chair.
Suddenly, a roar, and the wail of a child. It's clearer as the door opens again, and the footsteps return.
"Not a spark. Blasted brat didn't even—what?"
"Father, your hair!"
"Yes? What about it?"
"It—it's—"
"Well? In Merlin's name woman, speak up!"
"It's fuschia!"
"It—what?"
A softer tread rushes from the room; the child's cries swiftly cease.
"Oh, Gilderoy! You're magical!"
Apr 29/08
Prompt: Umbridge after DH
If they'd known, Ron and George would have happily announced that one of the final works of the Weasley twins resulted in the dissolution of Dolores Umbridge. At least, to certain select audiences. As it was, the work in question was not meant to connect to her in any way, except perhaps one part, as a private joke for them to chuckle over once in a while.
It was taken from a Muggle idea, and refined magically: a small disk possessed of a Semi-Permanent Sticking Charm which, once placed, would emit a particular uncommon sound when someone entered a certain area—to be set by the buyer on purchase or placement. The sound could also be selected or changed, so each buyer could pick which they liked or could be sure not to hear naturally—booted footsteps, a Kneazle whose tails had been trodden on, a draconic roar, even an old-style Muggle police whistle.
It was entirely coincidence the the sound most favoured by Ministry offices, as a balance between less distracting and yet likely to be artificial, was the clopping of centaur hooves.
Dolores Umbridge spent the rest of her few years in a soft, quiet, empty room in St Mungo's, any intrusion driving her from quiet mutterings to foaming rage. Her supporters at the Ministry pulled worried faces and said she was "under so much pressure during the War, you know. Such a shame, for her mind to go like that..." Her detractors nodded gravely, and smiled behind their hands.
Prompt: Umbridge after DH
If they'd known, Ron and George would have happily announced that one of the final works of the Weasley twins resulted in the dissolution of Dolores Umbridge. At least, to certain select audiences. As it was, the work in question was not meant to connect to her in any way, except perhaps one part, as a private joke for them to chuckle over once in a while.
It was taken from a Muggle idea, and refined magically: a small disk possessed of a Semi-Permanent Sticking Charm which, once placed, would emit a particular uncommon sound when someone entered a certain area—to be set by the buyer on purchase or placement. The sound could also be selected or changed, so each buyer could pick which they liked or could be sure not to hear naturally—booted footsteps, a Kneazle whose tails had been trodden on, a draconic roar, even an old-style Muggle police whistle.
It was entirely coincidence the the sound most favoured by Ministry offices, as a balance between less distracting and yet likely to be artificial, was the clopping of centaur hooves.
Dolores Umbridge spent the rest of her few years in a soft, quiet, empty room in St Mungo's, any intrusion driving her from quiet mutterings to foaming rage. Her supporters at the Ministry pulled worried faces and said she was "under so much pressure during the War, you know. Such a shame, for her mind to go like that..." Her detractors nodded gravely, and smiled behind their hands.
May 14/08
Prompt: Snowflake
He should have known better.
Generally, when a friend invites you over to play with their new pet Snowflake, you tend to envision something small, white and fuzzy, quite possibly insufferably cute. Now, Remus wasn't one for pets, normally; he tended to be rather touch-shy in fact. But the man had been kind to him while he was one of few aware of Remus' secret, and surely he must get lonely sometimes. What harm could it do?
His calculations neglected a crucial point: The man in question was Hagrid.
It had once been white. It was unquestionably friendly, and Hagrid certainly thought it cute. It was not, by any stretch of imagination, small.
Those students with free time were vastly amused to see the usually composed Professor Lupin legging it frantically over the grounds, boisterously pursued by a mountainous mass of perambulating fur. Poppy Pomfrey professed herself much less amused, declaring that she thought she'd seen the last of him in her hospital wing once he'd left school, but Remus was fairly sure he spotted a smirk hovering around her lips when she thought herself unobserved.
Wisely, he endured being swathed in bandages, swallowed his potions, and refrained from comment.
Prompt: Snowflake
He should have known better.
Generally, when a friend invites you over to play with their new pet Snowflake, you tend to envision something small, white and fuzzy, quite possibly insufferably cute. Now, Remus wasn't one for pets, normally; he tended to be rather touch-shy in fact. But the man had been kind to him while he was one of few aware of Remus' secret, and surely he must get lonely sometimes. What harm could it do?
His calculations neglected a crucial point: The man in question was Hagrid.
It had once been white. It was unquestionably friendly, and Hagrid certainly thought it cute. It was not, by any stretch of imagination, small.
Those students with free time were vastly amused to see the usually composed Professor Lupin legging it frantically over the grounds, boisterously pursued by a mountainous mass of perambulating fur. Poppy Pomfrey professed herself much less amused, declaring that she thought she'd seen the last of him in her hospital wing once he'd left school, but Remus was fairly sure he spotted a smirk hovering around her lips when she thought herself unobserved.
Wisely, he endured being swathed in bandages, swallowed his potions, and refrained from comment.
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Date: 2008-05-20 08:53 pm (UTC)